Hamisu is my friend, Ive known him since I was 15. When I was in high school, he used to drive a wheel barrow with milk, milo, tooth brush and padlocks inside my Estate. Hamisus shop was mobile, anywhere the wind blew, he burrowed in that direction . Most times, Hamisus wheel barrow was parked at the gate, thats where everyone went to to buy stuff. Hamisu is Hausa, or atleast thats how he looks, with a scar across his right cheek. Whenever I got bored, my neighbors and I would stroll to the gate to gist with Hamisu. When I was 22, Hamisu was going through a tough time, he had just lost everything he owned to an in-house decay, and his hands had swollen massively, the doctor said hed need surgery, I remember thinking thats elephantitis. Through this entire ordeal, through the loosing his shop, the illness, and barely having a place to stay, I remember always being in his company. Hamisu barely spoke English, his english was broken down to pieces, but how we talked and laughed for hours un-end, till date, surprises me. My neighbors and I were ever so humbled to have Hamisu in our homes, as we had grown fond of him. And here, he knew hed find food, shelter and a little money to get by, so he came frequently. One day, years later, after Hamisu had finally bought himself a keke napep, Id see him pass by our gate in his tricycle, never one day did he see me, but everytime I did see him, Id scream: HAMIS! March 27th, I was ill, I had come down with food poisoning after eating something bad, I was admitted, in the hospital, and could barely see human form when Hamisu walked into the admission room. Get well soon broda Michael, he said. Gaskiya, me no like to see you like this, he added. Let me go and buy you milk, and milo, and cabin. Just tell me which wan you want and I go go buy am for shop, he emphasized. Squinting my drowsy eyes open, I smiled, thanked him for the gesture, and insisted hed save the little money he made from his transportation business. Hamisu made me appreciate life with that little visit. My father commended his visit, and after Hamisu was gone, my father turned to me and said: Thats a good man right there!. Its easy to judge Hamisu from his appearance, its easy to fend him off as some brutal criminal merely passing by him on the street, he is huge, stunted, well built and carries a serious stare in his eyes. But very few come to realize the manner, decorum and compassion people like him carry on the inside. TITLE: DONT JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER Written by, Michael Ogah.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 19:33:09 +0000
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