27 Jan 2008 |
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Encounter With The Sultan By Reuben AbatiIt is not every day that you get a chance to meet the Sultan of Sokoto, the ruler of Sokoto, leader of Nigeria's 70 million Muslims, and the head of the National Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs. But there I was in a room at the Eko Hotel in Lagos, in the company of four other journalists having a chat, earlier in the month, with the Sultan.  Apart from its traditional and religious significance, the Sultanate is considered one of the most politically influential systems in Nigeria. It is in a class by itself among Nigeria's traditional institutions. Its founder, Shehu Othman Dan Fodio was the author of a programme of Islamic revivalism that changed not only the face and character of Northern Nigeria but the whole of West Africa. The Sokoto Caliphate owing to its history, with roots in the Sokoto Jihad and the patriarchy and legacy of Shehu Othman Dan Fodio ("may God have mercy on him and illuminate his tomb") is regarded by most Nigerians as the epicentre of Northern hegemony. Our colleague, Danladi Bako, ex-NTA, one of the Sultan's chiefs, had chosen to invite his friends to meet the Sultan.Dan Fodio was succeeded by his son, Mohammed Bello in 1815. Bello created the modern Caliphate with the naming of Sokoto around 1817 as the seat of the Caliphate. Every Sultan since then has been a member of the Dan Fodio family. Emirates in Northern Nigeria including that of Gwandu which was started by Othman Dan Fodio's brother, Abdullahi are subordinated to the Sultanate, making the Caliphate a broad network of influence and authority. The religious authority of the Sultan as the amirul mumineen further ensures that the Sultanate is undoubtedly the most powerful traditional institution in Nigeria. The current Sultan, Muhammadu Sa'adu Abubakar (Sada to his close friends), is the 20th Sultan.. He succeeded his late brother, Muhammadu Maccido, on November 2, 2006. Their father, Siddiq Abubakar was the 17th Sultan who reigned for a record 50 years. I confess that many of us Southerners, who are also invariably Christians, have nearly settled ideas about the Caliphate. It is seen as an unduly ultra-powerful institution perpetually interfering in Nigeria's governance process and seeking always to impose Northern interests. We tend to hold the Caliphate responsible for every crisis in the North including religious riots or what is considered the marginalization of other parts of the country by the Caliphate North. The Caliphate is also seen as the bastion of feudalism. Under the military, this impression was reinforced as the soldiers who were mostly Northerners treated the Caliphate with much reverence. The role that has been played in Nigerian history by Othman Dan Fodio and the politics of the late Sardauna, Ahmadu Bello, are also in part responsible for this perception. For many Southerners, the Jihad has not ended, and the Sultanate is the seat of the spread of religious fundamentalism in the North. The Sokoto state slogan "Born to Rule": annoys other Nigerians to no end. Perhaps for this reason and perhaps due to the effect of distance and lack of adequate cultural education, the Sultan is seen as a remote figure, a Quoran-wielding, unapproachable ascetic figure, and a natural ethnic irredentist for whom the North represents all that is Nigeria. The literature on the place of the Caliphate in Nigerian politics talks also about the domination and victimization of minority groups in the North by the North West. It was therefore almost entirely out of curiousity that I went to Eko Hotel to see the Sultan. The first thing I noticed at the entrance to the Presidential suite was the absence of the royal guards. Those heavily turbaned guys that we see in the photographs, milling around the Sultan; wearing the traditional colours of the Caliphate, with one of them holding a long trumpet, the African kakaaki. There was nothing to indicate that I was about to sashay into the presence of a man whose office commands both religious awe and the majesty of true royalty. I sauntered into the room. I met a group of men sitting around and chatting excitedly. I looked around for a heavily turbanned figure. I could recognize only three journalists in the room and one other public figure. But where was the Sultan? I finally located him. He was wearing a modestly cut white babariga, with the usual mallam cap on his head. There were no guards in the room, no traditional figures, no gun-wielding security men at the door. I couldn't believe this. The best way to identify a big man in Nigeria is to look around for the appurtenances of office and power. Ordinary chiefs in Southern Nigeria, whose only source of relevance is the title that they have been given by a third grade traditional ruler don't allow us to rest. I am talking about those ones who call themselves double Chiefs, triple Chiefs; there are even some characters now who insist on being addressed as High Chief. They go about in siren-bearing vehicles and with lorry loads of policemen who are supposed to protect them from the people. The Sultan was in a relaxed and chatty mood. He knew every one of his guests. He had read our newspapers and articles, and he took time out to respond to some of the pieces, including a piece I had written which he said kept him laughing from the first paragraph to the last. Then he turned to one of my colleagues. He had read the fellow's piece. And he had phoned him to respond to the article. "You see when I called your friend here to react to what he wrote about me, he didn't believe that it was the Sultan on the line. I told him I was the Sultan. His answer was: "Which Sultan?" I told him: "It is the Sultan on the line." Then he said: "Is this supposed to be a joke?" But when I said: "It's me, the Sultan of Sokoto, I read your article today, I could hear him shivering at the other end. I just laughed. And then this evening again, when we were coming upstairs, I think he arrived about the same time with us. "Usually when I am going somewhere, you will always find someone in front of me. One of the senior chiefs must go in front of the Sultan. The idea is that if anything bad is to happen to the Sultan, it should happen to that person first. But we thank the Almighty Allah. All is well. But this evening, this your friend suddenly went in front of the Sultan. I was just looking at him. Of course, it is not his fault. There was nothing to show that the Sultan was entering the Eko hotel. But my people knew that we still had to respect tradition. If I had been wearing my turban, I am sure he wouldn't have dared to walk in front of