By Abdulmajid Abubakar
I often reflect on my earliest memories, and I realize something profound; for those of us under 50 years, there has only ever been one Emir, His Royal Highness, Ahmad Muhammad Sani II. Sa Maza gudu…
His name was not introduced to us; we grew up inside its echo. His presence was not explained; it was part of the air we breathed, part of the identity we inherited as children of Gumel.
I still remember the traditional songs, the Khakaki, Algaita of his praise-singers that rhythmic chant carrying his name through the streets, floating on the harmattan breeze, around Lautai.
We didn’t grasp every word, but we felt the respect in every tone, the pride in every syllable, the joy that rose in our hearts when his name was sung.
Even at that young age, we knew his name meant something noble.Sallar Ghani was our festival of wonder. I still remember how we would rush out during Sallar Ghani, hearts pounding with excitement and anticipation, just to catch a glimpse of, our beloved leader.
And when HRH finally approached us with yan bindiga and lifidi, mounted on his royal horse, adorned in shimmering regalia, surrounded by yan Silke and giant riders from left-right called Giwa, Mai Martaba is more than a leader.
He is the living face of our heritage. A symbol of our home. A reminder that Gumel had a story older than our own memories.To us young boys, it wasn’t “just hawan sallah. It was magical, it was royalty in motion, it was a vision that shaped our dreams and planted in us the desire to grow into worthy sons of the emirate.
As children, whenever someone mentioned “Gumel,” our faces lit up with pride and joy.That name carried warmth; the warmth of belonging. It carried dignity; the dignity of being tied to a people of honor. It carried pride; the kind that sits quietly in the chest but rises whenever someone calls your hometown.We counted down the days to school holidays, not because we wanted to play, but because it meant we were going home, to Gumel, our haven of peace and heritage.
Home to the stories, the elders, the palace aura, and the living history that surrounded his throne, a constant reminder of our rich legacy. Home to the land where his leadership quietly shaped our values and our identity, molding us into compassionate and responsible individuals.
As the years passed, we began to understand what we had only felt as children.His humility, his patience, his devotion to unity and peace, all the qualities we observed from afar became clearer as we grew older.
His leadership has been like a tall, steady tree rooted in the centre of the emirate, never loud, never seeking applause, yet always offering shade, always offering stability, always offering wisdom.Gumel grew under his watch, and so did we.
His reign is not merely part of history; it is part of our childhood, part of our upbringing, part of who we are.He taught us, even without speaking directly to us, that true leadership is service, a selfless devotion to the greater good.
Through his example, we learned that dignity is quiet, that respect is earned, and that honor is lived, not declared.
May Allah continue to strengthen HRH and bless his stewardship over the land we love.
May He grant Mai Martaba long life, peaceful years, and the fulfillment that comes from a life of service.
And may Gumel remain a haven, a place children still long to return to, a place filled with tradition, unity, and grace, just as it was in my teenage years.
Long live the Emir of Gumel. Allah Ya Ja zamani Mai Martaba Sarkin Gumel, Alhaji (Dr.) Ahmad Muhammad Sani II, (CON)A leader I adored as a child, and honor deeply as a man.
A guardian of our heritage, a symbol of our pride, a presence etched into the memory of every son and daughter who grew up under his gentle shade.