Beloved first daughters

The first time I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a first daughter was in November 2010, when my sister’s dear friend lost her two daughters in a car crash on Zaria-Kano road. Hajiya Halima Shehu Yahaya has been a close friend to my sister elder Zainab since their early schooldays. […]

The first time I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a first daughter was in November 2010, when my sister’s dear friend lost her two daughters in a car crash on Zaria-Kano road. Hajiya Halima Shehu Yahaya has been a close friend to my sister elder Zainab since their early schooldays. I was shocked by the news that both her first and second daughters, Fatima and Aisha had died in that car crash. I tried to imagine what it must be like for her, because the two sisters had been like twins; growing up together, schooling together and eventually returning home to Nigeria to do their National service together. Alas tragedy also struck them together. For Anti Halimait must have seemed like losing your two best friends at a go. I cried while paying my condolences to her. I shed many tears afterwards, whenever I remembered the two beautiful young women.

Exactly a year later, in November 2011, I was again sent down that painful path of imagining what a woman who lost her first-born daughter feels. This time it was Hajiya Hadiza El-Rufai’s daughter who died suddenly in London. I felt her pain, and tried to put myself in her place. In many ways Hadiza el-Rufai’s loss was double too, because Yasmin was not only her first-born, she was her only daughter. I was not able to physically go and condole her because I was down with a bad case of Spondylosis; for which I was actually brandishing a walking stick. But the tears flowed freely down my cheeks when I finally expressed my condolences by phone. I also cried anytime I read a tribute written for the adorable young lady.

When I heard about the Dana plane crash last Sunday, I had no idea that tragedy had hit home. Ironically the first victim’s name I heard was that of one of the two ‘daughters’ I lost in the crash but I couldn’t recognise it then. Amina Idris Bugaje had always been Firdausi to me and all other family members within and outside the Bugaje clan. When my nephew showed me her name ‘Amina Bugaje’ on his Blackberry phone I immediately expressed my sympathy and said she must belong to the larger Bugaje clan because I knew every child in Dr. Usman Bugaje’s and Professor Idris Bugaje’s houses and no one goes by that name. Still, I promised to make a call to confirm.

Alas, I never had the chance because I had a sick patient athome and was distracted by his illness. It was not until I read the flight manifest the following morning and seen ‘Idris’ attached to her name that I realised she was from the professor’s family. I quickly called his close friend Malam Abdulmumin Bello, to ask just who Amina was in that family. In a voice heavy with grief he answered simply ‘She is called Firdausi within the family’ Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un. Even when I toyed with the idea of calling my dear friend Dr. Hadiza Nuhu to ask who Amina was, the night before, nothing prepared me for the possibility that it could be one of her children, let alone her very first daughter. I was devastated by the discovery. My husband advised me to leave for Zaria immediately.

A graduate of microbiology from Ahmadu Bello University Zaria, Amina Firdausi was to have married last April along with her younger sister Aisha Nana Bugaje. As fate would have it Amina’s wedding was postponed at the 11th hour but Aisha’s went on as planned. A very gentle, well-mannered, beautiful young lady, Amina had won the hearts of countless people because of her striking good character. Two of her female expatriate teachers who came to condole the family while I was there openly cried while they recalled the virtues of their exemplary former student.

Born less than two years apart means she and Aisha had grownup like twins too. They were classmates most of their lives but at the University when Firdausi studied Microbiology while Nana went for Mass Communications. A day to her sister’s tragic death, Nana Aisha had prevailed on her husband to take her home to Zaria on his way to Abuja from Kano. According to their mother, they spent most of Saturday night talking to each other that she had no idea when they finally slept. The following morning Amina Firdausi had followed her father to Abuja to catch a flight to Lagos for an appointment at the German Embassy there. Her cousin Buhari Maikudi was accompanying her on the trip. They boarded the ill-fated Dana flight on Sunday at 2.15. They were never to be seen again in this life.

While in Zaria to mourn the death of Firdausi and Buhari at Professor Bugaje’s house, I placed a call to Kano to tell my siblings that we had lost family friends in the crash. My sister Fati, who answered my call had even more bad news for me. ‘Your Dr. Sanusi Abubakar’ she said knowing that we are colleagues on the Trust Editorial Board, ‘also lost a daughter in the crash.’ “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un” I said once again. ‘Who was it among his daughters?’ I asked in grief, ‘She is Kaltum Abubakar.’ Allahu akbar, I said too shocked to say more. Though I had never met Inna Kalthum as she is called, I have heard about her. She was one of Dr Sanusi’s twin first daughters. A trained Quantity Surveyor, Inna Kaltum was a staff of the Assets Management Company of Nigeria (AMCON) and only came to Abuja on an assignment. She was to return to Lagos on Friday but because Abuja was home she decided to spend the weekend with her parents before returning to Lagos on Sunday. She never made it back to Lagos. An adorable, obedient, industrious first born had been lost. She left behind her twin sister, four other siblings and her parents.

Another first daughter lost in this tragedy is Hajiya Falmata Mohammed. Though belonging to a different generation from the young women listed above, she was the first of the only two daughters left behind by the late Air force officer Kur Mohammed, who was killed during Nigeria’s first military coup in January 1966. I had thought of her the moment I’d seen the name because she was the only Falmata Mohammed I knew. Though she had been married a couple of times Falmata had always held on to her family name. She was my senior colleague at the defunct Continental Merchant Bank in Lagos. Falmata was already on the managerial cadre when I joined the company as a rookie banking reporter.

Being in the Publications unit of the bank’s Public Affairs department means that I never really shared an office with Falmata, who was a core-banker. But we always met at our improvised mosque, the library, which we used as a prayer room because the librarian Hajia Halima Ndanusa allowed us to use it. Whenever you see Falmata she’ll be her elegant, beautiful but humble self. Ever smiling, Falmata will often start a conversation with you wherever you meet her, though you wouldn’t by any chance call her a chatty person.

We lost touch completely after we both left CMB, but we met for the last time at El-Amin International College Minna in July 2004. She was there to rejoice with her niece Fatima Aliko Dangote on her graduation from the school. And I was there for the graduation of my own niece Ruqayya Nasir Sani, the same day. Fatima’s mother Hajiya Zainab was Falmata’s only sibling. It was only after her death that I heard that Falmata finally had a child of her own who is about 7 or 8 years old. May Allah bless the little girl and grant her the strength to bear this irreparable loss.

Any way you look at it, a tragedy such as this will leave an endless number of families in mourning and grief. As Muslims we believe that ‘Every soul must taste of death’ and that the time and manner of death are things pre-destined, over which we have no control. Our only solace is that a death as horrifying as this plane crash falls under the category of martyrdom. May Allah grant them admission into aljannah firdaus. Till we join you too, adieu beloved first daughters.