By
Abdul-Rahman Baban Saibo
Prologue;
There exists no moment
to compare with one of ‘a new discovery’. In those moments are derived the
reasons, meanings and excitements of life. Even more reason why people engage
in expeditions, researches, explorations, experiments, tourisms and many more
ways of making new discoveries. Hence, these findings remain to be the essences
through which life is transformed, the world expands and civilization sprouts.
Mine was a discovery made of a simple domestic travel. A discovery of ethos; a
realization of mores; and an apprehension of the sublime self –one that
happened in barely twelve hours…
The trip to Sokoto
State to witness a friend’s wedding Fatiha
was indeed a serendipitous one. Although,
Sokoto is an ancient city known of its agricultural buoyancy and commercial
vitality (a prosperity of which credit must be given to the confluence of the
Sokoto-Rima rivers, its vast arable lands and the multiplicity of its borders
with both international and (commercially) domestic States), was said to be
“founded as a ribat (military camp or
frontier) in 1809 when Shehu Usmanu Dan Fodiyo was at Sifawa (now a local
Government). It later became the capital of the caliphate after Shehu’s death” –quotes
from Wikipedia.
Myself a Hausa and a
Northeastern based citizen, one may expect to grasp from me a substantial
amount of knowledge/information about the cultures, Mores and ways of the
entire Northern (Hausa) tribes –honestly, I wouldn’t confide to that. And though
I have, a couple of times, visited some parts of the Northwest, my ten hours
journey to one of the ‘Hausa Bakwai’
(seven original clans of the Hausa tribe) lands, did, indeed, opened my eyes to
a spectacular paradigm…
Although Baba Habu had
visited Sokoto a couple of times, for Mukhtar Jarmajo and myself, this is our
first time to the extreme west of northern Nigeria (even though Mukhtar had
visited Zamfara State some few months back).
Sokoto;
The journey began
around 7am on Friday the 22nd of April 2016, and ended around 5:47pm
same day. Although a few necessary stops in Ningi, Kano, Tsafe and Gusau took
at-least some two hours of the total time spent on the trip.
My first encounter with
the red dusty sand had me concluded, ‘I
am now in the sub-Saharan Africa’. Not that the northeast and the other northwestern
parts do not belong to the same geographical map, but, the (Sokoto) topographical
settings, almost, squarely fits the descriptions of the habitations of the
sub-Saharan regions found in geographical and books…
We were welcomed by the
eastern gate, having arriving from Gusau (Zamfara State)… There was the ancient
caliphate city of the ‘Shehu’ empire.
Despite the late evening hours, the scorching temperature still took the
liberty of giving us a warm welcome to the “Seat of the Caliphate”. We took the
bypass road which passes through the Kannawa area (on which the Giginya Army Barracks
also lies) neighborhood through to the water fountain roundabout (round mai ruwa), and led us north toward
Sama road; a dual carriage way which
leads to Gwuiwa low cost and Bafarawa estate.
The city’s obvious
expanse towards its outskirts says much about its age and development. All main
roads leading towards the city’s center are generally tarred –most of them
still good too. Though the city’s infrastructures were mostly modern (some were
lacking regular maintenance; a basic Nigerian phenomenon) the people did not
appear to look so…
Our first stop was at
Abbakar’s family home; a friend of Baba Habu’s since school days. The house is
situated on the dual carriage Sama road near the spot where the popular ‘Bagobiri mai paci’ has his vulcanizing
tent. After bartering pleasantries with Abbakar’s family, we set head to meet
with Abdullahi Farouq (the groom) in the nearby Bafarawa Estate.
My first encounter of
the people’s country-Manish characters was at a spot around Gwuiwa Low cost
whence we stopped to ask an elderly-passerby man for directions. As he strained to describe to us the
destination we were seeking, I noticed that although he was speaking Hausa, his
dialect was completely unorthodox, –something ‘we’ had been anxiously keen to
hear– perhaps, he would also think our dialect wasn’t appropriate. Therefrom, I
began to notice that on almost every turn we take, there would be some elderly
men seated by the road side, beneath tree shades or in front of their houses
(either on Matts or benches) – a very olden native practice indeed, one that
reminded me of the stories in the legendary Hausa story book “Magana Jari ce”...
