To understand their daughter’s problem, my parents, ALHAMDULILAH, were determined to find the issue. They learned that I, Mujahidah1, had the SS gene, meaning I was a sickle cell warrior. To protect my health, they had to prevent mosquito bites and exposure to harsh weather, whether cold, hot, or harmattan. The doctors also advised regular hospital routines and check-ups to ensure a long and healthy life. The hospital then became a second home for me and my family.
My name is Ruqaiyyah Aliyu2. I was diagnosed with sickle cell anemia at eight months old, and my first crisis began at one year and three months. This marked the beginning of my anemic episodes. As a baby, I received about six units of blood in addition to the two pints I had. This has been my life ever since, and now, at 32, I still live with sickle cell anemia. I was too young to describe all the pain and episodes at that age, but according to my mum, I had slow growth. Crawling became difficult, and walking was impossible as a two-year-old, while my peers were jumping around. This drew my parents’ attention.
Furthermore, graduating from primary school with my classmates was challenging, and this led to depression. Everyone in my class advanced to junior secondary school while I repeated primary 3 three times. I transferred from Fomwan School to Al-Ishan School to join my peers in primary 3. This is why I stayed in primary 3 instead of advancing to primary 4, I accepted my destiny. When it was my time to wear the graduation jalabiya, I was anxious about the fact that I wasn’t advancing to JSS 1. I lost my grandpa and we traveled to Sokoto. Upon returning, I found my name missing from the list of graduates, so I had to go to another school to write the common entrance exam.
Growing up with constant pain and tears, my mother, Hajiya Binta, frequently rushed me to the General Hospital in Wuse. This was how I came to know I was a sickle cell warrior3, although I only fully understood it after secondary school in 2011. Before then, I rarely took exams with my classmates and couldn’t participate in Physical Health Education (PHE) exercises. This exclusion made me hate the subject and the teacher. While everyone played outside, I would watch through the window, sipping Ribena. It was so sad because I loved playing.
One vivid memory from childhood is my mother giving me two tablets, one yellow and one white, after lunch, with Ribena or Lucozade. She didn’t give these to my brother Abdulaziz, which made me feel special. I would always look forward to lunch because I got an extra drink. I never questioned why I was the only one receiving these medications among the three of us. This routine continued throughout nursery and primary school. When I faced the prospect of repeating primary six and missing out on writing the common entrance exam, I collapsed and burst into tears. This prompted Hajiya (Mama) to enroll me in Local Education Authority (LEA) Primary School to write the common entrance exam. I attended one of the best Islamic schools in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja, Nigeria, but my result came from LEA Wuse Zone 6. When the results were out, I advanced to junior secondary school.
Throughout this time, I was unaware that I had sickle cell anemia. As the eldest daughter, I received the highest break allowance and brought food and drink in a basket to school as a junior secondary school (JSS) 1 student. This posed another challenge, as other students mocked me for my large barbie bag and food basket. Despite this, I was appointed as the assembly coordinator. This situation made me shy and uncomfortable with how other students addressed me. Attending a private school taught me to behave decently and calmly, but this made me seem like a wealthy person’s child and a point of discussion. Government school was rough. One day, I came home helpless, unable to talk or eat, and started purging. I was dehydrated and stressed out. Mama came home to find me restless; I was suffering from cholera. I was rushed to the hospital and stayed there for two days. After returning home, I spent weeks without going to school. Once I was stabilized, I told Mama that we were asked to cut the grass as punishment, which led to me being taken to school with a medical report. The teachers were informed that anyone who punished me would bear the consequences. This allowed me to complete my junior secondary school successfully without missing a test or exam. I graduated as the best and most popular student, chairperson of the Muslim Students Society (MSS), and a member of both the press club and JET club. This was the trajectory of my life from 2005 till 2008.
In 2009, I was 20 years old and in Senior Secondary School 1, dreaming of becoming a medical doctor specializing in gynecology. Unbeknownst to me, I had a chronic health disease. My teacher told me that as a Muslim girl, studying to become a doctor was pointless because I would eventually get married and have children. Disheartened, I went to the chancellor’s office to change my class, deciding to become a lawyer and an advocate for girl child education instead. I was interviewed, switched to an arts class, and given the opportunity to attend Commonwealth Day to present a speech. I resumed class C which was meant for arts students. Luckily for me class C has the highest number of Muslim students and most intelligent students. Subsequently, exams approached, and I struggled to understand the subjects. Even though had left science class, the same teacher — my Chemistry teacher who made me kill the dream of becoming a gynecologist — kept haunting me, and this time, with relish of her victory in chasing me out of science class, resorted to bullying me out of school completely. My Chemistry teacher kept humiliating and mocking me. She would ask me to remove my hijab, saying I was the reason FCT students started wearing short hijabs. This made her dislike me and she frequently asked me to leave the class, calling me dull and short. She would say, “That is how we fill up the school’s classes pretending to be interested in education but still end up in our husband’s houses having sex and giving birth to almajiri.” I was not discouraged by her bullying, though.
Writing became a hobby because one of our teachers didn’t write notes on the board; the class monitor copied and passed her notes around. Government school was different! I started collecting notes from the teacher, copying them into my notebook, and passing my book around to classmates. This made me very popular. I became well-known in FCT secondary schools after the national musabaqah in 2010 at Government Secondary School (GSS), Gwagwalada, where I placed second, I was announced and called during the assembly. I graduated from senior secondary school as the best student, popular across all FCT government schools but the smallest in stature among all my classmates. I attended government schools throughout, but I must commend Malam Nasir el Rufai’s regime. During his tenure, he launched a school run bus and a feeding program for all FCT secondary schools in Abuja. Unlike non-government schools where students cleaned as a punishment, under his leadership, it was not a duty. I graduated without any challenges from sickle cell anemia. In fact, the work I do might still affect me today. I trekked miles, played volleyball, and participated in running and sack races. I only stopped due to asthma, not because of my condition.
