There is a war story that is not told as often as I would like. Many call it a Christmas story because it happened on a Christmas eve. However, it is called, an incident which showed our common humanity occurred on the Christmas eve of 1914 during World War 1. The German forces were arraigned against the Allied forces. Like in all wars, many were not sure if they would see their families again. Many were not sure of seeing another day, let alone another Christmas. So they decided to celebrate the Christmas they had. A few German voices broke into a German rendition of ‘Silent Night, Holy Night’. Then, more German voices joined. Soon, the Allied forces broke into the English version of the same song. The result was electrifying. Soldiers from both sides came out of the trenches singing and dancing. They embraced and exchanged small gifts as mementos knowing they might never see themselves again. At that frozen moment in time, common humanity triumphed over political bigotry and divisions.

I have over the years, read many books which left lasting impressions on me but very few did like ‘Left To Tell’ by Immaculee Llibagiza. This small, but remarkable book was an account of the Rwandan Genocide of 1994. It was a story of survival. It was a story of mindless bigotry and hatred. On the face of it, there was very little to choose between Hutus and Tutsis. They looked alike, though one was claimed to be shorter and sturdier. They shared the same religion, the same background – and often intermarried. Yet data showed that one had a political, and therefore economic advantage over the other. Hence the hatred. Hence the venom. Disgusting words like cockroaches which must be crushed in the head were used for Tutsis. But it was also a book which demonstrated our common humanity as many of the Tutsis who survived, including the writer, did so because they were shielded and fed during those harrowing genocidal months, by their Hutu benefactors. These benefactors risked their lives to save their neighbors. The tale of the despicable Rwandan genocide cannot therefore be complete without the heroics of these Hutus who gave hope to humanity.

The Armed Forces Remembrance Day was marked a couple of weeks ago. It is a day that reminds the nation of the unfortunate Civil War which pitched brothers against brothers for three unforgettable years. After these years of bile and bigotry, many acts of common humanity and common love surfaced. Most of these acts were not documented because they were not deemed to be extraordinary – just neighbors looking out for neighbors and having their backs; people who didn’t see their neighbors through tribal lenses. Many in the North and in Lagos especially, safeguarded the economic interests of their Igbo brothers and sisters during the war. Many went beyond that by also housing their young children. Some schools kept Igbo children in boarding houses. Some suspended tuition fees for them during the period.

In every horror tale of war and genocide caused often by extremism, there are incidents of compassion; of selflessness; of shared humanity. One of those incidents belonged to Imam Abubakar Abdullahi who on June 23, 2018, saved the lives of about 300 Christians from the hands of Islamic extremists and anarchists. As the story went, he put these endangered Christians in his mosque and home refusing to release them even when threatened by their attackers. In short, he put his life on the line to save people of a different faith. It would have been easy or more expedient to look the other way. Many did. Or even become an accomplice. Some did. His explanation for choosing this path was simple, yet profound. He was motivated by his commitment to humanity and his belief that saving lives transcended religious differences. His courageous act would resonate with his religious followers more that words ever could. Credit also goes to those worshipers who stood by him and stared the bandits in the face without blinking. And to those who helped in providing food and sustenance for 300 wearied, frightened guests.

There are many people who are more educated and more exposed than Imam Abubakar. Unfortunately, they became accomplices in words or deed, to what is now exposed as Christian genocide. I have met several youths in Lagos, especially from Southern Kaduna, who fled their homes during El-Rufai’s tenure as Governor, just to stay alive. Some of them are very intelligent. Yet, they have learnt to put their ambitions on hold. Many families are so scattered now that they will never live in one roof as a family again. That is the legacy of governors whose education and travels have not opened them to the shared values of humanity. Leaders who feed off divisions.

The carnage in the North against Christians – and some liberal Muslims it must be said – would be greatly reduced if those fueling the carnage indirectly through fiery rhetoric and directly through arms supply, would look beyond divisions, whatever those divisions may be, to their common values; their shared humanity. There are over two hundred million Nigerians. But they behave, to all intents and purposes, like two hundred million individuals living in the space called Nigeria. A space many don’t even love. Imagine what is achievable if these two hundred million people could look beyond their differences to their shared destiny, their common humanity. They say Africa would rise if Nigeria could get its act together. I tend to agree. There is so much riding on Nigeria because there is so much potential in the country. Dare I say also, perhaps for the same reason, that Nigeria itself would rise if its northern region got its act together?

Incidentally Imam Abubakar Abdullahi died on January 15, our Armed Forces Remembrance Day. The day Nigeria is supposed to look into the mirror and learn from those divisions that caused the war. This is my tribute to him. It is hoped that many will remember this singular act of selflessness; of putting humanity above religion, and be inspired by it. Nigeria has every reason to be great. It can even become a Superpower. But its people have to learn to be less selfish; less fixated on ethnic and religious differences. They have to learn to focus on unity and not divisions; on strengths and not weaknesses; on character and not geography.

Rest well, Alhaji Abubakar Abdullahi. You showed us that true religion is based on love. For that, you will be remembered.

P.S. I will conclude by excerpting a statement I read on a platform which resonated with me. ‘No religion in the world is greater than kindness. No scripture greater than compassion. No ritual holier than love. While your beliefs may guide you and your traditions shape you, what truly defines you is how you treat others.’

•Muyiwa Adetiba is a veteran journalist and publisher. He can be reached via titbits2012@yahoo.com

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