If Yar’Adua was my father, I would be livid, I would be enraged, I will go on a rampage and take on all those who have refused to allow him live his final moments in dignity.
If Yar’Adua was my father, I would certainly have harsh words for my Mum, Turai. I would ask her some hard questions. I would say Mummy, why can’t Daddy’s last days be spent under the watch of a loving family, praying for and nursing our father in privacy?
If I was Yar’Adua’s daughter, I would ask my Mum, why my Dad, the president of Africa’s most populous nation had to be sneaked into the country in the dead of night? I would ask her why she allowed for a situation where he is now trapped in an ambulance and does not even have the comfort of a roof over his head?
If Yar’Adua was my father, I would ask my Mum why she is bothering to try and hold onto power and why her energy has not been channelled towards finding the best medical care on earth for my father. I would ask her to explain to me why she has nurtured a situation where my father is been humiliated day in and day out and every detail of his life, but particularly his health, is scrutinised?
If I was Yar’Adua’s daughter, I would look squarely into the eyes of the Federal Executive Council, those Daddy trusted enough to put in office and ask why they have destroyed my father’s legacy? I will ask them why they didn’t ensure that my Dad is remembered for the work he did in the Niger Delta? Why I would ask them, have you allowed my Daddy to become a caricature, a man that history will now only remember for his illness and how it almost brought a nation to the brink?
If Yar’Adua’was my father, I would be mad with rage against my sisters. I would ask them why they are busy trying to position their husbands for office at a time when they should be nursing our father? I would remind them that it is by virtue of whose daughters they are, that they now occupy the positions they hold.
I would have harsh words for their husbands, those who pretended loyalty while Daddy was well but whose intentions have become clear as they circle like vultures.
If I was YarAdua ‘s daughter, I would have questions for my brothers. Where exactly are you, I would ask? What are you doing to ensure Daddy is treated well and taken care of in this his hour of need? What role have you played in bringing an end to this disgraceful drama that is unfolding? Have you thought about its impact on our family name, our reputation and the legacy we leave for those Yar’Aduas yet unborn?
If Yar’Adua was my father, I would ask my Uncles and my Dad’s childhood friends, those I grew up seeing as my surrogate Dads, what have you done to put a stop to this debacle? Why have you not acted to ensure that your friend’s name and standing is preserved?
If I was Yar’Adua’s daughter, I would visit the Emir’s of Katsina’s palace, I would prostrate in front of him and greet him with all the respect he deserves but then I would raise my eyes and ask, why have you been silent? Why have you not used the influence of your office to call to order all those who are putting their personal interest above the collective interest? Why have you not bothered to protect my Daddy from those buzzards circling above?
If Yar’Adua was my father, I would ask the Imams why they have not preached against a vicious grab for power? Why have they not used Prophet’s Muhammad’s example of ceding authority to lead prayers to Sayyidina Abubakar when he was ill, as an example of what Islam expects of its leaders?
If I was Yar’Adua’s daughter, I would head to the courts to demand total control over my Dad’s treatment. I will ask that the justices give me the right to decide what should happen.
If Yar’Adua was my father, he would be resting on a hospital bed with his family around him providing comfort and cheer and making sure his last days are spent in a loving atmosphere.
I would ensure that we make memories that will not make us cringe in the future but allow us to celebrate a life well lived.
If I was Yar’Adua’s daughter.