All about hurricane Muri

‘Honestly, with each passing day, I wonder why my parents ever sent me to that university.’ I heard my son Ahmad say, while I was passing by the children’s sitting room towards our own. Thinking he was talking to someone on phone, I stopped by the door and eaves-dropped.
‘What? Whenever I visit you on campus I return home wishing my parents will send me there, just so I can live in that beautiful environment. What could you possibly have against it?’ I heard someone ask and realized that Ahmad had company.
‘That’s only the physical glitter Bash, but try living there and you’ll realize it’s something else entirely. For instance why should I be home today since its Saturday and Valentine’s day eve? But here I am because the ancient goons there think we have nothing better to do than organise a memorial for some equally ancient soldier who died forty years ago.’ Ahmed replied bitterly.
‘Really? And how does that affect your plans?’ Bash, whom I now recognize as Bashir, Ahmad’s childhood friend and the son of our former neighbours, asked.
‘You see, we students had planned a Valentine’s day gig. But since Val day is going to be a Sunday and there will be school on Monday, we decided to settle for a Valentine’s day eve party, you know, one that will last till midnight and then we can disperse soon after we’ve seen the early hours of the romantic day. So we had everything planned and had our bills posted everywhere announcing our upcoming show.
But out of the blues their posters started to appear, sometimes even covering ours as they compete for space on campus notice boards. They said they wanted to remember ‘Muri, the Hurricane,’ whatever that means. They called on everyone to come out and celebrate a revolutionary hero. To cap it all, they announced a night vigil of lectures and poetry-reading in order to remember the man they called an ‘All-African hero,’ at the same venue we booked our Val day show.
We protested to the campus estate management but they said members of the Ramat club, organisers of the event, had booked before us. Of course we know they are lying, they just can’t say no to them because so many of the university’s big shots are part of that memorial event. They even claimed, on their poster, that the VC will grace the opening. Imagine, forty years after, they can’t get over their-hero worship nor will they allow those of us, who had nothing to do with him, enjoy our lives.’ My son lamented.
‘I’m truly sorry to hear this Ahmad. But from what I heard about him, General Murtala was supposed to be a good leader, maybe that’s why they decided to honour him in a special way, this ruby anniversary.’ Bash replied.
‘Is that what they said? You seem to know more about him that I thought. Well I can’t tell the guy from Adam and I don’t think he deserves to ruin our Valentine’s day party.’ Ahmad protested.
‘Of course you know what he looks like. He is on our twenty naira note. And many national monuments were named after him; like the international airport in Lagos, for instance.’ Bashir answered.
‘Oh you mean, Muri the Hurricane is the same as Murtala Mohammed? How was I to know that?’ Ahmed asked rhetorically.
‘Well I only guessed it’s him because you said the man being remembered was a general and that Ramat club was the organizer. But honestly I don’t know why anyone will call him a hurricane, I mean hurricane isn’t exactly a good natural phenomenon. Given what we’ve read about it or seen in the movies, one can safely say a hurricane leaves nothing but destruction in its wake. I therefore can’t understand why people who admire you will name you after something so deadly.’ Bash wondered. At this point I pushed the door open and walked in to join the two teenagers.
‘Actually General Murtala is called a hurricane in a complimentary way. He ruled for only six months but he did so much in those 200 or so days that the speed with which he did them can only be compared to a whirlwind. But one of his biographers went as far as to call him a hurricane because he probably felt a whirlwind does not leave as much lasting impact as a hurricane. And most of General Murtala’s accomplishments were of lasting impact to this nation and even Africa as a whole.’ I explained.
‘Aha, we are in for it Bash.’ Ahmad observed jokingly, while handing a glass of juice to his friend. ‘Last month when I complained about how our lecturers and other campus officials abandoned us in order to go to Kaduna and attend Sardauna’s 50th memorial, my parents gave me a long lecture on why Sardauna was worth all that trouble. Now it seems we are going to experience another one on Hurricane Muri. Be warned.’ He teased.
‘Well joke all you want Ahmad, but know that General Murtala Ramat Mohammed was a true hero. When he became our leader, he immediately set out to right the wrongs of his predecessors. He sanitised public service by sacking corrupt workers and even fellow soldiers who betrayed the nation. He moved the nation’s capital to Abuja because a national capital by the sea, as Lagos was, can easily fall prey to foreign invaders using naval or air power. Then he announced a transition to civil rule in just three years and actually set the wheel in motion towards achieving that goal. General Murtala also led the move for the liberation of Angola. The Angolans are said to celebrate every February 13th, as the day they lost a true African hero.
He did many other things besides, on both our national and international scene, I will leave that to your father to fill you in because I was less than 10 years old and in primary school when he was killed. Most of what I said now I read about him. But let’s just say that yes, like Sardauna Ahmadu Bello, General Murtala Mohammed deserves this memorial at your university because he too, was worth it.’ I explained.
‘But surely Mummy, not to the extent of ruining our Valentine’s day plans?’ Ahmad protested.
‘No, the late general, may Allah have mercy on him, didn’t ruin your plans, but his memorial came in handy to ruin them.’ I replied. ‘the school authority found a clever way to stop what could lead to immorality without saying it in black and white, and I respect them for it. I only wish that next time they will come out pop and plain to tell you that they disapprove of Valentine’s day parties. Honestly, I didn’t know when you became a party go-er and even organizer. The only parties you ever attended in this house were your classmates’ birthday parties. Now suddenly, in your first year on campus, you are a champion of Valentine parties, where did we go wrong with you?’ I asked.
‘You always reminisced about how you and Baba used to go out for Valentine dinners. That’s why I thought it was a harmless thing to do. So I joined friends to organize it.’ He replied.
‘Your father and I only celebrated Valentine’s day within our marriage and that’s not because we believe in Saint Valentine, it’s because we believe love deserves a special tribute. Anyway that was in the good old days, when we were newly married. Now we celebrate love everyday of our lives because that is how it should be. But when you do Valentine’s day parties on campus, you can easily fall into temptation because of mixing with young women whom you can lawfully marry. The holy Qur’an says ‘Go not near adultery..’ you can obey this divine command by keeping away from Valentine’s day or any other night parties. Did you hear me?’ I demanded.
‘Yes, Mummy.’ Ahmad replied, with eyes down cast.