It was just like yesterday that I visited you at a private hospital close to Federal Polytechnic, Bida, Niger state. That was when you were terminally ill. Then, you had become a shadow of your once-upon-a-time bubbly and genial self. I saw how you looked terribly infirm and drained. I was agitated after setting my eyes on you upon entering the ward you were admitted. Your health had not only deteriorated, but had distorted your facial appearance totally. There you lay, helpless, and at the mercy of the inevitable end.
I knew it was going to be your ‘last days’ in this ephemeral world. It was clear that we were about to lose you. But we kept praying for a jet recovery. None of us, be it your immediate relations, and even people who knew you from afar, wanted you to exit. We profusely supplicated to Allah-day and night-asking him to grant you his infinite mercies, should you succumb to the crude hand of ‘Death’. My mum, Hajiya Fatima Muhammad, and her two younger sisters, patiently, looked after you—till you breath your last. They knew you will not win the ultimate battle. However, they were fulfilled having to be around your sick bed when you finally answered the call of your Creator.
After you gave up the ghost on Wednesday, February 6, 2019, we were joined by your numerous admirers, neighbours and even people that were unfamiliar to us, to observe the funeral prayer for you at Essa, our one-in-a-million village. Before you were interred, we received sympathisers. After you were committed to mother earth, the army of sympathisers and mourners who came to commiserate with us, was beyond confounding. They sincerely eulogised you. Many of them said you were a sister, mother, and grandma extraordinaire. They extolled the outstanding moral virtues you were naturally endowed with. They admonished us to take solace in the fact that you not only lived an unblemished life, but touched many lives with your milk of human kindness and unrivalled generosity.
It is now a year since you left us. It is our hope that we shall meet to part no more, someday. But we are still grieving over your heart-shattering demise. We are feeling your absence in every aspect of our lives. We hope we will soon come to terms with the grim reality that you have gone—forever. In the meantime, how are you doing? I trust you are doing fine. Tell me, how is the metaphysical world over there? We are assured that Allah’s special Rahma (blessing) still drenches your noble soul. We equally believe his Nur (light) still illuminates your grave. However, I say may your pious soul continue to receive the compassions of our most-benevolent Lord.
Nnagi Woro, when you lived, you were never tired of exhorting us to be righteous, selfless, generous, truthful, honest, responsible and hardworking. You always have doses of good advice and wise counsels to give whenever we are with you. But not necessarily when we are in distress or in quandary. Can I claim, and also boast that I know much about the history of Essa—our village—without you? Not at all! Who migrated and first settled in the place now called Essa? When was the village primary school built? Didn’t you provide answers to these posers, and numerous others? Yes, you did. And because you did, I can now give a lecture about my lineage; present a paper about the heritage of Essa folks; and not only that, I can, if commissioned, author a best-seller on Essa.
It was unfortunate you could not get to perform Hajj (pilgrimage)—one of the five cardinal pillars of Islam. Your failing health (much as you would have loved to, and I know your generous son (Yalukoja) would have gladly sponsored you) prevented you from going on pilgrimage. But five months after you departed, he did, and maybe just for your sake. I mean your son (Yalukoja), together with his Amarya (second wife), answered Allah’s call, and performed last year’s Hajj. I know, Allah will certainly accept their sincere supplications for you at the Holy Land.
Now, I must tell you this, all glory belongs to Allah. Believe it or not! This is because, he is the force behind the accomplishments I have achieved in just five years after I started mainstream journalism. In April 2019, I was selected, and attended the Africa Arts and Media Earth Initiative (AAMEI’s) eco-journalism workshop, in Lagos. Fast forward to October, I then participated in the Africa Science Literacy Network (ASLN) Communication workshop in Abuja. Therefore, it is my singular pleasure to inform you that I have been inducted, and I am now a Fellow of both AAMEI and ASLN. While I am grateful for His blessings upon my life, I still want Allah to prosper me, more. Please, put me in your prayers. Let me blow, very big. Let me achieve extraordinary fame in this pen profession. Let me win plenty awards. Let me travel, travel, and travel; attend, attend, and attend countless media workshops, conferences and seminars across the globe till I become tired, Nnagi Woro.
My darling Nnagi Woro, I cannot forget my late father, grandfathers, grandmothers, siblings and, in fact, all Muslims that transited to the great beyond—and are there with you now. Tell them we remember them with fond memories. Tell them we shall continue asking for Allah’s bounties and forgiveness upon their noble souls. And till I write you some other time, I beseech Allah (S.W.T) to forgive your indiscretions, accept your righteous acts of worship and grant you the palatial abode of Jannatul Firdaus. Ameen.
Mahmud writes from Abuja via [email protected].
