Do I drop it in your venerable chambers
Or carry the
heavy booty to your immaculate mansion
Shall I bury it
in the capacious water tank
In your well
laundered backyard
Or will it breathe better in the septic tank
Since money can
deodorize the smelliest crime
Shall I haul it
up the attic
Between the
ceiling and your lofty roof
Or shall I
conjure the walls to open up
And swallow
this sudden bounty from your honest labour
Shall I give a billion to each of your paramours
The black, the
light, the Fanta-yellow
They will surely know how
to keep the loot
In places too
remote for the sniffing dog
Or shall I use
the particulars
Of your
anonymous maidservants and manservants
With their names on overflowing bank accounts
While they
famish like ownerless dogs
Shall I haul it
all to your village
In the valley
behind seven mountains
Where potholes swallow up the hugest jeep
And Penury
leaves a scar on every house
My Lord
It will take the fastest machine
Many, many days to count this booty; and lucky bank bosses
May help
themselves to a fraction of the loot
My Lord
Tell me where
to keep your bribe?
The “last hope
of the common man”
Has become the
last bastion of the criminally rich
A terrible
plague bestrides the land
Besieged by
rapacious judges and venal lawyers
Behind the
antiquated wig
And the slavish
glove
The penguin
gown and the obfuscating jargon
Is a rot and
riot whose stench is choking the land
Behind the
rituals and roted rigmaroles
Old antics
connive with new tricks
Behind the
prim-and-proper costumes of masquerades
Corruption
stands, naked, in its insolent impunity
For sale to the
highest bidder
Interlocutory
and perpetual injunctions
Opulent
criminals shop for pliant judges
Protect the
criminal, enshrine the crime
And Election
Petition Tribunals
Ah, bless those
goldmines and bottomless booties!
Scoundrel
vote-riggers romp to electoral victory
All hail our
buyable Bench and conniving Bar
A million dollars in
Their Lordship’s bedroom
A million euros
in the parlor closet
Countless naira
beneath the kitchen sink
Our courts are
fast running out of Ghana-must-go’s*
The “Temple of
Justice”
Is broken in
every brick
The roof is
roundly perforated
By termites of
graft
My Lord
Tell me where
to keep your bribe?
Judges doze in
the courtroom
Having spent
all night, counting money and various “gifts”
And the Chief
Justice looks on with tired eyes
As Corruption usurps his gavel.
A
million dollars in Their Lordship’s bedroom
A million euros
in the parlor closet
Countless naira
beneath the kitchen sink
Our courts are
fast running out of Ghana-must-go’s*
The “Temple of
Justice”
Credit: Niyi Osundare
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