Losing Ahmad: Remembering a dear son

Off I zoomed back home to go and get the suitcase. When I got back, the nurse told me: “You left in such a hurry you have to go get doctor nearby.” I zoomed to get the doctor, then after about few hours battling with mosquitoes while waiting in the car, I heard a knock on the window of my car. “Your wife has delivered safely,” I was informed.

I came out and held the handsome bundle of joy in my arms. He looked so much like my immediate younger brother, but he had my eyes, nose and lips and my wife drew my attention later on in his life to the fact that our legs are exactly the same, especially the way we both stand with a bit of knock-knees. Yes, that was how Ahmad Ilyasu Jega came into our lives on the 25th day of June 2007.

Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir rajiun (‘from Allah we come and to him is our return’). These were the words that greeted me when my maternal uncle Alhaji Muhammad Bello called me around 6.30am on Sunday November 21st 2010 informing me that Ahmad had passed away during the early morning hours at the Federal Medical Center in Birnin Kebbi, after battling with typhoid fever, malaria and sickle cell.

Ahmad was a wonderful young lad. He was what the Hausas will describe as “son kowa kin wanda ya rasa” (everyone’s wish, envy of those who haven’t wished). He brought joy, laughter and now a painful loss to those of us who have been privileged to benefit and enjoy his company. There are many precious moments that I miss, like the “bye bye” and “welcome home, what did you bring me?” There were also the ever-so-precious words of “Abba yi dariya” (Daddy laugh) whenever he met me in a bad mood. With Ahmad, the only dull moment with him was when he was ill. Come to think of it, even when he was in pain he made the people around him adore him. I remember whenever a nurse from one of the several hospitals he had been on admission would come around for his dose of injection he would start to cry “no-injection.”

He drew one wonderful family, the Izzudeens, into our lives, when their child shared a ward with Ahmad. He entertained every one that came to visit with his Arabic songs, rhymes and phrases. They were so impressed that at age three he was doing fairly well in three different languages namely Arabic, English and Hausa. His Muallim (Arabic word for teacher) at Al-Madina Islamic Academy said he was the best speaker in his class and he participated very actively in classroom discussions. At Essence international, his teacher said he colors wonderfully and is very lively.

There are so many memories, like the first and only time he witnessed me and his mother arguing. “Is she not your wife?” he asked. I replied “she is”  to which he said “Then why are you shouting at her. Don’t you love her?” He turned to his mother and said “Don’t you know that he is our father? Why must you shout back at him?” We immediately apologized to each other and then to him, then laughed over the whole issue.

So many memories. You shall truly be missed, Ahmad. You came into our lives passing through like a shooting star and now all of a sudden your light has been dimmed. I have for long been keeping thoughts about you locked up inside. I felt it necessary to share my feelings. I love you Ahmad and I miss you. But I know God loves you more and I believe that Insha Allah you are in a better place. I take solace in one of the condolence messages I received stating that when God gave you to me, he did not seek my advice, just as now that He is taking you back, He does not need my consent. I also take solace in a hadith which states the tremendous blessings parents of young children who died before reaching the age of maturity would receive. We miss you Ahmad, may Allah in His infinite mercy unite us to part no more. Ameen.