By: J. Acheampong Nana Kwesi
Ron is a 20 year old writer/ poet. He has a passion for fantasy and mystery genres and is inspired by the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, R. L. Stine & Stephen King. He is currently working on a sci-fi novella that blends Ghanaian history and mythos. Co-founder of Ghanareads on Instagram. He has a collection of poetry under the anthology JUST BREATH on both Wattpad and Substack.
I am Envy
As Green As The Day I was Born
You guessed it
My Gemini Heart Longs For The Twin I Sought
My Emerald Eyes Replaced Each Year I Scoure The Earth
My MayFlower Soul Sheds Its Petals Season By Seaon
I am Envy
As Green As The Earth You Walk Upon
You knew it, all along
My Pastures you ventured in search of promises unyielding
My Shade you pursued in times of hardship and cruelty
My Air you sought in moments where deciding caused you stress
I am Envy
As Green As The Sick You Spew Upon
You deny it, as you deny all wrong, yet act on
My Flu stuffs the very sense you require to sniff out danger
My Pus oozes from the blemishes and acne of your unkempt body
My Excrement expels from the very factory you ingest your waste
I am Envy
As Green As You Are
You see it, yes you do my friend
You are Envy
And So Am I
We Are Green
We Are One
As with all around us
You are me
My Mayflower Emerald Gem-In-I.
The Story Of The 1st DEADLY SIN begun in this tale of the coasts of Westen Africa on the
shores of the Gold Coast in the lands of the Ashantis in the hearts of men and the webs of the
spider.
And his name was Anansi.
Anansi The Spider, Brother To Envy.
In slavery we journeyed the Carribeans on a ship headed West to lands of cotton and snow. All
that is white is not pure. This Anansi knows. As his infamous threads of silk are woven to perfect
appraisal. He alone knows their true purpose. His home, is a trap for his prey.
Anansi hears the nursery rhyme.
The one sang by the white kids.
He stands and listens.
Nodding his head verily so.
The tune dances in the air.
As his strings at his Web.
His eyes open up.
All 8 of them.
As he bares his fangs.
The children shut up.
And run on in fear.
Their melody only half complete.
Yet a seance was it not.
Spoke of the devil and whence he came.
And he was no itsy bitsy spider, No.
He was a large dark man.
With arms you could not number.
And eyes also in pairs you could not count.
For when you stared at his face.
You were met with a pair of green.
The emerald green of envy.
And in that moment you knew.
There was no myth. He was no legend.
All the folklore and all the tales.
Were stories of past.
Because you had seen right there before you.
The immortal Kwaku.
And yet he was a man nonetheless.
He heard the rumours.
Most of them he knew as lies.
Yet said nothing.
Barely did he wish to speak the tongue of another.
Lest his mother tongue was cut off and lost to the soil on which it was not formed of.
Lest he lose his complexion and birth descendant who know not where they are from.
Lest his kids question their duality.
As may others now run amok confused.
Kwaku was pledged.
He promised himself freedom.
He promised himself return to his motherland.
For there his true lady fair awaited him.
And he had wish her no more longing.
Kwaku on the lands of the West.
Had been a slave to their trade.
Picking at their cotton to be woven into their threads.
Drinking from the spout for water only when thirst was far off to be quenched.
Beaten and whipped in the rain as blood washed away on the bolls he let drench.
And out to the sun to work another day.
While the children longed off their fear merrily danced once again.
To the the tune of the itsy bitsy spider who could not come out to play.
It came a time where Kweku understood
When the people said his eyes were filled with green and not brown as he once mistook
Green was the colour of envy
And before him he knew the path to freedom
Was his only pursuit
And his envy bleed through his veins
And illuminated in his eyes for the world to see.
Kweku had gone made in his pursuit
Now nicknamed the trickster by his masters
He would escape every now and then
Most times even evade his punishment
And sometimes flee his captives for good
He was called wise
By his people who saw the green in his eyes
And remembered the stories told of similar characters back home
But for those who did not remember
For those who had cut their tongue
And washed off the soil of their skin
They called him mad
And told tales of Kweku the mad blackman
The slave who who would oppose to all
In search of some long lost
Noone know what became off Kweku
He was a traveller
A tramp A fugitive An outcast
A vigilante A martyr An activist
A wanderer A protestant A loner
He was a man of many names
But a man all knew really well
He was the troublemaker
The legend they could not shut up
The voice they could not quiet with whip nor work
His story was told
On and on and on again
In many ways by old and by young
But the truth remained the same
Kweku Anansi was the brother of envy
As green as the emeralds in his eyes
And what became of his fair maiden you ask
Yaa of the Asantes
The women who had not yet married
And noone knew reason why of
Perfect in every way shape and form
Yet her people saw her longing
Not of man or marriage
But of something she spoke of as stolen
Stolen from her when they came in from the West
She spoke of this treasure as though it were masculine
And with years past she'd cried all her tears away
But word travelled of her treasure
Across the seas it had spread as legends do
So she waited longer for her Kweku to come back to her
But when the tales remained the same and nothing changed
She made her choices
She could not wait any longer
For as her mother and father awaited her bridprice
She would go in the midst of men
Not seeking approval
But with her father's gun in arms
Words of bravery spun from legend
And a glint of green in her eyes to fuel the fire in the men who watched
Then envy burned bright
The first deadly sin lead the Asanteman into battle
Lead by the woman of the Asantes, Asntewaa.
For she too longed not for the richest and spoils of men
But for the freedom than was shipped and stolen from her, sent out to sea
Yaa Asantewaa became the betrothed of envy
The longing love to Kwaku Anansi
Both separated
But connected
By the first deadly sin.
ENVY:
The seven deadly sins, the capital vices or cardinal sins. The grouping of major vices within
teachings. Considered the fundamental sources of other sins. They are Pride, Greed, Wrath,
Envy, Lust, , Gluttony and Sloth.
Theologically, Pride is often considered the most serious sin and the root of all others. In truth
however Envy pulls the strings as he pleases.
In the 4th century the Greek monk Evagrius Ponticus, who listed eight "evil thoughts" or
temptations for fellow monks. This list was later refined and translated into Latin by John
Cassian. In the 6th century, Pope Gregory I reduced the list to seven, merging similar ideas and
adding ENVY, which created the standard list used in Catholic theology today.
Envy, A selfish sadness at another's happiness, blessings, or achievements, sometimes
coupled with a desire to see them deprived of those goods.
