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Sunday, 13 October 2019

Dreams; (the unheard tale of the African Child).

Silence is the voice they hear when I speak. Louder though I wail, yet no one seems to heed. Like muffles of a struggling man denying a forceful death, I quiver and quaver yet mercy remains unhinged. My yearnings in vein as the vane molests me. As I wander the rough dusty paths amidst these vast baobab trees. The odds hovering around me, like the winds billowing a tree. My head heavy, yet this heft soothes my weary dandruff itch. For these thorny branches be the resort upon which I feed. And stories upon stories I am told, yet not a single one befits me. Bout the tales of fairies and princesses, heroines and Queens. In a land far beyond beyond where my hopes cannot reach. Yet here I sit, adamantly waiting for the light to beam. The light which brightens upon the future, that future which I'm blinded to see. But in my sleep I see a dream, and in the dream I'm crowned a queen. Perhaps this is my wish beckoning me, yet not a chance I had waken to see. And then my mother's legacy untold to me, yet rendered down as if a glory I weaned. And my suffering, I am told, is the bright man's ideal. And so I wonder as to why a bright being would have a dark will. And further I wonder as to why my father could not own his ideals. Perhaps it's just a tale, one which is told to weaken my heels. Or perhaps it's a story in which my ancestral shame is concealed. And whence I go to fetch from the unsung heroes' stream. As I lean, therein a reflection of my dreams sprouts on a wavy screen. But then it floats away and farther away from me. Though within my reach, yet beyond my grip. And so I query, "whither the fate, that which I am determined to will?" Whither, I question, the destiny I am bestowed to fulfill. And though I rise to speak, but my voice remains too shrill. Lord do I pray, that someday my voice grows bold as steel. So the world which looks down upon me, may be blinded by my glistens and squeals. Thus I may end my ancestral ordeal. And redeem my glory, as I rewrite history in an indelible ink and with a perfect quill...
.
-Ibn Adam...
(This poem is dedicated to the African girl child).

Saturday, 24 August 2019

Thrills of Love (The Eternal)...

Strains,
Far afar and yet it rains
In sprinkles of dreams that aches the brains
And blows the breeze that wanes the frames
And spreads the rays that illuminates the shades
Forever away, yet remains
The freer of souls, and the maker of slaves
Together we remain
Or forever we abstain
For the rights and freewill of the world we claim
Shall become the joy or misery of the life we proclaim
In strength, it lingers
And in weakness, it restrains
The caresser of hope, in moments of taints
The destroyer of confidence, when trusts are feigned
Though mortal in form,
Yet immortal it remains
...
Free free and forever free
For whomever you possess shall remain in spree
And in time it was said, "Let there be light",
You were set to breathe
And you said a prayer that was granted indeed
That no heart made of flesh shall overcome your greed
And so you swayed for eons and free
since thence the pen and the slate were safe in keep
Since the waters, the winds and the lands were in place to breed
Since the dooms were set ablaze to feed
And since the Gardens were spread to meet
Hence,
until eternity dies,
You shall remain our path,
either in merriments, or yet, in grief...
.
Ibn Adam...

Thursday, 23 May 2019

Sun sets (in my rearview)...

Lights,
fast fading away
Green leaves,
gladly waving away
Fierce winds,
harshly blowing away
One minute,
I'm face in rays
Next,
I was turning away
"Why the haste, when I'll be returning again?"
A voice called,
but I can't see its face
"Is it East where you set your pace?"
As it echoed from a distance away
"Well then, I shall see you tomorrow, for there's where I stay"
And far and far and fast as I sway
My gaze was stocked in my rearview,
as my day looms away
For I heard, for the first time,
the Sun's lullaby,
that which was sang to lay the rays
.
Ibn Adam...

Tuesday, 12 March 2019

Mountains Call (The Hiker's prayer)...


Dear Lord of the mighty moulds
Hear me as I make this call;
In warmth, yet in cold
As I march to the valleys of the hilly roads
Lift me as I throw one foot in front of the toe
Here I come, once again, to explore
What wonders You have kept unknown;
And yet the stories You have held untold
Push me further now as I grow;
Push me higher up to the pointy glow
Show me that which only You and the winged have known
...
And to the greatest heights I set my journey
So give me the courage to fight my worries;
Hand me the strength to keep my bold
Rough or slippery, yet I shall hold
Cold or blazing or more I shall go
In fear I crawl;
And in bravery I throw
Farther and further and more I shall explore;
Every cave and every wonder You have kept in fold
In glaring sunny days;
Or in shady breezy paths I tour
...
Distance beyond distance and yonder I rally
At dusk or dawn I clamor Your glory
For my thirst and curiosity I must find a savory
Breaching the borders and the tides of memories
And in the end, fulfilled I shall return to my boundaries
So, safely, I ask that You may descend me
...
-Ibn Adam

Friday, 8 March 2019

Moments (again)...

