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Ashiboko, the man and his fat cane
Inseparable.
Grim faced
Bulgy cheek
Mean.
Appearance upon the platform, unpleasant.
Fear grips all
Listen, listen, no sound.
Maybe a chair’s creak
Tensed hands drop a pen.
Eyes on the char black board
The chalk clear
Practiced inscription shows threateningly
Algebra
We hated him.
Determined to impart knowledge
He never withheld the cane.
Ashiboko
Drove booko into our skulls
Never spared the rod.
Years are past, tens of them
Boko I hear
Fear it brings still.
Not fear, one of terror, this one
Boko Haram.
Where art thou Ashiboko
Minister thou shouldest be
That thou would administer Boko
Into Boko Haram
In a makaranta at Bukuru.
Should they refuse
Thou would suggest hara-kiri
To the Haram known as Boko Haram.
Haters of book, Boko
Readers of Western bomb manuals
Driven in Boko cars wearing Boko clothes.
Thou would suggest it to them, hara-kiri.
I know.