Badalar Kano is a symbol of great ancient civilization and
universal value. It is also an important marker of Hausaland civilization. The building of the great walls started in 1095-1134
through to the 14th century, expanded to current positions in 16th
century.
The walls were designed for defense and security, to protect
the city against enemy invasion. Like many historical landmarks, the moat
survived its original use and came to serve as an important cultural heritage. Kano
residents can still see its original purpose.
In 2007, UNESCO’s World Heritage Committee had, among other
sites, put the ancient Kano city walls on the Tentative List of world heritage
sites. Which means further work on conservation and protection before the Committee
can finally declare it world heritage site. But this is unlikely due to
administrative negligence, political corruption and trespassing that undermine
the possibility of its inscription on the World Heritage List by UNESCO’s World
Heritage Committee.
These horrible factors are not limited to Kano heritage sites
alone. Only two Nigerian sites are conclusively listed on World Heritage List -
Sukur Cultural Landscape and Osun-Osogbo Sacred Grove, due understandably to poor
maintenance culture and care and preservation.
Africa as a whole likes to boast as the cradle of civilization
yet none of the countries is among the nations with most UNESCO heritage sites.
This is a challenging statement to our civilization as a result of longstanding
uncultured and uncultivated leadership.
It pains me to the bone the walls are gradually disappearing,
as though people are hacking at me when I see them hack at the walls. But there
are some handful residents that still feel about the Badala.
Mallam Abdulkarimu Na-Badala is taking it up on himself to
protect and rebuild the walls, at least the portion around his home, as I have
seen him at work with his men. Twenty-five years back, he rebuilt the collapsed
portions. This time age is telling on him, he stood and supervised.
Men at work |
Tijjani Aliyu Sultan,
a resident of Ƙofar Waika, spoke favorably of the Na-Badala’s effort. “This is
long overdue” he said. “It is good, because we grew up hearing Badala and its
history. We will not hope to see this cultural legacy being eliminated. It is
really good job. My friend and I are
ready to come out and actively participate. We can be given a portion to work
on as much as there are tools and materials.”
Neighboring communities to the wall face obvious challenges:
open defecation in the ditches, drainage blockage, air and land pollution, and
having their kids easily infected by diseases such as cholera. Often, when the refuse is set on fire dense smoke
fills their houses. One family lost their asthmatic baby to the smoke.
Bashir Abubakar, 25, was happy and grateful. Na-Badala’s work
is a good initiative, he said, it is a welcome development because the walls still
offer security. The ditches is being used as hideout by grass smokers and
criminals, so it shields us from them thugs, thieves and other miscreants, he
said.
It is hard to find a man all over Kano who feels so personal
about the walls like Mallam Na-Badala.
Why is he called that name? It’s a long story, he said, when
his lone house stood near the walls. He was being referred to as the man near
Badala to direct pregnant women seeking medicinal herbs to his home. It is very
common to hear people who live near the walls being referred to with the walls.
Abban Badala, for instance, my primary school friend.
Na-Badala’s story goes beyond living near the walls alone. The
late emir Dr. Ado Bayero knew of his
work. When the portion of Badala to his home fell twenty five years ago and
bikers were falling into the ditch, he sought permission from Sarkin Ƙofa
Na-Liti. The shocked Sarkin Ƙofa was surprised but granted the permission nonetheless.
Traditionally in Hausa culture it’s the Palace’s duty to coordinate
and execute public work. Na-Badala embarked on the job out of respect for the Palace.
“If you stretch a rope
and measure the entire walls,” he said, “it spans 12 miles, no more no less. It
was meant for security, to protect the town against fighters and invaders.”
Goron Dutse was initially carved out of the walls but the
then emir foresaw security threat: invading armies could climb on to the hill
and launch their attack.
Abdulkarimu Na-Badala supervising the work |
Bricklayer at work |
Na-Badala has much in his head but is unwilling to share. Once
university students came to him. He refused to go on speaking when he realized
they’re taking notes. It took minutes to convince him to speak to me.
Gates are named after significant events that took place at
the spot or a passage route for some far away communities travelling through to
the city. Ƙofar Waika, for instance, or Ƙofar Dawanau, are passages for Waika
people and Dawanua respectively.
It is from him that I first learnt Ƙofar Ruwa as Ƙofar
Lunkwui. And it all made sense. I have
been passing through the Lunkwui area but hadn’t made the connection.
Cultural heritages like Badala are protected by relevant city
authority. The Federal Government in 1959 took over control of the walls.
However, the walls are continually being erased to erect personal structures,
shops and dwelling houses. Politicians can allocate or sell the land at wills
to their cronies and acolytes. In 2004, three years before appearing on the
Tentative List, the German government donated the sum of $68,000 for the
rehabilitation of the walls.
Securing international protection is unlikely if the walls
are continually being chiseled away and damaged. The UNESCO Committee may even
go ahead to inscribe the walls on the List in Danger and finally delist it.
For nothing at all, there is a need to preserve the crude
labour of our forefathers which symbolizes a significant stage in our
civilization.
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