Tribute to Alhaji Musa Musawa
My Dearest Dad, As I try to pen down some sort of tribute for you, I can only think of beginning by telling you how much I miss you and just how much I love you.
You have always been the most important part of my entire life, and you will remain in my heart for all of eternity. Now that you are no longer with us, I know that my life just isn’t ever going to be the same without you. You were everything to me and did so much for me. You have been my guardian angel since I was a child and there will never be a day that I will not think about you and pray for you. Upon hearing the news of your passing, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I am in pain. The sort of pain that has taken a grip of me and seems determined to suffocate me.
This is by far the most devastatingly heart-ripping and life-altering incident I’ve ever experienced. And I am aware that the heartbreak of losing you may never leave me. While I hope that time is a great healer, I don’t think I will get over this agony. My greatest fear has always been how I would be able to navigate life without you. But as much as I love you, I know that Allah loves you more. The concept of Tawakkul, the Islamic concept of the reliance on God and trusting in God’s plan will have to be my comfort and healing. I will remain prayerful, faithful, grateful and comforted knowing how much you positively affected my life, our family and the lives of so many others.
Dad not only were you my father, you were my greatest role model, my hero, my inspiration, and my rock. Even though every day I communicated to you how grateful and lucky I was to have had you as a father, I feel as if you didn’t know how much I appreciated everything you represented in my life.
As I sit here writing what will be the hardest article I have ever written, I want to tell you Dad, just how much your struggles and hard work have been appreciated by your “little girl.” I would want the world to know how much of a good father you have been and I would want the strong bond between us to serve as an inspiration to all. I’m writing these words with the hope that it would be worthy of you.
Dad, I had come to learn that in the real world, where domination, bigotry, oppression, dishonesty, and corruption intertwine with all aspects of our lives, there are no easy, uncomplicated sources of inspiration. But there are lessons. I have always looked to you for those lessons about how to struggle against immorality and dishonesty, as well as for lessons about the structures of prejudice and chauvinism that I was confronted with in a highly dogmatic and sexist atmosphere. In your example and lessons, I have been able to find both inspiration and warning, inseparably tied.
When I think of your story as you have often told me, at first glance, it looks deceptively like a bootstrap’s tale of hardwon success and class mobility. But I think your resolve, opportunities and identity were shaped by much more than that. And in your biography that we were writing together, the world will be able to see your story through your eyes. Dad, I promise you that I am now more determined to finish that project and publish your book.
Your story: Oh yes, I remember every bit of your story... You were born in Bichi, Kano State on April 1st 1937. Your mother, Mallama Habiba, was a religious young lady from Musawa, Katsina State, who passed away when you were just a baby. Your father, Mallam Ahmadu, never remarried after the loss of your mother and you were sent to your mother’s village in Musawa to live with your aunty, Hajiya Alje, a true woman of substance who instilled a sense of independence, confidence and focus in you.
You grew up in a very hard, rural environment, the youngest of three children in a family constantly struggling to make ends meet. You were sent back to Bichi to attend school and along the way inherited a healthy distrust of the autocratic and feudalistic actions of both the Colonial and the Native Northern Governments. You had always told me that, even as far back as then, you felt a driving and throbbing need to stand up for the downtrodden and poor in the society. It was also then you realized that you had what I like to call, ‘the gift of the gab.’
Though you came of age during the transition for independence of Nigeria, you never lost your gut sense of egalitarian ethics. You strongly believed in democratization, women empowerment, and freedom of speech. Decades later as I was becoming politicized, you would confess that you would forever remain a socialist; convinced that the staggering inequalities of our society were fundamentally wrong and we each had a duty to speak out against it and change it. I suspect that this core ethic contributed to your acceptance of so many things, amongst which, surprisingly, is feminism. All my life, I have watched you try to break down the rigid Arewa gender boundaries for your 8 daughters with mixed success, in your relationship with our mothers and your relationship with our husbands. And in the process, I learned a lot about patriarchy, not the least of which is its frustrating resilience.
