Homeland of Mullahs

Where I come from, they say, is far from hell 
& close to heaven. Always, we affix “fa” to
our sentences like grease added to the gear
of a grinding machine. I carry my homeland 
wherever I go. It shows and scents on my clothes.
Yesterday at the market, without telling her, a woman 
said to me “ìlú àwọn alfa loti wá (you come from 
the homeland of Mullahs).” I nodded in concordance. 
She said: where the recitation of the Qur’an is 
your favorite melody, where people drink 
pastel-brown pap early in the morning and you eat 
amala with bean stew and spinach. Where the soundscape 
of adhan is the alarm that wakes you every morning. 
Your hands are friends with prayer beads. Where jalabiya, 
keffiyeh and turban are popular fellows in your wardrobe. 
Your monarch is called Emir & he rides a horse on Durbar 
Day despite having cars. Where people weave tapestry 
into money. The loom makes beat, tap-tap-tap for the ear 
of the environment. Where kuli-kuli is one of your snacks. 
Where children hawk beske. And there are many minarets 
to serve as landmarks. Where—
“How do you know all of these?” I interrupted,
“Because that’s also where I am from,” she replied. 

theology of love 

i do not want to bother you with my sermon 
on the metaphor: God is love, love is God    but 

i must confess your smile has been intoxicating 
me and i’m not the type to find with opium

or a bottle of alcohol — the Qur’an has warned 
vehemently against that but to be drunk in love is 

what i find no warning against      i’ve been thinking 
about how love itself is an act of worship,     how 

the scripture has been saying love your neighbor 
as yourself    i’ve been thinking about how God 

himself is a boundless volume of love like air    so when 
he removed that rib from Adam to make Eve i guess he 

also sliced his heart into two and placed one in her —
a single heart in two persons.

*Photo by Ambitious Studio* – Rick Barrett on Unsplash.