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| Late Alh. Dalhatu M Bawa 1945-2001 |
Tuesday July
15th 1945 saw the birth of a bouncing baby boy, whose first baby crying echoes
deep to the ears and hearts of every soul around waiting for his arrival. Little
did any of them know that that child will grow to become a voice not just for
them, but to many. This child is none other but Late Alh. Dalhatu Mustapha
Bawa.
His early age and life has given him
so many nicknames, due to either an effort or an achievement.
"Kawun
Siniya" (Senior Uncle) a nickname he earned simply for being one of the
few to have made it to the then Senior Primary school. Which sent him to far
away Sokoto to attend the then Arabic Teachers college Sokoto. Before his
Graduation from higher institution, he became one of the first few youths to own an
automobile, and has what was then regarded as the elites cut (The Afro cut),
this new status earned him a another nickname "Yaro da Kudi" (which
is part of an adage that simply means A rich young man, is a friend of the
elders). he earned himself more nicknames most of which are after he had start
work with the Nigerian Television Authority the NTA. One few that lasted longer
than the rest are "Kawu Bawa" from his "Yaran Manyan Gobe"
Children TV show and "The Puppet Master" during his tenure as the
first HOD production of the then newly created NTA TV College.
Who is this man called DM Bawa? To
many he's simply that multi-talented Broadcaster, a presenter, producer,
writer, director and actor. To some he is that foster father who is more of a
paternal father, to others he's a teacher, a guide, a mentor, an uncle, a
brother, a friend and a husband. But to me he's my everything.
My father was,
is and will forever be my best friend, I learned virtually everything I know
from him, he thought me what no teacher could teach, he guided me through what
no experience could guide through, he believed in me more than how I ever
believed in myself, at a point I thought I was the favorite child, but little
did I know he gave that which he gave to me to all his 11 children, his wife,
his siblings, his colleagues and friends. He was so generous with his kind
heart that many believed he's too nice to a fault.
I hardly forget any moment we spent
together, which means I have in store in my brain hundreds of thousands of
gigabytes of memories, but one that keeps popping up is the only memory of him
that does not include him in particular. Yes, it was on the 24th of November
2001, I was in Kaduna, which I believe he's either in Jos, Lafia (our home
town) or Abuja. It was during a fasting period then Ramadan has just began, at
least that was the 9th day of Ramadan, I was getting ready for an outing
which was more of a hustle, but the motivation behind it, Is that I will be using
the money to buy a gift for my then found new love.
I was so
excited and eager to leave my grandmothers (where I was staying). When my mom's
uncle Baba Jafaru arrived and we exchanged pleasantries, I was so sure that
he's not his usual self that day, but I wasn’t paying attention as I was eager
to bail out and hit the road. After taking my bath, my grandmother summoned me
and asks me to get ready to travel to Lafia, I tried to make excuses not to,
but she insisted, saying that my vibrant, energy flowing father is admitted in
the hospital and he has particularly asked for me. "DARAM" the bomb, deep inside my heart I felt the lost but my
heart and stubborn love for the TV veteran refuses to accept it, and I was
forcing myself to believe that he's just lying down there on his sick bed. I
arranged my things and to the greatest of my surprise my grandmother insist
that my mom's younger brother Hadi, escorts me, I thought it was to the park,
but I was shaken more when he ended up paying for both our fares. We roll on the
journey and for over 7 hours throughout the journey, we said nothing to each
other.
We arrived at
Lafia, just few minutes to the iftar (Breaking of the Fast) period and we went
straight to our house, but meet the absence of the whole house members, instead
we met a couple of friends who also just arriving from Jos, and one of them
Moh'd Nazifi starts condoling me almost immediately, I chose not to hear, and
ask them the whereabouts of everybody and we were redirected to our family
house, we headed out to "Kofan Zanwa" our historical family house and
I saw the huge crowd gathered in front of the house and the "Zaure"
(Hallway), there I knew there is no more denial, but courageously and hopefully
I make way into the house, hoping to meet someone to give me a good news,
something away from the worst that I fear the most.
"Wayyo
Allah" the shouts and screams of members of my extended family attacks my
ears, disrupting the rhythmatic sound of my blood pumping heart beat. My
presence has reminded many of my late father, and so they continue to cry, some
even asking and saying how will I coupe without the man I grew up closely too?
I looked around for someone from my immediate family members and from a far
angle in an isolated corner I saw the figure of my mom, in a dark over large
Hijab, and an extraordinary long Charbi (prayer beads), it is now answered and
proven that that man I wish to grow old with is no more. but feeling like a
strong-man I walked gently to my mother who is sitting beside my immediate elder
brother Ahmad and I manly called up to her wanting to ask her where is daddy,
but immediately after I called "Mama" she raises her head and I was
not blind to see the streams of tears decorating her sad and agonized face. I
fell down to my feet and bury my face in her lap, and I cried for as long as 3
whole hours. I refuse to hear anybody who is trying or console or calm me down,
and the only thing I could hear is my own voice saying, "I have not seen
him for almost a year, you should have called me to see him when he was actually
sick"
After accepting the truth, I learnt
that daddy had died since yesterday the 23rd of November which coincides with
the 8th of Ramadan that same year. 8th of Ramadan on the Islamic Lunar
Calendar, that means that Late Alh. Dalhatu Mustapha Bawa, the Magajin Rafin
Lafia and Shatiman Kayarda has spent 12 Lunar years in his grave yesterday the
8th of Ramadan.
From Mama Haj.
Mairo A. Dalhatu, to my siblings and I; Haj. Hadiza Mohammed, Mustapha, Ahmed, Rufa'i (Me), Dahiru, Bashir, Fatima Ummaty, Sa'adatu, Abdulhameed, Jamila and
Moh'd Auwal we say like always Baba we remember you yesterday and today again.
It has been 12 years and still counting the years like yesterday.
RD
Bawa...
Had some issues with lighting in some key scenes that would have redefine cinematic moments, story had its little flaws (but which story doesn't?) But a good story with some amassing plots. The Direction wasn't the best I have seen from an Indian Director, but it's one of the best attempt at achieving greatness. In overall: is this the film that makes Bollywood better or just equal to Hollywood? The answer is NO, but if they can master the effects, lighting, perfect the performance of the rest of the actors, remove the Indian music scenes (it doesn't work for a serious adventure even for Bollywood), reduce unnecessary shots, to many angles, get a little more adventurous sounds, music and score, and get a better subtitle in the forthcoming sequel, ? Only then I can say YES. Bollywood and Hollywood are at Per... Personal opinion.
