By Fatima Mamman Daura
“To be like the rock
that the waves keep crashing over. It stands unmoved and the raging of the sea
falls still around it.” – Marcus Aurelius
Today, I pay tribute to
an extraordinarily special man - who is fazed neither by criticism nor by
praise; unperturbed by fortune or loss; content with little and unimpressed by
wealth, power or position; averse to publicity and showmanship; self-effacing; austere
and always simply dressed - customarily in white; far from the garish and the
gaudy, with disdain for ostentation but neither sanctimonious nor judgmental –
Malam Mamman Daura, Baba – whom I am so proud to call my father.
This tribute is about my father – Baba, my Baba - the real
Malam Mamman Daura – son, husband, father, grandfather; not the ill-motivated, sponsored
social media created version – preposterous and larger than life. As Baba
himself would say when we would express concern about the persistent and
unjustified character assassination of his person – “Do not worry. If Allah
knows the truth; that is all that matters.” I would want to provide another
perspective from those closest to him – a true portrayal of the man my father
is, from what my siblings and I, and our mother know him to be.
Baba is a simple yet complex man – a man of few words (which
sometimes makes him come across as standoffish) but highly engaging when in his
comfort zone – with family and a few close friends. With his late younger
brother Baba Sani, I recall with such fondness their daily raucous and wheezy-asthmatic
laughing sessions as they shared insider jokes only they understood.
Baba is conservative, yet liberal – conservative in political
leanings and in gender roles at the home front - Baba barely knows the way to
the kitchen – I doubt he is capable of boiling water if it is not in an
electric kettle! He however, is the perfect gentleman; chivalrous, personally serving
us food before he served himself. He would also often tell us (his daughters)
not to carry heavy objects because he did not want us to develop hernias. Conservative
is Baba as he does not openly show physical affection to his children just like
the typical northern man of his age group, but we had no doubt that he loved
us. If you made the mistake of telling Baba you had a headache, he would keep
asking you (even after 3 days) how you were faring. When we were younger, there
was no limit to how he would play and engage us when he was in the mood – he
would play ‘riyo-riyo’ with us – a
game where we would all hold hands and form a circle and sing ‘riyo-riyo, o ririyo gib’ and then put our
right feet forward into the circle with a thump. This was done continuously and
when he sings ‘riyo riyo o ririyo
kwangarya’ then we were all supposed to stamp our right feet out of the
circle. The person who forgets and thumps inside the circle is laughed at – but
there was no winner or loser in this game. The game is played in two sets of 3,
2 and 1 and Baba would stop the game out of exhaustion as he couldn’t keep up
with our energy.
During Sallah (Eid)
celebrations we would have lalle (Henna)
applied on our hands and feet – and oh did Baba despise the smell of lalle! With such irreverence, we would
shove our lalle dyed feet unto Baba’s
nose and face and he would struggle to push us away. When we would not stop, he
would grab us and rub the stubs on his freshly shaven chin on our faces and
foreheads; prickling our fresh cherubic faces, and we would scream and that was
how he would finally get rid of us. However, when he was not in the mood, as
you entered his living room, one piercing glare was enough, or without saying a
word, he would point to the door and we would immediately leave. When we did
not get the message, or when he was expecting visitors, he would say to us
“make yourselves scarce!” and we would take flight.
Once we started to grow up, Baba’s conservatism set in. He no
longer used to hug us when he returned from trips. We no longer used to rush to
say ‘Baba oyoyo’ (informal welcome).
It became a more measured ‘Baba sannu da
zuwa’ (formal welcome), sometimes with a handshake. By the time I was 17
years, I had gotten used to not hugging Baba. For the first time in my life, I
had not seen my father in 8 months at a stretch when I went to college after
secondary school. When Baba came in, instinctively I rushed to hug him
(forgetting that I had stopped that habit many years earlier). Baba held me by
the shoulders and said to me “you are much too large for this!” stopping me in
my tracks. We both laughed over it.
Baba is also liberal – in the sense that he married only our
mother (when polygamy was the norm for his demographic group), together they
had six of us – five females, and a male but there was equality in rights,
privileges and disciplinary actions; but especially in the educational
opportunities afforded to all of us. (Baba also extended this educational
support to numerous extended family members, friends, acquaintances and
strangers alike). In fact, my brother often mentioned when we were growing up
that once his friends or acquaintances realised that he was the only male
child, they assumed that he was treated more specially – which he always countered
with much conviction that it was indeed the reverse case. During our weekly
special family lunches at home (usually on Fridays or Saturdays), he would
always be the last to take food – after our mother and all the girls had been
served by Baba – and then he would have to serve himself! He was also allowed
to carry heavy weights! Baba never once talked or pressured me about marriage
(nor any of my 4 sisters) – allowing me to get married by my choice and on my own
terms – just before I turned 26 years and after completing a master’s degree, national
service and working for nearly two years.
