Another pleasant surprise was seeing an ajami text praise song for the Gobir ruler Bawa Jangwarzo in Heskitt's work. Since courtly praise singing was looked down upon by some Islamic scholars (think of al-Tahir's reference to praise singing in a poem on Borno), we are assuming this text was written in the Arabic script by someone affiliated with the court of Gobir's dynasty. The use of kirari for short verses describing Bawa Jangwarzo. Unfortunately, Mervyn Hiskett, whose A History of Hausa Islamic Verse is quite detailed otherwise, does not elucidate the origin of this song.
Tuesday, December 23, 2025
Wakar Bawa Jangwarzo
Tuesday, July 29, 2025
The Song of the Ngijima to the Sultan of Bornu
Carefully weave (the sets of kingship)
Hear all and weave
Weave as your grandfather did
Weave as your first ancestor did
You are a match for even the wily men of the town of Debera of the Fig Trees
Dabaga of the large “Damsa” tree, the town of Dall is yours
In Debera a Kauwa Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
In Tumbur a Kauwa Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
In Gazajemi, Mai Biri Melemi, your ancestor (is buried)
(And one) in Biddum of the Rocks, seven worlds above it and seven rivers below
May God preserve you in the same way as he does not allow friendship to grow old
O! King, your bounty is to us as the milk of a cow which never goes dry to the calf by its side
From you we find our food in the evening, and water to drink in the morning
May God grant that we may see you every day and rejoice
May God grant the fulfilment of every one of your kingly plans
Always you are the son of Aji,
Aji Duniani, you are the greatest chief on earth
In your kingdom, men live in peace
And of the chiefs in their tents you are the greatest
Of those who wear turbans and those who wear only loin-cloths, you are the chief
You are the ruler alike of men who have a leather loin-cloth tied between their legs and of those who ride on the horses
Of the prosperous land of Yamte in which is the Crested-Rock, you are the king
Father, Sultan of Bornu
The Kurata Arabs in the Kanem towns, of you are the slaves
You are the strength of Bornu
The scourge of every pagan town, you will remain
O! King! You are a man in the prime of his health, and your beasts of burden are all in good condition
O! King! Yours is all the power, you have no equal
The plans for every day are in your hands, the owner of Gagara Wunji
Wunji, from which you sallied to take your captives and cause their relations to follow you with piteous entreaties
O! King, you are the bush fire which burns up the towns of the pagans
You son of Aji, can collect or disperse people at your will
And turn again, and make a town (with those you have dispersed)
You are the scourge of Jillam, Dalla Darge and Dakkinam Dalla Damaram
Some towns are founded during the cold season of the year
But some of yours have been founded as the result of your victories, Aji Gana the Intriguer
O! King, your reign is the equal of any
You son of Aji, have accomplished this
Some days of your reign are as the reign of Ume
You have made them so, son of Aji
O! King the other days of your reign deserve a place in the chronicle of Kings
You have made them as they are, son of Aji
O! King, you are the son of Hauwa, daughter of Derman
Your forehead is that of your mother’s, Hauwa of the large forehead
May God preserve you, and you will equal any of the achievements (of other Sultans)
The King is lord of the people who ride on horses and of those who go on foot, and you are the King
He is a fool who says to a King that he has become wealthy
You are the Sultan, who when he camps in the middle of the forest,
Causes a white town of tents to spring up, son of Aji
You camp will turn the woods brown with horses, son of Aji
You the Sultan, son of Aji, whose camp-fires turn the waste places bright red
Yours the town of Yambe and Bitur
Of all men you are the father
(When you go to war) your slaves surround you as with a thorn fence
And you can put chains round the necks of the slaves from other men’s towns, and bring them to your own town
Let your heart be fearless as that of a bush-cow, you, son of a man brave as bush-cow
Start up now with the fearlessness of a bush-cow and we will at once become joyful
Your uncles are all Shettimas, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
Your aunt Zainafa, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
Nephew of Alima, Sultan, son of a Shettima’s daughter
A descendant of Derman who could accomplish all he set before him
You too can utterly destroy the pagans’ towns
There is no one to gainsay you over any of your projects
If intrigue were your object, no one could withstand it
If the place of your intrigue were known no one dare point it out
The cities of Yam and Yaman are yours, descendant of Derman the Powerful
And you can at will destroy the pagans’ towns
There is no one to oppose himself to you
Fusam Burud is my father’s sister
Aman Leman my mother’s brother
I am your humble servant.
