By: Kolade Olawale Kabir Àdèlé
The preacher girl is a marketer, selling
Words of the scripture on a dusty
Nigerian road while sun rays
Feed on her skin.
The preacher boy is a spiritual athlete,
Winning souls into a population
Whose hearts are now fenced by
The fear of God.
The preacher man is a businessman, giving
Good tidings of a fictional
To preacher boy
And preacher girl while
The church’s dropbox empties into
His wife’s pot.
Five daily prayers are Mubarak’s second breath,
Our heaviest takbir only come visiting
On days potbellied politicians
Donate our stolen future into
The fisabilillahi box.
Mubarak missed WAEC,
His mother’s tear didn’t cook well last night,
They missed yesterday’s dinner,
The prize for the business they know best,
Is Jannah, preached in every Friday sermon.
The fisabilillahi has done well, building
A beautiful empire on the Imam’s cheeks,
They keep growing like a lumpy, twin pregnancy.