Baba has lived and continues to live the exemplary life of sabr (patience), shukr (thankfulness) and tawakkul
(trust in God) – core virtues of the Islamic faith. Baba is also of impeccable
rectitude – honest and decisively upright but is neither sanctimonious nor
judgmental. Mama has told me how one of his childhood friends frequently
re-iterated to her “Mamman duk ya fi mu”
(Mamman is better than all of us). In the 1980s and 1990s he was honoured
several times by the Kaduna State Government for consistency in remitting the
rightful amount of corporate taxes as well as personal income taxes. Because he
declared and paid the correct amount of personal income taxes in amounts much
more than people of known stupendous wealth did – he was generally thought to
be much wealthier than he really was. He served as Chairman of a Committee during
the 1994 Constitutional Conference – which lasted almost 1 year; and when the
conference ended, committee members and chairpersons were allocated choice
residential plots in Abuja by the then Federal Government. Baba rejected the
plot given to him – citing that he had served his country and that he was
adequately remunerated with accommodation and sitting allowances and therefore
did not deserve the plot. He also indicated that he did not actually need the
plot. Until today, this is the essential character of my father – not bothered
much about assets’ acquisition, or the things that he does not ‘need’. In
conversations I have had with him over the years, he has hinted to me that if
one makes the pursuit of money and material things one’s focus, then one would
never have peace. Baba’s motivation was always on setting up industries – to
create jobs and accelerate development; but not primarily to create personal
wealth.
Not one given to socialising, Baba is almost always at home
with his family, either reading in his study or sitting alone in his living
room in deep thought or with his television tuned to the news, sports,
documentaries or nature channels. Occasionally he would watch classic movies –
he especially enjoys watching British Classics like Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin,
Mind Your Language and the Carry On series. In the afternoons, you would
usually find him and to use his words “watching an enthralling game of cricket
and sipping on a spiffing cup of English tea!” He calls Darjeeling ‘the Rolls
Royce of Teas.’
Growing up, we had the best of times – Baba worked extremely
hard and for long hours and was a prosperous industrialist with major stakes in
textiles, manufacturing and banking – so we lacked nothing. While he himself
did not care so much for material things, he gave us the best of everything. As
little kids, we would often fly First Class to London on the then British
Caledonian Airways and lodge at The Churchill Hotel. So these days, when I have
to plan to purchase an economy ticket to London, I think back and I am grateful
for what I had as a child. In the mid-80s, we would vacation in Nice (the south
of France) and Amsterdam. Perhaps because Baba grew up with so little, often
going days without much food, he spared nothing to ensure our utmost comfort.
If not for our mother’s corrective spankings and strictness, I think we would
have turned out utterly spoilt brats! Thankfully and for our own good, Mama did
not give in to his pleads to stop spanking us when we were naughty. We really did have the best of everything; but
most importantly, we had love! Baba did all this to please us, but for him
personally, he was and is still not one to be affected or controlled by worldly
things.
A minimalist, Baba’s choice of clothing has always been
modest. Since mobile phones came into existence, he stopped wearing watches.
When he used to wear watches – he wore a simple, leather bracelet watch. Most
of Baba’s personal staff have been with him for 20, 30 and even up to 40 plus
years – some only separated by old age and death – a confirmation of his
kindness, generosity and magnanimity.
The quintessential stoic, Baba is unruffled by provocation –
I doubt that in my 40 plus years of existence, I have heard him raise his voice
or blurt out invectives or harsh reprimands even if justified. Baba never
shouts at anyone at all - his aides or domestic workers inclusive. I remember
when I got married and Baba was giving me final words of advice before my
departure from home and as I sobbed he said to me “ki yi haƙuri, ki yi kamar Maman ki. Shekaru talatin da muke tare bamu taɓa faɗa ba” (Be
patient like your mother, we have never fought in the 30 years (then) that we have
been together). I was actually shocked! When I was younger, I truly believed that
they never used to fight or disagree at all (and I cannot thank them enough for
that – for that is a great gift to give your children). As I grew older, I
understood that there was no way a marriage would have no conflict, and that
they just did a good job at hiding theirs from us. A few weeks later, I asked
my mother if they really had never fought before – and she said that he was
telling the truth but not because there was no avenue for quarrels but because
he would just not let that happen. She said that there were of course conflicts
and disagreements, but he had never raised his voice at her or engaged her in a
squabble. She also said that she would sometimes intentionally provoke him just
to get a reaction, but the dignified gentleman would just not budge! Ka ji Maza!
