Month: August 2025

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

The Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF) has called on President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and Kano State Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf to suspend the operations of AREWA24 television station in Kano over allegations of misrepresenting Hausa culture and traditions in its film content.

The group also commended the Kano State Film Censorship Board for banning over 20 Hausa films aired on AREWA24 and other stations.

Speaking at a two-day event organized by the Sardauna Memorial Foundation in Kaduna, Alhaji Danjuma Hassan, a member of ACF from Kano, praised the censorship board for its action.

He urged Governor Yusuf to shut down AREWA24’s illegal operations on the premises of Kano’s state-owned television station, ARTV.

Hassan further called on President Tinubu to impose a nationwide ban on AREWA24 for broadcasting without a valid license from the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC).

He accused the station of violating NBC regulations, advertising laws (ARCON), tax laws, and Nigeria’s local content policies, which he claimed harm the interests of Kano residents, Northwestern Nigerians, and the nation at large.

He alleged that the station, owned by an American Jew, has profited over $200 million from advertisements in Kano while disregarding Nigerian laws and policies meant to protect local investors and Hausa cultural values.

The Kano State Film Censorship Board recently banned 22 Hausa films, including popular titles like Labarina and Dadin Kowa, citing violations of broadcasting regulations.

The board’s chairman, Abba El-Mustapha, stated that the producers failed to submit their films for mandatory review before public release.

Abdullahi Sani Sulaiman, the board’s spokesperson, confirmed the suspension, warning that legal action would follow if the directive was ignored.

He urged NBC and other media regulators to support the board’s efforts in enforcing censorship laws to promote ethical film production in Kannywood.

The banned films include: Dakin Amarya, Mashahuri, Gidan Sarauta, Wasiyya, Tawakkaltu, Mijina, Wani Zamani, Mallaka, Kudin Ruwa, Boka Ko Malam, Wa Yasan Gobe, Rana Dubu, Manyan Mata, Fatake, Gwarwashi, Jamilun Jiddan, Shahadar Nabila, Tabarma, Kishiyata, and Rigar Aro.

The board reaffirmed its commitment to upholding cultural values in Hausa film production and urged broadcasters to comply with censorship guidelines to ensure industry growth.

This move is part of the Kano State government’s broader efforts to sanitize and restructure the Kannywood film industry, promoting discipline and cultural integrity in media content.

The banned films, widely viewed on television and social media, have sparked public debate on the role of censorship in regulating entertainment content.

The board insists on strict adherence to cultural and ethical standards in Hausa filmmaking.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

The Chief of Army Staff (COAS), Lt. Gen. Olufemi Oluyede, has called for special funding to address the Nigerian Army’s accommodation crisis as it prepares to receive 13,000 new recruits.

Speaking during a visit by the Senate Committee on Army to the Army Headquarters in Abuja, Oluyede lamented that current budgetary allocations under the envelope system are insufficient to meet operational and welfare needs.

“We lack the resources to house these new personnel, and the problem keeps growing,” he said, urging lawmakers to approve dedicated funds for military infrastructure.

Senate Committee Chairman Abdulaziz Yar’Adua pledged support, stating, “The Army should be exempted from envelope budgeting to enhance its capabilities.”

The committee also conducted oversight inspections of projects in multiple states, vowing to push for improved funding before year-end.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

It all began like any other viral moment on Nigerian social media, but then it took a turn. Popular TikTok sensation Hamzat Habeeb Adelaja, popularly known as Peller, shocked followers recently with a post that seemed almost too generous to be true. He was hiring a cameraman for a monthly salary of ₦500,000. The news spread like wildfire, and in no time, graduates, yes, university graduates, trooped in for interviews, hoping to clinch the role under the young entertainer’s banner.

But beneath the glitz of that social media post lies a stark irony, a brutal reflection of Nigeria’s current socioeconomic reality: a secondary school certificate holder interviewing degree holders for a position in the gig economy. Is this a triumph of hustle over education or a symptom of a failing system?

