Hajara Usman
It was just a casual meeting around February 1992. I was going to see my friend, Aisha in Ojo barracks to arrange a new accommodation with her as I could no longer stay in my previous place in Victoria Island with the coming of the new owners of the property and so, on my way to meet up with my friend, a gentle man offered me a lift and one thing led to another, and thus, a marriage spanning 31 years resulted between us.
Hassan Usman was an information officer with the defunct Social Democratic Party (SDP) when we met and I was a Staff Writer with Corporate Woman Magazine (CW). Within one week of meeting, he said he will be taking me to work every morning from Festac to Ikeja before going to his own place of work in Ikoyi then. I was actually aghast at this offer because I am naturally one who did not like to take people for granted or make unnecessary demands. I shrugged and believed he would soon get tired but he kept to his words and every morning, we would make sure we branched at (PWD) in ikeja to consume hot Amala, Ewedu and Gbegiri soup, spiced with orishirishi before he will drop me off at my work place and go to his own office. In the evening, he would come back and take me home. Such was the sensitivity of the man who later became the father of my five children.
IWD: ‘Women play crucial roles in Dangote Group success story’- Fatima Aliko Dangote
When our relationship clocked exactly one month, he told me I had to learn how to drive because he travels a lot and I would have to drop him off at the airport and pick him back home anytime he returns from his trips. I asked him why he was making all these commitments and he said it was because it was obvious that I am going to be his wife. I said “who will marry you? Me? You better look elsewhere because I am not ready for such. I am the senior daughter of my parents and have to see my younger siblings through school before settling down”. Secretly, I said to myself, “who go marry this kind short, rotund man wey no handsome sef?” My friends in Lagos were already making mockery of me with, “Hajara, where you go carry this kind ugly man come?” I only told them that what he lacks in looks are adequately made up for with a good heart so they should just let him be.
When he insisted he must teach me to drive, we were going for practice around that 7th avenue which was not as developed as other parts of Festac Town then. I can never forget how he patiently taught me about obstacle driving, reverse and sudden speedbreaks. Within two weeks, I was driving his car all around Festac without one day hanging the Learners Sign, my bad-mouthed friends in tow. Within a month, I could drive to anywhere in Lagos without a brush with anyone one single time. Such was the meticulousness with which he taught me to handle a car.
Towards the middle of 1992, it became obvious that MKO Abiola will contest the presidential election and hubby worked tirelessly in his Media Committee, in conjunction with Doyin Abiola and Dele Alake of the defunct Concord Newspapers to make sure he emerged not only at the convention in Jos but also won the presidential election in June 1993.
However, the annulment of the June 12 election in that same year signalled the beginning of the disillusionment of this fine young man with the Nigerian state as he had hoped for a prominent role in an Abiola’s government. He ventured into the aluminium roofing business and was quite successful because Hassan Usman is one who could sell ice to an Eskimo.
In 2006, he had his stroke and it was quite devastating for the family as we all battled with hospitals, drugs and loss of economic sustenance. Though there were periods of temporary recovery, he never really regained complete health because of the magnitude of the stroke. In February this year, he was hospitalized in the 44 reference hospital for 2 weeks and had to be given oxygen at some point to survive. Since then, he never really recovered until on Monday 16th October, 2023′ my dear husband, Hassan Usman breathed his last at home while we were preparing to take him to the hospital. For 2 weeks, he kept repeating the shahada, la ilaha illallah, so he was prepared to meet his Maker. Goodbye to one of the most generous, kind-hearted and humorous man I have ever known. We will all miss him but we believe he is in a better place. Alhamdullilah.
#HU🇳🇬