Moments have come,
yet moments shall come again...
For moments gone are found in memories,
either in joy or in pain...
Life, they say, is a freefall of a freefall;
an endless slide into a baseless abyss
To what ends?
Yet no man can tell...
And the little bumps which seldom awakens,
only so one can appreciate the transient havens...
Just like a beautiful rhythm,
which momentarily dawns to define
existence
Briefly it comes and then it goes,
yet, it's gone naught away...
For in a blink or two it sets a footnote,
upon which one can trace its trail...
Random upon random of dust,
yet fate shall always find its way...
...
Alas!
In a bond of embrace
moments are made...
And in bids of farewells,
memories are framed...
Here then with you,
my moments of faith...
Here again without you,
the memories of my lonely days...

Ibn Adam

Wednesday, 13 February 2019

Moments (we wait)...

Far too long and yet we wait
In anticipation for a meaning we crave
For a journey in time we make...
Yet, what could we gain in time that never fades?
Is it the love, passion and adventures we trade?
Or the seasons we rejoice in turns and in faith?
Oh!
But little do we know, for when we stray
That those we hold in gladness and in rage;
Are they who define our moments of grace...
And though in whispers upon whispers we may sway
In their bliss, thus we regain our fray
The moments we desire art the glories of our days
Away they shall go
And here we shall wait
For time to renew the faces we embrace
Twinkles of the night shall sparkle in no vein
As long as we wait for the moments we fore-claim...

-Ibn Adam

Thursday, 7 February 2019

Bridges...

And far beyond the rocky heap
a tiny path, but where does it lead?
To the land of wonders, fear and mystery...
Oh! Whither do we seek?
Along the trail, there and we meet
the 3 princesses of Hope, Love and Peace...
With misty voice, kindness and ease,
they called unto us to a generous treat
"come pick some groundnuts and eat"
and on their faces a remarkable radiant glee...
Would I, however, acted the same way on the tarred streets?
Would I have ushered them into the tiled walls and the marbled fleet?
Would I have offered them a glass of milk or a plate of meat?
Could I have remembered to even gesture a disdainful greet?
...
Bit and beyond on the path of 2 feet
then came along the "Jacob" of the noble creed
"Lo and behold" he clamoured, "bend down and pick"
"Pick therefrom that which God has blessed"
"Eat therefrom that which you so everly wish"...
"I shall be your host" he savoured
"I shall be your guide until you depart and leave"...
"may we share your shade?" we eagered,
"may we take refuge therein where you heed?"
And with all pleasure he took the lead...
Thense a frail yet gleeful arms welcomed us to a room amidst blissfilled trees
The abode of the old pauper, and "Duna", his feisty barking geek...
There we ate the roasted sweet
and thence we drank the uncleansed yet icey treat
That which kills instantly the itchy greed...
...
Alas!
What do we seek beyond this mighty bliss?
And what could we offer in return for this majestic deed?
Fairwell to you oh dear old and kind pauper
fairwell to the shades of the heavenly breezy trees...
...
And a bit ahead lies the hamlet with a perfect serene
The inhabits of Jacob and his ilks, the benevolents and keens
And with a warm and hearty welcome they embraced us with ease...
Yet in their cheerful faces was enshrounded a grieving pain and a craving need
And beneath the tree whilst we await our leave
Meeting the old man whom dwelled the trains to "Umu Afiya" was delightful indeed...
As he spoke to us of the gone days of remarkable peace,
we ate and drank their sweet tubers and groundnut soup for free...
...
Thus...
Far and beyond we have found the link...
A "Bridge" of love and fulfilment
of fear and mystery
and of all that we seek...
The link that sets aside all of man's difference and greed
The link that places him in order of his benevolence and worthy deeds
A bridge of conscience, morals and hope
and all of humanity's needs...

So far and beyond
and our quest shall go long as we seek...
Far and beyond
and we shall get to discover the treasures hidden deep beneath the wavy seas...

Ibn Adam

Tuesday, 5 February 2019

The calling...

And if within you there is a calling;
A calling to which you owe a craving...
All you need is walk a distance;
The distance between you and happenstance...
And on your way you search an instance;
That in which you woke your conscience;
The conscience which negates all hindrance...
And whence your heart reverts its conscious;
And all your doubts drifts to oblivious;
And all your hopes regains its glorious
...
Alas!
Far you have walked the distance
Hence,
Listen to the fading voice of your calling
And turn to retrace your lonely trailing... 
There you shall find no harmful ailing;
For your conscience have found its maiden...

-Ibn Adam

Tuesday, 6 February 2018

Grief...

In a season of sorrows and remorse
In times of lost love and recourse
In a summer of burning sweat the lids churn
In a winter where hearts numb and minds turn
In a spring where tears run and memories return
In a land where hope becomes the only value formed
In a desert where you reach,
Yet, what you aim is beyond
Wishes, wonders, imaginations and regrets are born
...

