I probably would have spent ample time with that person which may have eased the shock that usually comes with sudden deaths. But even a premonition wouldn’t have ameliorated the excruciating pain that still lingers in my heart. The mystery about death is that we all know it is coming. Indeed, Allah says in the Holy Qur’an that every soul must taste of death, but when it takes one of us, it still leaves us in shock.
Shock was the first emotion I felt when I heard of Suleman Maina Bisalla’s death. Then there was confusion, fear, denial and Alhamdullillah, faith and total submission to Almighty Allah’s will later took over.
I already know what late Suleman’s comment would have been if he hadn’t been caught up in the Abuja bomb blast of June 25th 2014. He would have expressed shock saying “God! How devastating.” He would have expressed disgust at the perpetrators of the bomb blast. I say this because I remember how he reacted to other explosions, especially the recent one in Jos. I remember the panic in his voice when I finally answered my phone after he tried severally to reach me.
Suleiman was humble and kind to a fault. I always used to say his most outstanding virtue was patience and will often tease him that sometimes the patient dog may end up without a bone to chew but he’d only smile with a shrug. He was open to ideas, suggestions and wouldn’t think twice before rendering help to those in need. Most of the time when I was angry about something and he would call, I found him an easy target to transfer my anger and he always absorbed it without a word. When I was done he would ask “Feel better now?”
It’s hard to believe that I have known him for only five years, because it always seemed as though I’ve known him all my life. Within those five rewarding years, we became family; I came to know his sisters, brothers, kids and parents. He also shared in my family moments and my nieces and nephew always addressed him as Uncle Bisalla. Just two days ago, my nieces, Aisha (7) and Amina (9) who couldn’t fathom the fact that he was gone, asked if I was sure that they wouldn’t see Uncle Bisalla again. Aisha reminded me of how he commended her art work she made the last time he visited Jos and asked if she could make one for him. I couldn’t hold back the tears when she reminded me that she was yet to keep to that promise.
Suleiman! We know that your death is Allah’s will but the tears won’t dry, they have refused to listen to several pleadings that they must stop flowing. I know they will stop eventually for the joyful memories will push them aside. There have been so many things I never got to thank you for never giving up on me.
The tributes you received have been rewarding and at the same time healing. He once joked to me that: “If I were to die today, maybe I will be lucky to get half a page of tribute from you,” and I teased him that: “I won’t even have the time to write one.” But today I wish I could tell you, Suleiman, that you were wrong. The tributes cascaded. You even made front page of the New Telegraph and The Punch. I wish I could tell you, Suleiman that you were so wrong because friends, family, colleagues and acquaintances wrote beautifully about how you captured their hearts and how much they cherished you.
Your death came at a time you took exciting risks, made interesting plans, which was why I didn’t believe it when your friend, Auwal, called in a quavering voice to give me the sad news. I didn’t believe it when your brother, Muhammad, answered your phone and told me not to cry but to pray for your soul. I still didn’t believe it when your younger brother, Lukman, called to comfort me. I lived in my denial until I saw your mother and the grief in her eyes. But she was strong and she ended up comforting us. Your wife is heart-broken and your children – especially Zainab – feels lost without you. But I know they will find their way. We shall all find our way and learn to live with your absence.
We miss you so very much and you will forever be in our hearts and we pray Allah has mercy on your soul, forgive your shortcomings and grant you paradise. Goodbye, S.M Bisalla.