Saturday, September 5, 2020






After years of being taken care of

Of being a child

Of being your mothers daughter

You suddenly find that you have also become a mother


No planning or teaching can prepare you for that day

When you first hold your child in your arms.

You look down at the tiny person put in your arms,

You look at the face, the fingers and toes.

You touch the skin, and hold it close.

You close your eyes and say a silent prayer

That God has seen both of you safe through the pain and tears.


Sleepless nights, worry, tears and fears

These are just a few in the early years,

Pain and strain go hand in hand

When your little one begins to stand.


Every fall every cry feels like someone stabbed you with a knife

Throughout the years you feel the same

And it will continue throughout their lives.

Like a never ending game


They will grow and change your dreams,

Challenge your words and sometimes scream

But whatever they do you continue to love

What can beat a mother’s love?


You defend them from friends and enemies

Help them as best you can

Train and guide is all you can do

Show them that they have God beside them too

And when your job is good and done

You smile when they make you a Gran.










Harmattan  don come again ooooooh

Cracked lips
not good for a kiss

Split heels
not good for the sheets

Dry skin
Not good for man

Static Hair
Not good for the comb

Dry white dust
Not good for the houseproud

Icy nostrils
very good for shea butter

a hot bowl of light soup
just right for the insides

Harmattan!  Na wa ooooh



Accra – Kumasi…Accra Kumasi

This call was deep in his heart,

Whenever you asked him what he would do when he went back home

He’d say that his dream was to ply the “Accra Kumasi” route.


Floors were scrubbed,

Music was played,

Strange languages were learnt

Different foods were eaten

Many friends were made all with the aim of

Plying the “Accra Kumasi” route.


Music was played in streets,

In night clubs,

In hotels,

In all kinds of bars and open places.

Every type of music,








There were late nights and long days

Walking in the hot sun and cycling in the winter snow,

Just to ply the “Accra Kumasi” road.


Finally the day came when the dream was realized,

The truck was bought, taxes paid,

 Unions were joined and stations registered.


Reality shattered dreams,

Roads were bad,

Authority corrupt,

Loads were heavy,

Drivers pushed and stressed

Tried all means to get their daily bread

But still the dream hung on.


Ten years later, 

out in the night, 

all was still and quiet on the long unsafe road, 

suddenly with a crash and a bang the “Accra Kumasi” 

dream ended on the “Accra Kumasi” Road.


Rest in peace all drivers who lost their lives on the Accra Kumasi Road


(C) Mariska Araba Taylor-Darko  6 March 2004


Silver from Ghana

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"Sankofa" Go back for it!!