Newham Writers Workshop Anthology 1998

		Sulaiman Ibrahim I am Hausa from Northern Nigeria, now living in East London. I write both in Hausa and English. Some of my prose has been published in Hausa, and I have read some of my poems on the World Service of the BBC. The Newham Writers Workshop is the first organisation of its kind that I have joined, and I have already learned a lot on where to direct more effort in my writing. The novel I am working on at the moment is set in Kano, Nigeria. The poems, I hope will explain themselves. The Shadow Of The Master Gambo and Marwa Tasin‚'s other followers, the Tasinai, had patiently waited for quite a while for their Master to come out. As they stood, ears ready for whatever his command would be, their hearts were fluttering with excitement like those of hunters going for the kill. It wasn't whether they could capture the city for their master, but whether he would ask them to and how soon he would do that. The thought of failure was like the earth to the sky, far removed from their minds. The vast area they gathered in, which was in front of their master's house, was beginning to be a no-go area in Kano. Opposite this house, far away in the distance, was a primary school that had now closed. On either sides were the houses of the Master's neighbours, who had either left or were in the process of doing so. The Tasinai had come out of the vacated houses, the abandoned primary school and the zinc shacks that they had illegally built. This open space in this corner of the city, was what the people of the surrounding areas had come to refer to as Tasin‚'s enclave. In the middle were the Tasinai divided into groups, discussing how they would today fight to the finish. Their infinite and contagious faith in the powers of the Master, had imbued into each of them the hardness of a rock and an insatiable hunger for confrontation. As they stood waiting for him to come out, they could hear and feel their faith drumming boundless courage into their souls. This was the day that most of them were eagerly looking forward to, when those who called themselves men should come out to prove their manhood. And those who professed allegiance to the Master, would face the ultimate test. Most of them had painted their faces blue; others black. In the hand of each was a deadly weapon. Some had spears or gariyo. Others had bows and arrows. Many had hatchets, machetes, clubs, sticks and axes. Gambo and a few others had swords slung over their shoulders. Gambo was anxious to see himself on the battle field. The Master's command was all they were waiting for. But more thrilling to him, would be to hear his Master speak: the man he loved so much and had come here to die for, if necessary. He believed the Master to be the most learned and pious cleric in this city, and in the whole world. And what he had seen since his coming to the enclave, three months back, had particularly confirmed to him how awesome the man was. `Today I feel as strong as a bull,' he said to his friend, Dauda, as he felt himself steeled with strength. `That's an indication of the firmness of your faith in the Master,' Dauda confirmed enthusiastically. `For the Master has said that no one comes to him sincerely without being so blessed.' Gambo fell into a silence of self congratulation for what, until now, he didn't know was a great achievement, and on how good an omen that was, and on how lucky he was to be among those chosen in this sea of humanity. He contemplated how all those who had gathered here, had done so at the bidding of this great man. Like him, they too, were willing to sacrifice everything for the Master. And the more he understood the amount of devotion they, too, had for the man, the more this tore down his defences. To him therefore, Dauda's claim was most believable. `When will the Master come out?' Gambo asked Dauda as his eagerness to hear the Master grew. `The Master doesn't usually take time to come out,' he replied. `In fact, he doesn't take time in doing anything.' Gambo felt more at a loss, for they had already waited for some time. But perhaps it was not as long as he thought it to be. His mind turned then to another group in the distance, near the western side of the surrounding houses, who were dancing around in a single file and were, from time to time, raising their weapons in the air. Whenever they raised the weapons up, they would shout out, `Eehoo!' at the top of their voices, to announce their courage and readiness for battle. He chuckled. Gambo, like the rest of the Tasinai, was sure that the Master was inside praying for their success. The telling effect of his prayers was legendary - they never went unanswered. So Gambo had no doubt about today's. For if this pious man could ask for something in peace times and be granted, there was no possibility of his being denied in times of trouble. `Today there will be no reprieve,' blurted out Dauda, who had for over a minute, been in some contemplation. `For whom?' asked Gambo. `All those who belittle our Master. Those who fail to see the lions in us,' he replied with dead seriousness. Gambo smiled at Dauda's description of themselves and said, `As for me, I prefer coming face to face with the police, for they are, as I realise, our stumbling blocks.' `Yes, the police and those on their side. Or as Labiru has said, `It'd be the last clarion call for those who haven't yet believed