Lingers of despair
Lingers of lost
...

Flee flee oh moment flee
Flee oh times of woefulness and bereave
Return dear beloved,
return to me
Come back oh days of gladness and ease
Come back oh moments of joy and peace
Come back oh dearest
Come and set me free
Whither and I pray...
Whither shall we meet
Oh and I crave
Oh do I seek
...

Alas...
Now, and I know, that no one is left un-beat
For the end, as I go, is always behind my feet
And lest I forget, that "Patience" shall remain my treat
For one day, or the next, I too shall meet my deed...

Ibn Adam

(Dedicated to my mother)

Tuesday, 23 January 2018

If Only...

If only I could see your eyes
Hold onto you
and relate to you my cries...
If only I could earn your smile
Just one more time
And enjoy that pleasing sigh...
If only I could read your mind
See your reason,
And perhaps find a meaning of life...
If only I could hear your heartbeat,
clean your tears
and gladden your eyes...
If only I could rest your mind,
End your whine
Be at right by your side...
If only I could hold your feet
End your grief
And be that which you seek...
If only I could turn moments to times,
realities to myth
And wishes to finds...

*Sighs*

At last!
And I ask why
Why you are at a distance,
A distance so far and wide...
And why am left with memories
Memories of times alive...
Would I ever get to hold you, again,
and share those stories we like to hide...
Could I get a chance, again
To hear your breathing
Inhale your chuckles
and "wonder" those gleeful eyes...

Alas!
Now only hope could strive,
For, indeed, fate has taken its chide...😍💖😘

Ibn Adam

Blessed...

One moment of birth
One next of growth
Mumble-jumble speeches,
Tumble-stumble walks
Who could fathom little you in ribbons and dress
Someday all grown and bold in a gown
For a brief, everybody's adoration
For the next, everyone's hope
How time flew like lightning,
How days went like storms
Blessed be you, Oh Mama's gladness
Blessed be you, Oh papa's pride
Yours' is a day in a season of winter
Yours' is a day in a season of love
Would you rise today and glitter
Won't you walk your way and glow
Smile, Oh blessed
Gladden the world like a singing guitar
Laugh, dear beloved
Awaken the world like a beautiful 'doh'...

Happy Birthday!

Ibn Adam

(To my lovely goddaughter princess Afrah Salihu Jarmajo)

Sunday, 21 January 2018

Word...

Foremost, you must know,
If you believe in nagging, whining
or cursing
Then 'do know that' the world is a trash
And its deserving treat is the thrash...

This world is a swing
Lucky is the one whom gets to fling
(As for) he whom gets not a fling,
Fate shall repay perhaps with a wink...

And you must know
That your personality is a title
For the wise it's a mantle
For the cautious, it's a grace
For the careless, a trouble...

Certainly, the world is an attire
Whether it be a "thawb" or "'regalia"
Your dignity lies on how your hat squires
Whether it be a "bola" or a "taxi driver's"...

If your occupation, sir, is farming
Then (better) pick-up your tool and start harrowing
For slacking is not your own thing
And when you turn around and see work remaining
Then do know (that) your tool needs a firmer gripping
Coz you won't earn a break until you meet an ending...

Do know (that) the world is a grain farm
It doesn't enrich until it reaches the barn(s)
It makes its value only when it's winnowed
And It's only consumed when it is siloed...

If you're good today, the stage is yours'
If you're not tomorrow, it's someone else's
Your "Guru" or "laya"
Can't make you have their places
Except if you're a ruler,
whose tyranny thrives above justice...

Do know that this world is a home
A Palace to whom is contempt and prone
A Dungeon to whom is content with (his) cone...

If you're an egotist
Whom prides of knowledge,
Beauty or wealth
Or perhaps you're a menace,
whom causes corruption on land,
or even on the oceans
Then do know that this life is a safari
Its path crosses above the peak of a valley
It poses a glamorous facade from the alley
(But) At the verge of it, is a pitch black "Bali"...

The world is a rollercoaster
Its measuring scale is a silky thread
If you tie it today, it loosens
If you let it be tomorrow, it flees with the breeze...

If you're enslaved by lust and desire
Then for a surety knowledge is required
Prudence and perseverance must be hired
So long the struggle is truly admired...

Of course (the world), is an oscillator
One day it stops on a rocky crater
Another day on a fluffy foam...

Hence, you must know,
If you awake to meet a desperate situation
Then the "Buzu" is your standing station
A call towards the "Qibla" is your obligation
Indeed your salvation is in 'His' predestination...

Finally, (do know that) the truth is a one way path
It shares no boundaries, it has no match
The moment you tilt then you have strayed
Whomever follows it with an intended trail
And stayed upon it with a clear trait
Then God will surely grant him bail

This "Word" is a fare for the wayfarer
It cannot be repaid even by the debt bearer
So pay it forward for the fellow farer...

