Anas Dansalma's Blog

REPLY TO BASHIR AHMAD, NEW MEDIA AIDE TO THE PRESIDENT ON SENATOR RABI'U MUSA KWANKWASO'S LETTER ON THE SORROWFUL STATE OF KANO STATE. Dear Bashir Ahmad, I am shockingly staggered, with due respect sir, by your pretence of ignorance, as a young Nigerian, that letters personally sent to leaders hardly and sadly reach them or/and are oftentimes discarded with no trace of even acknowledgement. This fact has forced many concerned Nigerians of reputable publications and even the common growing youth to either be silent or send an open letters, at least, by doing so, it will serve as a way of clearing their conscience and to be a proof to their fellow people whom often hold them at fault for not writing such letters to authorities in order to let them know of their condition since aides like you and many others seemed oblivious or preoccupied…. Undeniably sir, no government succeeds without accepting constructive criticism, but for most of the write-ups scribbled to your govern...

  TRIBUTE TO A DECEASED FRIEND (A short autobiography written by Anas Ɗansalma In memory of Tahir) On 10th April, 2020. "Whosoever has not been admonished by death will never be admonished by words of mouth." I grew up in a circle of friends, though very amicable to all, but very choosy in selecting those who I should come close to. Perhaps, it was because of my nerdy and introversive nature. I love to stay quiet and which often times has been making me to stay indoors in order to avoid the cacophonous argumentative topics like the football dispute that usually culminated in uproar and series of blows. The brawl last long until the bone of contention is broken by contrastive defeat. We also gab on most girl-pretty topics. It sounded exciting to look at pretty girls and try to discern which one is prettier than the other or even about the prettiest. To be candid, I do like such discussion, but had little respect for love. Therefore, I barely listened to them and inste...

DEATH If I remember death It makes me feel useless Than the fact that I exist To be buried beneath the earth Which I once walked and trampled Mindless that with each step I did I was digging deep my inescapable home Which therein I shall be forgotten to rot Not even my name some could remember Or how ugly beautiful I used to look Except for what I sow of love and humility Which shall pop up to their consciousness And then shall they say; Allah ya jiƙansa!