Unlike most of those who went out of their way to deny Malam Mamman Daura a private 80th birthday in spite of marking it in faraway London, I think he deserved a quiet, private family retreat to give thanks and praises to God Almighty, and enjoy the fun-seeking exploits of grandchildren, as they trample on his belly and yank off his cap. London was therefore a good location, far from the maddening crowd, but alas, not far enough in these dizzying days of open privacy!
As I read a few critics after several praise-writers, I could not resist trying to wander into Mamman’s highly exclusive mind if only to wonder at what he would make of all of all the brouhaha, assuming he found time to notice. I had my own private perception of the man who was Managing Director of the New Nigerian Newspapers Limited, Kaduna when I was recruited as a cub-reporter in 1974. It could only have come from a periscope which, by definition, “allows a viewer to see objects not in a direct line of sight”, considering the hierarchical editorial distance between us.
I can reveal that my clearest recollection of close interaction with Mamman, (whom we could only refer to as MD in hushed tones those days) was on a chance meeting on the Abuja-Kaduna train around December last year, when he surprised me by recognizing me instantly, as he approached to calmly take his seat one row behind me. I had to pay homage while he enquired what I was up to. Living by the pen was no surprise even after almost five decades but it was reassuring that he invited me to meet him on my next visit to Abuja with my boss at The Democrat, Malam Ismaila Isa, who sat next to him, as facilitator.
Even from that chance meeting, I could see that Malam Mamman was still the unassuming but self-confident and down-to-earth personality we knew five decades ago as an exemplary editor, a journalist’s journalist who had all the insight and talent to rattle authority decorously to the delight and relief of intimidated commoners. He was after all THE MAN BEHIND THE MASK WHO SEES EVERYTHING, CANDIDO! Mamman is totally at ease in the midst of people from all walks of life, from crowded train coaches to corridors of power and it shows from his almost permanent smile and bespectacled panoramic glance at everyone and no one in particular. Only a few on the train recognized him that day and I could see they were filled with awe, amazed that such a high-wired powerful personality could blend into a coach full of nobodies and respecting him just for that!
This scenario also captures the essential component of the popular mystification of Mamman Daura, positively by those who admire him and uncharitably by those who don’t know him. Manipulated media misinformation fuelled by pathological animosity has been bouncing off his armor of detached indifference. It is no wonder that Mamman is easily the most misrepresented personality in the wailing wall of our parochial Press and it shouldn’t be surprising that his stoic silence aptly deflects the menacing malady.
Mamman Daura became an issue in the last five years since the re-emergence of General Muhammadu Buhari as a presidential contender and later President of Nigeria. For an 80 year old man to be so pilloried, not for his own actions and much less for his unheard utterances, but for the political adventures of his nephew is nothing short of victimization. It is made worse that the modestly impressive local and international business and industrial track records of the self-respecting senior citizen, who had paid his dues as a competent civil servant and versatile editor, are buried in the process.
Mamman Daura has seen it all, with and without the Candido mask of 3-D xray-vision, not to be attracted or held spell-bound by the transient and hollow spin-offs from the corridors of power which he avoided like a plague while others stampeded to get there. He is not one to be swayed by the mercenary motives of a captive press, disgruntled politicians or other parochial blackmailers touting trumped up “ethical” sentiments, into forsaking family relationships or the obligations tied to them.
Without the discretion of masquerading my views, I have to be candidly courageous in diagnosis of Mamman Daura’s undeserved mistreatment by a misguided cabal of his professional children and grandchildren. I take the liberty to reflect on the unexpected and belated unmasking of the original Candido, whose weekly satirical strokes of the pen once put gun-wielding dictators in their proper places as fallible fumblers and exposed the dark underbellies of dozens of other pretentious persons, from behind the impenetrable anonymity of a Benin bronze mask.
The mask must have suffered reciprocal sinister stares and unprintable curses and insults from generations of livid victims of the venomous pens of Mamman and his numerous off-shoots while the caustic column lasted. I don’t want to believe the spooky voodoo stories associated with Benin artifacts and other museum relics and I am sure such tales can’t be as rattling as Mamman’s many encounters with fuming security chiefs.
But, the mask is certainly not shielding its masquerade anymore and, from all indications, a thick skin is now as good, if not better, than a mask. This is particularly true when faced with concocted falsehoods, instead of firing salvos from cannons of candid comments to demystify the whims and caprices of the high and the mighty. If only Mamman Daura would unleash his pen at his detractors today many will go for masks…
Babatunde writes from Kaduna