This scenario has ignited widespread controversy. Should someone with Peller’s academic background employ graduates? Is he flaunting success in a way that undermines the value of formal education? Or is he, in his own unorthodox way, contributing to job creation in a country where unemployment is a ticking time bomb?

Regardless of where you stand, one truth remains: Nigeria’s youths are not only unemployed, they are disillusioned.

But, beneath the glamour, is Peller’s youth the key to his controversial rise? At age 20, can Peller truly shoulder the weight of fame, fortune, and the emotional toll that comes with being in the public eye? Fame is a double-edged sword, and wealth earned in the public space, especially in a country like Nigeria, where social values matter, can either elevate or destroy a brand.

Some have attributed his behaviour to immaturity, a lack of exposure, or poor guidance. Others question the roles played by his management and inner circle. Are they enabling his excesses or helping him stay grounded?

Peller’s youth and maturity seem to be dancing to different tunes at times in sync, at other moments, sharply distinct. While his age brings the energy, creativity, and audacity that fuel his rise, it may also limit the depth of judgment that comes with lived experience. Despite his fame and financial success, one thing remains true: maturity isn’t measured by wealth or followers. 

He may be richer or more popular than his advisers, but that doesn’t make guidance obsolete. In fact, the higher one climbs, the more essential wise counsel becomes. No matter our age or status, we all need mentors, correction, and continued learning because growth, like fame, should never outpace wisdom.

This is not Peller’s first brush with public criticism. During the heated JAMB controversy months ago, he was branded a poor role model. Critics say he misuses his influence. Admirers say he is just being himself. But the question is not just what Peller does, it’s what he represents.

When individuals like Peller become the aspiration of thousands of young people, what message are we sending? That fame, regardless of how it’s earned, trumps knowledge, experience, and decorum?

One might ask, is this a systemic failure or a personal flaw? But the deeper question is this: Can we really blame Peller for being a product of a broken system? Or should we point fingers at the society that created him, a society where education is devalued and unemployment drives graduates to accept roles from entertainers with no formal qualifications?

This is a national dilemma. Young people are no longer looking to engineers, doctors, or scholars as role models. They now look to influencers, many of whom may lack the maturity or training to handle such responsibility.

This isn’t just about Peller; it’s about perception, power, and public influence.

The Brand at Risk: PR Implications

From a public relations perspective, Peller’s every move is now under a magnifying glass. As a brand, his current trajectory presents both opportunity and risk. He is loved by many but also watched with scrutiny by an equal number. His brand power lies in his authenticity, but even that must be managed with intentionality because one viral moment can either grow his brand or ruin it.

In a society where cultural norms still dictate public perception, Peller must understand that his brand isn’t just about content; it’s about conduct. His platform gives him power, and with that comes responsibility.

PR experts warn that failing to manage this carefully could result in brand erosion, reduced partnerships, and a gradual loss of public trust. A sustainable career in entertainment requires more than charisma—it demands discipline.

Beyond the Buzz: What should Peller do? It’s easy to dismiss these concerns as envy or moral policing, but that would be a mistake. Peller is a Nigerian pride, a self-made entertainer who carved a niche and created employment. That in itself is commendable. But with influence comes expectation. With status comes scrutiny.

This article is not to tear Peller down. It is to offer a lens of accountability, reflection, and growth. The same media that celebrates must also question, not out of hate, but out of hope that Nigeria’s influencers will see themselves not just as entertainers, but as leaders in a generation gasping for direction.

Peller can choose to be more. He can use his platform to elevate the values of integrity, hard work, and education, even as he continues to thrive in entertainment. He can show that success does not require disrespect, and that influence is not a license for irresponsibility.

Whether he likes it or not, Peller is not just a content creator. He’s a movement. And movements, when misdirected, can lose their magic or worse, mislead millions.