As time went on, I started experiencing severe pain, sleepless nights, nightmares, and asthmatic attacks. What was wrong with me? This question arose as I became bedridden in the hospital, facing multiple admissions lasting weeks, when previously, the maximum was three days. Complications kept arising, leading to visits to various hospital departments and specialists. Yah SUBHANALLAH, the hospital became my daily “hangout”. We even ate breakfast there due to traffic. I became so well-known that a parking space was reserved for us. In 2011, I graduated from secondary school, intending to go to university. I planned to attend Usman dan Fodio University to study law, but I ended up bedridden at the national hospital for a full year, from January to December. I stopped thinking about school. Later, I began missing school, home, and friends, seeing only doctors and nurses. The pain from sickle cell anemia was unmeasurable. I lost all pleasure and saw only Mama, Baba, and my brother Abdulaziz. I developed osteomyelitis in both wrists, rendering them unusable for two years, despite various oral and IV medications, physiotherapy, gym sessions, and consultations. Despite various indoor and outdoor therapies, I gave up hope of using my hands again. My mum, brother Abdulaziz, or Halifa had to help me dress. With only male siblings around, I faced the embarrassment of having little or no privacy as they took me to the restroom, washed me, and cleaned me when Mama was cooking. They even helped with my sanitary pads. I experienced palpitations, anemic shock, and high blood pressure at 23, leading to various depressions. In 2013, I left the hospital with complications, including osteoarthritis in both knees, heart failure, and anemia, requiring monthly blood transfusions for a year. This is how I developed some sensory abnormalities, including hearing loss in one ear and poor vision. I used glasses and a hearing aid for one ear. These disabilities made me reconsider becoming a lawyer. I then decided to become a journalist, specializing in health issues. ALHAMDULILAH, my dreams came true with courage and the help of Allah through Aminu Shu’Abu Baraya (LOJA).
I was offered a place in mass communication under the College of Arts and Humanities after I returned to school to re-sit the West African Examination Council examination. Remember, I studied at GSS Wuse Zone 3 and have a testimonial and result from Nana Girls’ Secondary School in Sokoto. Aminu processed and fought for my admission while I was abroad for treatment. He used his hard-earned money to pay my school fees, despite already being a graduate with a national diploma in business administration. He wasn’t a student but still helped me secure this admission with his resources and efforts. He even handled the departmental documentation, signing all necessary signatures and stamps before I returned to Nigeria. When Aminu called to tell me, “Rukky, you have been admitted to study Mass Communication,” I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. This happiness was so intense that I fell sick during my transit from Cairo to Dubai. I was hospitalized upon landing, but the joy in me was indescribable. I also suffered a partial stroke, which caused complications with my eyes, ears, and other sense organs due to sickle cell anemia. My condition escalated from inpatient to outpatient care. I was not fully discharged; the only difference was that I slept at home instead of the hospital ward.
Life at polytechnic was a rollercoaster. I was labeled disrespectful and lazy because I couldn’t cook. I survived on cornflakes and ordered food because I couldn’t stand the smell of the stove due to asthma, and electric cooking utensils were deemed contraband. Growing up, I was given daily warm water baths and was not allowed to do chores, but hostel life did not afford me these luxuries. I had to be independent, and I resorted to high doses of painkillers to be strong enough to do all the chores my fellow students did. This led to a chronic gastric ulcer and a leg ulcer. The life of a sickle cell warrior is unbearable.
During my hospital stay, I lost a lot of my memory, including the hibz of the Quran I memorized, making learning, and catching up difficult. Students saw me as dull, saying, “she can only speak English but can’t work or cook.” This made me a point of discussion and left me without friends in the polytechnic. Despite this, I gave myself the courage to persevere. I chose to stay in the hostel even though I had a family house in Sokoto. When I couldn’t sleep, I called Aminu, who took me to my grandparents’ house. The next morning, Aminu picked me up for school. He became my rider, taking me to school and back. ALHAMDULILAH, he got admitted to Sokoto State University, which is a 10-minute walk from my polytechnic. We went to school together and returned home together. Even on Fridays when Aminu didn’t have classes, he came early to pick me up and as time went on parking at the hostel became a problem. Life in polytechnic was stressful, but ALHAMDULILAH, I graduated.
Now, I am a freelance journalist, a writer, and I manage a journal on my social media platform advocating for sickle cell awareness and Islamic dawaah. I am a well-known advocate for sickle cell and girl child education across Africa under the name Pen RUAL. Thousands of people with sickle cell depend on me for their medication and hospital rides. I am also training to be a chef, insha’Allah, I coordinate all 19 northern Nigeria States “sickle cell anemia warriors’ zones.” Despite still carrying these complications, ALHAMDULILAH, I have achieved what I wanted. Life requires patience; believe in time and trust only in Allah.
Despite all the trials and tribulations, I graduated from school. Life hasn’t been easy; it has been a hell of a ride, but I have accomplished what I set my mind to despite the hurdles. I consider these hurdles as steppingstones and continue to move forward.
Endnote:
1“Mujahidah here refers to an innocent girl.
2This is my journey. I am Ruqaiyyah Aliyu, a relentless sickle cell warrior who has battled fiercely, continues to fight, and now fights for others.”
3Sickle cell (anemia) warrior is used here as a positive way of referring to people living with sickle cell anemia in recognition of their resilience.