On our shoulders we carried our heavy nets;
On their heads their empty baskets.
Together we walked from our homes,
And at your bank we met.
The noisy silence of the fishermen
Told a sad story to the women.
You who put smiles on our faces
By adding to our kenkeys grilled fishes
Have also flooded our faces with tears
And filled our hearts with fears.
For nets are cast into your waters
And plastic bags of different colours …
Where are the fishes that kept
Our kenkeys company on the plates that rest
On our laps in the centre of our palms?
With fearful tears I stand at your bank.
In my palm a lonely Ga kenkey, hot pepper