His phone rang. He neither picked nor returned my calls. That was unusual. Like a frightened mouse, my heart raced in my chest, hoping that the news was not correct. When Hon. Sulyman Warah, now in Abuja, returned my several calls, he was merely consoling me. He was sobbing, and struggling to control himself. “Our friend is dead”, he confirmed. That was the news I found difficult to comprehend. But it was the reality. Sen. Rafiu Ibrahim had passed on.
In deed, the good trees do not last long in the forest. Maybe with the exception of the Baobab and Iroko trees, which always grow bigger than the hands of men can clasp around and pull down. But our good trees? They don’t last long. And so, like the good tree, Rafiu Ibrahim, the senator from Kwara South , was harvested from the forest of humanity last week. Writing a dirge in memory of the cerebral financial guru and lawmaker is a difficult endeavor. I’m heartbroken. I’m shattered. I’m distraught. I’m confused. My heart bleeds.
Rafiu Ibrahim’s death came as a rude shock. Most unexpected, not because I do not know that even a day-old child could die, but because he was a good tree we would have loved to remain. Many enjoyed the shade under that tree. Many, many people did. The last time I flew with him to Abuja where he introduced me to one of his numerous friends, he told me we shared a common destiny when I tried to appreciate his humanity and humility. Now the tree is down, out of use forever!!!
A good man is gone. A genuine friend is lost forever. A true definition of compassion is out of the tree of humanity. A sincere politician is out of the race, forever. No more to plan, no more to strategise, no more to watch as men use power to snatch power from him. He is above us all, now.
But then every death leaves us with its own message. The first message from the demise of Senator Rafiu Ibrahim is that all men must prepare, like the Boys Scout charge says. There is no debating with death when its grim messenger comes; there is no excuse, no appeal. When it comes, you are ready, even if you are not ready. How then should we live this life of vanity upon vanity knowing that no matter our position, no matter our affluence, there is an unseen force that can take us away from everything at a short notice, even without our inviting it. And once that force grabs us, it takes us away from our loved ones, from our possession, from our ambition, from our agitations, from our strengths, from our weaknesses, from our plans. In fact, it takes us away from everything, except the last cloth on our body, which may be a simple bathroom towel!
I am sure my brother from another mother knew this brutal truth about death, and so he lived his life with meaning. He lived prepared. He lived for the people. He served the people. He loved his people. There was no pretense about his love for the people. There was no pretense about his loyalty. There was no pretense about his commitment to the development of his constituency and the state in general. There was no pretense about his humility. There was no pretense about his readiness to sacrifice his personal gain for the overall benefit of the majority.
Rafiu was a man of peace. He was a towering intellectual but found ready seat among those far below him. No man was too low for him to relate with. Little wonder the shock that reverberated throughout the land when news of his demise broke. We all wish it was not so, but who can stop what has been ordained?
The mammoth crowd at the Muslim cemetery in Ilorin was a testimony to the life Senator Rafiu lived: for the people, for the downtrodden, for the lowly, and also for his big colleagues who endured the pressure of the day to witness the last rite for the distinguished lawmaker. Even in death, Rafiu chose to sleep among the very people he cared for while alive. He was buried away from his mansion. He was buried at a Muslim Cementary. The Janazah was led by no other than one who leads and directs Muslims in the community, the chief Imam of Ilorin, Imam Muhammad Bashir.
So, let us turn the testimonies about his life around and convert them to questions meant for those of us still in the forest: Are you prepared? Are you living for the people or just yourself? Are you serving the people in the privilege position you occupy today? Is your love for the people only a pretense, a roadshow? Is your loyalty truly true, or are you just waiting for an opportunity to put the dagger at the back of your leader? Can your people come out to say truly, truly, you have helped to develop your community? Are you approachable, or are you haughty, proud, and arrogant? Are you for peace or always for war? Can the lowly find allocation near your location?
Rafiu Ibrahim is gone, and the world mourns. What would the world say or do when your time comes? Rafiu Adebayo Ibrahim was a good man. May the Almighty Allah forgive his shortcomings and accept him into Al-janatul firdaos.