SULEIMAN A. BUHARI
THREE POEMS
agbonkhianmen@yahoo.com




WORSHIPPING WELLS

…….. because it is more important to need than believe in god
May I need the god I don’t believe in
When I pray may god be too busy to listen
That in confirming his inexistence
I may learn to believe in myself
And become as disappointed in myself as I am in god
Thus question my existence
: and in my digging let me find nothing
Because it is better for a man to remain a mystery even unto himself
Cursed is the well that knows its depth
For its has become a proud throat
Thirsty and insecure;
and in my quest to disprove, by finding nothing
May I prove my existence, and god’s
That I may return to draw of his disappointment
because ……





HUNGRY AND WET

Our elders say when a man goes to the farm
Food and rest should await his return
I went to the farm but I returned to hunger
So I slept, hungry, with tiredness
And as I slept, I dreamt of a life lived in dreams
I dreamt of me and I dreamt of you
I dreamt of us and I dreamt of food
So I ate and became heavy with satisfaction
Filled with tiredness I slept
And woke up on my farm
It was just a dream
Surely food and rest await me
I worked the soil and as the sun set
My shadow stretched towards home
As I returned I saw smoke billowing from my compound
Our elders say when a man returning home
Sees smoke billowing from his compound
He should be happy because someone remembered to cook for him
But he should also entertain the possibility that his house is on fire
I ran home and saw fire alone
No cook, no food, no roof or house fire
Just fire burning on his own
I got water to put it out
For our elders say
Water beats fire any day
But water only fed it and it blazed
Flirting with the yams in my barn and the roof of my house
I poured more water
Yet it burned bigger, brighter, hungrier
Cooking the yams in my barn and the roof of my house
Desperate, I urinated on it
For the elders say urine wards off evil spirits
It went out
The evil fire
My cook for the day
The yams were sweet though out of season
They filled me with satisfaction
I went to sleep
And as I slept, I dreamt of a life lived in dreams
I dreamt of me and I dreamt of you
I dreamt of us yet I was hungry
Hunger loomed large over me
Blazing the roof;
(which, unbeknownst to me, remained on fire through my meal)
The evil fire
My cook for the day
Loomed large over me
Devouring its thatched meal
Threatening to leave me here with you
Hunger fell on me
And I died
I resurrected
Hungry and wet






AGBONKHIANMEN / WHY I WRITE

‘Some say they write because they have to,
Other says ‘Writing is my life’
Other say stranger things, but I
I write because ……….

Most babies are born crying
Others born smiling,
My parents tell me l was born coughing
Imagine it, born with a cough so violent,
I almost died at birth
Coughing with a cold and something stuck down my throat
The evil midwives rescued me
But they killed him.

Most babies are born once
I was born twice
My twin didn’t survive the evil midwives
So my grandmother tells me I lead two lives
One mine,
The other for the spirit who tried to come with me
I agree, I am split, I disagree,

He came back, my twin, a recurrent child
He came back, four years to the day
Almost, four days to the day
My brother, my twin.

The clot was out, but my cough didn’t stop
I coughed my way into my grandfather’s arms
He named me Agbonkhianmen
After Myself
A strange name
More a title than a name
The title the man he called father carried through life.

Some say he was his father,
Others say he was the man who took care of him
When his father started talking with spirits
Before his father jumped off the cliff
When the bible convinced him
That if he landed he would be god
And if he didn’t he would ascend on a fiery chariot

At least they named the hill and cliff after him
Madman hill, the Divine drop.

He named me after him, a man of understanding,
Because before he died he coughed a lot
Something was stuck down his throat
A medicine man himself, his friends checked but it was clear
The Doctors probed, there was nothing there
Yet he coughed in the face of Death
And now I return like I left.

But the dreams never left me,
Dreams of Gods and Goddesses
Godkings and Godmen
Holy wars and madness.
Dreams of past lives lived
The songs, the signs, the symbols.

They haunted me in my youth,
I expressed them in comic books
I drew a lot;
My longest running serial “The Power Hogs”
Based on the Ninja Turtles, but based in Lagos,
I got flogged in school for drawing in my note books
I drew a lot
I stopped drawing in secondary school
I noticed beauty
And women, even as girls, complicate everything
She said “Drawing is childish”
So I left Drawing alone
She left me even before I left drawing
She never was with me
I was so stupid
Now she’s barely a memory
I can’t even remember her name
Even though I remember names readily.
Thus, I lost drawing to Beauty
I was so stupid
I left drawing for nobody.

I went to university,
My dreams came with me
They didn’t stop because I stopped Drawing
Unexpressed, they got worse
NIGHTMARES !!!!!!!!

After my degreeless stint,
They haunted me even more
The rise of light and birth of darkness,
Truth and Untruth in Moonlake
The fall of the gods
And the rise of kings
Death in the flood
And life in new beginnings.

Then I saw him before he saw me
I approached him before he called me
An old withered man with markings around his navel
A symbol I had seen many times before
But had no clue what it was
He knew me
He knew me well
Too well
It was scary
(I must be schizophrenic)

He spoke Ido (Divine Esan)
The Mother of all Tongues,
My Mother tongue which I really don’t understand
But in a funny way I understood him,

Like I used to understand my grandmother,
Who is with Olokun,
Who told me stories in Ido
Many stories,
Three stick out
The first was about a boy
The second, a fish
The third, a water spirit
She told me these stories three years apart
I was an adult when I realized
The three are one
The boy is a fish
And the fish, a water spirit

We spoke until filled with courage,
I crossed the bridge familiarity built
I asked him about his tattoo in Pidgin English
He answered me in Esan and I understood
(Even though I still don’t understand Esan)
I looked at him well
I had seen him before,

That evening, in my grandmother’s room,
When I lay shivering
Fever’s hot hands held me,
He came from the side of the room
He came from the incense,
Burning in my grandmother’s shrine beside the room
He took Fever’s hand off my head and pushed him away,
Fever falling awkwardly, broke my grandmother’s flask,
Her favourite flask, in which she had boiled some Agbo for me,
Sick or not, I took some flak for that,
She loved that flask, a blue thermoline with a white helm
He smiled and left dragging Fever feet first behind him
Back into the incense
Back into shrine

He was a little younger then
But I still recognized him,
I had seen him a few times since then
In the shadows or plumes of smoke,
Waiting for the right time,

‘Agbonkhianmen’
He spoke my praise name with pride,
“The world (or life) requires us to work for reward”
I knew him
I knew him well
I knew him when he was blind,
I showed him everything he knows
And now he, in turn, must pry open my stubborn eyes
Pa Okugbe, my apprentice and companion

He reminded me of what I know,
He took me to Urobe’s fertile grove
And tried to show me my tree,
I touched it before he spoke;
My sacred tree, the one I never leave
But have left for too long.

I saw a palm-kernel in the sun
And I saw the sun in the kernel of my palm

Then, he asked me
‘Godman , what do your eyes see?’
As I told him my brothers, in chorus, strolled out of their trunks
Naked, in the dim light of the sacred forest,

‘My eyes see the beginning and witness the end,
My eyes see the light and the darkness’

The All knowing Alimonka
Godmen reborn,
I their lost brother return.

you are very talented, but u have to do alot of editing.....ur rhythm is fine, imagery very good....but u say too much. best of luck, bro.

thanks for the compliments and advice i also read your poetry some days back but couldnt comment on it i think the server was down i especially loved she makes everyman fall in love, beautiful.