ADIEU, DANMASANIN KANO

 Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un! From Allah we come, and to Him we shall return! “There is meaninglessness in philosophy, insecurity in polity, chaos in politics, corruption in economy, immorality in society, frustration in art and lack of creativity in literature. There has ensued a free-for-all which in turn has bred and nurtured in […]

 Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un! From Allah we come, and to Him we shall return!

“There is meaninglessness in philosophy, insecurity in polity, chaos in politics, corruption in economy, immorality in society, frustration in art and lack of creativity in literature. There has ensued a free-for-all which in turn has bred and nurtured in us, as a polity, the syndrome of everyone for himself but God for us all.”

If the late Danmasanin Kano, Alhaji Yusuf Maitama Sule had said the above lines this year or this month or this week, they would have been apt. But he had said them, and continued to say them, for several decades. He was a man of his time; and of our time; and a long time. 

“Mu Ne Na Bara Mu Ne Na Bana, Mu Ne Na Shekarar Basasa!”

This popular Hausa adage (roughly meaning ‘We are of yesterday, we are of today, and we are for all time’) was popularised by the late Danmasani. He would sing it and even sway to it. No one among Danmasani’s contemporaries, except perhaps his close friend the late Emir of Kano Alhaji Ado Bayero, symbolised ‘Na Bara Na Bana’ so perfectly.

Much has been written about the late Danmasani while he was alive; much more has been written about him in the few days since he died, and more will be written about this giant of a man who impacted the lives of so many and will continue to posthumously impact on our lives for many years hence.

It is a good thing that the Kano State Government has honoured his memory by renaming our youngest university, North West, after him, to be now known as Yusuf Maitama Sule University. Similarly, the road leading to his residence, hitherto known as Dawaki Road, will now bear his name. No honour will be too great this departed scholar greater than professors without being one; leader greater than presidents and governors without being two.

Over the last decade, Kano had witnessed a number of mammoth-crowd funerals – Shaikh Jaáfar Mahmud Adam in 2007; Alhaji Muhammad Abubakar Rimi in 2010; Emir of Kano Alhaji Ado Bayero; and now this Tuesday that of Danmasani. Because the human capacity to recall is dented by the fact of human-ness, one would wonder which of these funerals had more participants. But indeed, millions escorted Danmasani to his final resting place, as millions escorted the others.

For those who are hard of Hausa, the title Danmasani loosely translates to ‘The Knowledgeable’. And what a deserving title for a deserving personality. Without him flaunting it or making a regular point of it, Kano, Nigeria and beyond believed and still believe that the late sage was, indeed, imbued with knowledge from his Lord and Creator. As is said in Qurán: “Whoever God has given wisdom has given him lots of good.” Allahu Akbar!

And Danmasani almost didn’t die. In the last few months, several times, his death was announced on the ubiquitous social media. And it would turn out to be fake news (to borrow from Trump). There was a time Danmasani and many of us were at the same public function when we all received the Nigerian Cicero’s demise. It was brought to his attention; he heartily laughed and said “Saurin Me Su Ke Yi? Ai Lokaci Ne!” (“Why are they in such a hurry to announce my passing? It’s only a matter of time!”). Allahu Akbar!

A popular subject of political-historical discourse was that, but for the military coup of January 1966, Danmasani was a potential future Prime Minister of Nigeria. A minister at such a young age, and close confidante of then Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa with whom he shared so much in common (especially the gift of the garb), Danmasani could have one day been. Even after the coup, it is said had General Ironsi eschewed ambition and allowed the surviving rump of the cabinet to form a government, even if Danmasani did not become PM then because of his young age, it would have just been a matter of time.

And he was a potential would-have-been president. With great equanimity, Danmasani had accepted defeat by Alhaji Shehu Shagari at the Primary Elections of the National Party of Nigeria (NPN) heading towards the 1979 elections. But he could have won because the eventual flag-bearer Shagari (who went on to become president) actually initially wanted to go the Senate before he was pressed into the presidential race.

And for ýan maula, (‘sponging parasites’), Danmasani was the perfect antidote. He could sniff them out from a distance. They would want to stoop to conquer and ensconce themselves; Danmasani would stoop before them, even lower. And then before they could ask for ‘something’, he would beat them: ‘Ba ni dan goro mana’ (‘Give me small kola please’). End of Sponger!

Some readers may recall this story I told in a past piece on this page titled “Corruption Kills A Nation.” I had told the story without telling readers how it became known. Today, I will tell. It went:

“In General Muhammadu Buhari’s first coming as military Head of State (those no-nonsense twenty months between 1983 and 1985), when the then Federal Government issued a directive that there shall be ‘no-more-than-five-naira-in-the-policeman’s-pocket’, a certain Commissioner of Police was coming into town in mufti. As it was night and he was incognito, he was stopped at a police checkpoint just outside town. The police constable on duty had some bravado: he asked for welfare, not knowing whom he was soliciting from. ‘Oga, make you pity us o; we dey here since o; we never chop o’, and such similar appeal fund launchings.

“The police commissioner didn’t utter a word; he took out a twenty naira note (then a lot of money), folded it neatly over his service ID card, and handed it over to the policeman. As these policemen (even today) usually never check their loot until later, the ‘gift’ was pocketed and the unrecognised commissioner flagged on. During a lull in ‘business’, the policeman went aside and brought out that promising thick bundle from his pocket. The identity card fell out. He picked it up and flashed his torch to see what it was – and promptly fainted!’

That was where my earlier narration ended. But what happened was that the three policemen knew their end had come – guardroom, dismissal with ignominy, jail. They collapsed into cries and wails and laments and rues. Someone advised them that the only person in the whole of Kano who could intervene for them was Danmasani. So to him they trooped, wailing and ruing the day their mothers bore them.

When he listened to them, Danmasani also burst into a feigned loud wail, saying “Mun Shiga Uku! Buhari Ni Ma Ba Zai Bar Ni Ba! Mun Gama Yawo!” (‘We are done for! Buhari would not spare even me for listening to you!’) And he wailed the more! And they with him!

It was later that it dawned on all that he was joking and was reiterating the gravity of their folly. And he did indeed intervene for them (for their genuine remorse) and they were spared, demoted to the ranks below. 

On September 11, 2004, when the Societal Reorientation Programme (A Daidata Sahu) of the Shekarau Administration was launched, Danmasani was, as expected, Guest Speaker. As then Director General, I brought the rear of the speeches. After I spoke and went up to the VIP area where Governor Shekarau and Emir Bayero and many VIPs were seated, Danmasani stood up, hugged me tightly and said, “Allah Ya yi ma ka albarka! Yo ai kai ne Jikan Masanin!”

Amin!

And may Allah forgive the soul of Danmasani. Allah Ya jikansa.