Harbor

Strings
Three Prose
Poems

- Mami Wata
- Seaman
Jorhlay
- The Woman
at the Well
Go Call Your Husband:
A Call to Mourning.

amma birago

Hieronymus Bosch

defying definition

mami wata is stranded on land,

on land, online and holding pattern
and refusing to land.
come see star struck.

online and ocean navigation, ancient waterways,

middle passage vernissage, bling and star studded;
she is the beautiful woman and she is the new cool,
she is the glossy magazine, the red carpet,
she is the defying definition,
she is the pocket full of dollar bills
and right smack in the middle
of your tropical and guinea country.

mami wata is stranded on land,

on land, online and holding pattern
and refusing to land.
come see star struck.

and her desire shall be

to her husband
and he shall rule over thee.

#mami wata #market and currency #water and navigation

Guinea - Noun
The sum of 1.05 (21 shillings in predecimal currency), now used mainly for
determining professional fees and auction prices.
A former British gold coin that was first minted in 1663 from gold imported from
West Africa, with a value that was later fixed at 21 shillings.

Hieronymus Bosch

Seaman Jorhlay!
from my seaman jorhlay
and the gentlemen of kete;
a reminder to the seaman friend of conrads,
marlow - seaman personified,
his country - the sea.

we are not in dire straits;

we have been cosmopolitan for centuries!
... what do you think?!

we came to accra to wait for the country.

we are looking towards the sea. it is coming.
accra harbor and port authority is as far as we go inland.
the ship - the city;
the sea - the country.

see here; see us stand here at the pier,

our children and our dreams in tow,

because we are a seaward people;
there is nothing hinterland; there is no country there.
the country is seaward, overseas abroad is where it's at.
... forward ever; there is no going back.

our country is in the custody of the horizon people,

the horizon which the asante named oboro
not long before trade, travel and enclave at the coast
created the fante; near half cosmopolitan, a new breed:
coastal atlantic negroes; tariff, identity and ritual free,
pure asante names and language corrupted
by the oboroni, the person of the horizon,
aborofo, the horizon people, brofo, their language,
and also aborokyire, lands beyond the horizon:
oboro from which what else have you.

Seaman Jorhlay!

we are not in dire straits;

we have been cosmopolitan for centuries!
... what do you think?!

you can have the land and the farms, if you want.
we are waiting for the coming of the country;
you see, cargo is all the country there is ...
we are dreaming cargo, commodities galore;
the country is delivered right here on the coast:
dutch wax from java, sardines from malay,
corned beef from exeter, and then cabin biscuits;
hardtacks, shipbiscuit for the captain's cabin,
all kinds of tea; coffee tea, cocoa chocolate tea,
bournvita tea from cadbury's bournville,
also lipton from ceylon and real bone china,
crockery made in england.

it is us, osu blofo people; the old, the new

and all manner of johnny come latelies;
from axim in ahanta to aflao by sogakope,
from yendi, from bekwai and from kete krachi, ...

yes, gentlemen of kete, it was us speaking english,

dutch and danish before your grandfather was born.
portuguese was our first vernacular, kamisa for undershirt,
aspadray for espadrille. look here, you have no idea;
we have been speaking, reading and writing greek and latin
in our dreams and in our sleep for donkey's years

seaman jorhlay!
we are not in dire straits.
we have been cosmopolitan for centuries!
... what do you think?!

you can have the interior north of here

because we are a seaward people;
we are looking towards the sea,
the ship - the city;
the sea - the country:

we are looking at the horizon,

expecting soon like the sun the bursting forth
of new ships, boats and vessels bearing cargo,
news and dreams like you cannot imagine,
also trinkets and beads; full cargo and commodities,
provisions, reinforcements, mirrors of all kinds

and new fashions of the west.

seaman jorhlay!
we are not in dire straits:
we came to accra to wait for the country;
we are looking towards the sea. it is coming.
just you watch - it will be delivered shortly:
we will be having a jolly good time
and real soon:

the ship - the city;

the sea - the country.

from my seaman jorhlay

and the gentlemen of kete;
a reminder to the seaman friend of conrads,
marlow - seaman personified,
his country - the sea.

He was a seaman, but he was a wanderer, too,

while most seamen lead, if one may so express it,
a sedentary life. Their minds are of the stay-at-home order,
and their home is always with them the ship; and so is their country - the sea.
Conrad - Heart of Darkness

Hieronymus Bosch

The Woman at the Well

you are called names

go call your husband: a call to mourning.

I have no husband, she replied.

You are right when you say you have no husband.

The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.
What you have just said is quite true. John 4: 17 & 18

your husbands have come looking for you in droves, awusi.

aduni, abumi, also your sons and their other various fathers
have come to claim your parts; offerings public and private.
outside your loincloth now hammocks between the trees,
new bandages point fingers at old wounds, trauma disguised.
your doings nocturnal at the shore and at the harbor, ajovi:
your nakedness dancing splendorous to alien strings attached.
the moons constant ottoman grace defaced, fell to her grave;
the sun, imperial for saxon years, blind sighted, heaves a sigh.
from your loins sprang sons for romany and ottoman worlds.
from the mouths of turkish horses accounts of their descent
in droves to uncover and to discover your nakedness, aduni.
noble homesteads, loincloths and hammocks all aground,
adobes vandalized, your sons, unfazed, they call you names,
awusi, they call you names, abumi, names like akoubi, aduni
ajovi, awusi, and now we no longer know you by name.

you are eating our hearts, ajovi, awusi, akoubi.

ajovi, awusi, akoubi, you are eating our hearts
even at night and moon-die when the merrymaking
from the treetops you are called names,
from the hilltops and hillocks shame;
names like angry fists slam our spirits down to the ground,
and we find ourselves without grounds on which to stand.
you are eating our hearts, ajovi, awusi, akoubi.
at the shore and at the harbor nocturnal, awusi
dancing splendiferous under quarter cast moons,
ajovi, awusi, akoubi, you are eating our hearts.
at noon the sun, ashamed, his door tightly shut
and from the treetops you are called names,
from the hilltops and hillocks shame;
clarion calls by pacific muezzins to yours decry:
we are not monsters; we are the wounded
we are run over by the house of Israel and other foreign gods
and you are all kenyans and americans in our eyes.

Hieronymus Bosch