Best Hausa Poems
QUESTIONS OF BALANCE: A JEREMIAD
Why is it at 70 politicians are still underage
To assume political offices
And at 30 youths are overage to begin a professional career?
What divine strength hath a leader at 75
When a mandatory retirement awaits civil servants at 65?
Why should the government empowers the youths with $75 in 2 years
And expects them all to have own businesses
But civil servants who earn over $300 per month in 30 years
Are finding it difficult to own a garden or a store?
How is it our politicians could expend billions
To defect, campaign and give kickbacks
But would wait until the World Bank borrows them some millions
To provide a borewell drinking water?
How can they say the national treasury has collapsed to employment
Yet billions are looted and millions wasted on foreign fantasies?
Why should the achievement of our political endorsement
Be signed to MOUs as though we lack understanding?
Why should our lawmakers make laws that hound the masses
And not against their own chronic excesses and excuses?
Why should the wealthy politician vote a project for the poor
Assigned the execution of the project to himself and loot the funds?
Why do our lawmakers never make laws to free the masses
From poverty and political swindlers?
Why should the agency that fights corruption be corrupt?
Why should gluttons preside over the meager meals of the masses?
Why should the leader not serve today and the servant lead tomorrow?
Why should professional bandits be our bankers?
Why should 5% of public servants consume 60% of the nation’s wealth?
Why should a politician be a party leader, counsellor, chairman, governor, senator… still desperate to lead
And all behind his trails are poverty and anguish?
Why should a politician with obscene wealth hidden somewhere
Tell his people that their poverty and problem is Hausa, Igbo, Christian, Muslim, APC, PDP…?
And why is our nation over-laboured by multiplets of cultural, social
Political, religious questions awaiting caesarean responses?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind!
The westerners eat Amala and Ewedu
We eat Akpo and Ofe Nsala
They dance Juju and Apala
We dance bongo and atilogwu the beat of life.
T^he Northerners speaks hausa whilst we speak igbo
They married with no bride price and dowry
But we marry with bride price and huge dowry.
Cut the man"s hair low, short to remind him That
Marriage is never a bed of roses therefore he must look
After our pride, princess, prestigious priceless pretty queen
Who must painstakingly bear his name abandoning her
Humble background and journey with him amidst roses and bullets.
They wear buba and agbada in an architectural design
Darshiki from the north domain whilst we wear Ukwu george
They plate shoku, koroba and kpatawo and make beads round their neck
Igbo speak, yoruba frown, hausa dance, itskiri watch
Kanuri laugh, Ebira smile, Nupe point, Tiv demonstrate Fulani pick.
Idoma cry, Awori cry, Efik console, Ibibio comfort
Yet Unity we stand despite the cultural diversity.
One for all, all for one, we stand.
Bound to the humble land in hundred fold
Relevant is our culture and tradition
In defend shall we die and perish for our
Precious country.
TO MY MOM DADA ZOUWAIRATOU M YAUKI
THE TRUEST HAUSA-FULANI
The iron core of the whole family
She stands with the long rooster
First crow which tears up, praying, and
Goes on laboring till the owl grave hoots
Herald the veiling darkness and darkness
Is life, and might.
But also death and weakness.
The hoots made me feel so small when
A child, and think of mother to soothe me,
For I had fears, and my people's fears were
Forced upon me too.
Sorcerers!
Magic!
Backwardness!
Moronity!
Death!
The twain Angels
Of life after Death!
Dream of stars, my eyes fully open
To start
Away from my tiny world full of fairy tales
With the spider as the hero as running
From the ghosts
Oh, Allah! Lost before standing on my feet!
I like my mom and she likes me too.
She prays Allah to grant me success
And I ask Him to forgive her, for
She’s always been my surest support
Of course she hadn’t been to school
But was a school herself. Proud
Greedy reader, my friend, be sure that
She’s as divine as your MOST perfect mother.
