SWEET NONSENSE

I feel the beats
Beneath the bones
Wildly and fast
Of fear and pride
Arrogance and deceit
Pretense and lies
As he prepares
His sweet nonsense

I hear the call
Lips moving
Eyes smiling
Teeth gnashing
Nose twitching
Hands clasping

A DIAMOND THAT GROWS

This diamond that grows so

Fast and bright with eyes aglow
Of man indeed a great treasure
To be looked upon with true pleasure

Alas! this Diamond grows unlike any
Nay, I can exchange it not for a million penny

With a smile so radiant it leaves the sun jealous,
The moon envious and stars but hideous

With a selfish desire my weak soul

BEWARE! LEST YOU BECOME YOUR ENEMY.

Enemies are ever present in our lives, they drive some to success and the unfortunate ones to failure. They're always there, lurking in your shadows, eagle-eyeing you and forever interested in your every deed. What they never do is introduce themselves.

They appear as everything but enemies; friends, family, colleagues, neighbours, bosses, even parents. They sit with you, eat, party, smile, sleep and also make important decisions with you.

Some even rejoice with you, appear happy for you, congratulate you, present you with gifts and charge you to do more. But what they never do is introduce themselves as an enemy. The one who does that has become an adversary, a foe, someone to contend against.

Alice Hubbard wrote "the imagination is a power which is developed with intellect and fine feeling. The imagination can create a world and people it, in this way ideals are perpetually made..."

I've come to realize that what we do is create our world, and in that world we envisage people coming at us, not wishing us well, longing for our downfall. We create our enemies, seeing them in our friends, neighbors, colleagues etc. , we even believe some are after our lives, even though in reality everyone is after his own.

I hear people talk about their enemies, I watch humans running from nothingness, I see friends turning against friends, I read posts online, of some who believe their lives are in danger from some, and I marvel at the way some pray against their enemies. They fail to realize that to each is his quota.

The supposed enemy is like you, battling with his own share of life's very own adversity, having little or no time to actually relish in any good fortune that comes his way because he has also built a world around himself, a world where only enemies exist and are after him.

We end up wasting precious little time brooding over this "Enemy" whom we have so punctiliously created, we become unfocused and some loose their marbles, becoming insane with enemy thoughts all the time.

I'm not saying enemies don't exist, of course they do. But they largely reside in our precarious minds, handicapping us from reaching beyond our imaginations and dreams for our success. And turning us into our very own enemies.

Therefore beware, of you becoming your enemy, face reality, have faith and know that everyone is ultimately to his own.

THE BEAUTIFUL PAIN

The beautiful pain of Labour my careless mind it strokes
Awesome sight of blood and water a momentary companion
Sweet pangs of ache slowly caressing my back
Gentle flutters In my belly a great source of comfort

Swiftly but surely I drift to a world where all is new
Like the Life to be brought forth into this world as a dew
Therein I find succor to savor every passing hurt
Even the thought of tears bring nothing but relief

GRATITUDE

My words  can't be enough
My actions definitely insufficient
My deeds not up to required
To adequately communicate my gratitude

To my Lord the highly Beneficent and Merciful
For His guidance through the roughened path
His mercies when the present appears bleak
His blessings above all that mattered

To my husband, my best half and whole
A selfless slave of the Almighty
Sacrificing his pleasures for my interests
A true man, genuine husband and real father
Your support I never lacked and you will never lack Allah's

To my daughter the Noble the Repairer
Offspring of Light Love and Life
A diamond that grows cries and smiles
A source of natural inspiration and truest pride

To my parents who brought me forth to life
Never fed me with golden spoon nor silver cup
Neither with a golden fish nor creamy milk
But with the bread of knowledge and water of Islam

To those seen as friends and those who are friends
Those who act as friends and those who feel like friends
Sources of fun,  laughter and joyful perks
Some of concern or distress but none as threat
Memories of a lifetime you'll leave me with.

NobleHeart

BECAUSE WE ARE WIVES

We can talk but we don't talk
We feel but we're not felt
We see but shouldn't say
That's why we're women

We have hearts, hands and heads
To love, help and think
Rather they bleed, rough and heavy
Because we are wives

We sleep with tears and awaken with fears
Yet we greet you with smiles and hopeful looks
We long for those sweet words in words or in deeds
Simply because we're wives

Deep down within is a war of needs, wants and desires
Yet all our lives we strive to serve you
We get what, but scorns and scoffs
Still, we remain wives

We worry for you and you worry us
We get scared for you but u scare us more
We pray and fast like women of faith
'Coz we want to remain wives

We were happy, joyous and willing
To give it what it takes and stand by our vows
To accept our lot without much complaint
That's why we remain as wives

You make the choices we bear the burden
Heavy with your love in our hearts
Or with your seeds in our belly
Happily carried or sadly wanted
Because we are wives

You feed, clothe and fend for us
But oh! What a price we pay
Gladly, though sometimes grudginly
Because we are wives

You make mistakes and we stand by you
But in our mistakes you find your might
Like we're not all humans forgiven by God
Yet, We do naught but remain as wives

You believe expressing your love would make you weak
So you harden your speech, your looks and your touches
We express our love and we appear weak
But we chose to, so we can remain as wives.

