MALAM USMAN

MALAM USMAN

His hut, he built on the icy hills of Bauchi,

With the Fulani's he does have fun,

The mooring of their cows gave him solace,

With Fura and Nono, he was feed.

I met him when I was seven,

He told me tales of Borno,

Of how proudly it gave birth to Yobe,

With no desolation in its heart.

The spirited Malam Usman,

Belong to the Sokoto caliphate,

In Taraba, he harvested his crop,

And in Kaduna, he sold his goods.

He told me he was loved in Kano,

And made friends in Gombe, Kebbi, and Katsina,

He married from the Adamawa,

But wedded in Zamfara.

Malam Usman was a happy man,

He told me to chase his footsteps,

At twenty, I want to keep my promise to him,

I chose to conquer unity too.

On the icy hills of Bauchi now lays hatred,

Borno is now a sepulcher for souls,

With a gunshot, I catch cruises in Yobe,

Desolation now rules.

I tilled in Taraba but harvested skulls,

I was sold by my hoods in Kaduna,

In Kano, I was beaten and rejected,

Neglected by friends from Katsina, Kebbi, and Gombe.

Malam Usman lied to me,

But did he truly lie?

I think religion and politics lied,

Malam Usman was truthful.

Religion is meant to be sacred,

But nowadays it's trampled with disgust

Politics has eaten deep in men,

Blindfolding eyes with self-centeredness.

Where is love?

Is it dead or asleep?

Religion is not war,

Neither is politics

Say No to Killings in Northern Nigeria!!

Wale Fidel (©D'HolyPoet)

20th, Feb 2021. All reserved.