Hajiya Safiyya: When a matriarch dies

On Friday, March 22, 2019, we lost one of our mothers, Hajiya Safiyya, after a prolonged illness. Hajiya, as we fondly called her, was the first of the four wives left behind by our late father Sheikh Lawal Abubakar at the time of his death nearly 15 years ago. After our father died on May […]

On Friday, March 22, 2019, we lost one of our mothers, Hajiya Safiyya, after a prolonged illness. Hajiya, as we fondly called her, was the first of the four wives left behind by our late father Sheikh Lawal Abubakar at the time of his death nearly 15 years ago.

After our father died on May 24, 2004, our mothers decided to remain in their respective rooms where they have been living together as next-door neighbours for over four decades, seeing each other virtually every day, sharing so many things from kitchen to convenience, and more.

Theirs is a story of understanding, tolerance and companionship. Of course, being human, there were occasional ‘sparks’, but never a ‘fire’. But they had a way of resolving issues in a way that kept their bond – and those of their children – intact.

Also, when you run into trouble with your mother, you can always rest assured that your stepmothers would come to your rescue.

Our mothers engaged in various trades from the comfort of their matrimonial home, particularly in the 80s, and our father encouraged them. They all dealt in textile materials, in addition to other trades.

For instance, while one kept poultry, another produced local drinks, Hajiya made coconut flakes (or Kwakumeti in Hausa), and that was where you would usually find us. We would help in the breaking of the coconut balls and subsequently use razor blades to cut the inside part into tiny pieces. In return, we were allowed to drink the coconut water and also get some of the delicious flakes.

Hajiya’s room was also our favourite place to watch television for many reasons. One, it was a bit farther from our father’s room, and away from his hearing. Secondly, the television – a black and white Blaupunkt – was placed on top of a tall fridge, which meant we all looked up towards it and there was no complaint of anybody obstructing your view.

When my wedding came up in 2006, two years after our father’s death, Hajiya led an entourage all the way from Kaduna to Yola, Adamawa State and back – despite the terrible state of the road – to bring my bride to Kaduna.

I always marvelled at Hajiya’s mastery of Hausa proverbs and other forms of idiomatic expressions. She had one or two sayings to go with any situation. Many of her children have inherited this trait from her, but they were nowhere near her proficiency.

I remember when Mansur, one of her children, died in March 2007 and I went to condole with her. She said I was more entitled to condolence because we were very close. In fact, many thought we were twins because of our names. Unknown to them, Mansur has a twin sister Aisha, and they were born on the eve of my naming ceremony.

As a routine, our family house is my last point of call anytime I am travelling out of Kaduna, and first on return. Hajiya would always pray for me and admonish me, especially with regards to maintaining family ties.

I remember when I took them to Funtua, Katsina State, following the death of one of our paternal relatives. Hajiya told his family never to make the mistake of severing ties with their relations on account of their father’s death. I will also never forget the role she played to save the marriage of one of our brothers.

Hajiya was always full of life, until her mother Hajiya Huraira Abdullahi Fari (‘Baba’, we used to call her) died on September 10, 2017. That death devastated Hajiya and it is like she never really recovered from it. Never mind the fact that she came from a large family. Since then she had been in and out of hospital at least twice.

Some weeks ago, her apartment was gutted by fire. She was resting on a sofa in the afternoon when, all of a sudden, she noticed the inferno raging towards the living room. She fell as she exited the room, and that worsened her condition.

The fire destroyed virtually everything in the apartment.

On Wednesday, March 20, 2019, she was taken to the 44 Nigerian Army Reference Hospital in Kaduna by one of our in-laws, retired Brigadier-General AbdulQadir Abubakar Gummi, for routine medical checks. The doctors decided to keep her for some tests and observation.

On the same day, I arrived in Kaduna for a workshop on ‘Civil Military Relations and the Media’ happening the next day at the One Division Officers Mess.

I had earlier received a call from Hassan, a lecturer at Kaduna State University, informing me of Hajiya’s admission. He did not know that I was already on my way to Kaduna, albeit for a different purpose.

Somehow, by a twist of fate, the workshop that allowed me to visit Hajiya on the day she was taken to the hospital also denied me the chance to see her on the day she died. The workshop took my time for the two days it lasted. Though it was slated to end before 4pm on Friday, we didn’t round up until nearly three hours later.

In fact, we had to sneak out for the Jumu’ah congregational prayer because the organisers did not make any provision to allow participants go for it. In the course of the programme, my mother called wanting me to take them to the hospital, and I reminded them about the workshop. So they called my younger sister instead. As the Almighty Allah would have it, some hours after they had visited her, Hajiya breathed her last around 10pm.

Again, it was Hassan who called and passed the sad news to me few minutes after it happened. He called my wife’s telephone line when he couldn’t reach me. My wife was immediately alarmed because she knew Hajiya was at the hospital and had even visited her.

I confirmed my wife’s fears when she heard me utter ‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raajiun’ (Surely we belong to Allah and to Him shall we return).

I immediately set out for our family house on Maiduguri Road, Kaduna. On my way, I received a call from my mother, who was already sobbing. I told her I was close to the house and that was when tears started rolling down my eyes.

By the time I entered the house, they were all weeping and praying. I couldn’t stand the sight, so I went outside, even as I urged them to continue to pray. I also did not go to the hospital because my siblings were all there. So I decided to wait behind and help arrange for a vehicle to bring her remains back home.

Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I thank the Almighty Allah for allowing me to see Hajiya on the very day I arrived Kaduna for the workshop. I visited her along with my brothers, and even helped her to sit up after complaining of lying down for too long. She thanked us profusely, and we left with the intention to visit her again. That was never to be!

Hajiya Safiyya’s funeral prayer, which was attended by many people from far and near, was led by Dr. Ahmad Gumi inside the premises of the Maiduguri Road Central Mosque the following day. There were so many other Imams at the funeral including that of Al-Manar Mosque Sheikh Tukur Adam.

She was buried at the Bashama Road Muslim Cemetery in Kaduna.

Hajiya gave birth to 11 of the 30 children left that survived our father. She was also a foster mother to many who were raised by our father. She is survived 10 children, including Sheikh Dahiru Lawal Abubakar, the present Chief Imam of Maiduguri Road Central Mosque in Kaduna.

Others are Abdullahi, Mansur (who died in March 2007), Aisha, Munir, Khadijah, Ruqayya, Hassan, Hussain, Habiba and Shuaib.

She is also survived by 34 grandchildren, three great grandchildren, and many siblings.

We accept that “To Allah belongs that which He has taken away and His is whatever He has given. With Him, everything has an appointed term.”

It is our prayer that the Almighty Allah will accept the long illness Hajiya has endured as expiation for her shortcomings and admit her into Al-Jannatul Firdaus.