In brief
Baba Bala, a 68-year-old craftsman, reflects on his father’s legacy and the challenges of a dying trade, as technology reshapes the way we keep time.
In Kaduna, Nigeria, the rhythmic ticking of clocks fills the air in Baba Bala's small, cluttered watch-repair shop, a nostalgic reminder of a bygone era. Nestled amidst a vibrant marketplace, the shop stands as a testament to the rich history of horology in the region. For over half a century, Bala Muhammad, affectionately known as Baba Bala, repaired watches for countless customers. Yet, the once-bustling flow of business has dramatically dwindled, leaving him to ponder the future of his trade."Some days, I have no customers at all," laments the 68-year-old. Mobile phones have nearly replaced traditional wristwatches as the go-to device for telling time, leading to a decline in his once-thriving enterprise. "Technology has stolen the only job I know, and it makes me very sad," he says. Despite these changes, he holds fond memories of the boom years when he was bombarded with over a hundred watch repairs in a single day.Baba Bala's lifelong passion for horology was ignited by his father, Abdullahi Bala Isah, a skilled craftsman himself. The elder Bala traveled extensively across West Africa, repairing timepieces for discerning customers, including high-ranking officials of the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation. His legacy is immortalized in a framed photograph that hangs on the wall of the shop, and the knowledge he imparted to his son remains a source of pride for Baba Bala.With the popularity of wristwatches once rivaling that of clothing in Nigeria, losing touch with the craft feels like a personal defeat for Baba Bala. Many of his contemporaries have either retired or abandoned the profession entirely, their shops left in ruins. Former watch repairer Isa Sani reflects, "I sat down at my shop daily, but no one came to work – that's why I stopped in 2019."Disinterest in wristwatches persists among younger generations, who now rely wholly on their mobile phones for the time. "I’ve never owned a watch because I can check the time on my phone," explains 18-year-old Faisal Abdulkarim. Dr. Umar Abdulmajid, a communications lecturer, suggests that smartwatches may resuscitate interest in horology, but Baba Bala feels disconnected from such trends."My heart is in old watches, and I don’t have the energy to adjust to new technology," he asserts, likening himself to a doctor for timepieces. He remains hopeful as his family continues to support him, with his wife and children still wearing watches. Unfortunately, many of his repairs now gather dust as customers abandon them.Baba Bala spends his long hours in the shop listening to BBC Hausa broadcasts, reminiscing about the past while fostering hopes for a brighter future. His youngest son, Al-Ameen, has shown interest in the craft but harbors dreams of being a pilot – a symbol of progress and a nod to the importance of embracing new opportunities.While addressing the glaring reality that watch-repairing could soon become a forgotten trade, Baba Bala embodies resilience, pledging to keep the doors of his shop open as long as he can. Yet, the ticking of time, he knows, may soon hand the craft over to the past, much like the watches he tenderly repairs.
