Imam Dahiru Lawal Abubakar: 1970-2022

Nasiru L. Abubakar

Nobody told me about the death of my elder brother when it happened on Wednesday, June 22, 2022. Not even our cousin Bilal, who called to tell me that he couldn’t make it to Kaduna that day because he was still too ill to embark on the trip, but that his siblings were already on their way. I was alarmed, but I didn’t tell him.

Tellingly, many had tried reaching me before Bilal, including my mother. Some called to break the news to me, others to offer their condolences. But I couldn’t be reached because at about the same time, I was featuring as a guest analyst on Kaftan TV’s newspaper review at their studio in Katampe Extension Abuja. I had switched off my phone for the duration of the programme which lasted from 9:30 to 11am And the death occurred before 10am.

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So, by the time the programme ended, the story was all over the place, especially on the ubiquitous social media platforms. Bilal’s call was the first I received after switching on my phone. From the way he spoke, his assumption was that I must have known about the death, hence his explanation as to why he couldn’t make the trip to Kaduna that day. Like I said earlier, I was alarmed so I ended the call rather abruptly and made straight for our family’s WhatsApp group, and that was when I came face to face with the sad reality. That was when I got the import of Bilal’s call.

My brother died at the 44 Nigerian Army Reference Hospital in Kaduna, where he was taken to two days prior. I knew he was ill and even visited him twice before returning to Abuja. I also knew when he was taken to the hospital on Monday night after his condition worsened following his trip to his work station in Makarfi earlier in the day. Many faulted the trip, but fate works in complex ways.

He had been ill for quite a while. Even while leading prayers, he would sometimes cough endlessly, especially while bowing or during prostrations. Doctors visited him at home and ordered some tests to be carried out. Some of the results were still being awaited when he breathed his last.

When I saw the news of the death, confusion set in. What was I to do? Who do I call? Should I just proceed to Kaduna from Katampe, or should I go back home and pack my things? Meanwhile, it was resolved that his janaza would hold after Zuhr prayer. I had silently wished it would be delayed till Asr prayer so I could take part in it. But to be fair to him, he had always advocated for a speedy completion of the burial rites.

By the time we reached Kaduna, the janaza and burial had taken place. My siblings, neighbours and relations were already receiving mourners from far and near. Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun (We surely belong to Allah and to Him we shall return). The janaza, led by Sheikh Ahmad Gumi, as a shop attendant near our family house would later tell me, was well attended.

Despite the age difference between us, we bonded well with the late Dahiru – we used to call him Alhajin Gari because he was named after his late grandfather whom we also used to call Baba Nagari. We would later drop Alhajin Gari for either Imam or Alkali. The first because he succeeded our father as the Imam of Maiduguri Road Central Mosque and the later for being a Shariah court judge. And he made his mark on both counts.

When our father died in May 2004, he led the funeral prayer as our father instructed. Through that singular act, he became the face of our family, with many thinking he was the eldest son of our father. But he was the seventh of the 30 children that survived our father.

Anytime something happened within or outside the family for which we needed to be there, he was our face. He mostly needed no introduction anywhere we went to, especially among distant relations or long-time family friends. And he did his best performing that role.

When our father was alive, they were always together, studying or travelling. That way, he got to know many people and the nature of relationship they had with our father. And when our father passed on, he continued the tradition of sitting in front of our family house between Asr and Maghrib prayers, hosting visitors who came for different purposes, or just conversing with us – siblings, friends, neighbours.

I learnt a lot sitting by his side. Some people would come to him seeking for financial assistance, some would come because of his position as both Imam and a judge. To those who would come for issues that had to do with the courts, he would insist on seeing them only at the courts. And if it happened to be outside his jurisdiction, he would advise them accordingly. Trying to get him to talk to a judge was difficult because he would say those who are innocent should have nothing to fear.

