Yaya Suleiman: My Brother, ‘Our Father’

Maryam Uwais

Two days after his 68th birthday, on the 7th February, 2023, we lost our oldest brother, and the first among five siblings, Major General Suleiman Isa Wali (rtd). Yaya Suleiman, as many of us called him, was more than a big brother. From the moment our father died in February 1967, Yaya assumed a fatherly role. As we grew older into adulthood, and across the many stages of life, he remained our compass and guide. He is mostly remembered as a retired military officer, but my own recollections are quite naturally, more personal.

As a child, Yaya was a bit of a rebel. I was the one who typically got involved with his escapades. I would often get co-opted to ‘run away’ from home (to a shed at the corner of a large compound, then perceived by me to be the ‘end of the world’) because he had been naughty and ‘we were not wanted’. I would get hungry after a couple of hours, and he would then agree for us to sneak back home when I began to fret. It never mattered that the incident had nothing to do with me. We were a team. As his preferred punishment, I recall having to write hundreds of ‘lines’, in different colours, ‘I will never disobey my older brother again’, only to be let off if I agreed to accompany him on a cycle ride to a nearby community.

Yes, Yaya taught me how to ride a bicycle; to play chess (although that was more an exercise in futility); to play the guitar (again, this effort frustrated him to no end); to sing ‘On the Very Last Day’ at the top of my voice (this was not too bad). Yaya would tease me endlessly with the words of a song, ‘baby, you too rub pancake’, because it was a nickname I was known by (and hated) then, as a child. He insisted that I should inculcate the habit of remaining steadfast when convinced, and to speak up courageously, especially where my heart was beating fast. To embrace fear, so long as I believed. This included jumping from the top diving board of a swimming pool. Yaya would position himself in the pool below and yell at me, ‘do you really think I would let you die? Come on! Jump!’ I would close my eyes, petrified, but trusting him. And I would jump, knowing that he would be there to save me, if the need arose. Always.

A minimalist, Yaya had the kindest heart, a curious ‘innocence’ and a fertile imagination that often led him into conducting daring experiments. I was usually the ‘rat’. Which often led him into trouble with our mother. To my mother’s consternation, I would often do as he demanded, even because his approval meant so much to me! He would tear a huge leaf into different bits and sizes, and then have me chew on them, one by one, timing the periods that they would itch in my mouth, and gravely writing the results down in columns as if his life depended on the outcomes. I recall his leading us (his two sisters, at that point) into killing mice that had infested our garage (which then served as a store), only to find some five tiny, hairless, pink babies in the corner, their mother having just been killed. Instantly remorseful, he hurriedly made a nest for them in my mother’s finest teapot, feeding them with milk whenever he could ‘take’ some from the fridge unnoticed by our mother. Imagine how horrified our mother was, when she picked up the pot to serve tea to some guests!

Yaya was a disciplinarian. So, it was natural for him to join the army after qualifying as an Electrical Engineer at the Ahmadu Bello University (ABU), Zaria. As a Signal Corps officer, he was extremely proud of his military career, having converted to a full combatant and retiring after 32 years of distinguished service as a Major General in the position of Deputy Commandant/Director of Studies at the National Defence College in 2011. He was the recipient of several medals, awards and recognitions in service to the army and country. These included the Commandant’s Award FL Gordon, Augusta Georgia, USA, for the best foreign student, a letter of commendation for the best College paper for his Master’s Degree at the Rochester Institute of Technology, a letter of commendation from the Chief of Army Staff for his contribution to the Army on IT, as well as the Nigerian Army Distinguished Award for outstanding contribution to the Career Development of Nigerian Army Officers. He also got awarded the Grand Service Star (Gss) for 30 years of unblemished military service.

Yaya was obsessive about acquiring knowledge. As an army officer, he went on to obtain a Master’s in Engineering, specializing in Information and Communication Technology (Digital Signal Processing/Encryption) from the Rochester Institute of Technology, United States, and another Master’s in Strategic Studies from the University of Ibadan. He also loved military history and research, spending hours poring over old manuscripts and books. Later in life, his keen interest revolved around the Holy Qur’an. Our Holy Book was consistently beside him in his sitting room. I still have WhatsApp messages where he would send me a verse, reiterating that this just had to be the word of God, being so visionary. He would exclaim that there was no way in the world that an individual, in those early days, with the background of our Prophet Muhammad (SAW), could foretell the fact that the earth revolved in an orbit of cycles, along magnetic fields with other planets! 