Composed by Mar'yam Thawbaan (NobleHeart)
Dedicated to all true African women.

GOD IS ABLE

I say God is able
He's been there from the cradle
He shall be there when it all crumbles
When all souls shall shall be in muffles

I say God is able
Even when we are unstable
He provides food on our table
He is indeed but subtle

I say God is able
Call on Him when you stumble
Or when you're about to crumble
Believe me He listens to our fiddle

I say God is able
Even without a cable
He hears us and sees our troubles
And He's there when we lose our marbles

I say God is able
He solves for us our puzzle
Grants ease to the cripple
Believe me this is no fable

I say God is able
Especially when we're unable
He listens to our grumble
And He understands when we mumble

I say God is able
Yes! He solves our riddle
Watches us in our bustle
Believe me He shall reward our hustle

Composed by NobleHeart

A NARROW ESCAPE

Through the fields with legs Barely touching the ground I ran
With hands flailing high and wide in the ocean I swam
And in the sky with wings flapping fast and swift I flew
From the darkness of my soul in a narrow escape

Where am I I asked myself in awe and filled with fear
In an unknown land where I alone stand in horror and disdain
Amidst Zulus speaking Bantu with looks weird and in their hands spears
Alas it was just a dream oh what a narrow escape

The abyss of darkness that brings the night is not a friend
Nay how can it be when with it comes the transport into oblivion
If only with it comes the promise of trip to the heavens beyond
Then I won't have to run or seek for a narrow escape.

Composed by Mar'yam Thawbaan (NobleHeart)

BETTER ME

With tears in my eyes the altar a place of constant visit
Wishing every past misdeeds to vanish in swift evanescence
On my lips a fervent prayer with mind flooded in reminiscence
Praying for a better me and not to end in the devil's pit

Days gone by and i remain there waiting watching and hoping
Today again I linger here hopeful watchful and faithful
Tomorrow I pray you find me still but mindful and grateful
Believe me not as yesterday 'coz a better me is who you'll be seeing

I crave for the peace of a dove and tranquility of a baby's sleep
I hunger for the taste of happiness and the smell of Paradise here on earth
I yearn to feel the touch of bliss and the embrace of a holy warmth
That I can become a better me and never ever be made to weep.

Composed by Mar'yam Thawbaan(Noble Heart)

THE FOURTEEN YEAR-OLD GIRL EXPERIENCE

They were promised good lives, assured they would attend the best schools, eat and dine with the whites and that they would be well taken care of, little did they know what awaited them in the overseas is nothing short of slavery; the modern slavery, to be sold into prostitution, drug dealing, being handed over to a PIMP. and made to work odd hours and some may never even set eyes on their fatherland again.

  April is a 16 year old girl who had experienced child trafficking, she narrated the story of her ordeal with tears in her eyes, it all started when she was 14 years old. Her original name was Nye and she’s from Edo state. Although, she was living with her aunt in Lagos state before fate played a wrong card on her, and it appeared in disguise, like it was a blessing.

  It was with joy that April’s mother came to Lagos state from Benin City, to give her what she sees as wonderful news. One of the “abroad babes” as they were popularly called had paid her a visit, telling her that she had seen how much she suffers over her children and she would love to help her by taking one of her children to the overseas. Mama was overjoyed and didn’t bother to ask what kind of job, she readily suggested one of her sons but the lady said a girl would be better because they are well paid.

  Little did mama know that the “good news” she brought to her 14 year old daughter on that fateful day would be the event that would lead her daughter into a life of lost innocence, of prostitution and abuse of various kinds. She gave her sister (April’s aunt) the news and told them she would have to take April with her because the lady has said she would be travelling as soon as possible.

  April narrated how her ordeal began as soon as she realized that they were not travelling by air, rather by road and by sea, she found herself amidst girls her age mates, some older by a year or two, and some younger than she was. They were packed unto the back of a tarpaulin-covered lorry and they never saw the road they were passing through, the lorry never stopped for any of them to ease themselves, rather, a hole was made at the center and that’s where any of them feeling pressed would answer the call to nature.

  She said, after about two days on the road, they reached a seaport, and they were all transferred unto a vessel of a wrecked ship, there they spent another two days before they were finally transferred into a container to be shipped to God knows where. They were fed once daily and given a bottle of water each, for a day.

