By Tijjani Muhammad Musa
I left the house without taking breakfast or even a bath in order to meet an 8:00 am appointment with the rest of our SWS.Comms production crew. A client has brought in an advert for emergency production and airing on the radio against an event scheduled to take place the next day, Saturday morning, by 10:00 am after the monthly Sanitation exercise.
The heavy traffic of Adaidaita Sahu, private vehicles, motorcycles, and so on State Road was highly discouraging as I turned into it from Maiduguri Road. Quickly calculating my other options, I thought of taking alternative routes to steer me away from the delay most likely to occur if I should get trapped in the traffic mess.
However, thinking positively and hoping for the best, I still drove into the snailing jam of vehicles. Soon, however, I saw an opening on the side of the road accommodating a trickle of cars and the ever-daring tricycle riders. Now being in a bit of a hurry, I instinctively branched into that flow.
This gave me and many others the opportunity to cut off almost three-quarters of the “go-slow” that was caused due to road repairs, maintenance and renovation work going on on the roads as a result of adverse effects of heavy rainfall witnessed in the city in recent time.
So many of the roads in the metropolis have turned into shallow graves and potholes, forcing many drivers to demonstrate their driving skills and dexterity, with pedestrians expressing their anger and annoyance once in a while from getting splashed with dirty potholed rainwater.
As I slowly snake through the engaging challenge, turning my head side to side to check the distance between me and the line up of tricycles to my left, I suddenly saw her in one of the Adaidaita and couldn’t help but stare. While briefly looking at it, I at that same time sensed myself being stared at. So I checked to see who was poring his or her eyes over me.
It was a much younger woman sitting next to the person who had caught my rapt attention. Clearly, she was wondering why my face lightened up and suddenly saddened again upon seeing the old woman sitting calmly by her side.
To douse her fears, I lowered my car window, pointed at the old woman and loudly said, “She reminds me of my mother, who is now late. May her soul be blessed and rest in peace.” I whispered the supplication to my hearing only.
The younger woman, now relaxed and with a slight smile, said, “Allaah Sarki. Allaah Ya jik’anta da rahama” and I said, “Amin thumma amin” as tears wheeled up my eyes. I quickly got hold of myself as I averted the gaze of both the woman as well as the okada rider, whose attention had now turned to me.
I looked at the old woman intently once again and realized that she didn’t actually look like my Hajia in any way except for her height and the frail, wrinkled body characteristic of old women in their octagenarian stage of life. She was looking absent-mindedly into a future that none could tell what it was her mind’s eye was seeing or thinking.
Once again, tears overwhelmed me, for I could remember clearly the same kind of look on the face of my mother. She didn’t want to die due to the uncertainties that lay ahead. But then, none can avert its coming to pass, as it is a promise that must be fulfilled.
This is because Allaah AWJ Says in the Qur’an, “Kullu nafsin za ikatul maut” – Every soul must taste of death (Q3:185). So we all must eventually bow out. When, where, why, by what or how none of us knows. Thus by the 1001 ways and more to die, we all must become deceased.
I felt for her as I did feel for Hajia then whenever I saw that worrisome look registered on her face. I would immediately want to do something to distract her attention so as to change her mood for the lighter from such disturbing thoughts.
Suddenly without thinking, I reached into the pigeon hole in front of my dashboard and fetched out some money I usually keep there in case of an emergency and asked the Adaidaita rider how much was the cost of the ride. He told me, and I handed much more than the amount to him, telling him to give her the change.
The old woman looked at me and smiled. She was pleased with what I did and waved her two palms at me in thanks, and all of a brief flash, I saw my mother in her. It was a beautiful sight. The younger woman with her was also happy and prayed fervently for me as I drove off.
Then by Allaah SWT, the dam broke, and I started crying, in the wonder of what my mother might be going through, wherever she might be at that moment. There and then, I started praying to Allaah AWJ to please forgive her, whatever wrong she might have done while alive and bail her from anybody’s haqqi if she has done them wrong.
That my Lord and Maker should please compensate whoever she owes, whatever it might be and set her soul free in Barzakh, pending when she will be admitted into Jannah and His AWJ’s much sought after Grace. Fortunately, I’ve dreamt of her 3 times already. She’s doing alright, bi iznilLaahi.
In one of such dream, we were at an occasion with Prof. Yusuf Adamu, and she came to the place. So I excitedly introduced her to him. As he respectfully greeted her and started thanking her for me, she said to him, smiling, “A’a haba ai mu ne da godiya”. More tears tore into my composure like a small child.
I had to stop myself as passersby were beginning to stare at me, wondering and whispering to each other what they thought was wrong with me. Though I never liked the idea of tinting off my car windows since I have nothing to hide, for a change, I wished I had done so, so I could indulge and enjoy my emotional outburst in full privacy.
It’s not every day that such grace from Allaah happens to me. Anyway, I pray that all our parents who have died be in better existing conditions, wherever they may be right now than when they were here living on earth.
May all other mothers and fathers be similarly forgiven for their wrongs, mistakes and shortcomings. Allaahumma amin thumma amin.