The tiff between me and my friend, Umar Iliya Damagum, by Hassan Gimba

The Arbiter

For those who may not know, considering that I am a journalist and he is a politician, the first time I knew Ambassador Umar Iliya Damagum, the Acting National Chairman of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), was in 1977, some 48 years ago.

When God brought us together at Government College Maiduguri, we were both teenagers, eager and ready to dive headlong into the world of adventure. We wanted to survey the world, savour its mysteries, learn from the experience it would offer us, become better humans, and collect the baton from those we saw at its helm.

Five years down the line, we all took our various paths and, pulled by the hands of fate, each went on to fulfil the call of destiny. And like the life of every human, each of us went through various forms of trials, tribulations, and successes that define what we all are today, lending credence to the truism that “man is the sum total of his experiences in life.” These experiences have shaped us and contributed significantly to our personal growth.

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Although we were in different classes and hostels, our relationship has always been built on mutual respect and openness. Damagum was of sound mind and jovial. He loved jokes and was commendably fiercely independent. Despite his relatively small size, he was his own man and was loyal to his friends and mentors.

From those formative years, Ambassador Damagum has done wonderfully well for himself. His achievements have made those of us who love to say we are GOCOMAID products proud—especially those of us from the 1982 set.

A few weeks ago, though, he got upended over an issue left for him to prove his enemies wrong because whether he likes it or not, believes it or not, acts it or not, it is in public discourse. As a politician of his stature, he cannot escape allegations, false or true, and he cannot wish away criticisms even if he were a political saint. He is in the kitchen and must be ready to take the heat.

I formed this WhatsApp group four years ago for our college-year mates and did the same for our Shehu Garbai Primary school-year mates. Mates who have not met for years reconnect in these groups, and friendships are rekindled. In the primary school group, some left Maiduguri after General Murtala Mohammed created seven more states in 1976, and some left earlier due to relocation. The WhatsApp group brought us all back together.

Such groups are platforms where mates who fortune is smiling at try, individually or collectively, to pull up those who fortune is snarling at. It is also an avenue where mates can tackle each other for the good of all and society. It is also a place where you can put each other to task and challenge each other for the betterment of one another. It is also a place where you can ask any member, especially a public official whose activities are open to scrutiny by the public, for an explanation because his shame can rub off on other members and even the alma mater.

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Therefore, if any of us hear accusations, false or true, against him that contradict what we knew him to be, it is incumbent upon us to bring them to his attention. I also expect the same if he or any of my mates hear of accusations against me that border on unethical deeds. This open communication is crucial for maintaining trust and understanding among us.

So, I brought up an accusation by Dele Adeyanju against the ambassador over his political activities for further clarification. Even though he posted an apology letter by Adeyanju, my friend took offence, accused me of envy, and assured me he would remain PDP chairman whether I liked it or not, a proposition neither beneficial nor harmful to me. I told him I would never have written positively about him on at least two occasions and allowed others to project him beautifully in my newspaper if I was not proud of his achievements.

From a tender age, I have been lucky to realise that envy is not only from the devil but a disease that debilitates the soul and affects the countenance. I also learned long ago that the heart is a good fertiliser, so I planted love rather than hate and jealousy in mine. If I were to envy someone (to imitate), it would be one whose soul, illuminated by knowledge, approaches the throne of the Creator, for at my age now, I am much nearer that side than this. But perhaps he was looking at it from the adjectival prism, hence his protective anger.

But talking about age and inferring jealousness (that was what he meant), I know that if I were to enter politics today, which I would not, I would never come near where Ambassador Damagum has reached. And if he were to enter my profession today, he would enter his grave without acquiring a quarter of what I know. Surely, he may be wealthier, but that may bother only those who worship money and do everything with it in mind.

Again, what would further debunk the perception of jealousy can be derived from an incident when he wanted to contest for the governorship of our state, Yobe, in 2023. We met in Maitama at the house of a senior politician from Yobe, our mutual benefactor. On seeing me, he told him, “Your Excellency, dama ina so na kawo karan Hassan wajen ka…” or “I have wanted to report Hassan to you; he is not supporting my ambition.” I did not allow the respected elder to speak but quickly said, “I just saw your intent on Facebook; however, I am already committed to the ambition of Mai Mala.”

To be fair to him, he did not pursue it, telling us, “I understand; I know you have come a long way since the days of the Advanced Congress of Democrats (ACD).” We left the matter there, never to be brought up again.

Nonetheless, that did not stop me from calling three of our classmates, Umar Ibrahim Biu, then a director with the Central Bank; Liman Shettima, chief procurement officer at the University of Maiduguri; and Mohammed Mai Luku, a retired Yobe State auditor, and telling them to call for a meeting of the old boys to drum support for him. I told them I would not attend because I was committed to the Mai Mala project, but “for psychological and solidarity reasons,” they should call the meeting. I told them it was the least we could do for him because he had the habit of assembling and entertaining mates in his house.

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Yet, I am a journalist. He is a politician. While I am used to probing and prodding for answers, he is used to hedging and surreptitious planning. Nevertheless, at our ages, being grandfathers with stakes in Nigeria, we must unite to strengthen our constitutional democracy. Nigeria, after God, must rank the highest on our list of priorities. It is more so for him because he is at a point in his life where his name can be written in Nigeria’s history, either with gold ink or charcoal.

Having said all this, I believe, and I agree, that every man is free to follow his chosen path. Either narrow, bushy, thorny, and challenging but noble, or cruise on the smooth and wide autobahn that is comfortable but perditious. After all, even the God who created us and sent us messengers with truth gifted us the free will to decide which path to ply.