THE EPIC OF BAMAGUJE

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This is the story of the Hausa people of west Africa, the mythical tale they will rather have the world believe and the actual ancestral truth about their real origins.

The tale

Myth tales of great Bayajidda
The stories’ author of all Hausa
He trophied a serpent in Daura
Which made thirst of their well
And married their crown bearer

Prince of mighty Baghdad
City of the most sacred race
Fleeing his so furious father
Across the vast dry expanse
Like a worm he left a trace

Bastards ever begat bastards
This prince did have fourteen
With the crown he had seven
And with loose maids another
All formed lands legitimate or not

With a faith embraced in force
The tale sought to erase history
Legitimizing its apt ascention
Without due regards to facts
Either traditional or customary

Tales the child tells his peers
After he has compared origins
That pride and great honour
Like Ishmael’s became a nation
And the swords crossed palms

The truth

Driven on downwards earlier
Off northern homes by Berbers
In flight also they meet Tuaregs
Brought together in their fear
Two races like fated and destined

Much time of harmonious peace
The races naturally yoked here
As they settled to live and bred
Their half-castes knew ease
And such a mere life they led

Traditional in past and faith
Makeri of so great a repute
Islam’s sword left its sheath
And a mere life was made mute
So became the land and its

Ashamed of all its culture
That the sacred didn’t nurture
Hiding from all the nights
And clinging on rootless future
Denied are all that is right

Sons of the soil, Bamaguje
You breathe this land and its
Homeless children, Bahaushe
The stench of you is too real
But Bamaguje is the Bahaushe

the poet in the poet
The poet in the poem
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FEVER IS OUT FOR FREE DOWNLOAD NOW!!!

FEVER: The origin of Fever (BOOK I)
FEVER I
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In this tale everything is like everything, just as everybody likens everyone else, in a mythical sense. Everything makes up everyone and everyone is made of everything, in one blur oddity of an ironic distinctively same clarity of nature.

It tells of the huge promise a blessed land points to, it tells of the many bodies buried and alive, that had and are, waited and waiting, for the satisfaction they ever sought, but never got and most likely will never get, as one entity.

The story is about a family that expressively made up a nation that approved and doled out its versioned justice to all its number, but appeases none of them really. It fostered its own colossal failure in combined efforts. It made that of its constituent membership insignificant and trivial in an unimportant way. This is the historical tale of the Nigerian nationhood.

There is the honest triumph of labour, the hugely varied effect of wit against diverse hardship, and the seeming effectiveness of corruption and varied segregation where all other approaches have failed. But the lingering damage these leaves in their wake is too tasteless to be edible and yet must be wholly eaten.

There is the highly proclaimed effect of diverse personalities on their orientations, and these aren’t disguised in the blatant tribalism, regionalism and ethnicity that surround it all. Everything merges into vastly imitated robustly parochial ways, too alike to be sincerely different, revealing a rich nation with a fever it resembles.

Fever is an exposition of a heady but not inscrutable abstract tale conceived on the likeness of bodily symptoms to a dysfunctional family, coexisting like the nation it is indigenous to, resembles and lives within. Its nature points seemingly to a fictional story it likens in every aspect and symbolizes with such inane clarity. This is the historical tale of the Nigerian nationhood and its people.