Ghana's Grand Gala: An Ironic Ode Poem by Doris Dzameshie

In the land of jollof wars and palm wine dreams, Where kente weaves tales of ancestral schemes, Ghana gathers, clad in vibrant hues, To celebrate life—the cosmic ruse.

Verse 1: The Fufu Feast
Behold the fufu feast, a starchy ballet, Where pounded yam pirouettes with grace. The mortars sing, "We crush your dreams! " As soup spills like secrets on eager plates.

Chorus: Hallelujah in Plantains
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The plantains fry, Their golden skins crackling with irony. The gods sip palm wine, chuckling softly, "Life's a stew, my children—spicy and messy."

Verse 2: The Funeral Dance
At funerals, we wail, we ululate, Our dirges syncopated with borrowed grief. The coffin dances, a twirl of mahogany, While mourners Instagram their sorrow—oh, sweet relief!

Chorus: Hallelujah in Coffin Art
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The pallbearers strut, Their shades hiding eyes that know too much. The ancestors nod, "Well played, my kin, " As the DJ spins "Azonto" at the graveside brunch.
Bridge: The Trotro Tango
Trotros—those wheezing metal beasts— Lurch through potholes, belching diesel prayers. Passengers cling, their faces etched with irony, "Lord, grant us speed bumps and air fresheners! "

Chorus: Hallelujah in Traffic Jams
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The hawkers sell, Their wares defying physics—balancing acts. The tro-tro preacher shouts, "Repent, my brethren! " As we inch toward eternity, bumper to bumper.

Outro: Sunset Benediction (with a Twist)
As the sun dips low, casting shadows on kelewele stands, Ghana laughs—a belly-deep, palm-wine guffaw. Life, you sly trickster, we raise our glasses: "Cheers to chaos, to paradox, to this grand gala! "