Baba’s sense of humour is legendary – and his use of
adjectives unparalleled. He is at his best when he playfully dishes out abuses
at us – when you put on weight he would whisper not to you but to another
sibling “X tayi yi monumental ƙiba” (X has put on monumental weight)
or say with much gender insensitivity “you are growing in all directions.” In
reference to an extremely corrupt figure, he would say, “dedicated thief”, when
you irritate him, he would call you a “confounded nuisance.” One of Baba’s
favourite sayings is: “if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys to work for you” –
to stress that if a job pays very little, it attracts the least competent
hands. I remember many years ago, I was reading a poorly written article – almost
unintelligible due to the numerous grammatical, spelling and every conceivable
error inherent, and he said to me – “Fatima, if you read that article to the
end, it would un-educate you!”
Baba once told me that sometime in the early 1970s, when he
was the Editor of the New Nigerian newspaper, he conducted what he described as
a highly engaging interview with the late Alhaji Mamman Shata – arguably the
most renowned and most prolific Hausa singer and griot. He then wrote what he
said was one of the best articles of his writing career – full of praise for
Mamman Shata as he was mesmerised by the singer’s personality – his quick wit,
talent, humour and general take on issues. At the last minute, he said that he
stopped the article’s publication because (in his words) ‘’bani so ya yi mani waƙa!’’ (I do not want him to sing [a panegyric]
for me)
As a son, Baba adored his late father – Alhaji Dauda Daura
(Alhaji Babba), the first Durɓin Daura (The
Durɓi of Daura). Alhaji Babba was of Kanuri ancestry; after an infamous family
feud, his great grandparents and other family members migrated from Kukawa in
northern Borno to Mirriah in Niger Republic with some of them finally settling
in Daura. Baba used to call his father ‘Alhaji
nawa’ (my Alhaji) as if he was his alone. He would call Alhaji Babba every
single day or night without fail when landlines were finally operational in
Daura. As one of us (children) entered his living room, he would blurt out with
much emphasis – zero (pronounced zee-ye-ro in an exaggerated Queen’s English manner)
six-five, and then whoever it was would complete with ‘five-seven-zero-zero-six
(065-57006) – also mimicking the zee-ye-ro pronunciation. It was an instruction
to go to the telephone and keep dialing until the line went through to Daura
and to ‘his Alhaji’. Those under 35 years may not remember those telephones
where dialing required ringing the numbers round and round and the difficulty
with which getting connected to other states and especially rural areas we
endured in those days. When Alhaji Babba’s health failed, and after an
unsuccessful medical trip to the UK, Baba brought him back to Kaduna to our
home where he was nursed until he passed away in October 1993. His death took a
toll on Baba – he lost considerable weight and bore a sad countenance for many
months. After the Durɓi’s passing,
the then Sarkin Daura (Emir of
Daura), late Alhaji Muhammadu Bashar conferred Baba with the title of Durɓi – much to his chagrin as he
despises anything that brings attention to himself and most especially the pomp
that accompanies royal titles. Up until today, over 25 years since the title
was conferred upon him - the official turbaning has not been done; due to
Baba’s reluctance. When my mother wants to provoke him, albeit jokingly, she
would call him Durɓi, and he would
give her the side glare, and she would laugh aloud while he would maintain a
straight face!
With his mother – Hajjá Sa’a, being her first surviving child
and her being a Fulani woman, she was not expected to show him much affection
and she did not. He spent more time with his paternal grandmother than he did
with his own mother and therefore was not very attached to her as his other
siblings were. I observed their relationship to be very formal, but it was
obvious how proud of her son she was. Just like Alhaji Babba, Baba would also
do anything for his mother – never going against her will. I believe that I
made up for the closeness lacking in their relationship, as I was the apple of
her eye – the warmth and affection that she was unable to show to her son; she
showered on me. I think Baba inherited her sharp intellect. Hajja Sa’a was also
a woman of few words but when she did speak; she demonstrated incredible wordsmithery
and the ease and speed at which she would add and subtract large numbers indicated
what a mathematical genius she would have been had she gone to formal school. Hajja
Sa’a died in September 1996 in Daura after a brief illness.
Growing up, while Baba was not one to play music (although he
told me that he once had an enviable collection of classical music records and
classic Hausa music tapes); without realizing, we made a lot of good acapella music
with him as the composer and lead singer and us as the background choristers,
the ‘yan amshi. When things did not
go the way we expected them to, Baba would often sing the words of Narambaɗa to us:
‘’Wata rana a sha zuma,
wata rana a sha maɗaci,
haka duniya ta ke,
Jaafaru mai halin mazan jiya; zauna
da lafiya,
mai ƙuli-ƙuli kawo na ɗari….’’