to do so, when it's still easy and nice. And those who persist in their unbelief, will be crushed like sorghum under a grinding stone.' They fell into silence again. Then Gambo's eyes caught sight of a slight curtains' movement in an upper-floor window of Abba Saisai's house. He was sure it was the occupants trying to see what was happening outside. It then dawned on him how empty of their previous owners the surrounding houses had become, how devoid the area was of their movements and the movements of their children, to and from school, and how bereft it was of the children's chatter and their running around. When he first reached the enclave the area was full of Marwa Tasin‚'s neighbours. Some of their houses were like his, built of breeze-blocks. Others were mud-built, coated with cement. Most of them had now left. The massing up of Tasinai had rapidly driven them away. Some were forced out, while others saw the writing on the wall and left. The consequences of remaining there were dire. Now the only ones remaining here were either the pigheaded, the unwary, or those still having some respect in Marwa Tasin‚'s eyes and thought of themselves as safe. Whenever Gambo remembered those forced out or those who ran away, he would feel bitter. In the end, in order not to fall into the error of criticising the Master, he would convince himself that nothing had forced them out but their unbelief, so they had themselves to blame. For what the Master had said to Gambo's group, when they first arrived still rang in his ears, `Beware of questioning the many curious things you see. Time explains everything.' And Gambo was right about the curtains' movement he noticed. Abba Saisai was one of the very few people still living in the area with his family and, the only neighbour around to have found favour with Marwa Tasin‚. Marwa Tasin‚ therefore, decreed that nobody should trouble him. That was why his two wives - Maryama the senior and Dahara the junior one - were still in their house. The husband, as usual, had left early in the morning for his business in the city's centre. So, the women became alarmed when they heard louder than usual noises rising to a crescendo. The shrilling `Eehoo!' - also a danger signal - that punctuated this, sent them scurrying up to the lounge on the upper floor to see what danger they were in. The gleaming spears, the drawn swords, the painted faces and the strange atmosphere below them were what greeted their eyes when they peeped through the parted curtains of one of the two front windows. They felt paralysed. A cold sweat streaked down the spine of Maryama, while Dahara gaped at the scene with bulging eyes: frozen with fear. The incessant drumbeats of Maryama's heart, and that of Dahara which was hitting at her blouse like a boxer's punch-bag were the only intrusions to the absolute silence they were trying to maintain, in order not to attract the attention of the hordes of the Tasinai outside. They immediately realised the danger of their standing positions and quickly knelt down under the windowsill, looking at each other, their expressions communicating what their mouths could not. It was as if they could feel their confidence in their security melting away. Now each had her back to one of the two bedrooms facing each other. Another window looked out onto the back of the house, while two others faced the front. Near one of the rooms was a bathroom. The lounge had two armchairs and a sofa. A black and white photograph of the wives with the husband in the middle was on the wall. On the other side was a coloured one of the husband, alone. `Accompany me downstairs, please. I'd like to go and close my doors,' said Dahara softly. Each of the two wives had her own maisonette at ground level, while the husband had the upper floor to himself. Before, nobody had their doors closed in this city, including front ones, until bed time. There were burglars and other evil beings, but they would only operate in the dead of the night. To Maryama's chagrin, the Tasinai had, in this enclave and its environs, changed all that. Now danger lurked outside at all hours of the day and night. The new situation was what the wives, on the strength of their husband's rapprochement with Marwa Tasin‚, had been oblivious to. `I can't promise you that, my dear,' responded Maryama, `while the front door remains open. My own doors are open, and I'm not going down to close them, even for a bag of money.' `What shall I do then?' she asked desperately. `You can't ask the chicken the way to the pond,' Maryama joked. `The duck is your best bet, my dear. I'd only be there when either these people have gone away or Abba is back.' `Then have a look again, please, and see whether they have.' `How can you suggest that while you can still hear the ongoing commotion?' `I thought it was dying away.' `If that's the case, why didn't you yourself have a look?' `How could I be too forward while you're the senior?' `I'll rather give you my seniority for today than do that.' They burst into laughter, which they quickly muffled with their palms, lest they attracted the attention of the Tasinai. Dahara's concern about her rooms stemmed from a brown, wooden casket under her bed - which was to her like the whole world - comprising mainly of what her mother gave her when she was to be brought to her husband. The mother had inherited them from her own mother, Dahara's