A brother’s tribute to his sister

Indeed, as many in my shoes will testify, several thoughts go through a person’s mind after losing a sibling, especially one that had impacted positively on your being. It is also the third time that we’d be losing a sibling less than ten years since the death of our father Sheikh Lawal Abubakar.
It was no doubt a very traumatic experience for all of us. The  sense  of  loss  and  grief  our  family  experienced  is  the type that is beyond  words.  From the 30 children our father left in 2004, death has snatched three to make us 27. Mansur has gone. Haulah is no more. Now, Amina has joined them. Verily, from Allah we come and to Him is our return. For every soul shall taste of death when the time comes; it doesn’t matter whether one is old or young. There is no running away from that fact.
Because of her age, most of us saw her as a mother figure. At the time I was born, Hajiya Iya, as we used to fondly call her, was not only in her matrimonial home but has had her first child as well. As young kids, we would be taken to their house located in Tudun Nupawa and spend a day or two.
Her late husband Alhaji Bawa Mansur was very friendly to us. He used to come to our father to acquire Islamic knowledge along with many others and he would always find one or two things to bring to us, usually sweets or some other edibles. 
During the time of my wedding in 2006, she played a motherly role, travelling all the way from Kaduna to Yola, along with my stepmother Hajiya Safiya, my maternal aunt and others, to make it happen. After the wedding, she invited me to her house where she gave me useful advices.
Malama Iya was an Islamic teacher for more than two decades. She had taught at various schools, delivered so many lectures, appeared on many religious programmes on radio and television. She followed in the footsteps of our late father and did it to the best of her ability.  When she died, hundreds of young girls in their Islamiyya uniforms kept trooping to her house to condole with her relations.
Also, as a testimony to her devotion to anything Islamic, she was billed to give a lecture at an event organized by a group of Islamic women on the very day she died. The organizers had called her the day before to confirm her attendance and she assured them that insha Allah she would be there. But that was not to be, as the Almighty Allah had willed otherwise.  By the time they called the following day, the processes for her internment had already commenced.
I was informed about her death around 10:30am by Nafisa, now the eldest living daughter in the house, who was in Kaduna for the marriage of one of our nieces. It was at the wedding which took place about three weeks ago that we last saw eye to eye with Hajiya Iya. Before the bride was taken to her matrimonial home, I remember her telling us to “be patient with the responsibilities that were increasingly falling on our shoulders.”
Once again, our late father’s idea of naming his grandchildren after his children is proving to be wise. While Amina is now late, her namesake and the daughter of her younger brother is not only alive but recently god married to one of her sons.
The mammoth crowd at her funeral prayers at the famous Danfodio Mosque in Kaduna attests to the kind of person she was and the life she lived. The funeral prayer led by the Chief Imam of Sultan Bello Mosque Sheikh Abdulhamid Balele Wali, was witnessed by many other Islamic leaders, including Dr. Ahmad Gumi.
Motorists had to be halted for minutes to allow the numerous cars escorting her remains to the grave the chance to pass. As we passed I heard a commercial motorcyclist asking one of the people regulating the traffic who died, and he said “Malama, the wife of Alhaji Bawa”. The motorcyclist said Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un and prayed to Almighty Allah to have mercy on her soul.
Speaking in a brief interview with a Kaduna-based television station at the Bashama road cemetery shortly after her burial Sheikh Abdulhamid Balele Wali said “She [Malama Amina] had a reputation for being a true Islamic teacher just like her late father Sheikh Lawal Abubakar. She gave her time to imparting Islamic knowledge to the people. So it is my prayer that her good deeds will be rewarded with paradise by the Almighty Allah.”
Many also told of how every Friday they will visit her house after Juma’ah prayers to eat food specifically prepared for worshippers. It was a side of her that they will live to remember.
Another fact about the late Hajiya Iya was her bluntness. She spoke with a conviction that even when you disagreed with her stances her sincerity was always unmistakable. She was very close to her children, but she reprimanded them when they do wrong. She also lived peacefully with her co-wives; anytime we visited her, she would make sure we went to greet them.
I remember a time I drove past her house without stopping to greet her. Unknown to me, one of her sons saw me and was disturbed that I did not stop. He went straight to her to ask “Ummi [as they used to call her], Baba Nasiru just passed and did not stop. Is anything wrong?” She assured him there was nothing, at least not one she knew of. So she placed a call to me, telling me what had transpired. I told her that I was actually in a hurry to see my mechanic before proceeding to Abuja. I also promised her that I would visit her when I am back. I did and we spent hours discussing about issues. And you get to pick a lot of useful tips that will help you in life anytime you had the opportunity to discuss with her.
She must have inherited diabetes from her late mother Hajiya Rabi, who died of the same ailment more than two decades ago. Each time I visited her, she would complain about the numerous medications she is subjected to along with food restrictions. On one occasion, I met one of her sons telling her to continue to observe all what the doctors told her. “But you know I have been doing that. My worry is that sometimes they will say the sugar level is too high; at another time, they will say it is too low. When it is high I become restless and when it is low I become so weak that I can hardly move,” she said.
I also joined in pleading with her to continue observing the rules by doctors. I did not stay with her for long that day because I was supposed to meet an appointment and decided to stopover at her place briefly to congratulate her on the birth of her second grandchild. As I made to leave, she said we should forgive each other for wrongs we might have done to ourselves. I was almost moved to tears, but I never thought the end was near for her.
Hajiya Iya had wanted to see her younger brother Abubakar, who is on admission at a hospital in Zaria, before she died. She never had the opportunity. Because they were close also, we had hoped to inform him about her death in a manner that he could easily understand. However, some succeeded in calling him to condole with him over “the death of Hajiya Iya.”
Late Hajiya Iya was truly the big sister that we cherished. She was ever-willing to do things for her siblings, especially the young ones. She also did her best to maintain kinship with our relations far and near.
She left behind 10 children – Abdulhamid, Hamza, Mahmud, Abubakar, Mu’az, Rabi’ah, Ahmad, Atiku, Akilu and Hafsa – and two grandchildren.
May Almighty Allah accept her numerous good deeds, forgive her shortcomings and have mercy on her soul. May He also reunite us all in paradise.