And may we all hop on the guided trailer...!

Ibn Adam...

Jawabi...!

Da farko dai ka sani
Idan junin ka rãki ne,
magiya ko tsaki dai,
Toh duniyar ma yàyi ce
ma'ajin ta dai júji ne...

Kuma dai ka sani
Ita duniya lilo ce
Ga wanda ya d'ale ya dace
Ga wanda ko bai d'ale ba
Ga 'kadarin sa zai fanshe...

Kuma ka sani,
ita Hali inkiya ce
Idan ka gane tsari ce
Idan ka kula jari ce
Idan ko ka 'kyale musiba ce...

Tabbas duniya Tufa ce,
Malun-malun take ko 'yar shara dai
Mutunci ko, na daga sakun hula ne
Damanga take koma dai 'yar sa'ki ce...

Idan kai malam manomi ne
Toh maza d'au garma, yi hud'a dai
Don dai jinkiri ba taka bace
Idan ka waiga ka hango da saura dai,
toh fa ka sani, sakin 'kota ba naka bane
Don bakka hutu sai randa ka 'kare...

Ka sani fa ita duniya gonar hatsi ce
bata arzi'ki sai an girbe
bata 'kima sai an bushe
Ba kuma a cinta sai an tsince,

Idan ka iya, yau kai ne,
Idan baka iya ba, gobe wani ne
Gurun ka ko laya dai
baya baka hakki nai
Sai dai in kai Sarki ne,
mai mulkin tir da adalci ne...

Ka sani ita dai duniya gida ce
'Kurkuku' ce ga wanda ya dace
ga marar rabo ko aljanna ce...

Idan kai malan maji Izza ne,
mai alfahari da ilimi ne,
kyawu ko dukiya dai
Ko juninka ingiza fasadi ne,
bisa doron 'kasa, koma a daji ne,
Toh ka sani wannan safara ce
Mahayinta dai tsibiri ne,
masau'kin ta ko da kyawu yake a sarari dai,
A zango ko mai ba'kin muni ce...

Hakkun ita duniya Juyi ce
Mazarin ta dai silki ne
Idan ka ninke zai kwaye,
Idan ko ka 'kyale iska zai yaye...

Idan kuma kai bawan buri ne
Toh tabbas ilimi tilas ne
Ha'kuri da dangana ko haddi ne
Muddin ka fito jihadi ne...

Kwarai, ita duniya mayawiya ce
Idan ta sauke wata rana zuma ce
wata ran ko mad'aciya ce...

Don haka idan ka farka cikin rud'u ne
Ka sani matsayar ka bisa buzu ne
Kiranye ta maso 'kibla dai shine
Mafitar ka dai a 'kudirin SA yake...

Ita dai gaskiya hanya ce,
Bata da wãri ko a zance
da zaran an karkata toh an kauce
Ga wanda ya bita da niyyar dace
Ya kame sani ba wani zance
Toh Allah zai masa 'Alam nashareh'

Ita wannar Jawabin dai guzuri ce
Baka biyan ta ko a rance
Sai dai ka mika ta gaba don wani ma ya dace...
Allah yasa mu dace...!

Ibn Adam...

Saturday, 20 January 2018

Whispers...

...
Give me hope, I breathe
Give me reason, I reach
Give me love, I wonder
...
Is life a raging thunder
Or a bubble of my own blunder
Or a daze from human slumber
Or a doze of imaginative wonder(s)
...
Is death an aging comma
Or a sanctuary for the soul to ponder
Or a solace for the mind to meander
Or a dungeon for the body to winder
...
Could conscience be found in sunder
Amidst a tormentous summer
Would consciousness be regained in tender
At the verge of a dazzling winter
...
Is Man a seed of reason
A source of knowledge and wisdom
Or a fugitive of ultimate treason
Behaving in a manner displeasing
And so he marvels in pretence
Of his purpose in an ordered existence
But could he attain his intents
Without the aid of a higher pontence
Could he dictate his freedom
Anoint for himself an embellished Kingdom
Then whither, and I solemnly ask, lies the final season
...
Alas
Hollow is the voice I seek
To Whisper to me which path to heed
For gloomy is the fate I see
And grave are the days around me
So Praised be the One and Only Supreme
For He alone can set me free
From my own bondage,
Which I and men willfully decreed
...
So give me hope, I breathe
Give me reason, I reach
Give me love...

Ibn Adam

Friday, 19 January 2018

The Paradox...

