MUHAMMADU: A LETTER TO AN 8-YEAR OLD GENTLEMAN IN HEAVEN
When your mother and I got married in October 2001, I earnestly beseeched God Almighty to bless our union with a baby girl first, just like the Last Prophet. But Allah, in His finest wisdom, launched us into parenthood with you, a baby boy, whose gentleness of heart and cleanliness of soul rivaled those of even the noblest of womankind. We had to name you Muhammadu.
The Indian doctor that midwifed you into this world introduced you to me as ‘a lovely gift from God’. So when I collected your tiny body in a white bundle, and your face widened in a beautiful smile before the opening of your tiny eyes, I had no idea you would spend only seven years with us. I had no way of knowing that you would not be alive to celebrate your eighth birthday on the 7th of August in 2010.
Truly, as Allah planned, you came, you fulfilled your destiny and you returned to the Almighty on the 22nd of May. The destiny you fulfilled was that of worshipping him and registering your presence in our lives and those of many who had met you and even some who had not. The richness of your heart, the softness of your demeanor, the sharpness of your brain and of course, the love you had for everyone enriched our lives beyond compare. You made us the envy of parents; you turned us friends to stray kids, cat and plants; you challenged our intellectual faculties (and even those of your teachers); and above all, you reminded us of the nobility of faith in God.
You were such a happy kid, so full of life and knowledge, from your effervescent tonnes of questions, opinions and insight. You were so friendly to all who came your way that our home turned a playground. Your toys were fair game. Your bike was everybody’s bike. Your pencils, rulers and cleaners belonged to your classmates. Worst of all, the contents of your lunch box were hardly ever blessed by you. Everything you ever got was shared by all, sometimes to the utter chagrin of ours, your parents. Those, Muhammadu, were some of the reasons why many men, women and children cried at the news of your demise.
Your signing out was so tragic that the intellectual community in Zaria still reel from the shock of it all. The authorities are still investigating the circumstances that led to your departure to the Great Beyond. Some insisted we must take somebody to court! But the truth is, as we were told, Allah has promised us His Janna if we sincerely persevered, believing that you came from Him and nobody could have taken you back, but Him. We believe that and submit to Him hoping to earn His favour for He has blessed us in your life and He promised to exalt us in your absence. Besides, He loves you more. He has taken you to a better place, where we all hope to go. We have to thank Him for the advancement in your fortune. And I even envy you for it. But we miss you.
We miss you because we saw in you the best of us: Allah infused in you all the noble and incredible qualities of your mother and the few good ones in me. We missed you because you brightened our home with such happiness and laughter and grace. We missed your attention to detail, neatness, composure and decorum. We missed your phenomenal interest in and gift of the written and spoken word. We missed your command of Abdallah’s and Haneefa’s attention which allowed us to attend to a few other things. We missed the sounds of your supplications to God as you entered or left the house or bathroom, as you alighted from the car, as you sneezed or yawned, and as you received or gave. We also miss how you disappeared into the cartoon or game world whenever the mood descended, how your food aged as it waited for your call.
Allah knows better the reason for your absence in our lives now. But I guess you should know that Abdallah is trying his best to step into those gigantic shoes of yours. He is in-charge now. He proudly tells the world that his brother is in Heaven enjoying and has left him to be the boss. He wears your clothes, plays your games on all the laptops and phones. Your Ben 10 wristwatch adorns his hands and he cannot wait to be big enough to ride on your bike instead of his. But when, recently, he told Minsha, the househelp whom you were calling ‘my sister’, that he wanted to be knocked down by a car too so he could die and go to Heaven to meet you, I knew we had to use you to address him.
So forgive me for I told him that I had a dream in which you said I should tell him not to try that, since God said anybody who killed himself would go to Hell. That you said I should thank him for being a good boy and that you wanted him to stay and take care of Haneefa, Ummi Zubaida and me. He listened attentively and promised to do just that. I think it is working.
Now, I know Heaven is so cool that you would not want to leave it to come back to this unkind place. I know your prayer is for us to quickly join you in the wonderful Garden of Eden. But I assure you, until that day and time when Allah will grant your wish, by His will, you shall live imperially in our hearts and minds. We shall continue to celebrate your life and never ever forget the exquisite good you accomplished during such a brief sojourn amidst us.
Meeting you in my dreams and visiting your grave have soothing effects on the sore holes in my heart, so much that there was a day in which I wished the myth of seeing ghosts were true, so I could get to meet you right here again. But rest assured, we all cannot wait to join you. We have more reasons to want to get there now… to reunite with you. And we shall be there at Allah’s appointed time.
Thank you, my gentleman friend and son, for such a wonderful life.
