Muhsin Ibrahim
@muhsin234
I was at the renowned Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, for a 7-day internship in Radio and TV Production from 25th September to 1st October 2016. As a budding writer, critic, and public
commentator, I have seen and observed many things sufficient to
write a book on. I have already chronicled some of these on my Facebook page. This
article consists of at least two such status updates. Here you go.
On Self-Reliance
There is a centre under the Department of Theatre
and Performing Arts of the University called the Centre of Excellence. A lady sells
snacks, soda and other fast foodstuffs at the entrance. She dresses well,
smiles at her customers and other passers-by who care to say hi. I often did
that, and she friendlily responded. However, I doubt if anyone among us, both the staff and the students, had ever bought anything from her, and that was where most of the internship lectures were conducted, as it houses the non-broadcast TV studio for practicals and classes.
There was a session that was supposed to be handled
by a Department staff member, who was, however, absent. All the other staff
members present were hesitant to give the lecture for one reason or another. So the exercise was temporarily stalled. And then, one of them said, Okay,
let’s call Miss Mariam. She could do it, he assured me, for she had recently finished her master’s degree, and he sent for her. I didn’t
know who that was, but I knew she wasn’t part of the program.
As we waited, the snack-seller climbed the
stairs and said to us: “Good afternoon, sirs. Here I am”. I was like, you? I
couldn’t quickly believe she was the one to give the lecture. Or think that she’s
the same lady we pass by every day, selling snacks. One of us - the lecturers – asked
if her Coca-Cola was cold. She responded in the affirmative. So he sent her back to bring him a bottle. I didn’t know when I brought out my wallet, paid for
the bottle, and asked her to hold back the change as she attempted to give it to me.
That is a big lesson for many, especially my Hausa
people. Although her name is Mariam, she’s obviously neither Hausa nor Muslim.
I know many, yes, many people down here and with her qualification will not ‘stoop
that low’ to do what she does. But isn’t that far better than being jobless,
beggarly or doing other illicit works for a living? It is. It, of course, is. May
she get a better job, amin.
In Need of a Cleaner
University
Cleanness is part of our dear religion, Islam. We are,
thus, right from the early stage of our lives, permanently enjoined to be tidy and
clean. We are encouraged to sweep our environs, remove cobwebs, cut our
nails and hair regularly, use our sanitary rooms well, and generally be
very conscious of our hygiene. But not everyone heeds that. Public toilets and
other places tend to be the dirtiest areas one can ever find themselves in. This
spills over to our schools, from primary through university. Nowhere
is safeguarded.
For many readers following my status updates on Facebook, I once wrote a scathing criticism of how some so-called intellectuals use toilets even at the university where I work. The disapproval nearly led to a rift between me and the intellectuals I referred to. ABU is not like ours. One of the palpable things I noticed and
appreciated is how the toilets of both the students and staff, at least
the ones I visited, and those are many, were well taken care of by their
dutiful cleaners. The water runs around the clock, and the cleaners stick around the toilets in case any careless user refuses to flush after use. They do it.
The story is, unfortunately, contrary to its younger sister university. I, in fact, contemplated the truism of the famous, bragging slogan that says, “An ABU graduate is ahead of you naturally”. The headway may not be much, but there it is in
many ways. The cleanliness is praiseworthy, as even fallen leaves on the roads and in other places, including gutters, are swept up and treated.
On a second and closer look at the two scenarios, I
discovered a possible reason for that. Our attitude. Actually, many sub-staff,
particularly the cleaners, don’t do their work as they should. Some cleaners could
be mistaken for professors, as they dress better than some professors. That very likely misleads them into neglecting their responsibilities. Yes, one can be that
endowed, but one should be discharging their duties in accordance with their employment
agreement.
There are, of course, many Hausa/Fulani Muslims
working as cleaners in ABU. But they now have a different worldview than ours
down here. That happened primarily because they mingled with those more dedicated to their assignments. It’s what we call “in ba ka yi, ba ni waje”,
meaning “if you don’t do it, leave the position for another to do it”. There
are many present, hankering for the positions, irrespective of how little
they will be getting. Thus, the moment one leaves, their place will be
refilled.
Reflecting on the egoistic nature of our people, I
don’t readily blame some businessmen or proprietors and proprietresses of many private schools or other private outlets for hiring non-indigenes. We are, many a time, lazy, full of pride and complacency. For instance, this attitude is rarely seen among others, especially the poor and non-indigenes in
Kano. They have left home, some hundreds or more kilometres away.
The University authority should also be held equally responsible.
As the employers of those cleaners, the management reserves the responsibility
to check on their employees and take appropriate action against defaulters.
Allah yasa mu gyara, amin.
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