Around 2am this morning, I got a call from my younger brother. His mother had died. She had been ill for quite some time and the last time I'd seen her was 3 December 2021. I had been shocked at how she looked. Growing up, she had been this fat, charismatic person who was the disciplinarian of the house. However, when I saw her, she had shrunk, was bedridden and had gone blind due to diabetes, high blood pressure and probably other illnesses. She had always been rather unhealthy and a bit of a hypochondriac. I learnt that she had even deteriorated after I'd seen her in December. She had died in pain and incoherent. Truly, her death was a relief both for her and her children who had been caring for her. We were all dry eyed when we met up, although, my younger sister, who is her daughter seemed a bit more disturbed than the others.
She was my father's second wife. He had married her probably in 1970. My father married her because she was really beautiful. He said that a friend of his, who is a christian had seen her in Maiduguri and told my dad to please marry her because she being Kanuri, who are proudly muslim would not agree to marry him. It sounds rather simple, but I think that is the gist of it. Another reason was probably because my mother had no kids. He had married my mother in 1960 and she'd given birth to one child who had died and she had not conceived in the interim. My dad divorced my stepmom in 2005. I asked him why and he said he had regretted marrying her almost immediately, but because she was quite fecund, they'd had 6 children and he had waited for her last child, my younger brother, to graduate university. He then bought her a house and divorced her. I was out of the country when the divorce happened and no one told me. She lived in our house in Jos while my mom lived in Kaduna. I was devastated when I went to the Jos house and she wasn't there. She had been a presence all my life. And even though she had been mean sometimes, like neglecting me one time when I was ill 3 years old and my mother was not around, I saw her as a mother and I felt affection for her. I had actually even sent money to her on 26/3/2022. Many people even think she is my mother because I talk about her more than I talk about my mom. I have been getting condolence calls almost non stop since yesterday.
After my brother's call, I left Abuja for Jos around 8.30am, it is a drive of about 300 kilometers. While I am a conscientious muslim, praying 5 times a day and all that, I only practice due to habit and to conform with society. I don't believe the spiritual aspects. However, I found myself listening to the Quran while driving. It felt rather appropriate. I also began praying for her. When I got to Jos, I went to her house but her body had already been taken to the cemetery. So, I went there. Only muslim men go to bury the dead, the women visit the grave afterwards. When I got there, she had already been buried. Our customs require burial within a day. The body is washed, dressed in a white shroud and buried on its right side facing Makkah. The grave is dug with 2 chambers, a wider outer one and tight inner one. It is required that the body fit tightly into the grave. A sermon is preached and prayers are said at the graveside. I normally don't like sermons but this preacher was simple and effective. My younger brother was there. I felt a lump in my throat and wanted to hug him. But I did not, not only because we are Fulani, and thus not given to displays of emotion, but also because we do not have that kind of relationship. However, of all my siblings, I think I feel most tender towards him, and one of my elder sisters who is rather socially inept and probably a bit simple. I feel tender towards him even though he is 38 now and I am 42 and he is more street smart than me. He is bigger than me and more strongly built. I always remember 2 incidents. When he was first taken to school, he used to leave his class and come to mine. Another time, we had climbed a mango tree and the branch he was on broke. The branch was above a spiked fence. If he had fallen on that fence, he would have been seriously injured or even killed. However, he had been holding another branch which began to crack as it could not support his full weight. I had swung out like Tarzan and pulled him to safety.
My stepmom was a charismatic woman. If she had been educated, I think she would have been a success at whatever she did. I estimate her age to have been 70 when she died. She'd had 6 kids. If the Islamic version of heaven is real, I pray she goes there.