  April never set her eyes on the Lady that took her away from home. They spent about a month before getting to their destination and they all looked tattered and filthy by the time they got there. They simply found themselves in a different seaport with white people working around them, no one paid them any attention and they were quietly ushered unto another lorry and taken to a warehouse, they hadn’t taken their bath for more than a month and they were all filthy and famished, some of them had gotten severely sick.

  She explained further that shortly after they got to the warehouse, they were being divided, the sick ones were taken to an unknown destination and the others were grouped in fives, it was then April realized they were about one hundred of them with almost twenty six severely sick among them, vans started arriving and they were taken in fives to different destinations.

  April found herself in a hotel room with her four other group members, she was lucky she was grouped with a girl she’d grown fond of while on their journey, they were age mates and they became fast friends from the early stage of their passage. They were given fairly proper clothes and asked to clean up for they were soon to meet with their boss.

  She continued that after about two hours, they all felt refreshed and one of their handlers came to get them, they were taken in another van to a house where they met their boss Mr. X. He was a fat, huge and fierce looking man, he addressed them like adults and didn’t bother to ask their names, he simply gave them new names and told them what is required of them in their new jobs.

  April revealed that that was how she came about the name “April”, she never knew where she was until that moment, she and others only knew they were in a white man's land, their boss informed them that they were in Italy and all they have to do, to earn food on their table daily was to dress nice and entice clients. The girls didn't understand they were to become prostitutes and even at times deliver drugs, not until a bag full of skimpy little dresses was brought in and they were all asked to pick two clothes each.

  They were asked to dress up in order to be scrutinized by their boss whether they reached the standard he wanted, after he was satisfied by their looks he told them they would be starting work on that same night and a Mr. M was introduced to them as their monitor. Their new Monitor ushered them out of the house and they were taken back to the hotel room.

  The 16 year old girl said she lived a life of physical and psychological abuse, a life of drug dealing and poor diet for close to two years, but on one fateful day, some immigration officers were rounding up sex workers and she was picked amongst them, before she knew it, she found herself in Nigeria and some NGO officers were at the airport, there they picked her and asked her some questions about her family, they then contacted her aunt who helped them reached her Mama.

  Her joy knew no bounds as she was glad she'll be reconciling with her “mama”, even though its not a bed of rose that awaits her at home and the stigma of her past two years would haunt her every step for almost forever. 

Story written by Mar'yam Thawbaan

BEHIND THE MAWLIDUN NABIY CELEBRATION.

 

For about forty-five minutes or more, I stood and watched fascinated yet bewildered at what is considered by some as a huge transgression, a bid’ah (innovation) while others regard it as a worthy celebration, the remembrance of an extraordinary icon, celebrating the seal of the prophet hood. 

  Fixed on the spot, I fed my eyes, bemused, as myriad of heterogeneous “Muhammadans” flocked the entire length of the old Ogba road at Agege local government area of Lagos state, singing songs of praises and what they otherwise call “zikri” of the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). They thronged on in groups; students of Arabic schools known as “makaranta” in the Agege area, Tijaniyyah and the Quadriyyah Islamic sects, the Hausa elites of the Agege area of the state and some other “Muhammadans”.

  They were extolling the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) to the best of their aptitude and understanding, some on camels, few on horses, many in buses, lorries, SUVs and private cars and about a thousand others on foot; dancing, singing, rejoicing and full of mirth; the young and the old, the females of marriageable ages and the married, the leaders of clans and those of a whole society all converged to exalt the Noble of the Nobles, Prophet of all prophets, Messenger to all mankind, Muhammad (sallalaahu alayhi wa salaam) today being the 12^th of Rabiul Awwal of the Islamic year 1436AH.

  Amidst all these gaiety, in my non-participant observational mode, I couldn’t help but wonder the “what” behind “THE MAWLIDUN NABIY CELEBRATION”.

 Mawlidun Nabiy is the birth of the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him) and history has it that he was born on a Monday, 12^th of Rabiul Awwal (islamic calendar) in the year 570 AD. But history does not have it that the prophet (peace be upon him) ever celebrated his Birthday.

 However, history has it that the prophet acknowledged his birthday with proof from this quoted Hadeeth: “"…He was then asked about fasting on Monday, whereupon he said: It was the day on which I was born. on which I was commissioned with prophethood or revelation was sent to me…” (Muslim)

  With the above mentioned hadeeth, it is to be perceived that although the prophet never celebrated his birthday but he indeed attached importance to the day he was born. And this served as a basis (no matter how meager it may seem), reason enough for those who believe he should be celebrated, coupled with the understanding of the qur'anic verse that said “Truly, Allaah and His Angels shower blessings

on the Prophet. O ye believers Ask

blessings on him and salute him with a worthy

salutation.” (33:56) and their acclaimed love for the prophet (peace be upon him), hence the celebration of the prophet’s birth began…