Yaya could never sweat the small stuff. The larger picture was his focus. He had no time for frills and fancies and often spoke bluntly. He propelled me into studying law (I had initially opted for history), took a keen interest in my exam results and was always, always there, whenever we needed just about anything. The position of Islam on inheritance, pertaining to the double share for the male child (as against half for the females) manifested under Yaya’s caring and protective watch. What was ours individually, as his 3 sisters, was ours. Yet what was his, was also ours to share. We approached him and expected him to fund our petty needs, even though our own portions were still in our custody, unspent. He would buy the new skirt or earrings that I liked, pay for cinema outings or affordable trips, take me to the other campus when I needed to go (to save costs) and stand firm in my favour, whenever the need arose. I grew in confidence and was never afraid because Yaya was always there for us. He urged us to approach him with our needs, saying he would only buy what was reasonable. He would often remind us that for girls in a university, it was too much of a temptation to not have what we needed; but that he would be the judge of what was needed, as against what was a mere fancy. Indeed, when he was done with University and leaving the campus, he gave his Fiat 128 to my older sister, Fatima, to facilitate our transportation around and about Zaria. She had to first demonstrate that she could change the tyre all by herself, however, before he handed her the keys!

Material things never mattered to Yaya. He lived a spartan life, with very basic needs. He could literally live out of the boot of his own car! Indeed, whatever he owned was spent on others, until he had no more to spend. In my law school days, I lived with him at Giwa Projects barracks in Ikoyi, Lagos. I had my own room (as he did, his, with his wife, and his children), but I recall so many young men then (now accomplished and many retired) ‘camping’ in our living room, because they had nowhere else to stay in Lagos. He loved Nigeria with a passion and was always available to apply himself in service to our country’s unity, harmony, and security. Many ‘illogical’ topical issues exasperated him, such as the growing penchant for politicizing ethnicity and religion, as well as the pervading poverty, which he linked directly to corruption in high places. Indeed, it is instructive that he passed on with no landed property or major asset in his name, irrespective that he had inherited some and had access to acquiring more, by virtue of his many high positions and connections while in service.

For most, his relative ‘innocence’ was perceived as naivety. He had numerous dreams, but all of them related to how he could support others attain their own dreams. Since his demise, we have continued to receive so many phone calls and visits. Especially from the army and the less privileged. ‘Junior ranks’ testify as to how he encouraged them to study further, so they too could become officers (as they are now); how he had paid for their fees in tertiary institutions; their children’s school fees; empowered them; paid for their parents’ funeral obsequies; ensured their entitlements were duly paid. Mechanics have come forth to say he had ‘dashed’ them vehicles; some saying he had paid off their debts in entirety. Complete strangers have informed us of how supportive he had been when they were most in need. We have been inundated with narratives of how forthright and fearless he was, in standing for justice. He was admired and loved by so many, having directly touched the lives of family, friends, colleagues, associates and apparently, so many more.

Retired Major General Suleiman Wali was many things to many people. No nonsense, curt and professional to the core, he was a protective father; a loving son and dependable relative; a solid rock in times of trouble; an intellectual; an innovative creative; a brilliant engineer and a fine officer; ultimately, a committed, diehard Nigerian. In these various capacities, Yaya was not only there for us (his immediate and extended families), he was also evidently there for so many more. Even at 63 years of age, I feel a deep sense of sadness and an emptiness following his demise. I just took it for granted that he would always be there for us. As a Muslim, however, I have come to terms with the fact that for everyone, there is an appointed time.

Sympathisers come and go. The phone calls and messages will peter out, with time. Even for mourners, life goes on irrespective. Nothing more to be done, but prayer and the giving of alms in his name, for his continued benefit beyond this world. I am told that time will gradually numb the pain. This is a time for faith and patience. I pray that Allah (SWA) will make it easy for all of us.

I remain immensely proud of who my big brother is and was. He lived a quiet life; gentle, unassuming, simple but hugely impactful. A life well-spent. He remained true to his convictions; taking a distinctly frugal, even lonely path, but only as HE found it to be meaningful and fulfilling. I have many regrets, even because I wish I could have been more present in his own life. I should have repeatedly told him (even as I know it would have embarrassed him), of how proud I am of being his ‘little sister’, and how his own understanding of life was so ‘on track’. Our late father, Mallam Isa Wali, would have been so proud of what he stood for. As is our mother, whose grief is deep, but faith remains strong. I pray that Allah (SWA) have mercy upon Yaya’s empathetic, forthright, selfless and giving soul; that his sins be forgiven and that his copious good deeds remain a store for him where it matters most. In Aljannat Firdaus, our Heaven above. Amin.

• Uwais, MFR, is Special Adviser to the President on Social Investment.