Late Alaramma Malam Idi Nakamaku: A Qur’anic memorizer par excellence
By Ibrahim Sulaiman (Jama’are)
In circa 1993, my late maternal grandfather, Malam Musa Nagari (d. circa 2017), took me to Malam Idi Nakamaku’s Makarantar allo (a traditional Quranic school) in the Gandun Sarki quarters of Jama’are town, where I was enrolled as a Titibiri (an elementary student). He purchased a new allo (a wooden slate used as a hand-held writing board by students) for me, which I guessed he bought from the Jama’are weekly market.
Even though they weren’t the same age, I realized that Allaramma Malam Idi and my Malam Musa Nagari were good friends.
I was already enrolled in Abdulkadir Ahmed Primary School (formerly known as Zango Kanti Primary School). I usually attend the afternoon session at Malam Idi’s school alone with his regular Almajirai (students), most of whom come from nearby and distant towns and villages around Jama’are.
That was a foundational journey I first had in Islamic studies.
Sometimes, my maternal grandfather, Malam Musa Nagari, would lead me to school, hand me over to Allaramma, and jokingly say, ‘Ga dalibinka, Dan Izala’ (here is your student, member of Izala). This is because my father had already been a member of Izala (JIBWIS) since the early 1980s. (For an exploration of this statement and the struggle for religious space between Izala and other Sufi groups in Jama’are, see my MA thesis, ‘A History of JIBWIS/Izala in Jama’are, 1986-2015,’ submitted to the Department of History at Bayero University Kano in 2022.)
That was the start of it. Since then, whenever Malam sees me or I pass by him, he calls out, ‘babban dalibi’ (a senior student), even though I stopped attending his school when I was at the Titibiri level. True to form, he asks, ‘ya karatu’ (how’s studies), now referring to conventional education, and concludes with, ‘Allah ya yi albarka’ (may God bless).
As Malam is no longer with us, I will miss his prayers. Whenever I’m in Jama’are, I can hardly pass by Malam without stopping to greet him, and he has always been generous with his usual prayers.
Malam Musa Nagari and Malam Nakamaku have been a school for me. They have been a veritable source of inspiration.
Malam Nagari, though a grandfather, was a no-nonsense type. We rarely exchanged banter, unlike typical grandparents in a Hausa/Fulani setting like Jama’are. He was a disciplinarian in the real sense of the word. Although we spent a lot of time together at home, on the farm, and in his vocation of building houses, that familiarity did not breach any contempt, as they say. Malam Musa Nagari once told me something I knew was intended to inspire me. ‘Ibrahim, let me tell you. Do you see my farms in their numbers? I only inherited one from my parents…’. This is a way of telling a teenager to ‘be hardworking’!
From Malam Idi Nakamaku, I learned the principle of goodwill. Even though I left his school to probably join Izala Islamiyya, Malam Idi has never stopped considering me his student, referring to me with the term baban dalibi. This has never been a source of concern for him; he simply wants to know how I’m progressing, even at the conventional school level. Malam never ceases to ask such questions; the last time we met was last year during Eid el-Kabir.
To me, Malam Idi Nakamaku’s life epitomized an enduring commitment to promoting Quranic studies (what a blessed life!). It symbolizes selflessness and service to humanity, along with complete submission to the will of God. I believe Malam Idi Nakamaku embodies the traditional classical eclectic ascetic lifestyle characterized by Zuhd (asceticism or self-denial to achieve Ridhal Allah, meaning God’s pleasure) of early Sufi scholars, which continues to endure into this century.
The demise of Allaramma Malam Idi Nakamaku on March 4, 2025, was a great loss and, indeed, irreparable to the entire Jama’are Emirate. May his soul, along with that of his good friend Malam Musa Nagari, continue to rest in Janna til Firdaus.
Ibrahim Sulaiman (Jama’are) wrote from Abuja via ibrahimsulaiman193@gmail.com.
