I actually walked past without recognising her. This was at the auditorium of the National Judicial Institute, the venue of the on-going National Conference. “Brother,” she called out. And I stopped in my tracks, for the voice was unmistakably hers; yet, the person before me could not be her. I assumed my senses were playing terrible tricks on me. I looked at her again. Yes, it could not be her! “Brother,” she repeated. This could not be Dora, my sister. It must not be Dora, I told myself. The person in front of me was more than a poor shadow of the lively and vivacious Dora that we had all come to know. It was hard to imagine that this was the same woman who had enthralled us all with her charming personality and relentless energy. But it was her.
We hugged and greeted. I knew she had been ill because before then she had sent me a text message to say she was going abroad for treatment. But even that knowledge was not enough to prepare me for the Dora that I saw that day. Sensing what was going on in my mind, she told me she was feeling much better and that she had not forgotten about her fish. “Brother, e don tey you no bring me fish,” she said. After this encounter, I managed to walk up to take my seat in the auditorium. But for the rest of the day, I was sad and depressed.
The very next day, Friday, I set about procuring Dora’s fish, insisting on the best and the biggest one. But unfortunately, it was not her favourite Asa that was found. So we settled for Giwan Ruwa. On Saturday morning, I went to her house on Rudolph Street, Maitama, with the fish in tow. For the first time since I had known her she could not come down to greet me. Instead, she invited me to come up.
She was very excited to see me. I found her eating pineapple and pawpaw. The fish was brought up to her, and she requested that they should prepare pepper soup with the head of the fish for her. We discussed for about 30 minutes. She told me her health had improved, and that she was much better. She spoke to me about her faith in the Almighty, and I prayed that God would make her well. I left her, not knowing then that that was going to be our last meeting.
Now, as I reflect on that last encounter, I realise that even though I was not prepared just yet to say goodbye to Dora, my sister was all fully packed and ready to set out on this most important journey because she had done all her chores, and added a few more. I suddenly realise that during a lifetime that seemed so brief and swift, my sister Dora had taught at the prestigious College of Medicine in Nigeria’s foremost university; had served as a consultant pharmacologist; had served as South-eastern Zonal Secretary of the Petroleum Trust Fund; and had served as a member of her State’s Hospitals Management Board. In between, our sister also took time to engage in grassroots administration as the Supervisor for Agriculture in her local government area.
But it was in that unforgettable outing at the National Agency for Food, Drug Administration and Control (NAFDAC) that Dora showed up in her full elements. On a single-minded mission to protect her country and her people from the scourge of counterfeit and expired drugs, she turned NAFDAC from a little known acronym into a trademark for hope and salvation for the weak and the defenceless Nigerians who were literally being decimated by some merchants of death. Her outing in NAFDAC secured her a permanent place in the rarefied pantheon of the selfless and the great. She planted a major but little discussed public problem in our national consciousness. And she did more than agonise; she took action, swift and unsparing action, and at great risk to herself and her family. At NAFDAC, she exercised real, uncommon leadership.
Yet, in every other responsibility that she undertook, Dora radiated inner capacity and outward energy that made everyone else around her look like mere spectators in a typically spell-bounding ‘Super-Dora’ Reality Show. In every task that she undertook, there was nothing that Dora did in half measures. Whether she was fuming at the havoc that fake drugs were inflicting on her fellow compatriots, or doing public relations for her fatherland, or simply being Dora to her colleagues and friends, she went about her roles with a passion and intensity that is only characteristic of one who toiled, laughed and lamented as if her life truly depended on it.
Dear Dora, now we can no longer feel your commanding presence or hear your infectious laughter, but the intensity of each leaves us with a lingering memory of who you are and how you lived. So we won’t mourn; we can’t mourn. Not for you Dora, because you gave us enough to celebrate for all of eternity, and more.
And, on this last occasion, in your last act, you left on your final journey the way you had always lived with us: defiantly, patriotically taking up a national assignment, disregarding the odds, the hazards and even the encumbrance of a debilitating ailment that had visibly ravaged your physique but still could not touch your spirit. Your inner being, clearly, was made of steel. And steely you were not just for the sake of it, but in the service of the common good. Rest easy, my dearest sister, for you truly deserve a good rest. You’ve shown us how to live for others and, through that, how to achieve immortality by living on in the minds of others.
– Alhaji Kashim Ibrahim-Imam, Mutawalli of Borno, is former Presidential Liaison Officer to the Senate
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