the Sultan. Just before we entered the elevator, one of my men wanted to shove him aside, it was then Danladi saw him and said he is our guest and we all came upstairs together." Someone was curious about the tradition of having someone going in front of the Sultan. "It is the tradition." Then he told us the story of how there was once an accident on his way to the airport in Abuja and the car in front occupied by the Sardauna's grandson who is one of his chiefs, somersaulted. "The way the accident happened, if that car had not been in front, it would have been my car. But we thank Allah, only one person had bruises on his arm. Of course I couldn't go down to help remove the car from the road. I had to stay inside, and then we left the damaged car and continued with our journey." We asked after his traditional guards. He said they were at home in Sokoto. "When I travel abroad, I travel lightly. We were in the United States a few weeks ago to attend a conference. We are now on our way to Ghana to attend another conference." I was particularly interested in the long trumpet which heralds the coming of the Sultan. "You know that trumpet?", he said. "It cannot be stolen; because if you steal it you can never blow it. The only person who can blow it is a member of the family that has always done that according to tradition. They are specially trained to do it." How? The Sultan had no explanation other than it is the tradition. We were intrigued. We were interested in his usual routine. He was such a lively and friendly fellow, it looked like he is being caged having to hide behind the turban all the time. But he waved away our apprehensions. Then, he went into a long explanation of his daily routine as the Sultan. "I don't have to dress like a Sultan when I am at home with my family. But when I step out early in the morning for the prayer session in the palace, I dress like the Sultan. It is like going to the office. Then after that, I sit down with the chiefs and people bring their matters before us. Sometimes somebody wants to buy a mattress or pay school fees, or the fence of his compound has collapsed, we try to listen and help everybody. Then when it is lunch time, we all sit down and eat together from the same bowl." I cringed. The Sultan must have noticed. "Yes we all eat from the same bowl. I know in some parts of the country, the king cannot eat from the same bowl with other people. In fact you people are usually afraid to go near your kings. But it is not like that in Sokoto. The Sultan is a servant of the people not their ruler. When that one came to visit me, .and it was lunch time, he couldn't eat with us from the same bowl. He said he was not hungry. But if you are a leader, you must not act superior to the people you are leading. We are all one before God. That is what the Quran says. And the early Sultans wrote books about how to lead. It is all written down. Our duty is to preserve tradition." The Sultan invited each one of us to visit him in Sokoto whenever we could. "When you come to Sokoto, you'd see me in my uniform and you'd see the guards too. But after lunch I go inside the house and I remove the uniform. Later around five, I come out again fully dressed to receive visitors, may be diplomats or government officials. And then I close for the day. In the evening, I may decide to visit the people around the palace. I go to their homes. Or I go to my mother's house. Usually when I step out of the palace, other people come out of their houses and follow me, and we walk together from one house to the other greeting people. The job of the Sultan is to serve the people." I thought of many traditional rulers in Southern Nigeria who wouldn't dare walk out of their palaces. They could be kidnapped. Just then, two gentlemen, one Yoruba, the other Ibo sauntered into the room. "Sultan, how now?" "My Sultan" "How una dey?", he responded. One jumped onto his seat, bumping into him. The other one wound his arm around his neck. Then the trio launched into a private conversation, laughing heartily. Then almost immediately, the two guys took their leave. "Don't mind those rascals", said the Sultan. "They are my friends. We were classmates in NIPSS and we have remained close friends ever since. They always come to see me in Sokoto and I also visit them in Lagos." I asked whether the Sultan is allowed to visit people at home. He said he is free to go anywhere he wants. "If I come to your house, nobody will know it is me. If they are looking for the Sultan, they will be looking for the turban. I can even drive myself. I can go to the Palms shopping mall, you won't know it is me. And if you think I look familiar, by the time you are still trying to place my face, I am gone. When I go to Saudi Arabia, I go to the mosque all alone, I carry my mat myself. It is my military training. I can look after myself." The Sultan was on his way to Ghana. He promised to invite us to dinner on his return. From Ghana, he had moved on to Dubai. But then we met him again at a restaurant in Victoria Island. I guess one or two of my colleagues were now bent on asking him difficult questions. Someone asked him why almost every Emir in the North is a former soldier. The Sultan was a military officer for 31 years.. He was commissioned an officer in 1975, and he served in the Armoured Corps. He had stints with peace-keeping forces in Chad and Sierra Leone and was Nigeria's military attache to Pakistan. He reacted sharply noting that it is not true that the North has many ex-soldiers as Emirs, and he gave a history of how he went into the army. His father had heeded General Theophilus Danjuma's advice to send his children into the military but out of seven of them, he alone passed the tests. There was also a question about Nigeria's membership of the Organisation of Islamic Countries (OIC). Then someone nearly ruined the evening by asking a question about Islamic fundamentalism. The Sultan had been jesting about how the conference he attended in Ghana was dominated by Nigerian delegates, and how Yorubas call "Sokoto (Sawkwato)", "Shokhoto" but his tone suddenly changed. He gave a long lecture about how there are good and bad Muslims and how nobody should demonise all Muslims, the meaning of Taliban (student), the unfair treatment of Muslims by Western countries (what is in a name?) and why it is wrong to associate terrorism with Islam. "Those who call Moslems terrorists are wrong. Who is a terrorist? Some of you are even terrorists in your own homes. You terrorise your wives and children.." A tactless fellow had touched a raw nerve. But the night still ended well, with much camaraderie...
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