Death as reminder

Aliyu Musa

On receiving the tragic news of my sister’s death what immediately crossed my mind and my wife’s too (as she later told me) was whether I did enough to save her life. About three weeks back I called home and my mum informed me of Salamatu’s illness. She sounded really alarmed and wanted to take her home to look after her.

But because she was married we thought matters like that could only be handled carefully. So, my brother and I agreed to put the request to her husband. Unfortunately he declined.

On the night she slipped into coma she was obviously on her own. My mum had an inkling something was wrong and visited very early in the morning only to find her unconscious. I found out her husband earlier discovered her in that condition but for reasons best known to him he set off for work. It took a firm insistence from my brother to get him back home to convey her to hospital. His action, which defies logic, adds to my depression since her death. I have yet to stop asking myself if we did the right thing by not insisting on taking her home. But death will come when it will come.

On the day she died I had real trouble holding back my emotion but I didn’t want my children to see me sobbing, so I worked hard to suppress it. My wife wept silently. She was very depressed too, while the kids oblivious of what happened played around the house.

Usually when such tragic news comes, we find it very difficult to talk much and retire to bed early. On this occasion I found myself reflecting on life, our purpose on earth. Ever since I listened to Sheikh Ibrahim Bawa Maishinkafa’s tafsir of Suratul Khafi shortly before his death I always find myself getting emotional listening to its recitation or tafsir. My wife probably realized how much I admire Sheikh Abubakar Shatri’s recitation of it, so she played the one she recorded on Islam Channel. I listened quietly and fell briefly asleep.

Something startled me back to life and I continued my reflection. I recalled the entire thirty-something years I knew Salamatu as my sister.

Salamatu and my wife Khadijat were best of friends. I first met Khadijat through her in the early 1990s when she came visiting one day after school. Since then I saw her come visit several times but it never occurred to me she was going to be my better half. It was in 2001 that I first pondered the idea and Salamatu was one of the first persons I spoke to about it. I also realized my family had been working on the same theory and wanted to sell the idea to me but were not sure I would like it. With Salamatu being privy to both schemes (mine and theirs), things simply worked out well. The only other bit was how to inform Khadijat.

Salamatu offered to help out.

As we were growing up our dad had become aged, so the responsibility of ensuring discipline among our younger siblings passed on to us. One day, I recall, Salamatu had done something wrong and I wanted to penalize her. Perhaps she considered the punishment harsh so she reminded me thus: “But I am your little sister”. I quickly agreed and lightened the punishment. As I remembered this encounter, a tear crept down my cheek.

The day of her wedding fatiha flashed through my memory. I wanted to drive to Jos early that Friday but there were Weekly Trust pages (Trust International) to look after. By the time I managed to complete those, it was nearly noon. But as I hurried into my car, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, which I expected to subside. Instead it worsened and before long I could hardly stand on my feet. It was my colleague, Ahmed Tahir, that drove me home in his car and for the next three days I was confined to my bed. That was how I missed my baby sister’s wedding day. The thought of it pulled down yet another tear.

In my last conversation with her, I asked how she felt and she said very poorly. But I reassured her that God was with her. All my life, I have learnt to trust in Him, after doing my best, no matter the outcome. I know her fight was quite brave but God knows best why she lost. Perhaps I should have been firmer than I was. But if it was His will, she still would have died.

I struggled to hold back tears and began reciting verses from Surah Ar-Rum (Qur’an 30: 17-27) in which Allah The Majesty mentions His signs, one of which is, He brings the living out of the dead and brings the dead out of the living…His signs are there to serve as a reminder to us. Death is inevitable. My baby sister Salamatu, I pray He grants you rest in a Garden of Bliss.

Postscript:

This article also appears in the Blueprint newspaper of Friday 12 April 2012.