Mr Frazier is choked for prose. He needs to resort to verse. There is a terrible story. There was Humphrey Senanu Lumor. There are the bushes of the highways of Brong Ahafo.
There are the armed robbers bristling with weapons.
It is dawn of a Fofie.
The brigands attack a police patrol vehicle.
This story ends with ‘Whhyy’ stuck in the throats of listeners.
Senanu will be sorely missed by many families.
In Akatsi, Atiavi and Akrodie tears will never dry.
And his gym mates of Kukuom are deflated.
He has never made it to the Olympics.
But he has won gold with his blood.
Senanu, rest in peace, sure in the knowledge
That John Kudalor’s men, your mates in uniform
Have a date with the assassin and his types
And smoke out armed robbery in Ghana
Simon Akabati’s men of Kukuom say,
No fears, we shall do it for the memory of you.
May the earth lie gently on you,
On burial on August 27 at Atiavi.
Maa Ataa and the children say,
Safe Journey, Gallant Daddy.
All Ghana say, Hmm…But ‘Whhyy?’