Idrisima Became Comforter of Igala Nation After Achema Because Achema Brought Him Up

By Onoja Integrity

Somewhere in the heart of Gwarinpa Estate, Abuja—on a dim February night in 2024—something profound unfolded.

I was seated with Idris Hussein, popularly known as Idrisima or Idris HK, inside his office at Crush Cafe, on 1st Avenue.

It was late.

The air was thick with sincerity, and our conversation took a turn that left an imprint on my soul. And I feel you should also know about it.

Between sips of drinks and unfiltered laughter, he dropped words that shook me to my core. I was in company of my friend, Musa Idoko.

“I don’t think my children will need my wealth to build their lives,” he said, staring into the night.

“And if God calls me tomorrow, everything I’ve worked for might just crumble.”

He paused, looked at me, and said it with such clarity that it stung: “Life is empty.” He added that, that sense of inevitable death he imbibes is part of the reasons he gives—freely, without hesitation.

But wait.

Before we plunge deep into our conversation, let me correct a common misconception about the man. You may wonder why Idrisima gives so publicly. I mean the open charity some are condemning.

I have heard people saying it’s wrong Islamically or Biblically. Others are taking it to be a show off. Oops! I know it’s because they don’t know Idrisima.

The man’s intention is pure and I think that should be the most important thing. Idrisima’s thinking is, “Giving publicly, when done with humility, becomes an invitation for others to join in the giving,” – Adapted Saying. He equally believes that “When you share your blessings publicly, you not only glorify the act, you amplify it,” as postulated by Unknown author.

That is all. Nothing more.

But beyond what you see in the open, lies a larger, quieter universe of daily giving.

What Idrisima does in the shadows for friends, family, Igalas and Kogites far outweighs his public generosity.

I write as an insider, a direct beneficiary of his quiet benevolence. Do you know how many people are on his monthly salary list?

Many—so many. And he tells no one about them.

Not even us, his closest circle, know the full length of his reach.

Now that we’ve addressed the doubters, let’s revisit that night—the night Idrisima opened a vault of memories and revelations.

He told us that there were times he gave out an entire day’s sales from his Crush Cafe—just like that, all for charity.

Who does that?

What kind of human is that? A merchant of joy? A broker of hope?

To understand him, we must travel backward—into his roots, into his past.

His model? His mentor? His foster father? Dr. Stephen Makoji Achema.

Yes, the Achema.

Idrisima said he grew up under Achema’s wings.

He said Achema raised him—not just physically, but philosophically. So, he modelled his life after the great man.

And that, dear reader, explains a lot.

Because if you know who Achema was, then you already know who Idrisima is. Dr. Stephen Achema was not just a man; he was a movement.

Achema was the beacon that pulled the Igala people from political obscurity into national relevance.

Decades after his death, his name still commands respect—like thunder long after the lightning.

Born in the era when Igala voices were muffled in the politics of Kwara and Benue states, Achema rose like a colossus.

He was instrumental in creating a path for Kogi’s creation in 1991.

He wasn’t wealthy in the political sense, but he was rich in ideas, vision, and courage.

He mentored generations of Igala professionals, many of whom now steer the wheels of Nigeria’s institutions.

And now—years after his passing—we see a familiar energy, a familiar light… in Idrisima.

It’s like Achema reincarnated—not to reclaim glory, but to comfort our people.

He was not just a father figure to Idrisima, he was the blueprint.

Idrisima said, “Achema brought me up. I learned life through him.”

So, for everyone wondering what manner of man is Idrisima, I hope it is now making sense to you?

You cannot understand the fruit until you meet the tree that bore it. And Achema was no ordinary tree.

Achema was a towering figure whose shadow still looms over Kogi’s political and humanitarian history. A humanist. A strategist. A reformer.

Though long gone, his name still stirs emotions and reverence in every Igala household.