I do not know what I'll find
if I pull off your hijab
Perhaps a cobra lurks to bite
Whose venom will kill wit
I've bared my heart into sonnets
Sadly you will never read them- you aren't lettered
You're rather numbered counting naira notes
by the fireside where you fry awara
but I know you'll listen to my eyes
that tells the number of stars
exploding within by this stuttering tongue and frosted sweat
thawing under the radiance of your dimples.
In the dark corner where the cry of almajiri crowns the night
I will be waiting to elope with you arm in arm via our eyes with wings
where we can stand above the earth with every altitude heavenward
veiling the steeple and the minaret.
But night’s bell came with tears and without love,
As our bamboo door talked,
“KNOCK! KNOCK!!”
Before my voice could speak,
Legs ruined down my door,
Then eyes in different heights
In the starry night like
Torch lights… attacked
Me with their voices.
They came in mass,
Some brandishing cutlass,
Some matchets, guns and arrows.
Gang upon gangs,
Displaying their flags,
Blood stained, tattered, hair, shaggy.
They held human heads for their
Oracles of war.
They were muttering songs as if
Forced to sing,
They had leaves and grasses in the
Middle of their mouths, they were mostly teens,
They were the Hausa rebels…
“Wait! Wait!! Wait!!!
Where are the bells?
Is this day not Christmas?”
I was asking myself,
A short tick man came out of the mass,
Not looking like human,
He looked backed at the rest,
Feeling like the best.
He weakened my hear drums
By the manner of his question,
“Hausa or Birom?”.
To send my religion to the bottom?
Whom for this day, is Christmas?
And sweet Messiah’s Calvary at Golgotha?
I wasn’t prepared for that,
So the truth came out like a blast
“Birom!!”.
“Yee! Yee!! Yee!!!
Enemy tribes” they shouted
Like savage talking drums.
(To be continued in the next, same Poem).
I am sorry,
I am very sorry,
This is for my daughter
I mean my young, beautiful pet.
That was it, the voice of my friend
Who now prides himself
Of another daughter across the street
Only God knows how many of such
I mean those susceptible to his carrot.
Indeed, very young
Full of life to live
Looking innocently attractive
Until he crept into her life.
Her Aunt’s door left ajar
She fell like a pack of card.
He dazzles her Aunt with intermittent gifts
He branded the girl “My daughter”
My innocent friend became a father
And dangles before his daughter a lanky carrot.
As times tickles away,
The daughter not only eats the golden carrot
But she swallows it gently with exactitude
Yet, her Aunt saw no changes
When carrots thickens her sister’s hips
And her flat buttocks getting curved roundly
While her chest pointer getting shaped
Her Aunt still blinded with gifts of “Suya and bread”.
Here comes this day knocking
As my friend’s daughter
Vomits and coughs repeatedly,
She feigned to be well before her Aunt.
“Nothing, I’m okay”
She smiled to her friends
And pretends to all
But grim only at her father
The act got caught short
Not for too long,
Now we all know,
That she has swallowed her father’s carrot
And it got stucked in her throat.
When?, Where?, Who?, her Aunt queried
Three months ago, she retorted
My . . . My . . . My . . . father, she replied.
Before eyes got blinked,
My friend’s was out of town
In search of another daughter.
Alayande Stephen T.
11.05am
4th August, 2007
Spiced up for my good friend Tope and his daughter.
It all happened on my visit to Abuja.
Suya- An Hausa language (from Nigeria) for roasted meat.
when i look at you;a beautiful soul.
when i look at you i see fireworks
when i look at you i hear songs
when i look at your i hear moans
when i look at i hear angels
when i look at you i hear laughters
when i look at you i flip new
chapters
when i look at you i see idle
chatters
when i look at you i hear hausa
music
when i look at you i see spanish
music
when i look at you i hear partys
peaking
when i look at you i think
lovemaking
when i look at you i hear kids
sooshing
when i look at you i see us ageing
when i look at you i get mixed
feelings
when i look at and you look at me,
i know we are meant to be.
when i look at you and you look at
me
i know we will never be.
when i look at you and you look at
him
i see the beauty of irony.
most of all i learn a lesson;not to
look at someone that looks at
someone else.
CAUTION
Excuse me.......
