The Foreign Tears Factory

Ajulo David

Biography: Ajulo, David Olufemi is a multifaceted professional whose career and passions span technology, literature, business, and agriculture. Trained as a Telecom Engineer, he has built a solid reputation in the world of communication technologies, ensuring innovative solutions that connect people and empower industries. Beyond engineering, Olufemi is an internationally recognized Sales Professional, celebrated for his outstanding ability to build relationships, inspire trust, and deliver results across diverse markets. His creative spirit finds expression in revolutionary poetry, where his words resonate deeply with audiences, weaving themes of humanity, egaliatrian society, resilience, and the beauty of existence. As a passionate poultry farmer, Olufemi demonstrates his belief in self-sufficiency and sustainable living, nurturing not only livestock but also a philosophy of responsibility and care for the earth. At his core, Olufemi is a lover of nature and all that is good to behold. Whether through professional excellence, poetic insight, or his agricultural endeavors, he embodies a rare balance of intellect, creativity, and a profound appreciation for life’s simple yet profound wonders. The number to reach him is 07061394472.

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Ajulo David

Tuesday 4 November 2025

The Foreign Tears Factory

(A Satirical Poem on Hypocrisy and Power)

Ah, welcome to Nigeria’s show,

Where saints wear suits and devils glow.

Where killers are “herders,” and peace is sold,

In crisp white papers with Western gold.

Fulani Bandits — bless their fame!

They burn and slaughter, yet bear no shame.

They’re not terrorists, don’t be misled,

They’re “misunderstood youths,” our leaders said.

Before old Buhari took the stage,

We had no bandits, just normal rage.

But he came riding a northern star,

And poof — behold! Bandits from afar.

El-Rufai paid them “to make peace,” see?

A noble act of lunacy.

And Bauchi’s chief in righteous tone,

Declared, “They can live in any zone!”

Now blood is red, and truth is dead,

But what’s the fuss? Let’s tweet instead!

Statistics pile like wedding cake,

While conscience sleeps for heaven’s sake.

Then — enter America, with holy tears,

They’ve cried these cries for sixty years.

“Save the Christians!” they shout with flair,

As drones and dollars fill the air.

Oh mighty Trump, protector bold,

Your threats were silver, your motives gold.

You came to save our souls, we’re told —

But left us oil-less, broke, and sold.

Nigeria’s waking — what a sin!

We dare refine our oil within!

No more free crude, no sweet rebate —

The Empire’s losing its dinner plate.

Tesla came with lithium dreams,

“Just sell us raw,” they said with beams.

But Tinubu laughed, “Not this time, bro —

Build your plant or kindly go.”

Now Washington’s choking on jollof rice,

“How dare these Africans think twice!”

They call it “rights,” they call it “aid,”

But every loan’s a guillotine blade.

They weep for “Christians,” oh so loud,

Yet cheer when chaos stirs the crowd.

Their gospel’s trade, their prayers are deals,

Their crosses forged from oil and steel.

Meanwhile the Bandit holds his gun,

And whistles hymns of holy fun.

He kills by night, repents by dawn,

And somehow gets a federal pawn.

Libya’s ghost still claps and sings,

As NATO sells democracy rings.

“Freedom,” they called it, as bombs would fall —

Now Libya’s free — of life, of all.

Abacha laughs from heaven’s den,

“I told you so, my countrymen!

They love your chaos, not your peace,

Their handshakes hide the masterpiece.”

So let’s unite — both mosque and steeple,

Before we’re sold as discount people.

When next they cry on global screen,

Just pass them tissue — they love the scene.

For tears are trade, and pity’s priced,

And every saviour’s just disguised.

Oh Nigeria, laugh while you can —

You’re the world’s most profitable plan!

A word, my friend, before you doze:

When angels come with foreign clothes,

Check their pockets — you’ll always find,

A contract neatly wrapped behind.

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The Foreign Tears Factory

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