The Learner

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim @muhsin234 I wrote an article  about a year or so ago on the sweeping spate of dirty politics taking the centre stage of my state Kano , Nigeria . It solely focused on the two leading archrivals, the present governor of the state, Engr. Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso and his predecessor, Malam Ibrahim Shekarau. Their politicking forays into the daily lives of Kano people. Often, loyalty or otherwise to one of them defines our identity. No matter how hard one tries to reconcile the two, he or she is bound to fail. They are practically seen as totally the opposite of the other like fire and water; loving both is believed to be incompatible. Whatever, I stand to defy this fallacy. It’s my humble belief that both did something for the state; both deserve some respect; both are humans, not demons; and neither performed to a T. A few days ago, a very good, elder friend of mine awkwardly described my behaviour of what he calls ‘proving people wrong’ as chil...

This article was written by BALA MUHAMMAD and first published by Weekly Trust (Nigeria) on Saturday, 22 September 2012. It’s however very relevant as ever. The recent attack on the French satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo’s office in Paris behooved me to reproduce it here. Inasmuch as I don’t condone the murder, the actions of the newspaper are downright condemnable.    _________________________________________________________   His name is Muhammad. And all of us, now One and a Half Billion Souls and counting, love him beyond compare. In fact we so love him that others just can’t understand or comprehend. They don’t get it, and they can’t get it, for they know not this kind of love. We love him more than we love our parents; indeed we love him more than we love ourselves! The moment we hear his name invoked, we immediately add: “May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him.” O we so love him, Muhammad! He left us more than 14 centuries ago, yet it...

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim muhsin2008@gmail.com @muhsin234 A dictionary definition of the word “trust” says: “ If you trust someone, you believe they are honest and sincere and will not deliberately do anything to harm you. ” Many of us used to take the famous Guaranty Trust Bank (GTB), Nigeria as such, for in addition to that word, its name includes another resolute, confirmatory word: guaranty. However, they have recently betrayed that name by acting in its exact opposite. We are now gravely harmed by them; and the bank's handlers are consistently being insincere and dishonest to us. It was and still is a bombshell, as a friend described it, for the GTB users living in India, Malaysia, Indonesia, South Korea and St. Kitts waking up with our Naira MasterCard as a little better than a piece of sh*t. Yes, for one cannot withdraw a Kobo with it from any ATM even if one has trillions in his/her account. The bank blocked all our cards without any deliberation on the con...

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim @muhsin234 I was his favourite student. Our Agricultural Science teacher at junior secondary school was confident that I understood his lesson more than others. He soon also became my fave. I admired his pretty handwriting and his good command of English. He would occasionally call me to another class when members of the class failed to answer his questions. He would throw the same question to me. I never disappointed him. As my reward and a punishment for the student(s), he would imprudently order me to slap him very hard in the face. That endeared him to me but also made me somehow infamous among my mates. By virtue of this endearment, I was slowly tempted to be like him, in fact, to become him by studying his discipline. Once I told my brother about it. He suspiciously asked why. He simply laughed it off when I finished. I was earlier afraid that he would blast me with the litany that was not what everyone wanted me to do, or at least show his dis...

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim @muhsin234 Yippee! I got a new bicycle! This, coupled with my recent admission into a private primary school, inflated my ego so high. Admittedly speaking, I sort of started feeling pompous among my peers. A very few children were that privileged in all our neighbourhoods then. I had, though already, finished another primary school when I was taken to this school. It was an expensive, prestigious, privately-owned primary school now, so no problem. I would stay for only a year and then proceed to another famous, private college. All of this was meant to pave my way to study medicine at the university. Before taking a bath and breakfast, it became my routine to go to my new best friend, my bicycle. I would check it, dust it, and try it. Until I was satisfied that everything was fine, I could not move to another thing for the morning. I would then get ready and bid farewell to my stepmother and siblings and set out to my new school. The school h...

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim muhsin2008@gmail.com @muhsin234 Writing—not speaking, reading or listening—is the most complex aspect of language learning skills. Writing is a talent which not everyone is endowed with. Writing is best done by the students of language or those in the Arts, and blah-blah-blah. Often one hears statements like these. No doubt writing is not a piece of cake, but it is neither a gift nor, with apologies to Niyi Osundare, an esoteric whisper for any coterie. As you are able to read this article, you also can write and write a well-composed piece. Yes, you. An award-winning American cognitive scientist, Steven Pinker asserts in his book, The Sense of Style that “Writing is an unnatural act”. He further quotes Charles Darwin who observed that ‘Man has an instinctive tendency to speak, as we see in the babble of our young children, whereas no child has instinctive tendency to bake, brew or write’. I can’t agree more. Language is acquired by a child and...

Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim muhsin2008@gmail.com @muhsin234 In a concluding remark of our long phone call, a Nigerian friend studying in Delhi told me about the Kano Grand Mosque bombs during the Jumu’at prayers. How come? I had lately made calls to the city and, as a tradition, I asked about Jumu’at prayers. None said a word on the blast. My mind was instantly boggled. A voice from within tried to calm me; it said that that was a rumour . It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be there. Not now; never. After all, the Grand Mosque was the safest niche the good people of Kano would escape to when the Ya'juj and Ma'juj (Gog and Magog) come in the end of the world. I used to think it that way in my childhood, but not without reason. The aura of belonging and the serenity one feels inside the mosque is beyond description. Many, if not all, that grew up in the Kano metro some 20 years ago or more know what I am talking about.         My mind ke...