I am a Beginning, I am an End;
I am a prey for Circumstance to dent

I am the Living, I am the Dead;
I am a boundary between two Depths

I am a King, I am a Slave;
I am the servant who's Loyal yet Knave

I am the Young, I am the Old;
I am the reason Wisdom unfolds

I am the Good, I am the Evil;
I am the Encompasser of the modern and the medieval

I am Now, I am Then;
I am but a Moment in history's den

I am the Enemy, I am the Friend;
I am the Smith whom breaks and mends

I am War, I am Peace;
I am the domain where Chaos sleeps

I am Love, I am Hate;
I am the home of an 'Unknown Fate'

I am Sadness, I am Joy;
I am just a character in Satan's ploy

I am the Right, I am the Wrong;
I am the Weakness created strong

I am the Foolishness, I am the Acumen;
I am the Virtue whom loses in argument

I am the Blessing, I am the Curse;
I am an entity of countless Spurs

I am the Coldness, I am the Heat;
I am the Condition which changes all feat

I am Above, I am Beneath;
I am a Judge whose verdict bequeaths

I am Bondage, I am Freedom;
I am the choice between Faith and Reason

I am Noise, I am Silence;
I am the Solace of every violence

I am the Oceans, I am the Lands;
I am the Wilderness that wildly expands

I am Punishment, I am Mercy;
I am the consequence of an 'Ultimate Legacy'

I am the Pleasure, I am the Pain;
I am the Feeling forever strained

I am the Unknown, I am the Certain;
I am the product of an 'Ultimate Bargain'

I am the Deep, I am the Shallow;
I am the design so Empty yet Halo

I am the Brave, I am the Coward;
I am the Hero whose victory's devoured

I am the Body, I am the Spirit;
I am the Creature whose essence has no limit.

I am the Solitary, I am the Diverse;
I am an Empathy in this whole universe

I am the Ample, I am the Brief;
I am just a Fragment in an eternal breeze

I am the Rich, I am the Poor;
I am the Beggar whose benevolence serves more

I am the Patient, I am the Desperate;
I am the menace whom Destroys what he can't create

I am Darkness, I am Light;
I am the Nexus that links up time's might

I am Dusk, I am Dawn;
I am the Noon whose Evening has gone

I am the Truth, I am the False;
I am a Contradiction upon which Nature falls

I am the Guided, I am the Lost;
I am the Traveller whose destination is crust

I am the Healthy, I am the Ill;
I am a Miscreant whom desires' tranquil

I am the Hope, I am the Doubt;
I am the Sailor whose voyage ends in drought

I am the Humble, I am the Proud;
I am an Emissary whose Message is simple, yet Loud

I am the Real, I am the Myth;
I am the Legend whose power has no width

I am the Miracle, I am the Script;
I am the Prophecy whose quest never quits

I am the Son, I am the Father;
I am the Inheritor of this mighty Mother

I am Human, I am a Being;
I am the Paradox whose existence is keen...

Ibn Adam

Thursday, 18 January 2018

Oh Ramadan...!

Oh Ramadan,
Oh thee place in time
Oh thee home of Salaam,
Baraka and 'Amaan'
Oh thee vanquisher of sins,
withholder of evil, shielder from 'Dalaal'...
Oh thee Mother of all 'Haqq',
Posessor of the 'Light',
Beholder of the ultimate 'Guidance'
Oh thee conveyer of the Rites,
the Path, and the ultimate Parlance
Oh thee bringer of Respites,
moulder of the Scheme,
and the Righteous Clearance...
Oh thee distinguisher of Truth and evil,
Right and evil, Good and evil
Oh thee fortress of hope
Of whose path leads only to the bounteous Abode
Oh thee in whose domain belongs the 'Night of all Possibilities'
Oh thee bringer of faith, greatness and absolute peace...
How do I praise thee, brace thee, embrace thee so thine grace and mercies begets me?
Art thou a kind stranger,
a generous guest
or a benevolent wayfarer?
Art thou a giver of glad tidings,
or indeed, a time-warner?
Art thou a witness of good,
or a restricter of bad manners?
Does one celebrate thy coming or mourn thy leave?
For certainly, those whom know thee care thee;
and those whom don't, fare thee...
Indeed, the invisible 'Rahmah' thee be
For why else would some crave thee whence others wave thee?
Alas!
'Woe is to him whom resent thee'
-as thus claimed thine Prophet,
may Peace rests he.
Thou came and with thy coming
the lucky art set free
On whose souls thine peace and mercies art mine humble pleas...
And if I'd wish a wish,
would thou accord a deed
That mine path also ends with thee,
And on the day of Reckoning,
to thine and mine Lord,
thou be a 'Dear' witness to me?
For indeed, 'Abdun Salih
is all I ever seek to be...
At the end, may I bid thee,
'Salaam, bil '£ouda ya Ramadan',
And in earnest faith I shall crave thee...

Ibn Adam

Wednesday, 17 January 2018

Hope...

Lost,
in thick black darkness
Wandering,
in dead cold silence
Uncertain,
desperately searching...