Final Thought

Peller’s story is still unfolding. He is talented, young, and full of potential. This is not a final verdict, but a cautionary tale. The camera is rolling, the nation is watching.

The real question is: What will Peller do next?

Haroon Aremu Abiodun, An Author, public Affairs Analyst. He wrote in via exponentumera@gmail.com

By Uzair Adam

Government has revealed that the majority of bandit attacks in the state are being aided by informants and some members of affected communities who supply food, fuel, drugs, and other essentials to the criminals.

The Commissioner for Internal Security and Home Affairs, Alhaji Nasir Mu’azu, made this known while briefing journalists on Thursday in Katsina, lamenting that about 80 per cent of attacks are linked to insider collaboration.

Mu’azu said some community members act as informants or conduct illicit trade with the criminals at highly inflated prices inside the forests, thereby enabling their operations and profiting from the insecurity.

“In one of the communities affected by the insecurity, a man was found selling a bottle of Coca-Cola for N3,000, and another sold fuel to the bandits for N5,000 per litre,” he disclosed.

He added that drugs and illicit substances are also being supplied at high prices, creating a profitable business for the collaborators.

“Some people even connive with bandits to facilitate abductions of specific victims, including family members,” he said.

Citing a shocking example, the commissioner narrated a case where a man colluded with bandits to kidnap his diabetic father.

“When the bandits brought him to their hideout, they already had diabetic medication ready for his daily treatment. The family eventually paid N30 million in ransom, and the man received N8 million for facilitating the abduction,” he explained.

Mu’azu also said that some informants tip off bandits when Nigerian Air Force (NAF) jets take off for operations, enabling the criminals to evade airstrikes by taking cover within civilian populations.

“This has made it difficult for the military to succeed in some of their missions,” he said.

According to him, only about 20 per cent of the insecurity challenge in the state can be attributed directly to bandits, while the remaining 80 per cent is driven by the actions of insiders who aid and abet them.

While noting that the state government has made significant progress using kinetic approaches in some local government areas, he stressed the need for community cooperation and non-kinetic solutions to address the root of the problem.

He urged the public to provide credible information that could support security efforts, assuring that all such reports would be treated with the utmost confidentiality.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

President Bola Tinubu has called on state governors to increase investments in poverty eradication, rural electrification, agriculture, and infrastructure to improve the lives of Nigerians.

Speaking at the 150th National Economic Council (NEC) meeting on Thursday, Tinubu emphasized the need for collaboration between federal and state governments to stimulate growth in rural areas.

“We must change the story of our people in the rural areas. The economy is recovering, but we need to do more to benefit the grassroots,” he said.

The NEC endorsed the Renewed Hope Ward Development Programme (RHWDP), a new initiative targeting Nigeria’s 8,809 wards to boost economic growth.

The plan, presented by Minister of Budget and Economic Planning, Senator Abubakar Bagudu, aims to achieve double-digit growth by supporting agriculture, food security, and local economic activities.

Tinubu also directed the transfer of the Office of the Surveyor-General to the presidency to fast-track major infrastructure projects, including the Lagos-Calabar and Sokoto-Badagry highways.

Additionally, the council called for stronger state emergency agencies and the release of funds to tackle impending flood risks.

The RHWDP will be overseen by a National Steering Committee, with implementation handled by federal, state, and local governments.

By Abdulrahman Sani

I went to Sudan to study Arabic. That was the beginning, simple and deliberate. But in truth, Arabic was only the surface. Sudan offered more than language. It stirred old questions I had carried with me since adolescence. Questions about memory, exile, and what remains after collapse.

My first encounter with the Sokoto Caliphate’s legacy wasn’t through archives or oral traditions. It was through theatre. I was in secondary school when I read Attahiru by Ahmad Yerima. The image of the Caliph fleeing colonial forces, defiant to the end, burned itself into my mind. I didn’t fully understand the politics then, but I felt the tragedy. That single text became a spark.

