The Shadows of The Zango
Picture this: a dusty street in Shukura, where the ‘laadans‘ call to prayer battles it out with the blaring horn of an ‘okada‘ and thundering sounds from ‘ashad‘ speakers. In the middle of it all stands Musa, once the guy who had memorized and could recite Suratu-Yasin faster than you could say “Allahu Akbar.” Now! He’s the community tramadol champion, staggering around like he’s auditioning for a zombie movie. “Baa namiji, Wallahi!” he slurs, clutching a bottle of codeine syrup like it’s his new best friend. Haba Aboki!, even the chickens crossing the road are laughing at you!
It’s not just Musa, from Shukura to Sabon Zango, Maamobi to Fadama, Ashaiman to New town, the youth are turning Zango into a pharmacy gone wrong. Wee smoke hangs in the air like a bad perfume, and kids barely old enough to tie their own shoes are popping pills ‘kaman anaa chin gujiya’. The aunties at the “ashad” cluck their tongues, ‘Ei, mey muke ganin ga?’ Our boys are fighting their own brains with tablets?” The imams shake their heads, muttering, “Astaghfirullah,” while the drug peddlers count their cedis and grin.
But hold up, enter Hajia Hafsa, the hijab-wearing hurricane who’s had enough looking like she’s about to drop a sermon for Jumu’ah. Listen up! she booms. Allah didn’t create you to be a walking chemistry experiment! Suratul-Isra says, “Do not kill yourselves” and no, Musa, that doesn’t mean test how many pills you can swallow before Isha! The crowd chuckles, Musa scratches his head.
She’s not done. The Prophet, peace be upon him, said, ‘The strong believer is better than the weak one.’ So tell me, how strong are you when you’re drooling on the pavement, calling codeine your ‘hustle juice’? Ei, we can do better than this! The laughter fades, replaced by nods and murmurs.
Hafsa’s got fire in her eyes now. This is our clarion call, people! Rise up! Drug abuse isn’t just a problem, it’s a thief stealing our sons, our daughters, our dignity. Allah gave us bodies as a trust, not a trash bin. Suratul-Baqarah cautions us to enjoin good and forbid evil so let’s forbid this nonsense! No more hiding in shame, no more whispering behind closed doors. We’re kicking this devil out of our community, one prayer, one step, one loud ‘NO’ at a time!
Musa stumbles forward, looking sheepish. “Hafsa, I want out, but it’s hard.” She softens and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bro, Allah is the Turner of Hearts. Do you think He can’t flip your story? The hadith says whoever helps a believer in distress gets relief from Allah. We’ve got your back as the crowd erupts “In sha Allah”.
People, hear me, this is our jihad against drugs! No Ministry, no NGO can save us if we don’t save ourselves. Let’s turn our ‘bases’ into classrooms, our dealers into dust. Let’s pray for strength, fight for our youth, and show these drugs who’s boss. With Allah’s mercy, we’ll win because the Zango doesn’t bow to anything but the Almighty Allah!
She ended with a dua, “Oh Allah, Turner of Hearts, guide our children back to You. Break their chains, make us a people of mercy and might. Ameen!”
That night, Musa tossed his last pills into the gutter. “Daga yawu, baani baa kwaayaa” he muttered, trembling but determined, and walked to the mosque for Isha.
Musa’s struggles could be anyone’s reality; our brother, sister, father, or uncle might be fighting a similar battle. Let’s follow Hajia Hafsa’s lead and tackle drug abuse with determination and compassion. By lending a helping hand and offering support, we can make a difference. The fight against substance abuse is just beginning, but with kindness, dua, and perseverance, we’ll overcome. Insha Allah.