Baba dearest: In memory of Adamu Augie

I still cannot believe I have to use ‘was’ when referring to him. He still exists in my world. It has been 10 years since he died but somewhere in my heart I feel like he has travelled on one of his numerous trips and would walk through the door any minute. I still remember the day clearly. It was March 27th, 2001 and it was the first time I truly grasped the meaning of death or how it felt to lose a close, loved one. I had experienced the death of a brother and a sister at a young age but nothing ever came this close. My Baba (that’s what we called him) and I had plans to travel the next day but he had to go to our hometown, Argungu, on a condolence visit. He called me to inform me and when I was saying goodbye, I mistakenly said: “Until we come.” He replied: “You meant until I come back, right?” And we both laughed it off, not knowing we were actually saying final goodbyes. That was the last time I heard his voice.

Less than 24 hours later I was informed that my father had died in a motor accident and had already been buried due to Islamic rights. That was and still is one of the worst days of my life. I was lucky enough to be with my mother and two friends at the time so we got to deal with not getting to see him together.

I remember him today as a man who left me a great legacy and it makes me proud each time I hear good words spoken about him by people who remember him. He was there for me all through school and in university. He would bring me new books and helped me out as much as he could because I was following his footsteps by studying Mass Communication. He, to be honest, in retrospect, spoiled me. I got nearly everything I wanted. Even when I realized he was human and made mistakes just like everyone else, it didn’t change anything. Do you remember the day you realized your parents made mistakes or could actually do wrong? I do, and on that day he took the time to explain to me that in life people make mistakes but it is what they do after that that matters. That alone has helped me deal with life in a whole different manner.

Everyone asks me why I left my job to become a photographer. My Baba bought me my first camera as a child when he realized I liked taking photographs. He would help me develop the negatives, print the images and we would analyze them together. He would buy me a new one from time to time and we had a lot of fun laughing at some of my terrible images. Sometimes I feel like I keep more of my memories of him alive with every photograph I take. He loved gadgets and would have been having fun today with all that has been happening with tech. He supported me when I got into acting as a child and he made sure we got exposed to the different people and ideas around us here in Nigeria and abroad. I always dream that my children got to meet him.

Many people would remember him as the Senator, the politician, the broadcaster, the man with the baritone voice or the man with tribal marks who could speak flawless Queen’s English. I remember him as a man who created many opportunities to guide me into becoming whoever I wanted to be. I am grateful to God for creating me through my mother and him. All I wish – and always pray for – is that he is granted Paradise and everlasting peace. He has gone home and we hope to create footprints good enough for our children to follow, just as he did for us. May Allah have mercy on him until we meet again, Ameen ya rabbi.