She was only 18 years old when she got married in 1989 to her husband who was already a national public figure. Indeed, her husband was already a former Head of State when they became husband and wife. And no, she did not marry him for money. Her grandfather, Alhaji Muhammadu Ribadu, was Nigeria’s first Minister of Defence. Aisha Halilu Buhari, born in 1971, married in 1989, widowed in 2025, is the one my heart goes to today. May the soul of her husband, our former president, Muhammadu Buhari, rest in peace. Everybody is talking about the departed. It is what we do. We rarely worry about those they leave behind. It is even worse if the widow is seen as rich and influential. How do they cope with the challenges that come with wearing two pairs of shoes at the same time? Yes, ‘four shoes at once’, that is what widows have to wear, clumsy, uncomfortable, dangerous because she will keep tripping and falling and walking funny. Yet she has no choice. Go on, try wearing two shoes on your right foot and two on your left, get up and walk and describe the experience in one word. That is the world of a widow, rich or poor. She is now a father and a mother, among other things.
Aisha Buhari will from here on have to answer the questions that Amina and Yusuf used to take to their father. She is going to have to counsel and wipe the tears of Zahra and Halima. She is going to be daddy, mummy, grandma and mother-in-law, all at the same time without holidays.
Is she going to be made to sit at home for six months or three months and observe a mourning period so that ‘we’ can know if her husband ‘left her with child or not?’ Don’t laugh. The people who insist on it know what I am talking about. Though I have often wondered if modern widows still observe this long mourning period. Like, if the Managing Director of Nigeria’s oldest bank, a Muslim, loses her husband, will the Board actually not fill her position until she returns? Just wondering aloud. Will Aisha Buhari be made to stay indoors for three months too?
At only 54, she had been married for 36 years, the bulk of which was spent sharing her husband with everybody, the whole nation. I imagine the number of people who walked through her doors daily. I cannot imagine the number of people who have been to her home now to commiserate with her. But I know that the crowd will dwindle by the day. The true mourners will be the last to leave but even they will leave. Many of the early callers will never return. Most of those who filled the condolence register with colourful words will not call again. Then one morning, Aisha will wake up and she will be left with the truly bereaved and that is when her mourning will really begin.
I know that feeling. I am a widow.
I was home for 40 days. I did not see the sun for those 40 days. I only took walks when the sun had gone down. I sat on the floor to receive my guests, unless my back was hurting. On the 41st day, I shed my dark kaftans and scarf and finally wore white. My friends and family left. My children had earlier returned to school. Soon it was only me, the housekeeper and Maxwell, my dog. I was 44.
Dear Aisha, the days ahead will be tasking, the journey lonely. You are about to step into the season where you will be judged like never before. The colours you wear, your first outing, who they see you with, who they see with you, what the children do and don’t do and should have done, you will be judged for everything, and not favourably. Carry yourself with dignified aloofness. It is your life now. Live it. Give your children the best, the best of your time, resources and counsel. Only they can love you unconditionally. Only they saw what you have been through and understand the decisions you have taken. Live your life for you and yourself. Be happy. Ignore the envy of the envious. Forgive those who have given you pain in your marriage but do not let them back into your life, no matter their self-righteous plea. Do not stop making money. Never. The moment you need to look up to someone to pay your bills, your dignity will start dissolving. The predators are hovering even as I type this. It is some men’s life ambition to eat from the pot the former President ate from. Watch out for them, for you are young and beautiful.
At 26, Frances Enwerem got married to 72-year-old Chief Emmanuel Iwuanyanwu. 12 years and a son later, the young Mrs Iwuanyanwu became a widow. Then the final will and testament was read and like most wills of wealthy men, it said the young widow would forfeit a chunk of her inheritance if she decides to remarry. And the social media went on fire, calling both the deceased and his widow all kinds of names. He was selfish. She was a gold digger. He was manipulative. It served her right. Thank God the lawyer came out to throw some light on the gray areas.
Does anybody know what Mrs Iwuanyanwu is going through, the burden of raising a son alone, the distractions and pain and more distractions that lay ahead, the men who will try to bilk and swindle her under all kinds of guises?
Judging widows is almost a profession in Nigeria. Everybody knows more than the widow. Everybody even knows what she is going through, after all, she is not the first widow. Our religious bodies and leaders have also failed in this matter. A woman of 38 suddenly finds herself without a husband who had guided and protected her for a decade and everybody thinks all she will miss is the financial comfort. True, money answereth all things but there is more to life alone, raising children, running a business than just the money.
What does your church do for widows? What do you do for widows in your mosque? Is your church not one of those that announces that widows should wait after service for a meeting? At the ‘meeting’, rice and other food items and second-hand clothes are given to them, right? In your church, are there widows fellowships where widows are counseled on coping skills and vigils held where they pray to the ‘Father of the Fatherless’ to help them raise the children? Does your mosque help with school fees of children of widows? Does your pastor or his wife have at least a monthly meeting where widows and their children are encouraged and prayed for? Or is it just about food and clothes and hand-me-downs?
Some years ago in my church, it was announced that ”Good Women” were to wait for a meeting after the service. At the door, an usher with a beautiful smile stopped me and said, ‘Ma, you are supposed to wait for the Good Women Meeting.’
‘I am not a Good Woman’.
The shock wiped the beautiful smile off her face in a flash.
‘What?’
‘I am a widow.’
Between the shock of my not being a ‘Good Woman’ and ‘I am a widow’, she speedily got out of my way. I chuckled as I made my way to my car.
I had attended the good women’s meeting before and the prayers were too much about ‘our husbands’, ‘our husbands’ ‘finances’ and ‘protection of our marriages from evil’. I needed prayers for strength to take the right decision about the children’s higher education and good health to continue to work hard to pay rent and school fees.
The needs of a widow are many. The loneliness and aloneness can be mean on the mind. She is constantly battling to keep sadness and depression at bay. She makes conscious efforts to be strong for her children and wear a brave smile for the world. All the decisions her husband used to take off her shoulders are now hers. Sometimes she stumbles, and many times she will fall flat on her face with nobody to comfort or encourage her. That is the lot of Aisha Buhari and Frances Iwuanyanwu now. They and the recently widowed are the ones just learning to walk this new path. Men who society does not prescribe mourning periods for have no business judging them. Women who are not wearing their shoes and are not praying to become young widows should not play goody-two-shoes with the emotions and psyche of women who are hanging by a thread to their sanity.
Rich or poor, a widow steps into the unknown the moment her husband breathes his last. The road is rough and without a map. Those who cannot hold their hands should not darken their paths with evil comments. Every bride is a widow-in-waiting. Every groom is a widower-in-waiting. Read that again and be kind.
Dear Aisha, and every widow and widower, when it feels like you can’t go on, I recommend this song written by Scottish minister and poet, Henry Francis Lyte in 1847.
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
(egbemode3@gmail.com)