The late Alkali, as I used to call him, was very patient with us his siblings as with others. He always enlivened places with his presence. But sometimes, his jokes were misconstrued and I had reason to tell him so one day. His response at the time was, “I used to see it in your eyes, editor (as he used to call me). Don’t be angry, the life itself is nothing.” Life will certainly not be the same without him.

Growing up, he was very engaging and adventurous. When our elder brothers formed a football team, he was their goalkeeper and they used to call him the magnate of Daga, which was the name of the team. He loved Taekwondo and used to be regular at training. Any time he learnt a new kick or trick, he tried to show us, sometimes practically. At a point, he used to be obsessed with fitness and set up his own facilities at home, from a treadmill to dumbbell and more. But gradually he stopped using them, and the result showed in his frame.

He didn’t like going to the hospital, but he never had issues with taking medicine, modern or traditional. I learnt that when he was taken to the hospital, which turned out to be his last, he complained of discomfort about the oxygen. It got to a stage where he even threatened to unplug it if it was not removed. Again, fate works in complex ways.

Born in 1970 at the Government College Kaduna when our father was still a teacher, Alhajin Gari had a mixed experience with schooling. He attended different traditional Islamic schools (popularly called Makarantar Allo) before starting his primary education at Shehu Abdullahi School. The first traditional Islamic school he attended was in Tudun Nupawa under the tutelage of Mal Ibrahim Danja, then another one at the house of Alhaji Wakili Maikilishi, located on Benue Road by Lagos Street under Malam Garba. The last one was located at Katsina Road, just before the roundabout, all within Kaduna metropolis.

He was enrolled at Shehu Abdullahi School for primary education when he was seven years old. It was short-lived. As a Primary 2 pupil, in 1978, his grandfather Alhaji Dahiru decided to take him to Maiduguri to continue with his traditional Islamic school. From Maiduguri, they relocated to Gwaneri, now in Yobe State. From there, they moved again to Madanari, before ending it all in Gaidam, Yobe State.

That took him away from Kaduna and disrupted his primary school education from 1978 to 1984.

Upon return to Kaduna, he refused to return to the traditional Islamic school, because he was being mocked as almajiri (vagrant student), while his younger siblings were advancing in school. He continued with his primary school studies. But seeing that he had grown up and had a foundation, he was placed in Primary 5 in 1985 and finished his primary school in 1987. Most of his primary school mates were much younger than him, but he remained undaunted.

For the love of Arabic language, he was taken to the School for Higher Islamic Studies Aliya in Shahuci Kano for six years. Our father told him that if he studied hard, he would be taken to Madinah, Saudi Arabia, to further his studies. But after completing his secondary education in Kano, our father had a change of mind. He didn’t want him to go far away from him again.

He, however, found himself in Bayero University Kano where he started with a diploma in Hausa in the Faculty of Arts and Islamic Studies. From there he studied for a degree in Mass Communication/Hausa and graduated between 1999 and 2000. After his graduation, he was posted to Kebbi State for the one-year National Youths Service Corps (NYSC) scheme, but due to strike at the time, he was eventually issued a discharged certificate because he had attained 30 years of age.

After some time, he showed interest in finding a job and he informed our father. His argument was that as a married man with family – he actually got married on March 22, 1996 – he needed to engage in something so as to support his family. That was how he joined the services of Radio Nigeria Kaduna, where he was translating and reading the news.

Shortly after, he sat and passed for examinations to qualify as a Shariah judge in 2002. His first posting was in Likoro, Zaria where he served for a year, before he was transferred to Barnawa, Kaduna South for another one year. From Barnawa, he was posted to Kawo for a year and then to Unguwar Rimi where he served for close to nine years. In April 2014, he was transferred to Magajin Gari, Kaduna North. After that, he had served in Nasarawa and Rigachikun before his recent elevation and transfer to Makarfi as an Upper Shariah Court judge.

He is survived by three wives (one of them pregnant), 20 children and many siblings. May Almighty Allah forgive him and our departed loved ones.

Nasiru Lawal Abubakar sent in this tribute from Abuja