for three Ghanaians plus three equals three / Ghanaians still

Snow joke. Mount Wellington, as seen from Geilston Bay. July 2011.

Ezra's birthday party is due to begin in one hour's time. I hope that by the time this post goes up:

i) the cake is done and dusted,

ii) the party bags are brimming with goodies,

iii) the children are dressed, fed and watered, and,

iv) the sun is out.

But first, a poem...

More Hope More Dust, Kojo Laing

Three Ghanaians have taped goats’ backs, they block the dung.
I
By the dust-blown koobi stands a chief on one leg,
AM
taped goats grunt and move their dust onto the flat fish,
OBSESSED
and to the raised one leg the horn sends a low sympathy
WITH
of music, for three Ghanaians plus three equals three
Ghanaians still,
THE
who stand behind the bus and admire the exhaust-pipe
TOUCH
freshly sweet with sugar-cane that was exhaustedly brought
OF
as the goat escapes with a powerful blast, its
SKINS
own anti-hoarding exercise done through the hide of the rump.
AT
The chief dancing with the other leg expects koobi
in the evening
BUSY
provided his wives can get round the power of horn music.
DUSTY
The sympathy is higher, lies on the motoway of a tall
Tamale man,
PLACES
but the horn is full of dust, it blows a tactile music,
BUT
so that at last three Ghanaians reduce themselves yet
still remain three.
IT
The free goats attack the Ghanaians, the revenge in the hoof
rises,
IS
in the dust the koobi turns over to its wrong side, parries
the commotion,
THE
the chiefly leg fed with fish is seriously dancing, it goads
the horn
FORGOTTEN
as the bus groans off spreading memories with its exhaust,
high
FUTURE
there the fighting goes on regardless: see the authority
in kicking,
THE
the Ghanaians bleat, the goats cry,
FORGOTTEN
they change hides but can’t hide each other, even in dust,
dust,
HISTORY
the hearts of goats become the hearts of Ghanaians,
THAT
the hoof is a fist, the finger is a tail,
SHAMES
and over where the ground steadies them there is a wall:
ME
for out of the fight, out of the bruises
AND
rise man and beast, beast part-man, man part-beast,
ALL
spectators scatter, chief is one fin of koobi, hornblower
turns to dust,
THESE
the Tamale man is an Accra cat: call him claws.
MYSTERIOUS
Millions of Ghanaians bleat with one lip in the mornings,
BODIES
cry later with the other lip hot,
PULLED
they frighten the silent watcher with the free mouth,
BY
who sees the changes career about in history,
and who, who
A SLY
waits patiently for the beast parts to wither,
WILD
waits for the bruise and fight
FATE
to change to the forward creative thrust: More hope!
More dust!

Let's knock that high dynamic range down a little. Mount Wellington, as seen from Geilston Bay. July 2011.