By Adamu Muhammad Burga
As I scrolled down my Facebook newsfeed on Thursday, 11th May 2023, I came across a post that reads, “Indeed we belong to Allah, and to Him we shall return”, and another one that reads, “Losing a good friend like Abdulhameed leaves a scar in the heart that never wanes,” and lots more. They left me agape and confused. Why? They were all attached to the same photo, Abdulhameed’s photo. My shock amplified when I checked my WhatsApp status updates to realise the same thing was happening. I know how death news sounds in peoples’ hearings and hearts, but mine couldn’t believe what I saw. It all seemed to be like a dream to me.
Yet I called a friend out of sheer confusion to verify whether what I read was true, to which he answered in the affirmative and consoled me. I had one minute of silence before I moved on with my daily routines, still thinking that the news could be a fake one or maybe was mistaken for someone not Abdulhameed. Or perhaps it would later be retracted. ‘How could this be true about someone I visited a few days ago?’ is the question I had been asking myself for a while.
It had also come to my notice on the day he passed away that a river miles away from my residence claimed a boy’s life. The devastating news saddened me, and why wouldn’t it? The boy was drowned on the day WAEC exams commenced, of which he was a candidate. He even had the wherewithal to sit the exam in the morning before he ‘answered the call of his Lord’. However, I was more shocked by the former’s demise than the latter’s.
Friends and friends are two categories of people your life can never be devoid of. With the little I know about Abdulhameed’s life, I can conclude that the number of his friends and allies outnumbers that of friends. And this is one of the whys that made me pen this tribute to give a mere exposure to this great personality and exemplary icon — Rahimahullāh.
Abdulhameed was one of the unusual ones. He was resilient. Diligent. Jovial. Religious. Hardworking. A man in whose veins kindness flowed. A true optimist. An exceptional conservationist.
Abdulhameed was so many different things. A teacher. A student. A Hafidh. A brother. A tech. An exceptionally proud member of the MSSN who served almost at all levels. And a great, a truly great man at diplomacy. And he was most likely a lot more than that.
But there was one thing Abdulhameed wasn’t. And that’s afraid. Abdulhameed wasn’t scared of his challenges. Of being judged by people. He wasn’t afraid of friendship. A good laugh. He was never scared of a good time. A hard time. Or consequences of his good actions. Or of an impossible task. Or any kind of danger on the right course. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of doing the right thing. Ever.
No matter how hard life was for Abdulhameed, Abdulhameed loved life back. He embraced it without reservation, regret or remorse. And that’s rare, very rare among people of his time.
I wish more people were kind-hearted, diplomatic and easy-going like Abdulhameed. They’re the things about him I’ll miss the most besides his smiles. And I hope it’ll be some time before all my memories of him start to fade.
I remember the last time I visited him. I remember the smiles. I remember his beaming countenance, which told me I’d miss him when he passed. Little did I know that he was bidding me farewell. I wish I had bidden my final adieus to my friend as he bade me his before he left. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t. I failed.
Having heard different stories of the deceased from other people from different angles, I believe that I’m not having a ‘single story’ of him, as put by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, nor am I satisfied with my only story of him.
These few lines may not richly tell who Abdulhameed was, as they are, but what I have been able to gather from personalities and territories reachable to me. It’s just the tip of the iceberg. And I’m pretty sure there’s more to come—in sha Allah. I pray that Allah forgives his imperfections, provides him with a unique dwelling in Jannah, and gives fortitude to the bereaved.
And after all, ‘we’re all not here for a long time. We’re here for a good time’. May Allah make our ending a good one.
Adamu Muhammad Burga writes from Bauchi and can be reached via or at abuzharrin212@gmail.com.