Thence, the dancing breeze ceased,
like in a mysterious dream
Thence, all thoughts froze,
like in a horror stream
Thence, everything I know,
seems to be negating me
Thence, everyone I cherish,
turns to be refusing me
Thence, doubt embraced love and rage,
birthing emotional cacophony
Thence, I reached,
but my arms kept failing me
Is what I seek, perhaps, beyond me?
Or, is it time that withholds my destiny?
In grave fear!
"all lost... all gone... dear God,
who's gonna rescue me?!"

Wait!
Here comes the dim light of dawn towards me
Look!
there goes the cold misty haze away from me
Listen!
I hear voices,
perhaps of them whom I seek
Aren't these faint footsteps of those whom I need!...

Alas!
Life, it is said, ends before it begins
It is a rotating order of dawns after dusks
A chaotic jumble of grimaces, scowls and grins
A turn of crass misfortunes,
in bits after bits
A circle of bricks on a roller spin
A fluctuation of merriments,
like the occasional drummer's kicks...

Thus,
at the very moment one is about to give in
Whence the lungs gasps for air to breathe in
Finally,
you realise something amiss within
It is dead, nay it is living
It is that subtle craving
"Hope..."
That which longs within...!

Ibn Adam

Moments

Long,
yet not gone
Shared cheered moments
seeming quite lost
Cherished days of amusements
all seem scarce
A willing heart
A tending mind
Seeking,
what lies behind the curtains
Yet seems afar...
Craving,
That inspirational voyage
Those adventurous quests
Hidden within mesmerizing rhythms
That melodious heavenly flute
Those magnificent elegant portraits
Muffled within conveniently arranged meters...
Slow passionate dreams
Honing,
a little more oomph
Wondering,
How much more would one need
To raise those curtains
To see,
yet once more,
The beauty that awaits
Yonder those lids...

-Ibn Adam

Friday, 4 August 2017

The ills of 'False Pride': the Biafran dilemma


By Abdul-Rahman Baban Saibo

babansaibo@gmail.com

"... No matter, we keep on reminding ourselves, as if such purposeless, painful, shameless reminders were a legitimate excuse for our grand failure, that the Malaysians got their first palm tree seedlings from us! An admission of our ineptitude, no doubt a balm for our ego bruised by the crass sins of embarrassing nonperformance, but certainly not an atonement for the abomination of our inexcusable wilful neglect." The late Abubakar Gimba said in a Presidential address delivered at the 1999 annual conference of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA).

There's a disease that feasts on us. By us I mean humans. That disease is neither viral nor bacterial. As a matter of fact, biologically, it does not exist. Yet, this disease is as deadly as Ebola itself. It manifests on the system until it is certain that the system is no longer functional -or at least, it ensures that the harm done would take a lifetime to recover. It is slow, yet it is crucial. Like Cancer. Only it does not have any physical occurrence. Though it does not possess any physical characteristics, it is terminal at all stages.

This disease differs not so much from Ebola in every respect except in physicality. For even in name they resemble. It is 'Ego'. Were we now to add the 2 letters, "la", that ends the former to the latter, they would become the identical twins that only differ in character (physical effects). Why don't we try it?

Recently, a nicely composed post had its days on Facebook (and other Social medias). It was a well concise write up about the Hausa man. This message was of course meant to counter the harsh insults that was poured upon the Hausa man by his Igbo counterpart. The post enumerates how the Hausa man had the privileges of wearing clothes at a time whence the Igbo wore not. It says that the Hausa man was found by the European living an ordered civil life. That the Hausa man was never put to slavery. That he spoke a well oriented dialect which was recognized (and spoken) far and wide, beyond his own soils. In essence, this write up meant to say that were the Hausa man practicing Colonialism in those days, he, and not Lord Lugard, would have had the liberty of Amalgamating the two Protectorates -or at least so it portrayed.

I remember a friend (Ayatullah Elzhi) mentioning having a 'problem' with the narrative when it was shared with a group we belong to (on WhatsApp) by another brother. His distaste was thus that if the Hausa man would feel such pride, how comes he is now beneath his adversary in terms of growth and development? Is vicissitude the nature of his progress? (Or perhaps he's got the Benjamin Botton's disease!). Does he cry out loud in this tone to console his present wounds with his past remedies? Why mention the past if it does not have any effect on the present?

The mistake that man has always stumbled into, time and time again, is succombing to that 'false' impression that, 'since the past was good, the present isn't that bad either'. He chooses to tell himself a story of greatness that has foregone -or sometimes is yet to come- hence living in a duo; one of the mental past or that which he framed to achieve (e.i., yet to come); the other of the physical present -that which never lasts, for long. That is ego -which Ryan Holiday declared, "The Enemy"!

Man was made, by his Creator, a dependent machine. A mutual survivor by nature. An adaptive creature. And, unlike any other animal, an individualistic skilled organism through which his life's sustenance and way of living is derived. In this case then, no one can ultimately deny the mutual dependence that has far grown beyond the recognition of original formation between the Hausa and the Igbo. Not the Colonial masters. Not even Lord Lugard himself!

