“All this hardship I am going through is for you to be educated”: My Mother’s words that always sound in my ears

By Hamza Basiru Tsoho

My name is Hamza. My father had two wives.  The family comprised ten children from two different mothers. I was the eldest and the sixth in my mother’s room and the family, respectively. We were three in my mother’s room. 

One fateful day, our father, Alhaji Basiru, and his friends travelled to Katsina. Unfortunately, they had a ghostly road accident returning to Funtua, our hometown. Only one person survived. I was not enrolled in a public primary school at that time, not to talk of my younger brothers. Our mother became our father and mother; for she had taken all the responsibilities of the father. 

Glory be to the Sustainer.  Since before our father gave up the ghost, she had embraced some petty trade at home like selling ruwan leda (water, then, usually,  packed in a medium-sized leather after being cooled by a Randa ‘earthy pot’), roasted groundnut and selling food later. Her local restaurant, which was home, had become renowned in the locality and the neighbour then, as there were fewer restauranteurs in the area. 

She used to sell a bag of rice in two or three days in the comfort of her home. Over time,  competition increased. Sequel to that, she boiled to cook only a few measures of rice. I hawked the food on a silver tray when things started getting out of hand. The hawking was usually done after I returned from morning school and sold before late afternoon prayer (Asr), after which I had the opportunity to go to Islamiyya.

Furthermore, she ensured we had all we wanted so that we had the equal privilege to be educated like other children whose parents are alive. I can never forget when I told her what someone told me about what seemed to them like we were chasing education. He said one of his friends said, “If he (referring to me) must further his education, we will see who will sponsor him.” 

I felt sad even after narrating the story to our mother. She said, “You see, all these hardships that I endure are for you to be educated. I wish I had money to sponsor your education to university; I can spend any amount in my belongings for you to be educated”. She continued, “Although I do not have enough money to sponsor your education, I believe you will get someone to help you, and that is what I always pray for.” Whenever I remember that, I feel motivated. 

Fortunately, I sat for my SSCE and came out with flying colours. It was in the school of our neighbour and brother who sponsored a duo of us, my half-brother and I, in his school. May Allah (SWT) reward him and add to his wealth, amin. 

I then applied to Ahmadu Bello University (ABU) Zaria with a JAMB score of 252 for MBBS in 2020. After some years of waiting, due to Covid-19 and the lingering strike, I sat for post-UTME and scored relatively well. However, afterwards, I did not secure admission. That may be due to too much competition.

Still, I did not give up. I knew MBBS was, most of the time, not a one-off thing. So the following year, I sat for another one, prayed, and worked harder. This time around was Federal University Dutse (FUD) and still the MBBS. After all, I got it in that school in early January this year (2023). 

I owe my success to my dearest mother. As Prof. Abdalla  Uba wrote, her likes are the “REAL woman of substance.” In a few years, I hope to become a feather in her cap ( to be a professional medical doctor ), become an important person to society and save the lives of many victims.

Hamza Basiru Tsoho wrote from Funtua via hamzafta212@gmail.com.