A friend narrated a story of a young man he recently met in a village near Gashua (Yobe State) who wants to become a dermatologist because he comes from a family suffering from some skin problems. My friend made excuses for the young man not being able to know how or where he could go to in order to become a dermatologist. He said the young man lives in a place where he does not have access to the internet or to a mentor who will help him achieve his dreams. I disagree that the young man’s problems are the lack of internet and/or a mentor, both of which must be in the village, where he lives. While the internet or a mentor could have helped him where he is, my view is that the least that is expected of him is to recognise that as long as he remains in the village, there is little chance of him becoming a dermatologist. Therefore, the least expected of him is to recognise that he must leave that village as a first step toward achieving his dreams. He does not need the internet in his village or a village-domiciled mentor before he could see the need to leave the place.
My grandfather, late Alkali Bamanga Raji, was living in a very small village called Ruwo Basambo; a village founded by his grandfather, Ahmadu Basambo, in present-day Adamawa State. My grandfather was probably born there in the early twentieth century. But because he wanted to have an education and live a better life than the people in that little village, he left Ruwo to live in the nearby town of Girei where he later became a teacher. After some time teaching, he made up his mind to work for the judiciary and to do that he needed to further his education in Kano. He left for Kano to study and upon returning to Girei, he joined the judiciary and became a court judge until he retired. The decision to leave Ruwo was entirely my grandfather’s. Many amongst his relations were contented with the life in Ruwo and many of them still live there with little effect of modernity in their lives. Perhaps my father and his siblings might not have had the opportunity to unlock their potential to the fullest if their father had not seen the need to leave Ruwo. There are certain decisions that are up to the individual and they must not wait until someone can help them. That someone may never show up, and there will be no one for them to blame. These are what I call the least decisions.
Moreover, I have always found myself debating on the merits and demerits of emigrating (to the West to either live permanently or for an extended period) especially with some good friends who have decided to live and work in the West after their professional trainings there. So, when I recently narrated to them the story of my grandfather who emigrated away from his own little enclave in search of a better life outside the village, some of my friends likened my grandfather’s adventure to their present circumstances. They noted that although my grandfather could still have been relatively great in his small village, he was not contented being a big fish in a small pond. In contrast, they noted that those of them who emigrated from Nigeria to other climes did so for the same reason as my grandfather. In some fields, they claim that Nigeria is akin to a village lacking the necessary infrastructure to support world-class aspirations. They said that depending on the strides they make in the West; their grandchildren may someday write about them in a similar way as I have done on my grandfather. Therefore, they noted that going forward, they hope that I can cut them some slack for they may have acted based on the big picture, as my grandfather did. In response to the comment from my friends, I agree that they are right on many levels. I have no problems with those who emigrate in order to realise what they believe are world-class aspirations. My main problem with some Nigerians living in the West is mostly rooted in their inability to relate to Nigerians back home the alternative perspectives as regards the lived realities of the West. For example, some Nigerians make it look like they are happy and prosperous in the West even though they are not. Some of them could even have been doing better in Nigeria. And not only that they are not doing well where they are, but they chose to mislead innocent Nigerians back home about what it is like abroad.
Postscript
On November 19, 2019, Umar Jidda Pariya, a longstanding aide of the former Vice President, Atiku Abubakar, died in Dubai. I have always known the name Pariya in connection with the popular name Atiku Abubakar. But before this year, I never met Pariya, and would not have known how he looked. Sometime this year, I had a cause to meet with HE Atiku Abubakar in his Asokoro residence. There, I could not miss Pariya’s warm and friendly smile directed at me. At the end of the meeting, he came to me and held my hands, and I followed him outside the room. He was very embracing and hospitable as if he knew me. With a very warm smile, he said: “I know your father.” And before I could say a word, he asked me if I knew his name. Because I was not sure who he was, I smiled, expecting him to tell me his name. He then said, “My name is Pariya.” I told him I knew him, and that it was a pleasure to meet him. Without me asking, he brought out his phone and requested my number. He dialled the number and told me to save his, and that I should keep in touch. Several months later, I called him, and we greeted cheerfully. He thanked me for the call. That would be the first and only time we spoke on the phone. When I heard of his death, I wished that I had called him even more frequently. I pray that Allah rests his soul in paradise, and may He bless and comfort his family.
