A FEATURE that immediately draws the attention of a first-time visitor to Shehu Sani's Poems of Peace is the anthology's timeliness. Typical of a poet whose nerve endings are rudely stimulated by contradictions of social reality, Sani responds in 94 interpretations of the theme of man's inhumanity to man.Hitting the stands the year Nigeria marks a 52nd independence anniversary shadowed by bombings, assassinations, kidnappings and dare-devil robberies, there could not have been a better reflection of a country's descent into chaos; and appeal for sanity.With My City Boils, the reader is greeted to an appetiser that promises many a mind-watering cuisine. In 14 lines of vers libre, the poet weaves a sequence of consistent imageries around the metaphor of the boiling city. He accordingly sees: 'the evaporation of peace', 'the steam of violence', 'the bubbles of anger', 'feel(s) the heat of intolerance', 'see(s) the vapour of vendetta', 'the flames of death' and 'the stokes of hatred'.While the poet drives, full-throttle, his 'boiling' concern, he, however, displays the awareness of a writer who appears to have mastered the essence of auditory appeal. In simple diction and lineation, Sani, throughout the poem, deploys a pattern of melodious repetitions with 'My city is boiling/ I can see''The terseness of the poem is highly suggestive of the anguish of an observer watching helplessly as a beloved city' 'My City'' undergoes nightmarish transformation from 'peace' to 'hatred'.At another plain, Sani's introductory lines, like most of his output, assume larger significance beyond reference to any particular subject. This, importantly, underscores the poet's ability to spin verses of universal value. It is not only 'My City', therefore, that boils: from the blasts of suicide bombers in far away Iraq or Afghanistan to the psychopathic killer on a spree in some American city, the world, in Sani's pen, might have been one huge red-hot kettle.Sani, in When I Ran, appears to be saying that only the awakening of resolve by victims of persecution or violence, rather than passivity, would halt the wheels of killings. He makes subtle replay of the drama between the hunter and the hunted: a typical portrayal of violent situations around the world. Running ahead is the hapless victim, referred to as 'I', who is pursued by the assailant' 'The killer'. The hunted seeks solace in several places pregnant with symbolism: 'my home', 'the street', 'the farm', 'the market', 'the school', 'the king', 'the police', 'the church', 'the mosque' and 'the park'.Ironically, the hunter appears unmoved by whatever these supposed places of refuge denote or connote: When I ran to my Home/ The killer hunted me/ When I ran to the Street/ The killer hunted me/ When I ran to the Police/ The killer hunted me' And just as the reader begins to wonder when the cycle of pursuit would cease, the poet shuts the lines with refuge of an entirely different sort: I ran to my resolve/ The killer left me!In a defiant economic clime, Sani exemplifies laudable resolution of the conflict between profiteering and civil rights activism. Else, how might the poet's public explain a 129-page collection that opens with the intro: 'This book is free! Its goal is to promote peace and encourage people to stand up and speak out against violence.'Lovers of poetry, served in easy-to-digest lines with a refreshing drink of reader-friendly aesthetics and contiguous themes, would find in Sani a master chef, who knows not just his 'onions', but also how to tickle readers' lobes into pleasant flights of imagination.
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