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Song to the Gumsu
Gumsu, the whole earth is yours
Ruler of Islam (may you be) always happy
Owner of a thousand thrones
And five hundred gunmen
Chief of all women (may you be) always happy
You distribute slave children as you would food (to your followers)
If you camp at a single hut in the middle of a farm, even,
Your present of welcome is a camel
Yours Dugumaram, and the land of Bamma
Yours the large town of Banna, whose maidens are well-known
Gumsu, you are the queen of women
Owner of the town of Asaga whose orders are
accomplished by no days of grace
Of the slave Bitku, the Yiroma who looks after
your riverain towns, you are the owner
Water in a place covered with wild rice never dries up
You are the mother of the (Yiroma) who looks after the riverain towns
Yours the towns on the river, and the town of Dillawa,
and the water holes of Gizawa
It is you who own a ‘yambal’ sword made in the North country
Gumsu, chieftainess of women
You are (like) flour made from the ‘Rogondimi’ snake,
(like) porridge made from a python
The man who cooks (that) porridge) will not drink it
Queen Gumsu, owner of Maradi town, never looks behind her
Owner of the city of Yam, and the land of Yemen
And of N’gasargamu and Njimi town
Your mortar is made of the scented Guinea-pepper wood
You own a pestle of polished silver
Gumsu Amina, daughter of Talba
A descendant of the great
The great and the blessed
Good morning, Good morning
You are (like) the moon at its full
(Like) the morning star
Precious as gold, daughter of a bush cow, you a bush cow among women
Gumsu daughter of a lion
She is a lion as precious as gold among all women
(Like) silver, Amina daughter of Talba
May God give you the long life of a frog, and the dignity of an eagle
(It was you Gumsu) who prevented Sultan Ali son of Umar from riding (to war)
The Babuma said to him (the Sultan) ‘Do not do as your wife wishes
You who own Watera and Rugaya,
Rugaya which lies at the further side of both rivers
Sultan leave behind the pleasures your wife wishes for
Look at this market of fine horses’
And Mai Ali divorced her
And after he had divorced her he reconciled Gumsu Amina, daughter of Talba, with one thousand slaves.
Saturday, July 26, 2025
The Song of the Zakkama to the Zerma
Zerma Ibrahim, son of a princess
The Sultan’s support (firm as) a bowl made of fan palm trunk
His tribe the Tura, a son of Margi
Zerma, the warrior
A quiver for a hundred arrows
A hawk, a brave warrior
Alone he is equal to a thousand men,
he who can run hither and thither like a puppy
His patience like that of a male pelican
He is like boneless flesh, like brains
He is the owner of Buntigum Kadasha
And of Wawum and the town of Damasha
His eye (is to be feared as) a elephant hunter’s spear
His eyelashes are arrows
Support of a Sultan; if his eye becomes red he is preparing to fight
His Gursulu of the North
Who owns a tethering rope of gold
He is like a horse led behind the Sultan, its trappings ready on its back,
he too carries a Sultan on his back
Like a large spear: in his hand he carries an oil bottle
Zerma Ibrahim, a despoiler who lives in the Sultan’s house
Son of Zerma Dunama whose mother was a Sultan’s granddaughter
whose home was N’gasargamu
Support of a Sultan, yours the country called Gabana
Sugu, whose mother was a princess and who is happy therefore
You who sit in the shade of an acacia tree on a sandy mound,
you are a faithful follower of your chief
Faithful as a dog to its master
(If a man does any of the things) which lie between frowning
on one to being responsible for one’s death,
that is hate, Ibram Mairammi
(If a man gives one a present of anything) from a ‘mudu’
of corn to a fine horse, that is favour
One thread of truth in a shuttle will weave
a hundred threads of lies, Ibram Mairammi
Vomiting one’s liver cures the most severe biliousness, Ibram Mairammi
The hatching of an egg is unpleasant for the shell, Ibram Mairammi
Do not match yourself against Providence
God is all powerful: He prevents the eye from seeing the eyelashes (near it)
Eggs become lice
The small man becomes the great one, Ibram Mairammi
Stick to the truth, Ibram Mairammi
Truth is like the light of dawn, Sugu Mairammi
Untruthfulness is like the darkness at sunset, Ibram Mairammi
The “kagura” bird is God’s caller to prayer
The crested crane is the blower of the ‘fum-fum’ of the birds
You are not any relation of mine, nor my own flesh and blood,
it is only so long as I am happy that I shall stay in your town
Wednesday, July 23, 2025
Song to the Magaram
The Song to the Magaram
Magaram, Magaram Aisa, Dunama’s daughter
Of the fruitful land of the “kurna” trees
You are the owner, Magaram
Of Hadisharam Gabala,
You are the owner, Magaram
Of Damarkaba
You are the owner, Magaram
Yours Kindaguri, Magaram
Of Alagarno, the Sultan’s camp
You are the owner, Magaram
Of Damaji,
You are the owner, Magaram
Of the walled town Nguri
You are the owner, Magaram
Of Chegone with its rich farm-lands
You are the owner, Magaram
Of Komadugu,
And of Karnowa, you are the owner, Magaram
Of Ragunde
You are the owner, Ya Magaram
Of Wuli Bagori, Wuli Bagori established by force,
You are the owner, Magaram
The owner of Dagumo, you
And you the owner of Ilasri, Magaram
Of Malleya with its cattle-trough, a trough of gold
You are the owner, Magaram
The owner of Dalarge-on-the-hill, you
Of Labarwa you are the owner, Magaram
A mist has obscured the Sun
The land in the East, is yours
And you, Magaram, the owner of the land in the West
Of the women of small importance, you are the mother, Magaram
Of the great women you are the elder sister, Magaram
During the rainy season, you are the rains, Magaram
In the harvest, you are the harvest, Magaram
Derman son of Nguli (is your paternal uncle)
Nguli son of Atiman
(Your great-grandfather) Kalima, son of Daudu
(One of your maternal ancestors) a man named Liguma ‘son of Gaji’
(An ancestor) Gandange, son of Derman son of Dakkane
(An ancestor) Dalla whose mother was Amina and whose town Wuzudu
Amina, a daughter of Njimi Town
Njimi of Tsilim, Hawa’s son
And (Tsilim’s) son the Prince Kara, whose mother was Amimi
Magaram, who even when she camped in deserted bush,
Distributes a thousand bowls of food
God give to our mother Magaram,
The long life of a frog,
And the dignity of an eagle
And we shall be happy


