Appeal to Abdul Malik Over Hunger and Unpaid Teachers

My children are hungry. I couldn't find anything to feed them.

It's all your fault, you— My children are starving to death. Ni dada.

And I couldn't even find water to feed my son.

It's all your fault. You've tormented us. May God torment you.

I swear, I'm your enemy. What excuse do I have for not standing up to your father?

I swear by Him in whose hand my soul rests, I'm not afraid of death, you— And I won't die. What excuse do I have not to water this sane person's wish?

I'm already crazy. I'm not sane anymore.

I'm crazy now. That's it. Sir, sir Abdul-Malik.

People are eating out of the streets. People are looking for food in the trash.

People can't find anything to eat. The people are hungry.

Increase the teachers' salaries. You took their salaries. Peace be upon you.

You took the salaries of the poor teachers, who get up early to teach without without salaries, and you wouldn't listen to me.

You told me, “Okay, we'll bring them back.”

And all of this was in a dream. I call God to witness, if God is witness to what I'm saying, and doesn't address me on Judgment Day as I stand before Him, that I spoke to Mr. Abdul-Malik.

I told him people were starving to death.

People are desperately hungry. People couldn't find anything to eat.

Take a good look at yourself. Let people eat.

Let people eat their fill. Stop lying. Stop stealing from the mosques.

You drove the preachers out of the mosques— the mosques’ own preachers.

The mosque imams. You took the Quran memorizers down from every pulpit and put up a few thugs and some worthless shoes.

And you left us— you turned God’s mosques into chaos for dancing and lewdness, and you refused to understand.

And today, I am your adversary. I I no longer want my army or my hunters, and I don't want anyone in this world.

I want to die now. By God, I have no excuse not to expose you before God and His people.

And tell them who you are, and what worth your father had for you to come rule us with your gang.