Speak not of love for I have felt none
Speak not of tomorrow, as there’s no sign of hope
I dwell in the streets, no place to call home
I’m trapped in catacombs, where my future has been thrown.
I come to you for food, is that too much to ask for?
You imparted me not an education, and envisage the sun to glare?
I ask of my father, why have you hurled me out of the door?
And of my unknown mother, was the torment of birth worth it to bear?
On the days when i’m sick, the crows of roosters bring me peace
I stare into unknowns and think of the might have beens
On the days my mind wanders, a song fills my soul
Of pain and dusty gales, the perils of loneliness cast a hole.
My loathe filled blood, continues to rise like bile
And a smog of darkness enshrouds my thoughts
A son of no one, a heritor of cold winds
I was moulded by none, now I fight for my all
Though the present burns, shall the future glow?
Under the Almajiri system, parents send their children, mostly boys aged 4-12, to distant locations to acquire Qur’anic education. Many rural and poor families who can’t afford formal schooling have made this choice. Unicef estimates that there are about 10 million almajiris in Nigeria
Almajiri is a hausa term derived from Arabic “Al muhajirun”, “an emigrant”. It usually refers to a person who migrates from his home to a popular teacher in the quest for Islamic knowledge. This is the basis of the Almajiri system in what became Northern Nigeria. The system collapsed over the years firstly due to colonisation and then lack of funding and having no financial support, the pupils and their teachers “mallams” resorted to begging for survival.
You can find the published poem at https://dailytrust.com/poet-of-the-week-the-cries-of-an-almajiri
SalScribes 