Fond memories of Mrs. Zaynab Abba Jato
On July 9, 2016, Mrs. Zaynab Abba Jato (the mother of my good friend and now brother, Dr. Musa Abba Jato) died in Saudi Arabia from a sudden asthma attack. Although Musa and I talked almost every other day ever since we met and became friends as classmates in secondary school, I did not interact with his mother (whom we all call Aunty) as much as I would have loved. The infrequency of my interaction with her earlier than I did could be a regret that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. I may therefore regret not having known Aunty much earlier and better, not having done more to reach across to her despite my engagement with the rigors of life, not having done more to exchange and share some common thoughts with her.
The regret for not exchanging and sharing thoughts with her may be partly self-centered because even though we all live in a world of boundless confrontations with the juggling acts of family, fatherhood, career, postgraduate education, and life in general, I could still have focused on the possibilities rather than the obstacles. I wish that I had tapped more into Aunty’s infectiously bright approach to life, her incurable refusal to allow the challenges of life deter her from planning for and envisioning a better future.
I got to know Aunty, first of all from afar and later closely. I knew her in our senior secondary school days in Maiduguri International School when she often drove to school in the mornings and evenings to drop off and pick up Musa and his siblings from school. I recall how she would sometimes come to school, park by the road side and shout out to any of us who might be her son’s classmate that we should let him know that she was outside waiting to pick him up. I even got to know Aunty much closer when I graduated from the University of Maiduguri where she worked as a high-ranking staff in the Registry. When I visited Maiduguri to get hold of my degree statement of result, I would realize that getting the result was not as straightforward as I thought. Then I informed Musa about the difficulty I was facing and he immediately told me to go and meet Aunty in her office and let her know about my problems. On meeting her, at once my result was ready. Not to forget, this was after several weeks of twists and turns with the university registry: first, it was said that my file was missing, and when it was later found, I was then told that certain forms inside the file were also missing; reasons why my result could not be handed to me. With Aunty’s intervention, I did not only get hold of my result, I also got my transcripts typed and forwarded to a UK university where I planned to enroll for postgraduate education.
That was Aunty. She could not help being nice, friendly, welcoming and more importantly, rescuing! She would not let those staff who work under her in the university registry to bring on their inefficiency in my way again. From that moment on, I got much closer to Aunty that she began to ask about me from her son, Musa. She would later be told by Musa that I occasionally contribute opinion pieces in Nigerian newspapers and on many Nigeria-centered internet news and opinion websites. Being an ardent reader, and a master grammarian that she was, she was so fascinated by English grammar, usage and style, that made her to immediately pick interest in my writings and to read several of my essays. I still remember how one day when I visited her house in Maiduguri, she cautioned me to be careful about some of the things I was writing about, to not invite any harm my way.
Having finished with youth service, I enrolled in a UK university for my master’s degree. During this time, I occasionally spoke with her through the distance and each time I phoned to greet her she was ever so cheerful and gracious. She had been playing the role of a mother which she did quite effortlessly on her part: it was Aunty being herself.
Done with my studies in the UK, each time I visited Abuja from Yola, I usually stayed in Aunty’s house with Musa, where Aunty was visiting occasionally from Maiduguri where she was living as she was still working with the university there. Each time she was present in the house in Abuja, we were very sure that we had ample food available because she never hesitated to cook for us and even pamper us with motherly love. In the evenings when we sat in the living room to chat before retiring to bed, Aunty would always engage and advise us; Me, Musa, and others in our age group; on the need to live up to our potential, to help others who may not be as privileged if and when we can, and to tow that path in life that we had considered impossible. She was ever so willing, ready to encourage, and determined to see us all, her kids, prosper and thrive.
When I was back in the UK for another degree in 2015, I had been concerned about how to get hold of my University of Maiduguri certificate which was long due for collection, several years after graduation. I was contemplating on the possibility of visiting Maiduguri to collect my certificate when Aunty heard about my intentions through Musa and told me not to worry; that she would get me the certificate without me traveling to Maiduguri. On receipt of my certificate through her effort, never did I know that her kind gesture was only a postponement of my visit to Maiduguri. I never knew, that sooner rather than later, I would be visiting the city of Maiduguri in grief; for condolence over Aunty’s demise.
All of us who knew Aunty have our own story to tell; stories which illustrate the beautiful character and spirit she exuded. May Allah bless her soul and grant her paradise.
