Some people inspire us with their lives, others teach us a lesson with their death. In the case of  Hon. Sidi Hamid Ali, veteran journalist, politician, ‘persuader’, author and statesman, his life enriched so many narratives while his death last week diminished all who knew him.

Sidi Hamid Ali was a man-and-a-half; too much for one country, not enough for two. Restless, sharp-witted, impulsive, perspicacious, creative and loyal to causes and people he believed in, he was one of a kind. In the almost five decades that I was privileged to know him, he still ranked as an enigma— half-question, half-possibility, half-exclamation, half-puzzle-behind-puzzle. His persona was easy to understand but if you thought you knew him, you would eventually find out that you didn’t fully know him.

Gun Incident

The first thing that comes to the mind of many people when the name Sidi Ali is mentioned is the incident in the House of Representatives during the Second Republic when he was alleged to have drawn a gun and thrown the entire house into panic. What actually happened was that a fellow parliamentarian had assaulted Sidi Ali (which was a serious parliamentary offence) and Ali had duly reported the matter to the Speaker and other leaders of the house. He waited for several days for action to be taken against his assailant but no such action was forthcoming.

So, he decided to teach them all a lesson. He smuggled a gun into the legislative chambers and as soon as he saw his assailant who was conferring with other colleagues, he drew the gun. Legislators, led by the Speaker, voted with their feet! The assailant didn’t show up in the house for several weeks until he was assured that his apology had been accepted by Ali. Although a stickler for rules, he was not averse to stirring things up when necessary.

Born in Kano in 1938, he spent part of his childhood in Ghana where his father, Alhaji Sidi Ali, ran a thriving cattle business. He started school in Shahuci Elementary School in 1945, and in 1949 went to Kano Middle School where he was in the same class with Murtala Mohammed who was to join the army in later years and become Nigerian head of state.

He was sent back to Ghana for higher education but he was enmeshed instead in radical politics which led to his expulsion. He and some of his colleagues came to the attention of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah who decided to help mould them to become useful to Africa of the future. Nkrumah gave him scholarship to study in the UK but the plan didn’t work out because he did not have an A-Level certificate, so he was sent to New York in the US where there was a provision for a six-month remedial course to make him eligible for university admission.

Those were the days of momentous events in many parts of the world. In Africa, the Congo crisis was in full bloom. Young Sidi Ali was the Chairman of the Political Committee of the Pan African Students’ Organisation (PASO). In that position, he led demonstrations and was part of the group of African students who provided security for Cuban leader Fidel Castro when he stayed in a hotel in Harlem. The American authorities fingered him as one of the undesirables.

Journalist & Author

After bagging his degree, he returned to Ghana but the situation had drastically changed as Nkrumah had been overthrown and the ruling military men were very edgy. By the mid-sixties, the political situation in Nigeria itself had deteriorated. When Sidi Ali returned, he had the good fortune of meeting benevolent seniors like Alhaji MD Yusuf and Alhaji Ahmed Joda both of who assisted him in getting into the civil service.

He was in the team that ran the propaganda machine of the Nigerian government throughout the civil war. His skill as a prolific writer also came in handy in his later career as an author of nine books.

Fittingly, Ali became known as a principled politician and uncompromising journalist. It was his journalism that fed his political activism.

In the run-up to the Second Republic, he had written an article critical of the military and had been slammed in prison. The prominent party in Kano was the radical People’s Redemption Party (PRP) which sent two of its members, Abubakar Rimi and Inuwa Wada  to co-opt Ali as a candidate for the federal house of representatives. His nomination form was filled while in prison and he eventually won the election, representing Danbatta even though he was from Darma in Kano City. All that mattered to the people was that he was Mallam Aminu Kano’s candidate.

When I first met Hon. Sidi Ali, I was working in DRUM magazine and we shared many friends and sources together. I used to visit him in his home and office in Obalende, near Dodan Barracks, Lagos. We called him Sarki of Obalende. He was a treasure throve of information. We even managed to collaborate on a few anti-apartheid programmes at a time when Thabo Mbeki and his fellow freedom fighters also had their offices in Obalende. Proverbially speaking, you could say he knew where all the dead bodies were buried. He therefore enjoyed the respect of fellow professionals and, indeed, the ruling elite, whether in uniform or in babariga. In those pre-internet days when every little source was gold, Sidi Ali was the gold mine itself.

He was a go-getter. He once told me the story of how he wanted to see Chief Awolowo at his Ikenne residence but was prevented by security men. He then told the head of the security that it was Mama Awolowo he wanted to see, not Papa. A message was sent to Mama and she promptly replied that Sidi was her son and should always be given free passage whenever he came. With him, you never said never.

In the 90s, Hon. Ali was a regular visitor to my office at Academy Press in Ilupeju where he processed tons of quality calendars, diaries, annual reports and journals to the envy of many advertising agencies. As a devout Muslim, he observed all his religious obligations routinely as he would just disappear with my office assistant to one corner whenever it was time for the Muslim prayer. In all his business dealings, his word was his bond.

Friend & Brother

We were to link up again when my office moved to Abuja. He had earlier relocated to the new capital city. We simply continued from where we left off. All through his life, he remained passionate about Nigeria actualising its potentials. He operated an ‘open-clock’ policy in the sense that if he was thinking of some idea or writing something and needed clarification or simple contextualisation, he would call me, even if it was 2am!

Every Eid-El-Kabir, I always had a full pot of ram meat from Hon. Ali. Even if I was in Lagos, he would arrange for a driver to bring my share of the sallah meat from Kano to Abuja where my staff would collect the consignment.

We spoke for exactly 11 minutes and 38 seconds about three weeks ago. We discussed his health for about three minutes and I also had a brief chat with his son, Osama. The rest of the time was taken up by political talk and a review of the security situation in the country. His voice was strong, clear, and passionate. He didn’t sound like an 86-year-old man who had just three weeks to take the final bow. I like to remember him that way: Pontificating, assertive, hopeful, witty. I pray that God gives his family the fortitude to bear his demise.

Adieu, my detribalised friend, collaborator and elder brother, Mallam Sidi Hamid Ali. Allah Ya gafarta maka, Ya dawwamar da kai gidan aljanna.