grandmother. The grandmother too, had inherited them from her own mother. They were the family's heirlooms. They included a red, coral necklace, another gold one, with its earrings and bangles, and many little valuables. Even now, she could remember what the mother had said when she was giving them to her. `Take this. Keep them under lock and key, and use them with extreme care.' She was pointing at Dahara with a warning finger and a penetrating stare that summed up the gravity of being indiscreet with them. `Beware of everybody, especially your co-wife, who could steal them away from you, if you're careless.' Dahara would since then not allow anyone or anything near them. Maryama was terrified of looking out again. The Tasinai below them had occupied almost every available space. Her dominant fear was the absence of an escape rout, in the event of an urge to flee. She had never seen so many weapons out of their cases, so many gleaming in the sunshine, so many shaven heads glittering, steaming away into the void. The eyes of many of them were ferocious-red in their faces. Those whose eyes were not yet red, were vigorously chewing the peppery leaves that gave them this effect. They had the look of an angry panther ready to pounce. The two women did not dare to look again. Although Dahara too, was scared out of her wits, she still managed to get up, but instead of having another look at the Tasinai as Maryama thought she was about to, she took a sheet of paper that was lying about and started to tear off small pieces and to block up every opening of the lounge door that an eye could peer through, should anyone decide to come in and come up the stairs. They had already locked the door with a key and had applied the upper and lower latches. `I thought you were going downstairs, my dear.' Maryama teased her. `Alone!? Not in the least. I'll forget all about the doors, God will protect them. I really fail to understand why he,' meaning their husband, `insists on living in this area.' `That's the mystery about him,' contributed Maryama. `But Senior, I'm sure you must know the reason, since you know him better.' Maryama felt flattered by her junior's acknowledgement of her better access to their husband and said, `Well, you're right, Dahara. He had spoken to me many times about it,' she showed off. `To my understanding nothing shackles him here more than his penny-pinching. Since he started to see Marwa Tasin‚'s antics of driving away people from their houses he said to me, `Considering how much I toiled to build this house, I can't abandon it just like that - it's impossible.'' `Impossible?' enquired Dahara, flabbergasted. `Yes. Those were his words. He even added, `By the way, where are we to move to? Should I start spending money for rent or for building another house? Again, there is the problem of moving to a new place and living with strange neighbours: possibly thieves or tricksters.' He finally said, `Marwa Tasin‚ will never harm us, since I give him his due respect. I also went to him and professed my allegiance. I'm a practical man, you know.' `But aren't you playing a dangerous game?' I said to him. `I know how to play my cards,' he said pompously. `Try me, when it comes to saving my life and yours.'' As she remembered her husband's boastfulness, a smile of adoration came over Maryama's face. She felt a little charged with a current of courage and was now able to get up, then tiptoed to the window, parted the curtains gently and stealthily and saw the Tasinai still there, awaiting the appearance of Marwa Tasin‚. She let back the curtains as stealthy as she parted them. This time, not even Gambo noticed it. `He had told me this several times,' she continued about her husband, `either directly or indirectly. And knowing how he is, it's futile to try to persuade him to think otherwise.' In My Dream Behold you I did in my dream As the earth below with blue seas, Dotted with the green of growth; With the tan of hills and volcanoes. And I, a lonely moon was breaking Tearing to emerge Through the blanket Of a nimbus cloud. To drink in the beauty And so have light. The oceans, Were your liquid eyes, The trees - The strands of your sable hair. Stony Skeletons Their midwife; A raging storm of fire. Her welcoming roar - the sounds of rockets and machine-guns. The first taste they venture, Is that of stony skeletons. Children of lost kinship, How fare you In the harshness of winter, Under scorching heat in the open, Under lashing thirst & hunger? Skeletal children Frail on sticks, How fare you Under the loneliness of death? How much dream, Oh children limb-less, Do your mothers remember Of the fathers who dreamed Of your liberation, That once loomed large And now recedes Into the distant horizon, How much nightmare Today they stand? Children of deathly infirmity, Of the putrid smell Of a camp water-less, When will your vacant eyes, The end of your suffering, see? Politics that flogged you there In the first place, Extends its dagger-hands Not as a lifeline, But for a stranglehold Of suffocation. The Lumpen What have I to cover my nakedness? Nothing! The sun above me, The rains, Harmattan winds, the dust; Not a roof above my head. Nothing! What am I, a ghost? No, But akin to that. For I still can breathe So can still work. A human? Yes, But a lumpen Whose back is breaking Laden with stones, Whose labour builds the world Not a roof above my head. Nothing!