Indeed, the false pride of the Hausa man is not any different from that of the Igbo man. They both bear identical bruises. The bruise of want of 'Recognition'. A recognition of significance; of relevance; of matter. Each group sounding a trumpet of proficiency. The Hausa, of fairness, equality and justice in leadership. The Igbo, of ownership of resources and economic schema. (Not faraway, their western brother, singing songs of learnedness and intellectual knowhow -one whom we would consider a neutral in the harsh stand. At least for now!)

The two have grown fond of one another in love, yet in hate. Love for the socioeconomic attachments they have nurtured for over half a century. Hate for the counterfeit ethno-political and religious bigotry that have (politically) been instilled between them.

As the Hausa have become so attached to the commercial schema and perseverance as well as the business diversification of the Igbo, it is as much as the Igbo have mustered a compassion for the simplicity, fairness, and lack of bigotry in his brother. Thus, a natural matrimony between the two was sealed. But the question remains thus, 'what gown wore the bride and what suit wore the groom?'

It is important, here, to reflect on some historic events to which some claims of the discord may be linked, or perhaps be resulted from. Before the independence in 1960, the country's economy solely depended on agriculture, which was largely produced by the North. Thus, the green trade between the North and the South was strengthened. That brought about the gross production and industrialization of groundnut, wheat, coacoa, cotton, rubber, millet and more, which were exported to other countries. These foodstuffs were the backbone of the country's economy before the discovery of Oil.

In 1956, when Crude Oil was discovered in Nigeria, much attention was invested in the exploration of it and with time little to no attention remained on agriculture. That very well brought the decline of agricultural produce, hence turning the country, which was amongst the world's largest exporters of foodstuff, into an importer of food. A rather radical negative turnover!

It wasn't long after when the economist's 'Resource Curse theory' hit the very center of the Nation. As you know, of course, Resource Curse is not a scientific phenomena that occurs in an economy booming State. Resource Curse is simply 'greed'. That thing which is owned and nurtured by the 'able' few. The ones in control. Those whom say 'what should, when should and how'. The Elite.

Resource Curse is simply an offspring of 'Egola' (that which we spoke of earlier). Now, Egola has an evolutionary lifespan just like its 'biological' twin sister -Ebola. It grows in forms and then transforms. At first it is only a feeling; a suggestion. Then it becomes an impression; an idea. Then a behavior; a norm. And that is when it becomes 'greed'. Now greed births envy; envy births jealousy; jealousy births hate; and hate births prejudice. And prejudice is the great grand daughter of Egola. We'll see how, shortly.

Whilst the Igbo blames the Hausa for parasitism now, the Hausa blames the Igbo for the same thing in the past. How ironic! I call it the 'paradoxical juxtaposition of claims'. The Igbo claims that the Hausa leaches on his resources. His', for reasons that it (the resources) is being extracted from his own land. The Hausa on the other hand claims it was his sweat that was used to explore those resources. But that's not just it. In fact, that's not it at all!

The real claims are actually hidden in words and acted in gestures. The true claim of both regions is political. Simple! The truth is, there was a sewn discord between the two since the events that resulted in the 1966 coup dé ta and the Civil War which exploded thence after. And thus, a motive inspired the conviction that defines both the parties' grievances: that non of the parties shall come to trust the other with the nation's leadership, henceforth.

But again, that's not the end of the story. Not even close.

Coming back to my friend's disapproval of the claims and pride of the Hausa man over his Igbo counterpart, 'how is it that the Hausa man is proud of never being enslaved by the white man, yet, he finds it soothing being in shackles by his own fellow Hausa man?' And that goes to the Igbo as well. If your own kind would hold you a prisoner on your own rights, yet still, you can't see that that's the problem, then that is called 'blindness' - and that's, indeed, one of the last stages of Egola.

If the Hausa man would continue to parade on claims of freedom and 15th century civilization over his counterpart, then why is it that his own kind, his everyday leader, leaves him in destitute and desperation; in ruins and shame; in hunger and illiteracy? And why does the Igbo square hate and blames on the Hausa when it is the same Igbo whom leads him and leaves him in the very same poverty and insecurity; unemployment and underdevelopment; hopelessness and regret?

Here's the explanation. It is said that when ebolavirus infects the body, it takes charge of the cells, and by so doing it replicates itself in the blood system thereby causing permeability within the blood vessels. It then blocks the 'neutrophils', these are the white blood cells in charge of alerting the body's immune system. 'But this virus is one damned smart virus, I tell you.' It then finds its way to commandeer the immune system itself, turning it into a transport system, hence, through this aid the virus finds its ways into the most vital organs of the body.

