PEN IS IN PAINS – Manarakis Journey, By Adamu Idris Manarakis

(This is my personal seclusion in life. A book about Manarakis)

“This is bad of us. Many people you may feel you can access or get their bio-data on google are not there, WHY? please document about yourself especially academicians and public servants.”

Manarakis is one of the gods of Nupe literature who gives birth to immortality. He create animates and in animates, north, south, west, east, and instruct all to be on their knees for him.

It is the happiest thing in life to craft out my life hurdles, tragedies and challenges befallen on me as long as I breathe and stays here on the planet full of surprises. It has been a very tough journey so far which I had never believed a day shall come with a suggestive intense to piece off words on voluminous hard covers to reference with. Although, hijacking decisions are not goose enough to entangle my life except in a situation where I’m not prepared for….

My name is ADAMU IDRIS; I later adopted Manarakis as my pseudonym, “a pen name” I survived when the trip got out to suppress my express way and even that I will not just believe to give up like a free thinker in any circumstances. This name came at the time I called for it on my mice. I see it as a joyous anytime my friends, relatives, coworkers
and others mentioned it. The cute in my general nickname brought greatness to the limelight of my life as an afternoon writer and a
pessimist disseminator to draw people around me and across the world, to see the power in pen.

I was born to an extended family, to the womb of a persevering mother. I came Fourth to see the sun shining and the moon glowing. Though, my arrival to the globe came at late hour of a Friday, yet it was very
funny to talk about my life experiences from “before birth, after birth and now.”

My mother Hajiyannagi is a hardworking trader. She bears 7 stars. A courageous woman whom is greater than Kilimanjaro Rock to me. She is a
teacher who taught me not to be an in-grate as patience pays. A religious and a prayer warrior with which we inherited night supplications from. Her interaction with Allah was to give birth to a bouncing baby boy after a Man and two ladies intervals. She lost confidence in
everything because of the dream she had on a Thursday night. She couldn’t define it, and had had to brief her husband, my Dad, Alhaji Idris Bida about her nightmare. That day was scaring and gloomy for both of them. My father was very vigilant, he had words, he knew dreams but this was unexplainable to him. Fears cajole upon his heart but he controlled his mind not to be petrified as he tragically thought of death. Hospitals were their second home for treatment. My Dad had to be a man in his emotions. “This isn’t my first pregnancy”
my mother said continuously in severe pains. That was the statement heard by a doctor in charge of maternity & labour wards as he picked race to rescue my mother. He was to start from beds closed to the entrance door as usual but he ignored the patients and faced my mummy whose voice was jumping over the fence for helper. After the check up, my dad was called to counseling unit, by the doctor. He preached him to have faith over my mother’s conditions, he also related cases that were more critical than my mother’s complication and assured my parent that my mum could get out of that wood successfully, Inshaallahu.

When the doctor left, my father took everything for granted; he thought the doctor could perform miracles in his office that could ease his wife pains, until when things reversed to super story. “Who will I lay my hands on and how will it be cured?” My dad cried helplessly, he moved helter-skelter for help, his atmosphere was highly dented, he was only waiting for the worst at alerted motion. Yandako the first son of the first Galadiman Magani Nupe his blood brother whom he shared almost all his secrets with, pampered him like a new born baby, he advised him to be patient as this lust would only help him and he reconnected his seized heart network to the doctor’s advice.

After a while, my mother that could not moved an inch, started arranging for the final stage of complication delivery to give birth. My dad now rushes to the nurses unit to come to my mother’s aide. Unfortunately, the doctor just went out of the ward, although, one of the nurses on duty knew his parking space and without further delay, she picked speedy race to call him back. “Doctor, doctor, that woman
again…..” She called from far distance. Both of them rushed back to the ward and Ebo stood by the bed for the proper medical action to get
the wood out of her. He checked her and at last she got out of the pains. My mother gave birth to myself, me, Manarakis on the Friday 6th May, 1988 at midnight.

My dad, his friend, and nurses exclaimed glory to the Almighty Allah for the blessing and women behind the gate of labour room, continued whistling in ecstasy.

It was like a jubilee at the general hospital Minna, for my mother’s survival and me. A faithless person who thinks with little sense to
dictate Allah’s action could conclude the page of my mother closed as even my dad had also gave up, initially. People surrounded the ward,
chanting mashaAllahu in a staggering tune, my birth celebration came as if I was the first child birth since general hospital, Minna was established.

Two weeks after, the naming ceremony took place according to Islamic rite. It pulled a lot of crowds, traditional drummers were our neighbour, lived in a rented house opposite our Kpakungu residential home and they works with Gwape group of UK Bello Arts Theatre Minna. Even uninvited area people came to witness the Tsakan players, from 4:00pm till down. My naming ceremony occupied the whole environment as if it was wedding occasion. The enthusiasm was too high to fun as merriment pulled out sorrows.

My father is a great farmer, a historian of Kinnupe per excellence. He started his adulthood after migration from Bida to Kaduna. He left Kaduna as an artisan but when he got to Sokoto, due to apprentice experience he had, he became a mechanic expert.

When Niger State was created, my dad was shortlisted amongst the first batch to deploy their services to Niger. The state was created by thevMurtala Rahmat Muhammad the then Head of States in 1976. My father became popular from his occupation and the un-intimidated nickname, “N One” meaning, the first set of people to arrived Niger State when the state was separated from the state of caliphate, Sokoto State.

The power in naming someone after a person influence the total love I receive from my father. He draws me more nearer to him than any of his child. He could says, “ADAMU is my uncle’s name. He is the next person to my mother whom was the brain behind the pages of my life right from days. In fact, the spoon to my meals and a progressive guarantor after
I lost my mother.”

That and many were is reasons for his extremism about me. He is a sample to tolerance to all his children but he never opened a door for any of his child to disobey anyone, irrespective of who that person is, where s/he came from. The worst of all, he detests dishonesty and lies. He trained us in away to appreciate anything in life no matter how small. He strictly maintained that position, saying “life would be better after series of challenges, if you endure it, your perseverance would cure the pains.”



Adamu Idris Manarakis niw,
Nupe Language Professor Honourary,
Tashiru Nupe and Founder/Director ILLEC,
President NIWAN

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