The Heard Truth.1 Poem by Emeka GOC

The Heard Truth.1

Hard Questions, Strong Answers and Hard Truths
I always appreciate the HRH, The Emir of Kano,
Khalifa Muhammadu Sanusi II, (Sanusi Lamido Sanusi) ,
For once in a while being a strong voice from the North
Asking heard questions, and also offering answered and direction.
Even as Gov. of CBN bank, he asked hard questions too
However, the expected Strong Answers and Hard Truths becomes elusive.
The most recent warnings are in order poverty and Almmajiri issues?
but I too want to ask HRM one question. Too.

'if poverty continues in Northern Nigeria, Islam may disappear from the North'


My ink has become the legislative dawn of 1999 and 2000 era
The ink was dry upon the newly minted page,
When codes of ancient piety reclaimed the modern stage.
From Zamfara the edict spread, a promised holy shield,
To cultivate a righteous harvest in the northern field.
The state became the shepherd, the statutes grew severe,
Promising an end to vice, to poverty, and fear.
Yet twenty sessions passed away within the gilded halls,
Twenty six years running, we have observed the sail
Of the boat of sharia, expecting answers that are very tall.


Every projects have monitoring KPIs to measure performances
While structural decay advanced behind the palace walls.
The Human Capital Deficit, Where are the fruits of literacy,
the products and productivity of the scholars of the loom?
The data yields a landscape of compounding, quiet gloom.
An eighty-percent shadow wraps the geopolitical zones,
Where budgets feed bureaucracy instead of brittle bones.
The classroom floors lie barren, the blackboards split in twain,
While millions walk the dusty roads in systematic pain.
If faith is measured by the care a society bequeaths,
Over three hundred FGN projects in one state
Greater that all FGN in the Eastern Region state


The ledger shows an empty field of unrecorded wreaths
What holy text authorizes the discarding of the seed?
To weaponise tradition for a system built on greed?
The begging bowl becomes the cup of structural neglect,
A generational divorce of honor and respect.
No scripture tells a father to forsake his native line,
To trade a child's development for geopolitical design.
They wander not as criminals, but casualties of state,
These are the product for the present menace of terror activities
The Alma Jiri Paradox is for a purpose that burnt PGJs fingers


Abandoned at the crossroads of an engineered fate.
Twenty Pound on my mind, completing the currency war strategies
before the indigenalisation and £ Rs that never reached East stages
The southern provinces advance in commerce and in trade,
While northern talents wither in the promises we made.
The Sharia of the elite protects the mansion and the crown,
But leaves the structural safety net to slowly burn on down.
For faith cannot find nourishment upon a barren stone,
When citizens are left to fight the famine all alone.
If bread arrives from foreign hands to cure the local blight,
The Institutional Divergence is a national mince but from the north
Fridays are half day or no working day at all.


The ancient structures will dissolve into the coming night
The final audit demands a shift in structural design,
To move beyond the rhetoric and mend the broken line.
We must exchange the political mask for healthcare and the slate,
Before the structural collapse decides the region's fate.
True piety is measured by the welfare of the small,
The schools we build, the clinics raised, the safety of us all.
The harvest fails not by the sky, but by the hands that sow
Reclaim the youth, rebuild the soil, or reap the overthrow.
The Pedagogical Imperative the teacher enjoy.