That's, precisely, the same thing that happens when its psychological twin strikes. Once the person develops an idea -true or false- he finds his ego creating for itself a storyline which would negate every immediate hindrance that could tarnish the absoluteness of that idea. In other words, it blocks all faculties of reasoning. It then develops itself to becoming a motive. And then... Blindness!

Both the Hausa and his Igbo counterpart chose to neglect the very basic reason for their woes. They rather, instead of shameful self blame, see their counterpart as the cause of their woes. That's the denial of truth in the absolute sense of the phrase. A willful deliberate blindness. It is the self restraint, for instead of asking "Oh master, why hath thou forsaken me?" They'd rather ask "Oh fellow compatriot, why doth thou torture me?" When there has never been any evidence of either one torturing the other!

Ego maneuvers every truth to becoming false. And sometimes false becomes reason. This reason culminates every pride, envy and hate. And there, is where Prejudice becomes a descendant of Ego. End of story!

It is rather due time the discordants realise that the attires they were forced to wear on their wedding day makes them appear absolutely hideous (even makes them act it!). It is no fault of the bride that the gown looks ugly. Neither is it any fault of the groom that the suit didn't fit. Perhaps it is the fault of the priest whom read to them their vows. Perhaps!

Be the case as it may, it doesn't really matter anymore. For the truth remains to be, it is the duty of the Igbo people to declare Namdi Kanu a criminal and have him called to book as such -and not the Hausa man. For if Namdi Kanu stands, in anyway, to be a threat, then it is a threat that would claim more harm to his people than not. It is rather wise to kill the ego now, for it has been proven to be an epidemic and as deadly as its biological twin sister.

Therefore I reiterate what Abubakar Gimba ended his rather 'conscience awakening' speech with, "... We, as a people, must work on ourselves. The key is in our hands... The greed in us, the selfishness, the prejudice, the inconsideration, the impatience, the intolerance, the arrogance, the pride, all evils, screen us from a dignifying greatness. All the corruption and oppression that have dwarfed us and stunted our growth are a manifestation of these devilish traits in us. We must school ourselves to tame these devils in us, and face the real issues, and not chase shadows based on narrow minded calculations camouflaged as altruistic pursuits. Lamenting the issue of tribalism for instance. Harping on tribalism is shadow-chasing. Tribalism needs not be applauded any less than nationalism and patriotism, or even brotherhood. We only need to seive out the dishonest manipulation of any group identity, prejudiced exclusivity, and unjust advancement through false exultation of one's group to the detriment of others... Thus group identification is not the problem. The real culprit are the untamed devils in us. And to effectively fight these, we must arm ourselves with honesty, justice... "

This is indeed the truth in which the Hausa, the Igbo and even their Western brother, in pretence of neutrality, needs to awaken to, and embrace with every heartfelt compassionate desire. For it remains that, "The world will not respect Africa until Nigeria earns that respect. The black people of the 'world' need Nigeria to be great as a source of pride and confidence." -Madiba

Saturday, 17 September 2016

"Remember…!"


Image result for wisdom


My son, shan’t I leave you with a word of Reason to which if you heed you will arise a great man of Wisdom?
-Remember, first, to accept who you are, then what you are then ‘why’ you are; for only in acceptance does grow Conscience and Consciousness…
-Remember, always, that it has to Begin before it Ends.
Remember that the beginning comes with it the mandate to Sacrifice and that the end arrives with it a subliminal sublime Peace and Prosperity.
Remember now, that the beginning is like the twilight of a murky dusk which emboldens to become a pitch black tinted night; whilst the end is like a gleaming blurry dawn, which grows in it a big bright sunny day…
-Remember to Try, for there’s no harm in trying. Remember, also, to Fail, lest you forget to define your triumph…
-Remember the people within whom you dwell.
Remember to Forgive those whom stood with you, only, in moments of grace. Remember to recognize those whom seek from you nothing, but Faith…
-Remember Mercy in moments of Rage; for through mercy the heart grows Humble and Great.
-Remember the Poor to whom you must be kind, polite and generous; for out of humility and content, he acts mild and intent.
-Remember the Rich to whom you must stand stern, firm and straight; for out of his pride and arrogance he ends in whine, wine and regrets…
-In moments of Doubts, remember the “Scripture”; for in it you shall find Hope and Solace.
-In moments of Empathy, remember to tender a Yes in lieu of no; for you never know when Care and Compassion may pay.
-In moments of Despair, you must remember to render a No in lieu of yes; for you never know what Generosity and Altruism would earn.
-Remember to sit with the Old; for he cheerfully gives out of what he has in 'fold'.
-Remember to sit with the Young; for he anxiously seek that which he doesn't need.
-Remember the Mother; for she inhaled that agonizing long Birthing breath.
-Remember the Father; as he exhales that long last sigh...
-Remember, my son, it has to begin before it ends.
And lest I forget, do remember to Ponder; for in these words you might discover a life of Wonder… 

Ibn Adam...