This week is the 13th week since I lost my beloved mother Hajara Mohammed. I have tried several times to write this tribute but failed. I found myself struggling ? unable to muster the emotional stability to pen down my thoughts. I am never the same again after her death, and there isn?t one bit of her life I could share. She wasn?t just my mom ? she was my hero, the basis of all that I stand for as a person and a journalist.

The news of her passing reached me when I was in London for the ACOS Alliance Workshop, where more than 120 journalists and media organisations from across the globe had been meeting. It was great to be able to talk about the journey of WikkiTimes, and the challenges accountability journalists faced in Nigeria.

Hajara Mohammed was born on October 25, 1954, and died on October 25, 2024, at the age of 70. This bittersweet symmetry echoed her life: one of integrity, endless kindness, and commitment to justice.

My mom was an example when she was young of the values she later passed down to her children. As she used to say, ?Give to someone, and it will return to you.? This wasn?t merely an example of giving; it was her method of teaching her children how to live a life based on justice and kindness.

Her kindness knew no bounds. She used to sneak out at night to feed desperate neighbours, and she thought charity was something to be offered in quiet, altruistic ways. She told us to give back what we had and, ?If you are well-off, do what you can for your family and siblings.? She?d always say to me, ?If you?re rich, do what you can for your family and siblings.?

My mother?s passing was not just a personal loss; it was a damning reflection of the systemic failures in Nigeria?s healthcare system ? a system we at WikkiTimes have worked tirelessly to expose.

When she fell ill, my family sent her to a private clinic as the government hospitals were always so full and overcrowded. The best Nigerian doctors can be found in public hospitals, unfortunately, public hospitals are poorly equipped, inadequately staffed and plagued by a dismal doctor-patient ratio. And by the time we found a trained doctor for her, the damage was already done. She died not because her illness was incurable but because the system failed her, as it has many millions.

It Is the same healthcare system marred by corruption and systemic failures we have exposed at WikkiTimes that led to her hurtful death. But the tragedy of her passing gives me the confidence to continue to push and fight for the masses. No family should ever have to lose a family member because of a broken system.

As I reflect on my mother?s life, I realize how much of my career is rooted in the values she instilled in me. She was my biggest supporter and, at times, my fiercest critic. As a journalist practising accountability reporting in a country where speaking truth to power is fraught with risks, I have faced arbitrary arrests, detentions, and relentless persecution.

My mother would call first when I got in trouble or was released. She spoke in a voice that, between tension and joy, reminded me of the cost of my work to her. She once complained, frustrated, ?Perhaps it?s your journalism that will prematurely send me to my grave.?

She never told me to quit work, no matter how paranoid she was. Rather, she told me to stay true. ?The truth may not make you friends,? she would say, ?but it will give you peace.? Her words have been a constant reminder of why I chose this path and why I must persevere, no matter the challenges.

Not having to attend my mother?s funeral is the one regret I have. I had to flee Nigeria in April 2024 due to growing threats and persecution by Bauchi State Governor Bala Mohammed and his minions. The violence in Bauchi was too much for me to carry on working, and so I fled abroad.

I?m always comforted by the fact that my mother?s story is one of integrity and empathy. She had no prejudices whatsoever and was benevolent far beyond our immediate family. Friends, neighbours, and even strangers have told stories about her kindness and generosity.

The utmost Integrity with which she cared for us and our neighbours represents her love for justice. She taught us never to give up what is right, even if it means doing so at our peril. This love of the poor also became part of the culture of journalism we all have at WikkiTimes.

All the stories we tell, all the injustices we expose?symbolize what my mother stood for. As she used to say: ?Only you can fight and stand for the truth.?

These words have inspired me to believe that I should use journalism to hold leaders accountable and make the voices of the downtrodden heard.

While my mother?s death is devastating, I am relieved remembering the good virtues she represented in her lifetime. It lives in the lessons she taught her children, in the millions of lives she changed, and in what we do in her name.

As I write this tribute, I remember the countless nights my mother stayed up to care for us, the quiet acts of kindness she performed for others, and the wisdom she shared with us daily. She may no longer be here in person, but her spirit guides me every day.

Rest in peace, my beloved mother. Your life was a beacon of light, and your values remain eternal. You?re gone but you?ll continue to push me and so many more to be courageous, compassionate and ethical.

?Haruna Mohammed Salisu is a journalist and Graduate Student at the Media School, Indiana University, USA. He founded WikkiTimes, an investigative news outlet reporting in the news desert areas of northern Nigeria.

?PHOTO: L-R; Late Hajara Mohammed, Haruna Mohammed, WikkiTimes publisher, and his father, Mohammed Salisu. Photo credit: Maryam Imam

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