Four years ago today, Hajiya Umma breathed her last at the age of 53, leaving behind her ailing husband, Alhaji Bala Abdullahi Sayaya, former Head of Personnel in several local government councils in Katsina State and her nine children, some of whom are on facebook like; Fadeela Bala, Saifullahi Abdullahi, Badeeatu Bala, Zaharaddeen Bala Abdullahi, Abdullahi Bala and Amra Bala.
Nobody thought she would die so suddenly and without warning...Yes...without warning ...for on that fateful day she was on high spirits and as vibrant as ever. She had spent the whole day making preparations for the forthcoming wedding of one of my nieces, Fatima Abubakar. Fatima is the daughter of my late younger brother, Abubakar Sadeeq Abdulkadir, the erstwhile Manager, Funtua Motel, Katsina State, who himself died last May.
She was constantly on phone, speaking with Abubakar, guiding, advising and explaining to him what was required to make the wedding a success. Her children said she was, as usual, well dressed that day, as if she was going somewhere... and indeed she was... but nobody knew at that time.
At night after dinner, she made sure everybody was alright before she went into her husband's room to see whether he wanted anything. Her husband had, not long ago, suffered a mild stroke and some of his limbs were paralyzed. She had been nursing him for days at home after he was discharged from hospital. She was heard entering her room thereafter through the communicating door from her husband's room.
Suddenly she was heard reciting the 'Kalimatush shahada' and she violently jerked open the door to the sitting room and asked her children to give her an inhaler - not that she was asthmatic. But she had become breathless and she assumed she was having an asthma attack. She inhaled and sat down, but the breathlessness persisted. She drank some milk which she immediately vomited. She continued to recite the 'Kalimatush shahada' and asked to be taken to the hospital.
One of her children brought the car out and she was half held and half carried to the car. They drove out very fast to the clinic which was not very far from the house. She lay still for some time, not moving, not saying anything.
Just before reaching the hospital, she opened her eyes, looked around and told her son, to drive carefully. And she resumed the recitation of the 'Kalimatush shahada', almost inaudibly. When they reached the clinic, they had to carry her inside. The doctor examined her and pronounced her dead. None of the children could say precisely when she breathed her last.
I was in Sokoto at the time and I'll never forget, as long as I live, that mournful, forlorn phone call in which I was told of her death. I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. I couldn't even cry at the time. Just a numb, empty feeling. Not knowing what to do, I began to pace up and down in my room like a caged animal. My mind went blank with shock. For a long time, I didn't know what I was doing or, for that matter, where I was. I was only vaguely aware that I was moving around aimlessly in my room... and alone...
Then the phone calls started coming in and that seemed to break the spell. The tears came, uncontrollably. I was answering the calls mechanically, with controlled voice but the tears kept on gushing out.
I recalled how we grew up practically together, doing everything together... going to school, on errands, visiting friends and relations, sometimes fighting, sometimes laughing... She was my sister, my friend, my confidante, my mother, all rolled into one... It's so painful...
May Allah have mercy on Hajiya Umma...