(Sometimes life offers us honey, sometimes life gives us
bitters, that is how life is….).
These words have made an indelible mark on my psyche and as I
grew older, I understood more the weight of those words. Whenever things do not
go my way, or when they do go my way, I find myself singing ‘’wata rana a sha zuma, wata rana a sha maɗaci….’’
and I feel so much better or I restrain my joy as the case may be. Baba would also
often make us chant after him “may I never rest, until my good is better and my
better best” – subtly, without us realising that he was instilling the spirit
of excellence and strong work ethic in each and everyone of us (his children). Baba
taught us contentment – he would habitually say and make us repeat after him
“If you can’t have what you want; want what you have.” When it was time for
prayers, he would sing “haramar sallah”
(prepare to pray) and we would all chorus “alwala”
(ablution) – repeatedly as we all marched in different directions (to perform
the ablution) only stopping the chants when we were out of sight of each other.
Up to this day, Baba still sings haramar
sallah to announce that it is time for prayers.
The most important lesson that I have learnt from my father
is patience. Patience in adversity, patience in moments of lack and patience
with the vicissitudes of life. In the early 2000s, Baba demonstrated uncommon
patience. With the new government reforms, industries collapsed and all of
Baba’s business interests suffered a major blow. He went from having so much to
having very little or at times even nothing at all – but he persevered. Year
in, year out, things got only but worse; but Baba accepted this fate with
utmost grace – showing not an ounce of bitterness; and for this, he has my
eternal reverence. Allah tells us that ‘’Verily,
with hardship comes ease’’ (Qur’an 94:5) and indeed; with hardship came
ease.
Finally, as the saying goes – “the best gift a father can
give his children is to love their mother" and Baba has indeed shown Mama
true love in words and in deeds. My parents do have an enviable relationship
and their favourite past time is writing palindromes – Baba would write the
first sentence in capitals and underline and Mama would complete the palindrome
and you would find the piece of paper casually lying around on a table or stool
in Baba’s living room. Baba would come back from an unusual trip to the grocery
store and buy Mama a pack of Kellogg’s Special K cereal which she loves and he
would say to her “here is some Special K for a special K” (in reference to her
second name Kulthum). It would make her happy to no end – basking in the
euphoria of a woman who knew her husband absolutely adored her.
They say nobody is perfect, but how perfect you are to me
Baba! Happy 80th to a distinguished gentleman. Babarbare mai halin Fulani! Durɓin
Daura! Papi! The estimable, the inestimable Baba! It is an incredible honour to
be your daughter.
Ni ce, Fatima tim tim.
Post Scriptum
Malam Mamman Daura was born on the 9th of
November, 1939 in Daura. He had his basic education at the Katsina Middle
School and Secondary Education at the Government College, Okene. In the late
1950s, he was sent to the UK for higher education by the then Northern Regional
Government as part of a small cohort of brilliant young northern men chosen by
the late Sardauna of Sokoto, Sir Ahmadu Bello. Malam Mamman Daura studied
English Language, English Literature, Latin and British Constitution at
Advanced Level at Bournemouth College. He was then admitted to the elitist
Trinity College, Dublin (The Irish equivalent of Oxbridge) and received a
Bachelor’s degree in Economics and Politics and a combined Masters degree in
Public and Business Administration. He
returned home and joined the mainstream civil service. He subsequently moved to
the New Nigerian Newspapers as Editor and eventually becoming its Managing
Director. Thereafter, he left to set up a private industry – The Kaduna
Furniture and Carpets Company (KFCC) which was at one time the largest
furniture manufacturing company in West Africa. Malam Mamman Daura was a key
driver of the northern Nigerian industrial revolution of the late 1970s and
1980s; with local and international partners and investors - setting up and
managing the following industries: Kaduna Aluminium Ltd, Kaduna Machine Works, Boots
Nigeria Ltd, United Nigeria Textiles Ltd (UNTL), Funtua Textiles (FTL), Arewa
Textiles, Nortex and Finetex. He was at various times a director or board
member, managing director or chairman of Hagameyer, Dunlop, African
International Bank and APICO Insurance. He also played a key role in the
management of the Northern Nigeria Development Company (NNDC), Nigeria
Television Authority (NTA) and Al-Huda Huda Printing Press. He was until
recently, an active member of the philanthropic organisation – Gidauniyar Jihar
Katsina (Katsina State Development Fund) as well as the Jama’atu Nasril Islam. He is married to Hajia Ummu Kulthum and together they
have 5 daughters, 1 son and 14 grandchildren.
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