Say to our Hausa fellow
Tread with caution
Niger is but the nest of sundry
The deeds our patriots
Drag not to the mud
Africa!Africa
My Africa
A proud land of our forefathers
Africa my jewel
Your recipes of courage has been pass from generation to generation
A continent carved out of glory
A land blessed with fertile soil on which the world grow
A land known for their hospitality
A land known for our skillful potter
We survived by unity and love for one another
A land blessed with many talents
The land that's solid like the baobab tree that always flourish
We map our future from your stories
The land where my heart resides and will always be
A land blessed with different language like swahili, amharic, oromo,zulu,hausa,shona
The africa that is at the heart of different people, language who we all call this land our home
A land blessed with great heroes and leaders like Ellen Johnson sirleaf, jomo kenyatta, Nelson Mandela, Thomas sankara, kofi Annan
We're black in the outside but white in the inside
For Africa to them is just a continent but to me is my identity and my home
From the depth of my heart comes the blossom of greatness
To them we're slaves but that's their view
My blackness is my strength
My Africa will rise from the shackles of adversity
My Africa will rise from the ashes of distorted history
I speak for myself, you and the Africa
We're blessed with great poets like Kwame Dawes, jack cope
Have you heard of Alhanislam,shefeerh, soulunraveled, teen Tag together we all are Africans
The world is like a picture and we the Africans are the frame that holds it
Dear Africa your love unite us
This is my home
@bint__abdolrahman
LOVE ON NET
Nigeria’s a jungle though
There’s a fairy
She’s my first love on net
Magamathy.,the sweetest
She must be a bud
Blooming across lush green leaves
I feel the throb of her petals
Rippling like breasts
Black though,shining
Must be a bead of diamond
Makes a priceless necklace
Around my Yahoo page
Her fingers make a sieve
To compose the best words
For a stranger friend
Truly she’s borderless love
She has wings
I need no Air bus
Must she fly to catch me on
As I log on
We row in Chad
Fish in mangroves
Sleep in savannah
Scout along the Adamawa
Bathe at Niger delta
Roam in Abuja
Chat n laugh in Hausa-English
Kiss green and peace
Once a centre of slave trade
Now hers a federal state
She cherishes freedom
Finds humanity ever on line
As I bid good bye
I fly saffron ,green ,white
She kisses hers with crimson lips
A heart in the tricolour, I discover
We fly in air ,live air—
An illimitable life;
Dear, air unseen
Means life seen.
Of the age of one to thirteen
Young, untapped kids
Of the team of 53 beggars in "Kaduna"
Fresh, unripe fruits
Of multiple-colours of plates at hand
Vivacious, veil children.
Of a song of sorrow to beg for food
Haggard –looking dirty issues
Of no means of livelihood . . survival
Wretched beholding green horns
Of kids known only to hunger . . .penury
Poverty-stricken children
Of brood with no shirt . . . shelter
Alms-begging unsullied progeny
Of our future seeds garbed in gloom
Destitute-turned juvenile
Of them hoodwinked with religious slate
Miserable-infantile, no scroll to read . . write .
They are the “Almajeris” of this land.
Alayande Stephen. T
12.20am
22nd of July, 2006
On our way to Kaduna NCP/NCC Meeting
Precisely at the one of the garages, we saw it happened .
NB-The word "Almajeris" is an Hausa Language from Nigeria used for the
wretched ,tattered looking young children in the Northern part of Nigeria. Kaduna
is a State in Nigeria.
Of them our rulers
To the pauperised people.
Of a kingdom surrounded
By millions of the “Almajeris” .
Of looters in power up towers
Thinking not to leave forever.
Of the Northern cabals
With donkey years in power,
Of them with the stench of the “Almajeris”.
Of the Bush –Pig with the
Hyenas on the Rock
Of them the gluttons and the greed
Of them that devours our resources daily
Of them the Southern vultures
That condemns us into misery.
Of them that worn for millions
Toga of millions of poverty . . “Almajeris”
Of them the Urchins who
Made us suffer amidst bounty.