Later, I found the writings of Dr. Usman Bugaje, measured and searching. And then came Muhammad Shareef, the African American founder of Jamaa’at Danfodio in the United States, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing [here: https://youtu.be/_5Uj1S0lXQM?si=1BpJ9vusnW2HqWf4]. His writings were rich, wide-ranging, and full of overlooked geographies. It was through him that I first read about Maiurno, a small village in Sudan that held the echoes of Sokoto’s fall.

The very idea of it intrigued me. Remnants of the Caliphate had not only survived but also resettled, rebuilt, and renamed. I wanted to know what happened after Burmi. I wanted to know what exile looked like, generations later.

I mentioned this to my friend Malam Hassan, and soon after, we were on our way — me, him, and our guide. Before Maiurno, I spent some time in a Hausa village in Sudan. The familiarity was immediate. I saw areas named after Illela, heard idioms that sounded like home. It was as though Sokoto had sent a whisper into the desert, and it had echoed back in Sudanese tones.

Maiurno came into view quietly, without ceremony—a flat, sun-beaten village, carrying itself without fanfare. But history rarely announces itself. You feel it in the silences.

We made our way to the Sultan’s palace early in the morning. As we approached, an elderly man greeted me in Fulfulde. I hesitated, then responded in Arabic, admitting I didn’t understand. It was one of those quiet humiliations. A Fulani, abroad, unable to answer in the language of his own people. He smiled politely and said nothing.

We waited. There were others before us, people from another town in Sudan who had come to report a case. In the meantime, I noticed the crocodiles. Yes, crocodiles. They lay in their enclosure like royal guards, unmoving. It felt surreal but somehow fitting. The Sultan was no mere figurehead. He was the acknowledged leader of Hausa and Fulani communities in Sudan, a man of both presence and authority.

When he finally emerged, he received the guests before us. He listened without interruption or impatience. Then he settled their matter with a wisdom that didn’t need to explain itself. That kind of clarity is rare.

Then he turned to me.

I told him why I had come. I said I was interested in the Fodiyawa manuscripts said to be preserved in Sudan. He nodded with understanding, but explained that the key lay with the Sardauna of Maiurno, a scholar of great standing who, ironically, had travelled to Nigeria, my own country.

The Sultan was fluent in Hausa, Arabic, and Fulfulde. He spoke with the calm rhythm of someone used to being listened to. He smiled and said, “I know in Sokoto your Fulfulde doesn’t go beyond Balinjam.” It was said lightly, but it landed with accuracy.

He spoke of his relative, Professor Mukoshay, the author of the Fulani-Hausa dictionary. Then, briefly about Hayat ibn Sa‘id, a name that deserves more telling than time allowed. Before long, I realised I should be recording this. I asked his permission. He agreed with grace.

He began narrating how their ancestors had come to Maiurno after the fall of the Caliphate, how they had built their homes, mosques, and memory on Sudanese soil, and how they still kept contact with their families in Nigeria. He spoke too of the Jamaa’at Danfodio in America with quiet admiration, amused by how history had found new shapes and tongues.

After the conversation, he did something unexpected. He asked, gently, for my contact. I gave it. We shook hands, and I took my leave.

What struck me wasn’t just the story. It was the clarity with which he carried it. My visit to Maiurno took place in 2019. At the time, the country was in a fragile transitional moment, unsure of what lay ahead. But even then, the Sultan stood out–quiet, composed, and principled. In later years, during the war with the RSF militia, I would hear that he remained steadfast and stood with the state when others hesitated. The president himself visited to thank him.

Maiurno wasn’t just a trip. It was a quiet, necessary crossing, from curiosity to memory, from story to place. The Sokoto Caliphate may have fallen in Burmi, but it lives on. In names. In speech. In places like Maiurno, where its sons still remember.

Abdulrahman Sani can be reached via X: @philosopeace.