Longevity Dear Onyankopon, May I reach the age of 90? I mean in years. May I, please? Pretty please? In fantastic health, with many pesewas clinking, and branched-out defined versions of me. My regular garb will be Ntama, showing my heritage. I’ll wear duku too, that’ll sometimes cover my fine locked tresses. And have my beads circling my wrist and neckline. Earlobes too. Abi you know me. I’ll sip my coffee in the early dawn, relishing its darkness and its creamy drops. Oh. I’ll sip my fermented grapes too in the cool evenings. EWURADE! Oops! I didn’t mean to scream. Ewurade… Even if I’ll use a cane, I’ll make it a Stylish Green one. But, I jest. No canes wae. And, Lordrrrd... Let my 90th year be. Or will You grant me an extra 5, perhaps? If it pleases You? How about making it 10? Now, I am pushing it, huh? Not just me, ooo. The Adam You gave me too. My siblings too. We have been bereft. Ei… My friends. Did I forget the ones that my womb pushed out?? Why won’t I? I am maudlin. Ototrobonto. You said we should ask. So. Here I am … asking, backhand in palm fashion. May I be a Nonagenarian? May I? May I? I shall. In Jesu’s name. -Ntology 42 The Birthday Journal
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