As it is a virtue in
Abdullahi to greet his guests with a warm and hearty reception, he there
granted us the warmest, reckoning the distance we covered to witness his
blessed matrimony. He took us, thenceforth, through the rough red un-tarred
roads linking Gwuiwa low cost to Bafarwa estate to the house where all the
groom’s guests were given the auspicious welcome treat. It took me no length to
get overwhelmingly impressed on the sight of the delicious looking tuwon shinkafa miyan ganye; a
prestigious native traditional dish known to be of the most blossoming creed of
the Hausa traditional dishes in the olden days. Feeling well revered (for in
the olden days such treatments were given only to those whom are truly
honored), I sat on the matt spread on the yard by the front door of the house
and recompensed malmala biyu (two molds)
of that nourishing meal with almost equal generosity that was shown to me. Seeing
we were all sweating from filled bellies, Abdullahi and his (Sokoto) friends decided
it’s time we were taken to our place of accommodation.
Hyginco Hotels and
suites is a comfortably accommodating hotel with a satisfactory convenience
located just on the entrance through which we went in –around the Kannawa area.*
After showers, the groom informed us about the little get-together that was
arranged by the bride’s maids (in place of the Arabian night ceremony that got
canceled). On our way there I made a little request to make a brief stop at
Gwuiwa low cost, perhaps paying a surprise visit to a cousin of mine whom just
gave birth to her third won’t be a bad idea.
Firdausi has been in
her marital home in Sokoto for almost seven years now, and despite her being my
first and most favorite cousin, never for once did I ever had the opportunity
to pay her the visit she very well deserved of me –quiet ill of me indeed, for
making endless promises and never having to fulfill them. The visit was
although brief, she was very much glad to see me. Having seen the place, I told
her I would be back the next day for a proper visitation.
We headed therefrom to
the house –down Gwuiwa low cost extension– where we met with the beautiful
bride and her gorgeous maids. The ladies were splendidly hospitable and
friendly. And their vision was also one entailing ceremonious prepares –quiet
unfortunate that the Arabian Night didn’t hold. The gathering was indeed
momentous. After all pleasantries and intros and very little discussions, both
parties went home with hearts filled of glee of the night.
On our way back from
the little gathering, we made a branch at Abubakar’s home to pick up the meal
that was prepared for us by his kind mother. Surprisingly, they too prepared
the same ‘tuwon shinkafa miyan ganye’.
There I concluded, ‘these are people whom
truly uphold their customs with due reverence’; I was impressed. The next morning, I went to visit my cousin
sister, Firdausi, as I promised. At around 10am the sun was, already, utterly
furious; the temperature was devastatingly harsh –little did I know, I was in
one of the hottest cities in the world (and at one of its hottest months too).
There I gladly spent the next hour and a half talking to her.
The Hubare;
At around a few
(minutes) to 12pm, Baba Habu and Mukhtar came by and picked me to go around
town for some sightseeing; before the time knocks due for the wedding. Firstly,
we decided to go to the sultanate and pay a little courtesy homage to the
Sultan; Abubakar Sa’ad III. Going through Kofar
Taramniya (the eastern gate leading to the city center). There was the Garkar Sarki (the Sultan’s front gate). We
parked the car outside the gate and enquired from the securities at the door ‘if
we could get an audience with the Sultan’? Of course the answer was no! One has
to place a request in the office of the Magatakarda
(the Sultan’s secretary) and wait till it is granted an approval; or one has to
be renowned dignitary. That is the protocol. Besides it was Saturday, weekends
are also the Sultan’s days off.
We headed
therefrom to the Hubbaren Shehu Usman dan
Fodiyo (Shehu Usman dan Fodiyo’s tomb). Quiet a coincidence it was on ‘Bauchi
road’ just northwards of the Sultanate. The first Zaure (entrance) had a number of people and a few security
personnel. We greeted them and headed in. therein we saw some people seated on
the (bare) floor. We walked past that zaure
through a long walkway, beside which were some old women sitting by the walls
with little bowls containing grains in front of them. I wondered ‘why are they here? And what are the grains
for? Who from?’. There was the second zaure
wherein were seated some old men, we greeted them too. They gladly welcomed us.
The eldest of them asked us to please remove our shoes (now even though the ground
there was tiled, my mind went straight to calculating what would be the
temperature of that floor). We did as asked of us and forged ahead (of course
walking briskly as if on hot coal).
