By Sulaiman Maijama’a
My elder brother’s call – Bello, requesting that I show up at our family house on Sunday morning, August 10th, 2025 – is the most difficult phone call I have ever answered in my life. Immediately, I overheard crying in chorus from the background; I knew what it meant and told my wife that the inevitable we have all been waiting for is here: Baba is no more.
Our father, Alhaji Maijama’a Iliyasu, first fell sick on August 5th, 2023, but later recovered and was taken to go about his business by us (his children). His illness resurfaced on November 24th, 2024; he was bedridden for some weeks at ATBUTH, later discharged and has remained home since then. Seeing his body was not recuperating, yet he was discharged from the hospital, we understood the doctors’ body language and got to a point where we believed that it was terminal. Consequently, whenever I received a phone call from any of my siblings, I picked up with a nervous disposition, fearing what they had to tell me.
On the fateful day, I went home. I found the dead body of our dear father surrounded by my brothers and sisters, uttering “Inna Lillahi Wa Inna Ilaihi Raji’un,” submitting to the will of Allah and crying profusely. I felt that my imagination of how it feels when one loses a father failed me, as I never thought the magnitude of the pain and sense of despair it creates is to that extent. The feeling defies expression. But the crowd of sympathisers trooping to the house and visitors making speeches of eulogy and testimonies of the person our father was were what consoled us the most.
Testimonies of people on earth about the good reputation of a deceased can be a means of his entry into Jannah, as reported in an authentic Hadith, where our beloved Prophet says, “…the believers are the witnesses of Allah on the earth…” That is why it is Islamically encouraged to amplify the virtues of a dead person, but judgment belongs to the Merciful.
An old man who came to sympathise with us stated and emphasised our father’s respect for his parents and elders. The man said he was a living witness that when our father was in active business in Central Market before he relocated his mother to our house, he used to go and check on her three times every single day: in the morning before he went to the market, in the afternoon after Zuhr prayer, and in the evening when he closed. I’m not surprised because my mother always tells me that, in the years he had lived with his mother Innah, his goodness for her could fill the earth.
I personally did not grow up seeing his mother, but I mistook his elder sister for his mother because of the respect he had for her. Even his granddaughters, named after his mother, and his daughters-in-law bearing the name were called “Innah” or “Mamana” and enjoyed special treatment from him.
His closest childhood friend, Alhaji Sule Sarkin Kasuwa, told us that one day in the 1980s, Innah directed our father to go to Kaduna and apprehend a relative who ran away and refused to return home. There was no intelligence report of the man’s whereabouts, no telephone to call, and the man was of no fixed location. However, Baba, out of obedience to his late mother, requested Alhaji Sule to escort him to Kaduna, and they searched all over but could not find him. Our father became deeply concerned that his mother would not be comfortable, but Alhaji Sule assured him that God knows he had complied.
I grew up seeing my father as a very disciplined man with a strict daily schedule. After the dawn prayer, he recited his Warsh copy of the Glorious Qur’an until around 8 a.m., took breakfast, and went shopping in Central Market. Returned home around 6 p.m., went to Bauchi Central Mosque to pray Magrib and waited for Isha, returned home, ate dinner, and listened to the radio before he slept. His philosophy on the education of his children is “Qur’an first.” All of his eighteen children were never enrolled in a Western school until we learned to read the Qur’an alphabetically and possessed reasonable proficiency in reciting the Qur’an when we were around seven years old. I can still see in my mind’s eye the day I was enrolled in primary school in 2004, when I was 8 years old, meeting Malama Safiya and Mrs. Roda as my first primary female teachers.
By Allah, I cannot remember a day that passed without him reciting his Warsh copy of the Qur’an. I never saw him sitting by the roadside, talking ill of others. As strict as his schedule was, he ensured that his children followed suit, never allowing us to enjoy leisure time since childhood. We would be woken up at dawn, sent to “Makarantar Allo“, and returned around 7 a.m. We would then be sent to primary school, returned in the afternoon, and sent to Ismiyya until around Magrib. By the time we finished primary school, we would be sent to learn different skills, and that is why we realised the realities of life early and were relieved of many responsibilities.
Our father exemplified a firm belief in the power of the Qur’an and Dua. Whenever he or any of his children had something profound to pursue, he would sit on his mat, spread out in a slight angle in his room, and spend hours reciting and praying for us. Any act of goodness we did, he prayed for us, all the goodness of this world and the hereafter, until you got tired of answering “ameen”. Until he fell sick, when any of his daughters was about to deliver in her matrimonial home, he would personally inscribe Qur’an verses and send them to wash and consume the water. Regardless of our age, if he gave any of us a certain Qur’an verse or dua as a “lakani” and then asked us to recite it back the next time, and we failed, we would be scolded accordingly. I still have small papers containing his inscriptions.
Now that the crowd of sympathisers has dispersed, my recollection of his prayerful and caring nature sparks a sense of nostalgia in my subconscious mind. I remember that whenever I was late at work, Baba would call to ask why, and whenever I was on the road at night, he would call several times to check on my safety and would never retire to bed until I was home. We will forever miss this. Standing on truthfulness and imposing strict rules on his family were some of the qualities Allah blessed him with. In the house, none of us could dare tell lies on phone calls in his presence, gossip, or insult. If you talked ill of others, he would ask, “Can you say the same if the other person were here?” His family setting was highly regimented and fully localised.
Our father departed this world without owing anybody a Kobo on earth. To us, it is no surprise because we know his philosophy of living within one’s means and never taking credit, no matter how little. When he fell sick, he sent someone to the market to buy him something. When I told the man of his illness, he said, “Allah sarki, baban nan da ba ya cin bashi.” No matter how close to him you were or how many years he spent buying from you, he would never agree to take credit for a single penny. A certain government official once approached him with a form for a loan scheme the government had designed to disburse funds to support businesses. Still, Baba rejected it, saying he preferred to live and die well without a burden. When the news reached us, we tried our best to convince him, telling him, “Irin bashin gwamnati ne da su ke yafewa,” but he insisted on his stance.
Indeed, Allah fulfilled his wish: he lived well, built a solid foundation of discipline for his family, mentored his children to understand life early, stood for righteousness, and, in fervent service to his Creator, eschewed taking any burden of his fellow human beings. Baba passed away peacefully, leaving us full of nostalgia. May Allah be merciful to our beloved father, forgive his shortcomings, shower illumination into his grave, accept his good deeds, and admit him into Jannatul-Firdaus. I’m grateful to all the people who prayed for him, visited us, sent a text message, or called to sympathise with us. I acknowledge and thank you gratefully, once again.
Sulaiman Maijama’a
Manager, Admin & Commercials
Eagle Radio Bauchi.
