Kantamanto Hustle

By: Don Pax

In Accra’s heart, where Kantamanto buzzes,
A young man weaves through crowded streets,
Dreams as vibrant as kente cloth,
Hopes as tall as the Jamestown lighthouse.

Each day, a marathon through market stalls,
Dodging cars, hawkers, and hard luck,
His legs may tire, but his spirit? Untamed.
Like a turtle in Labadi’s sands, he presses on.

When the sun scorches and sweat blinds,
He thinks, “Even the snail leaves a silver trail.”
So, he shines shoes till they gleam like stars,
Or sell pure water, cool as Volta’s streams.
Or “Kayayie”, as swift and affordable as Uber.

Some days, cedi coins jingle a merry tune,
Other times, pockets echo with emptiness.
But he knows: Rome wasn’t built in a day,
And neither was the Black Star square.

In this concrete jungle of hustle and flow,
He’s the tortoise racing a thousand hares.
They may zoom past in shiny trotros,
But slow and steady wins the race, they say.

So, he pushes on, from dawn to dusk,
Evidence of Ghanaian tenacity,
In his veins flows the spirit of Asante warriors,
In his heart, the wisdom of the talking drum.

In Kantamanto’s vibrant tapestry,
Every thread counts, every struggle matters.
And who knows? Tomorrow might bring
The break he seeks is a turtle’s leap to success.

Till then, he’ll hustle with a smile,
Turning obstacles into stepping stones,
Even in Accra’s urban jungle,
A determined turtle can win his race.