Dawule Baba was not just a name on a scoreboard—he was a living legend in the world of Nigerian polo, a man who defined an era with a mallet in his hand and fire in his heart. From the very first day I met him at the Kaduna Polo Club, I knew I was in the presence of someone special. I was a young journalist then, new to the sports desk of the New Nigerian Newspapers, and in one of my usual stops at the Polo Club, Dawule pulled me aside one evening with his usual charm: “You must report this game—and you must report me.” That command was more than an invitation; it was the beginning of a friendship that gave me a front-row seat to greatness.
When Dawule Baba mounted a horse, it wasn’t simply a rider taking position—it was an artist picking up his brush. He didn’t ride horses; he spoke to them. Whether Argentine thoroughbreds or the rugged stock from Chad and Sudan, his horses responded to him like they’d known him all their lives. His goals were nothing short of magnificent, earning him nicknames like “The Teacher” and later “The Professor.” These weren’t mere titles—they were earned badges from peers and fans alike who recognized his unmatched brilliance in the game of kings.
But Dawule’s story wasn’t only of goals and glory. He lived through hardship too—like the brutal armed robbery attack he endured along the Abuja-Kaduna highway. Yet, with the same courage he showed on the field, he survived, healed, and kept galloping forward. Rather than retreat, he reinvested in the sport, doubling down on his passion through Dee Bee Farms—his stable of 22 horses and a dedicated staff, which became not just a breeding ground for elite polo horses, but for future champions.
Born into polo in Maiduguri, he came from a legacy but built his own with sweat and steel.
Dawule Baba was a real master of set-pieces, scoring from tough angles like it was nothing. He had a special way of placing the ball just right, and that made him stand out on any field.
He played all over the world – in Zimbabwe, Kenya, Morocco, South Africa, Egypt and Ghana. He took part in African playoffs of Polo World Cup and even played with Prince Charles in England. His journey also took him to Argentina, Malaysia, Egypt, and Brazil, where he played with the Usman Dantata Polo Team, Anadariya. No matter where he went, Dawule’s talent and love for polo always stood out. Yet, despite international acclaim, Dawule remained deeply rooted in Nigerian soil. He believed that polo was not reserved for the wealthy elite alone. He championed local talents like Tijani Hassan and Bello Buba—players from humble beginnings who rose to fame because Dawule believed in skill over status.
At Usman Dantata Polo Team, Anadariya, Dawule silenced doubters who once scoffed at his inclusion. He helped win the Georgian Cup—the crown jewel of the Kaduna Polo Tournament—and later, the prestigious Majekodunmi Cup in Lagos. He replicated those victories with Ranchers Stallions and Bulls under Senator Ahmed Aruwa, Kaduna Kakuri, and MIA Hotels Polo Team. All in all, he claimed an astonishing 13 to 14 Georgian Cups, placing him among the top three most decorated players in Nigerian history, right alongside Bello Buba and Muhammad Babangida.
Yet, what set Dawule apart wasn’t just his record—it was his character. I vividly recall a tense match in Ibadan: Kaduna Kakuri vs. Lagos Machines. A foul was controversially called in favor of his team. But Dawule, in a rare show of sportsmanship, stepped forward and said, “No, it’s Lagos’ ball.” That single act of honesty averted chaos and defined him more than any trophy ever could. In a game where tempers flare and egos clash, Dawule was the peacemaker, the calming force, the elder statesman.
He was always there on the sidelines at tournaments—not yelling, but quietly offering guidance to young players. His mentorship was gentle but firm, never belittling. He believed that polo was “half talent, half heart,” and he poured both into every chukker, every young protégé, and every one of his horses. He didn’t just play for the win—he played to raise the standard.
People often asked if one had to be rich or royal to play polo. Dawule would laugh and explain, “Polo is expensive, yes—but not impossible.” He’d then go on to break down the cost: Argentine horses could cost N2.5 million, flying them in another N300,000, saddles $1,400, and local horses, while cheaper at N1 million or so, required just as much care. Yet, through it all, Dawule helped democratize the sport. His generosity was such that he rented his prized Argentine horses only to trusted friends, while still finding time and space to mentor complete rookies—free of charge.
He was a businessman, a player, a trainer, and a visionary. Polo wasn’t just a game to him; it was half his life, half his business. Dee Bee Farms—named after his initials—stood as a beacon of this passion. There, a veterinarian visited thrice weekly to ensure his horses remained in peak health, and local and imported horses were nurtured with equal devotion. It was a sanctuary, not just for animals, but for dreams.
Even in his final months, Dawule carried himself with the same quiet dignity he had always shown. Just weeks before his passing, he lost his mother. He bore that grief with peace and grace. He never quarreled, never sought trouble, and was never drawn into disputes. He lived by a principle that most people only preach—integrity.
His two sons, Baba and Abba, have now taken the reins—literally and figuratively. Both are rising stars in polo, continuing a legacy that their father built not just with skill, but with soul. And it is this legacy that gives us solace today. Dawule’s story isn’t over. His sons are writing the next chapter.
As I write this, I think of the thunder of hooves at the Kaduna Polo Club, the cheers of fans as Dawule scored yet another impossible goal, the laughter as he cracked jokes about how expensive polo really is. I think of a man who turned every game into an artwork and every moment into a memory. His saddle may be empty now, but his spirit rides on—in every goal scored by his sons, in every young player he mentored, and in every heart he touched.
Rest in peace, Professor Dawule Baba. You were a warrior, a teacher, and a legend. The field will miss your thunder, but your legacy echoes louder than ever.