That is where Idrisima is heading to – already, know where in Olamaboro he is not known. Can Ankpa people deny him? Is he not a house hold name in Dekina? What of Omala, Ibaji, Igala mela, Idah, Ofu and Bassa? You can’t say you don’t know Idrisima. Even in Okene, he is known, let alone on Igala soil.

Achema was the bridge that carried Igala from the forgotten edges of Kwara and Benue into the spotlight of Kogi statehood. And now, Idrisima carries his torch.

He doesn’t say it often, but his deeds scream it: “I am a child of Achema’s vision.” And in him, Achema lives on.

Since the days of his first ₦50,000 in Idah, Idrisima has not stopped giving.

He doesn’t wait to become a billionaire before becoming a blessing.

He believes in impact in motion—giving even while growing. And like he has often said, he isn’t the richest in Igala land and not even one of the wealthiest, but he is born and raised to make people’s lives better and because he believes that whatever you do for yourself dies with you but whatever you do for others lives on, everything should go to people and his land should be made better.

He is the reason so many children in Igala land are in their classrooms today.

He is the reason there is water in Ankpa, Dekina and so many communities in Igala land.

Okada Riders in Ogugu and across Igala land had free fuel that brought money into their pockets because there is a man called Idrisima.

He is the reason many sit in lecture halls today because he paid for their JAMB exams.

He is the silent partner behind the success of Amina’s restaurant in Kubwa.

He is the bridge between dreams and reality for Ojima, Omachonu, Ocheme, and countless others doing their businesses in Abuja, Lokoja and ane Igala.

Even Shehu, who couldn’t afford to visit his aging parents in Ogeneinugu, made it home during last Salah—thanks to Idrisima. And it wasn’t just Shehu. It was hundreds like him.

Now tell me—who else?

Who else, without holding political office, has done what this man has done for Igala land?

Who else, using only personal resources, has lit up homes, lifted lives, and rewritten destinies like Idris HK?

Name one. There’s none. Not up to the level he has gone.

Idrisima is not just a man; he is an era. He is doing now what government budgets still fail to do.

I once visited Prof. Suleiman Barnabas this year, and the conversation tilted to Idrisima. He asked if the man was nurturing political ambitions. He said he knows it’s the usual trend.

Before I could answer, the professor surprised me.

He said, “We need good people in politics. If he wants to go in, he should. That’s our prayer.”

That shifted my perspective. Maybe it’s time we stop asking if good men should enter politics—and start encouraging them to do so.

Because Idrisima has seen the deplorable roads. He’s tried to fix some. Like the reconstructed roundabout in Idah—funded from his own pocket.

But private money has limits. Capital projects like roads, schools, tractors, and industries require political power and public funding.

So if one day he seeks office, it will not be for fame or power to oppress —it will be to scale his impact. For now, he’s doing more than any individual should be expected to do.

He’s bought transformers worth millions. He’s sunk boreholes. He’s lifting people daily. But of course, no light shines without casting shadows.

There are those who whisper against him. Don’t forget to remember that if you see anyone dragging Idrisima, the dragger belongs to one of these categories: those he has refused to find their luxury lifestyles; those that see a political threat in his rising popularity.

To them, I say: Stop dragging down the one lifting us up. This isn’t about politics. Not yet. This is about humanity. About Igala land.

And even if politics comes, wouldn’t you rather be his ally than his adversary? After all, he’s not new to the scene.

He once contested. He once tried. But he backed off when the waters turned toxic. Yet if he returns, I pray he’s met with clarity—not conspiracy.

Because his only opponents would be those opposed to progress of Igala land and those not wanting a son of nobody to become somebody without knowing anybody.

And as I write this, I can only echo one truth: God bless Dr. Achema for raising a comforter. Idrisima is here to stay, to stay for me, you, and the entire Igala land plus Kogi State at large.

Let the pen rest – God bless Idrisima—the Crush Cafe Man Crushing Poverty in Igala land.

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