The room wherein
lies the grave of the Sheikh had a small door. Having met some students at our
arrival there, the hosts took the liberty of assigning to us the same tour
guide. Amongst those students were ladies; they were told at the door that
ladies were not allowed in the room –they were, nevertheless, allowed to take
peeks of the inside from the door. When I inquired as to why that was, I got
the most annoying answer ‘no reason’; as much as that disturbed me, I got over
it…
The room was
dark and stuffy. The reason was coz the three graves that laid in there were
built around them a four corner walled block house with a flat surface with a
height of about five feet. The cubic structure, is then, covered with a black
cloth with a golden colored thread horizontally sewed around it –giving it an
obscure picture of the Ka’aba. Between
each side of the brick wall of the graves and the wall of the room is about
four meters wide, leaving the cubic shaped structure being the epicenter of the
room. The space around it (the cube) is apparently for the person to walk by around.
As we walked round, I realized the act was one emulating the Tawaf, –but, is that really what these people are insinuating? I was relieved to see a sort of
blockade at the end of the third corner of the cube. On the edge of the third wall
was a small door (an entrance). In front of that door was a middle aged man
sitting on a prayer matt with his tasbaha
and a few books; apparently he has been there long (or perhaps been there every
day). ‘What is he doing here?’ I asked
myself.
As I was busy
making all these observations, the guide was also busy explaining to us that “in
here (the cubic structure) lies the graves of Shehu, his son Muhammad Bello
(who succeeded Shehu) and Brother Abdullahin Gwandu (who succeeded Muhammad)”, We
then went outside to an open place where lies about twelve graves. There we
were told lied the graves of Abdul-Rahman dan Abubakar, Aliyu Jedo, Abubakar
dan Atiku, Ahmadu Rufai, Umaru dan Ali and others whom I lost track of when a
strange thing happened…
At the very mid
of his explanation, the guide pointed to two graves which located at the center
and said “these two, nobody knows who lies in them.” As a quick response I asked
him “do you mean to say they are empty?” he returned, “no! No one is aware as
to who they belong to.” “But they did not bury themselves, did they?” I asked
in a very curios sarcastic manner –I mean how could two graves lying amidst a
dozen others be forgotten whom they belong to? From there was Nana Asma’u’s
grave (Shehu’s daughter) alongside others. I really did lost interest after
seeing how history was being deliberately distorted.
At the ends I realized
that the people have converted the place to some sort of monastery when one of
them said to us “may the Almighty grant to you your heart desires”. And although
I kept on repeating to the guide and the people there that “may the Lord
Almighty have mercy on their souls (the deceased)” none of them bothered to say
“Ameen”, – that is a dire misfortune indeed. I do intend to write to the
Sultanate and the Sokoto State Government to ensure a review and a proper management
of the Hubare, for such crass
ignorance and inappropriateness would only lead nowhere less than a historical pathos.
At the door on
our way out a group of women were coming in, one of them carrying in her hand
an infant. I curiously asked “I thought women were not allowed?” someone told
me “be not surprised, they bring their little kids here to be prayed for”… that was my encounter with the tomb that has no epitaph.
We went straight
from there to the wedding venue. The time was clocking towards 2:30pm. We stood
with the groom in front of the bride’s home in Gwuiwa low cost-extension beneath
the scorching sun while the wedding was taking place inside. After a few photo snaps
with the groom, all guests went to Bado estate where the reception took place.
Epilogue;
At 3:15 pm, we
left for Tsafe local Government (Zamfara State) to rest the day at a friend’s. I
was pleased to have made that trip.
I am glad to
have learnt the words: ‘Awo’ which
means ‘yes’ (which was frequently said to me when I asked questions at the tomb;
a friend had to explain to me what it was), whereas in the other dialects it is
pronounced ‘eah’ or ‘eeh’; ‘Cibi’ meaning spoon (it could be used as a metaphor for money or
wealth; a friend told me so when a ceremonial beggar came at us saying ‘kaga abokan ango masu yawo da cibi’;
and ‘Garka’ which means front yard of
a home (it is also used some times metaphorically to denote dignity or
prestige).
Until next I see
the great ‘Seat of the Caliphate’, may it stay in peace…
