AUTHOR'S NOTE

In a world where terrorist attacks make the headline of top newspapers every week, I am compelled to pen a story which captures the mind of terrorists. This work is not an attack on any religion, rather it is an attack on the victims of religion - terrorists.

Al Bomba you have died at last. You have died in your own jihad, waging war against the perceived enemies of Allah - for a bounty of seven sexy virgins. You died in Kano yesterday afternoon, blowing yourself and scores of others, whom you considered infidels, to pieces. For you and your gang, killing is good if infidels are victims. Killing is good if a believer dies in it, for seven virgins awaits him in paradise.

Your death took place in the famous Kudi market at Kano. It was on the day before Christmas, on a day when nine of every ten persons in the market were perceived infidels who came to shop to mark the birth of their Lord. Al Bomba, you felt such a day was a great day to impress Allah and we, the keeper of the books.

You made a plan weeks before that day. You, in the company of your cohorts, riding on motorcycles raided a village in the south of Kano. There, you stole hundreds of chickens which you brought in battery cages to Kudi market the day before Christmas. Your plan was to sell them for a tempting two hundred naira only, to bait your victims.

You and your men, wearing baggy white garbs, arrived the market around 9.11am. You did not start selling your last supper until it was noon. Everyone of your men had strapped their explosives carefully beneath their white, flowing garment. Each man had strict instructions to detonate by 1.00pm.

"Buy your big, Christmas chickens here," your men and yourself cried out from different angles of Kudi market. "Very cheap. Any size for just two hundred naira only."
On hearing those words, which your men and yourself spoke in Hausa, people crowded your stock fighting to buy as many chickens as were available. A certain fat woman got a black eye and went home peaceably, sad. However, she was the happiest woman on earth that night after watching Maupe Ogun broke the untoward news at Channels News at Ten.

At exactly 1.00pm, while one Warri man was paying for ten chickens, all your men including your good self, detonated your bombs and dozens of chickens and scores of human beings were blown to charred pieces - blood and human flesh splattering carelessly like holy water across the dumb walls of the market. Christmas day newspapers carried grim headlines such as: BLACK CHRISTMAS IN KANO AS CHICKEN BUYERS GET FRIED; SCORES LOSE THEIR LIVES BUYING #200 CHICKENS FROM TERRORISTS; BOKO HARAM BAITS AND BOMBS 107 IN KANO; WOMAN GETS A BLACK EYE BUT ESCAPES DEATH IN KANO ATTACK, etc.

But none of the headlines was honest enough to have a caution such as this: AL BOMBA AND HIS MEN BLOW UP THEMSELVES TO HAVE SEVEN VIRGINS IN PARADISE. Al Bomba, you were a peace loving man until about two years ago when you became radicalized in Borno under Sheik Al Explosir.

It was Sheik Al Explosir, too, who taught you that the enemies of Allah were infidels who believed in another book; were Muslims who were friends to people who believed in another book; were Muslims who believed that it was wrong to kill people who believed in another book. Al Explosir also told you that a bounty of seven virgins await each man who killed in the name of Allah.

Armed with these filthy beliefs, you and your mindless men went on tour, what you called jihad, bombing churches, bombing mosques, bombing markets, bombing garages, bombing yourselves. Armed with these filthy beliefs, you and your men went on a strange mission, sliting throats, abducting women and beheading men, infidels. Your core belief was that you could bomb your way into paradise with seven virgins to quench your lust for blood and sex.

And now Al Bomba, you have died and you stand before Allah and we, keepers of the book, for judgment. And this is the verdict of Allah: "You will not have seven virgins as a reward for bombing your fellow human beings. You cannot serve Allah whom you have never seen by hating your neighbours, people who live amongst you. Hear O ye Al Bomba, son of Al Grenadel, you will not get seven virgins for beheading people, a strand of hair which you cannot create. Allah does not run a brothel where virgins are cultivated for murderers like you.

Hear O ye Al Bomba, son of Al Grenadel, your reward lies in the hottest part of hell, where you shall forever roast like smoked goat in the pit which has no bottom. You cannot bomb your way into paradise; you can at least love into paradise. Now go and burn forever, O ye Al Bomba, son of Al Grenadel.

Ademule David is a student of human society and crime; he writes from Lagos where he lives and goes about carrying his magical pen in his pockets.

Source: http://facebook.com/thesocialmicroscope

Nice work you've got there, it's kind of inspiring me to put it into rhythm. Gather every resource of yours and make this a poem.