Bootlick Airlines

Cowering on a thirty-minute flight, meditating on how long it took for a light plane to bite the dust (in these days of mishap), I was squirming – and not just me – at the slimy gallons of apocryphal adulation the cabin crew poured all over a minister of State in the faux-glorified business class separated by a flimsy blue curtain. “Welcome, Honourable Minister, ladies and gentlemen.” “Have a pleasant flight, Honourable Minister...” “Goodbye, Honourable Minister...”

Flimsy Banku Buffets

Perched at the buffet saloon of a shiny hotel on a soggy Kumasi night, sampling senseless delights and wondering woolly whys the local chophouses don’t offer as-much-as-you-like banquets to he-who-goes-there.

The Mental Fence

When I was in primary school

And being smart was still cool

They'd group clever kids in one class

And  stragglers in the quicksand mass

The best they'd call Class Yellow or A
The worst class, D or Grey

They ran two tracks of intelligence

Separated by a mental fence

Class A reached the good high schools

To the rest, they gave hand tools

Nobody got a second chance

To outgrow the Childhood Trance