Off them the Predator millionaires,
We shall seize power for the millions
For the time to wrestle and dazzle
To yank off the toga of the “Almajeris” is now.
Alayande Stephen. T
1.05pm
22nd of July, 2006
On our way to Kaduna NCP/NCC Meeting
Precisely at the one of the garages, we saw it happened
NB-The word "Almajeris" is an Hausa Language from Nigeria used for the
wretched ,tattered looking young children in the Northern part of Nigeria. Kaduna
is a State in Nigeria.
In the fantasizing brains of all Nigerian Fulanis,
Including their kindergarten still urinating on nannies;
All the entries and exits within country’s Aso Rock
To keep obeying their adjustable, Fulani clock!
Presently, the unstoppable aspiration of the Purest Hausa teens
Recklessly announcing the same to their napkins:
The Achilles Heel of the Brazilian Football Team,
Easily her ruinous tears commanding,
When she should a loser’s smile beam,
This, thorough Good Breeding demanding.
By the United States beautifully masked,
In her playing of Uncle Tom, enormously tasked;
Her millions of Dollars readily releasing
A loved President, the next election, losing!
To nearly every deprived tribe
Something to fight with the fattest bribe
Or surrender with a loaded gun
Making sure it doesn’t away run!
I’ve tried to The Mentality justify,
Baring a Bible verse that does it fortify…
Or so to me it had seemed
Or, probably, I has deemed…
‘The Elder shall serve The younger’…
And God must’ve, the service years, made longer!
In my mind's eye I see this incredible vision that would make a beautiful African painting. Perhaps I shall try to make it real.
I dedicate this poem to the women of Africa. Be inspired by Archangel Ariel who is the Lioness of God.
English:
To my beautiful African lionesses
Zulu*:
Ezintombini zami ezinhle zase-Afrika
Afrikaans*:
Aan my pragtige Afrikaanse leeuwyfies
Xhosa*:
Kwiingonyamakazi zam ezintle zaseAfrika
Swahili*:
Kwa simba zangu warembo wa Kiafrika
Arabic*:
??? ?????? ?????????? ????????
'iilaa labawaati al'afriqiaat aljamilat
French*:
A mes belles lionnes d'Afrique
Portuguese:
Para minhas lindas leoas africanas
Yoruba*:
Si awon abo kiniun mi l?wa
Igbo*:
Nye nd? nne m mara mma
Hausa*:
Zuwa ga kyawawan zakoki na Afirka
My beautiful African lionesses
By Michelle Morris
17/08/2023
There is a lioness within
Every African woman's heart
She often has to hide it
Lest the Dark ones want its spark
But it cannot remain hidden
For she will always stand tall
Walk with grace and beauty
So much courage through it all
That lioness is there with her
Like her ancestors by her side
They give her strength and forebearance
To take this life path in her stride
All the pain and the sacrifice
All the grief and the sorrow
It is washed away into the river
Only good is there for tomorrow
The waters ebb and flow
Like our mountain roads towards home
We shall build our communities
Share our wisdom and our rainbows
We are not forgotten, dear ones
Africa is the cradle of mankind
Our seeds have scattered with the wind
To nurture and develop resilient minds
For we are humble and gentle
We are powerful and mighty
The Sun sees our warmth
The Moon knows our kindness
For we are blessed and guided
We share knowledge and history
Our empathy and compassion
Creates Ubuntu in our region
The Angels and Archangels are here
They surround us with Light and love
For Africa, her time is coming
To help us with life on Earth
Oh, my beautiful African lionesses
Take heart that all your prayers are heard
Your tears fall and spring forth new life
Throughout Africa and this world
© Michelle Morris, 2023
If you walk up to her right now
And before all eyes quickly bow,
She will you her night's bed allow;
Throughout the night address your slough,
Her lands release for you to plough,
Your rivals warm against a row,
Everything hand you but a dhow,
Because finding one knows not How...
If you walk up to her right now
And before all men act a cow
You're getting a sleek Hausa Cow.
Not in the next hour: "Right now".
It is no debate for sages:
Deserve worshipers their wages.