Pub Date : 2018-09-21DOI: 10.1017/9781787443457.072
Kwaku Poku
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Pub Date : 2018-09-21DOI: 10.1017/9781787443457.031
Malam Bello Osman
{"title":"Wakan Sule (A Song for a Shilling)","authors":"Malam Bello Osman","doi":"10.1017/9781787443457.031","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/9781787443457.031","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":267475,"journal":{"name":"Voices of Ghana","volume":"35 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2018-09-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"126396369","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2018-09-01DOI: 10.1017/9781787443457.020
Efua Theodora Sutherland
Shall we say Shall we put it this way Shall we say that the maid of Kyerefaso, Foruwa, daughter of the Queen-mother was as a young deer, graceful in limb. Such she was, with head held high, eyes soft and wide with wonder. And she was light of foot, light in all her moving. Stepping springily along the water-path, like a deer that had strayed from the thicket springily stepping along the water-path, she was a picture to give the eye a feast. And nobody passed her by but turned to look at her again. Those of her village said that her voice, in speech, was like the murmur of a river quietly flowing beneath showers of bamboo leaves. They said her smile would sometimes blossom like a lily on her lips and sometimes rise like sunrise. The butterflies do not fly away from the flowers, they draw near. Foruwa was the flower of her village. So shall we say, Shall we put it this way, that all the village butterflies, the men, tried to draw near her at every turn, crossed and crossed her path, and said of her, ‘She shall be my wife, and mine, and mine, and mine’. But, suns rose and set, moons silvered and died, and as the days passed Foruwa grew more lovesome, yet she became no-one's wife. She smiled at the butterflies, and waved her hand lightly to greet them as she went swiftly about her daily work, ‘Morning, Kweku Morning, Kwesi Morning, Kodwo’, that was all. And so they said, even while their hearts thumped for her, ‘Proud! Foruwa is proud … and very strange.’ And so the men when they gathered would say ‘There goes a strange girl. She is not just stiff-in-the-neck-proud, not just breastsstuck- out-I-am-the-only-girl-in the-village proud. What kind of pride is hers?’ The end of the year came round again, bringing a season of festivals. For the gathering in of corn, yams and cocoa, there were harvest celebrations. There were bride-meetings too. And it came to the time when the Asafo companies should hold their festival. The village was full of manly sounds, loud musketry and swelling choruses. The path-finding, path-clearing ceremony came to an end. The Asafo marched on towards the Queen-mother's house, the women fussing round them, prancing round them, spreading their cloths in their way.
{"title":"New Life at Kyerefaso","authors":"Efua Theodora Sutherland","doi":"10.1017/9781787443457.020","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/9781787443457.020","url":null,"abstract":"Shall we say Shall we put it this way Shall we say that the maid of Kyerefaso, Foruwa, daughter of the Queen-mother was as a young deer, graceful in limb. Such she was, with head held high, eyes soft and wide with wonder. And she was light of foot, light in all her moving. Stepping springily along the water-path, like a deer that had strayed from the thicket springily stepping along the water-path, she was a picture to give the eye a feast. And nobody passed her by but turned to look at her again. Those of her village said that her voice, in speech, was like the murmur of a river quietly flowing beneath showers of bamboo leaves. They said her smile would sometimes blossom like a lily on her lips and sometimes rise like sunrise. The butterflies do not fly away from the flowers, they draw near. Foruwa was the flower of her village. So shall we say, Shall we put it this way, that all the village butterflies, the men, tried to draw near her at every turn, crossed and crossed her path, and said of her, ‘She shall be my wife, and mine, and mine, and mine’. But, suns rose and set, moons silvered and died, and as the days passed Foruwa grew more lovesome, yet she became no-one's wife. She smiled at the butterflies, and waved her hand lightly to greet them as she went swiftly about her daily work, ‘Morning, Kweku Morning, Kwesi Morning, Kodwo’, that was all. And so they said, even while their hearts thumped for her, ‘Proud! Foruwa is proud … and very strange.’ And so the men when they gathered would say ‘There goes a strange girl. She is not just stiff-in-the-neck-proud, not just breastsstuck- out-I-am-the-only-girl-in the-village proud. What kind of pride is hers?’ The end of the year came round again, bringing a season of festivals. For the gathering in of corn, yams and cocoa, there were harvest celebrations. There were bride-meetings too. And it came to the time when the Asafo companies should hold their festival. The village was full of manly sounds, loud musketry and swelling choruses. The path-finding, path-clearing ceremony came to an end. The Asafo marched on towards the Queen-mother's house, the women fussing round them, prancing round them, spreading their cloths in their way.","PeriodicalId":267475,"journal":{"name":"Voices of Ghana","volume":"38 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2018-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"117091605","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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