Struggle and hard work framed your young adulthood. Attending Kano Secondary School was never really a priority for a young man of your humble background, but with the encouragement of your aunty forever playing on your psyche, you were determined to pull yourself and your family out of the dearth in which you had seen your family toil in and you were determined to put yourself in a position where you could speak up for the millions whom you felt did not have a voice. You knew that education was the only way you could achieve that. So, you put yourself through school and fought to remain and excel there and you skimmed through while also working.
About the same time, Mallam Aminu Kano, the son of a noble Islamic scholar, had begun a movement of young radicals eager to fight for change known as the Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU). It was an incontestably natural progression for you to join NEPU. So, you became Youth Chairman of NEPU in Bichi and together with the likes of Alh Ali Abdallah, Alh. Sobo Bakin Zuwo, Alh. Abubakar Rimi, Alh. Balarabe Musa, Alh. Sule Lamido, Alh Adamu Garkuwa, Alh Wada Abubakar, Alh Sadi Gabari, Alh Abba Musa Rimi and many others, you challenged the ruling elite in the north.
You went to the University of Ife to study Public Administration, after which you got a job with the BBC African Service. You stayed at the BBC for 5 years before proceeding to Cambridge University to study Chinese. You then joined the Foreign Service.
Dad, our story is as vast as it is fascinating.
Through the course of your life, you sold kola nut (goro), went into trading, became a civil servant, went into broadcasting, did stand-up comedy, immersed yourself in academics, went into the foreign service, opened a hospital, spoke Chinese, became a radical, was a teacher, became a businessman, rose as a politician, emerged as a farmer, morphed into an incredible orator and was able to achieve so much. You truly were one of the greatest orators and wordsmiths of your time.
Dad, apart from when you speak about your late aunty, Hajiya Alje, and your late friend Alhaji Lawal Baloni, the only time I have seen you speak in an emotional manner with tears welling up in your eyes is when you speak about Mallam Aminu Kano. You adored and looked up to Mallam Aminu Kano and you were one of the closest people to the late hero. When Mallam formed the Peoples Redemption Party (PRP), you were elected as the treasurer at the national convention and later contested for the governorship of Kaduna State in 1983 under the party.
Summing up your life, Dad, those who knew you will always reiterate and come back to one thought. Never will you meet a man who more faithfully lived his values. Your kind was rare. You were a teacher of all things. Your method was simple. You taught by example. Your character is the foundation of the conscience of many of those who encountered you, who worked with you and who were part of your life. Your teachings are endless. You were strong in body, in spirit, and in commitment. You fulfilled every obligation you ever undertook. Your word was your bond, and everyone knew it. You were loyal. You are a loss that nothing can replace. Your faithfulness to the people you interacted with during your lifetime could be seen in the way you steadfastly maintained ties with anyone you ever knew. You had a quiet dignity, respecting yourself the way you respected others. Although you are no more, today, however, we have the privilege of celebrating someone who epitomizes leadership; someone whose life reflects a heart of service and commitment to faith, family, friends, and certainly those who strive to follow your example.
Dad, I will never miss an opportunity to speak of what a great father you were and how you never missed an opportunity to speak about how your greatest pride and joy were your children, all twelve of us. You were always supportive of every one of us in our personal, professional, and educational lives. And you always made yourself available to watch television, eat, play games, listen, pray and have regular family picnics with your children. You struggled to make sure you gave us the very best education. And in the late seventies that effort led us to the UK where you enrolled us in the very best schools in England. I will forever be grateful to you, Dad, for that priceless foundation.
Only those who truly knew you realise that you had the greatest sense of humour. And I can categorically say that I have never met anyone, not even my sisters Rabi and Hadi (who are absolutely hilarious) as funny, sarcastic and with a penchant to wittily-exaggerate the funny side of life like you Dad. Many of my most inspirational moments with you were during our daily experiences when you used humour to try to make a point.
Your method was simple. You taught by example. Your character is the foundation of the conscience of many of those who encountered you, who worked with you and who were part of your life. Your teachings are endless. You were strong in body, in spirit, and in commitment. You fulfilled every obligation you ever undertook. Your word was your bond