Mouftah Baba-Ahmed and the Collective Idea

Postscript by Waziri Adio

The grim reaper delivered another devastating blow on Wednesday when it came for Mallam Mouftah Baba-Ahmed, former public servant, management expert, and, most importantly, a passionate believer in the centrality of enlightened discourse to the advancement of the collective.

For me, Mallam Mouftah (or Egbon Mufu, as some of us his aburos affectionately called him) stood out in many ways. He was simultaneously cosmopolitan and conservative, sitting comfortably at the testy intersection of the traditions of the East and the West. He was cerebral, well-read, articulate and sociable, and never shy of holding or voicing strong opinions. Most importantly, he built bridges across regions, religions and generations. In a way, he was actually a bridge himself.

This distinguishing part of him came to the fore for me in the Nigeria Collective, a chatroom that he created and managed. This is a rare gathering of the top crop of the Nigerian society, so top-heavy that I have wondered many times how small fries like me got added to it. Housed in this hallowed group are retired generals (including a former head of state), bankers (including former bank founders and CEOs and a CBN governor), newspaper publishers, leading academics and public intellectuals, traditional rulers, retired public servants and diplomats, civil society activists, and an array of politicians (including a former presidential candidate in the famous 1993 election and former governors and ministers and those who went on to those or other positions).

Mallam Mouftah was not just the administrator of this distinguished group, he was the magnet. He leveraged his extensive contacts, goodwill and enthusiasm to birth and sustain the idea of a forum where members discussed a range of issues and try to use their influence to shape outcomes. He was the classic connector. And the platform he built also served as the connecting point for many individuals whose paths ordinarily might have not crossed. Not a few members have gone ahead from there to forge deep personal and professional relationships. We have Mallam Mouftah to thank for that too, even if networking and fellowship were not part of the original script. 

At its height, Nigeria Collective was a busy and pulsating discursive arena. Ideas, documents, opinions, and of course the people sharing them, jostled and clashed. The exchanges were brilliant, lively, passionate and robust. Inevitably, hot words would sometimes be traded, but it was mostly done within the bounds of decorum. Maybe that is because of the many elders quietly listening in. But the place of mature moderator cannot be discountenanced.

Being on the Nigeria Collective has been a great education for me. The discussions on and the materials shared in the group have deepened my knowledge and enriched my perspectives about Nigeria and the world. At some point, however, the discursive fervour in the Nigeria Collective cooled. This can be attributed to many reasons, including the explosion of alternative mediums for instant communication and the divergence of politics. Before long, the bubbling font of ideas transitioned into a notice board or a social register.

I still find the idea of discursive and deliberative platforms appealing, especially at a time when we are becoming increasingly polarised and too eager to cancel those who see things differently. More than ever, we need safe spaces where people can have passionate, informed and structured discussions about Nigeria’s challenges and pathways, where people can disagree with and learn from one another, and where different visions of the best we want for our country can be debated with vigour, open mind and respect. I believe this is one of the ways we can take the idea of the Nigeria Collective and other such forums forward, and a veritable way to honour Mallam Mouftah’s memory.

At a personal level, I found him to be profound and personable. He would call whenever he felt I got something wrong, or there was a background I needed to have or something else that I needed to know. We communicated more via WhatsApp. He was one of the people I send newspaper headlines to almost on a daily basis. I believe I am one of those on his broadcast lists for news and commentaries, and for materials on the economy, politics and Islam.

He took his egbon role seriously. He would show up to offer condolences (when I lost my parents), call on special birthdays, be present or send representatives whenever I had something important to do, whether it was a book launch or a magazine presentation. He was a contributor to Metropole, the magazine I used to publish on Abuja metropolis. He wrote for us under the pseudonym, School Boy—a hilarious form of self-effacement but also a signal of his commitment to learning. He offered to buy Metropole when I decided to rest it. But I felt there was nothing to sell. He was a staunch supporter of my work in government and outside of it.

The last time we had a direct exchange was in early July. After I gave a short talk at a retreat, a young man walked up to introduce himself as the son of Mallam Mouftah Baba-Ahmed. On my way back to town, I sent Mallam Mouftah a text that I met his son. He asked me about where we met, then sent me a reply to the effect that his son is my son also. I found that exceedingly funny, and I sent him a laughter emoji.

His illness was announced about two weeks ago on the Nigeria Collective, the platform he created and nurtured. I called immediately to speak to him, but he didn’t pick. I sent him a message, offering my prayers and well wishes, but no reply came. I kept him in my prayers. Then on Wednesday, the news of his passing was announced on the same forum. He was just 63. There is something shocking and numbing about death in general, but more so about sudden departures of people of good nature and full of life.

But the Holy Book has forewarned us that every soul shall taste death. It was Mallam Mouftah’s appointed time. May Almighty Allah forgive his sins, accept his good deeds, and grant him the highest station in Aljannah. May Allah SWT comfort his immediate family, the entire Baba-Ahmed clan and his other loved ones, including members of the Nigeria Collective. Ameen.