Our dear Rafat Salami, what else can we say? What remain is to thank you for your impact on humanity. And to add that although there may be a mystical or spiritual reason for your sudden departure, we are glad that you lived a purposeful life. You taught valuable lessons. You touched lives. They will serve as monuments to your memory. Adieu, Comrade.
Rafat was a most admired woman. Many would have wished to be like her, but most would not have been like her, no matter the burning desire. The reason? Rafat was an exceptional gift to humanity whose type could compare to Haley’s Comet — coming around every 72 to 80 years. The rarity of her kind made her sudden death on Friday, December 20, shocking and devastating.
While most mothers love their children, it is arguable whether any mother towered above Rafat in the context of loving and caring for a challenged child. She expanded that frontier with an uncommon commitment and approach to addressing the challenge of her darling son, Ahmed, thus helping him to cope and live happily with autism. As should be expected of a thoroughbred broadcast media professional, she deployed an unrestrained storytelling tool to get this done. By relentlessly bombarding us with photographs and videos of Ahmed’s exciting moments, Rafat made him the star boy whose abilities against disabilities became inspiring news, not the least his Americana or Britico accent. Yet Ahmed, according to Rafat, could barely pronounce a word in about five years of his early life!
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Indeed, Ahmed’s vocabulary can sometimes be enthusing. I recall when the child and his mother argued intensely over the latter’s insistence on helping the former scrub his upper back while bathing because his hand was not mobile enough to do justice to the concerned area. Ahmed, savouring having just turned 18, retorted that the thought and suggestion were “creepy.” When Rafat asked why, he reiterated: “Because it’s creepy, Mum.”
While we enjoyed the fun and poured accolades on mother and son, we probably paid less attention to the pains and pangs the mother was enduring, perhaps because she only occasionally betrayed the fact. Within the past year, however, she lamented how helping Ahmed stand on his feet, especially by getting him to accept a vocation, was herculean. Then came the illness that manifested in sudden immobility of the limbs and ultimate confinement to the wheelchair.
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I called Rafat when I read about the disturbing turn of events. Let me digress a bit. Rafat and I relate as professional colleagues, fellow media trainers, and comrades – both of us being gender activists and trade unionists. Years back, when she ran for the chair of FCT, Abuja Council of the Nigeria Union of Journalists and lost, some of us felt we didn’t do enough to support a comrade who, beyond theory, attempted to break a gender barrier at the level of the Council.
Rafat did run an inspiring campaign, and if today the FCT NUJ chapter has a woman as the new chair, it is partly because an enigma like Rafat once dared to run. As such, it was a comradely conversation revealing how far she had gone to seek medical solutions to her ailment and how much support she deserved, leading me to make my modest contribution, which she appreciated as if I had dropped a million. She was humble and appreciative.
The triennial conference and meeting of the International Press Institute (IPI), Nigeria, in Abuja on 11 and 12 December, offered a perfect opportunity to continue the conversation. There were smiles, jokes, and warm embraces, but the sight of Rafat in the wheelchair was worrisome. Yet, undeterred, it was from that wheelchair, which she assured us would soon be discarded, following improvement to her health, that she presented a detailed financial report for the past three years, for which she was applauded before being re-elected for a second term in the Muskiliu Mojeed-led Exco.
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The IPI conference offered me another opportunity to meet the famous Ahmed in person. That happened during the group lunch, and the encounter was again revealing. When I arrived, the mother was begging her visibly upset son to calm down and eat. The son was upset because he had just returned from the hospital, where a toenail had been pulled out following an injury. The pain led to a misplaced anger against the son’s family friend, who had accompanied him to the hospital. I joined the pleading and cajoling party until Ahmed agreed to eat. It took a longer while before he managed to smile. Invariably, all smiled around the table.
A few weeks on, we are now in a state of shock over the sudden death of Rafat, with many rightly worried about what would become of Ahmed. It would be challenging, but I’m hoping that after the initial shock, the memory of all his mother did to make him succeed would positively affect Ahmed.
Our dear Rafat Salami, what else can we say? What remain is to thank you for your impact on humanity. And to add that although there may be a mystical or spiritual reason for your sudden departure, we are glad that you lived a purposeful life. You taught valuable lessons. You touched lives. They will serve as monuments to your memory. Adieu, Comrade.
Lanre Arogundade, executive director of the International Press Centre (IPC), is a former Chairman of the Lagos State Council of the Nigeria Union of Journalists.
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