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By Muhammad Lawal Ibrahim, PhD

Another brilliant mind has died. Another Nigerian professor, Prof. Abubakar Roko, has just been murdered by the state,not by bullets, nor by bandits, but by an unforgiving system, deliberate neglect, and a government that treats its academics like disposable rags. He needed ₦13 million for medical treatment abroad. After over 20 years of service to this so-called nation, he could not raise it. He lay bedridden, helpless, abandoned, and now he is dead. We must stop calling this “natural death.” This was murder by government negligence.

In a country that throws billions at political cronies, gives lawmakers millions in wardrobe allowances, and funds endless pilgrimages and jamborees, a professor had to be paraded online like a beggar, with students scrambling to raise funds just so their teacher might survive. Yet even that was insufficient. The system choked him to death slowly, much like it is doing to thousands of others right now.

Where are the salaries? 

As of this writing, tertiary institution workers are celebrating Sallah (Eid-ul-Adha) without salaries. Go and verify. Civil servants in other sectors have been paid weeks ago. But those who teach your children, those who write your policies, those who keep the soul of the country alive—are being starved like prisoners of war. And when it was reported that over 1,000 lecturers have died under this current administration, bootlickers and sycophants ask, “What killed them?” What killed them? What didn’t?

Sickness, hunger, depression, suicide, systemic poverty, lack of medical care, all wrapped in the evil legacy of Buhari’s betrayal and now Tinubu’s reign of economic terrorism, killed them and are still counting.

Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope” is academic genocide

Let’s not sugarcoat it. What’s happening in Nigeria’s higher education system today is academic genocide. The federal government has effectively declared war on the ivory tower. Salaries are frozen. Promotions are denied. Research is dead. Morale is nonexistent. Students are turning to fraud and crime. Lecturers are dying in silence, many too ashamed to beg for help. But yes, the president has just approved ₦90 billion for Hajj. Where is the justice in this madness?

A rotten elite and a silent society

The ruling class in Nigeria treats lecturers like slaves while flying abroad for their checkups, educating their children overseas, and stealing public funds to build mansions in Dubai. Meanwhile, professors die waiting for ₦13 million. We are ruled by demons in agbadas, celebrated by cowards, and enabled by silence.

What’s worse is that many Nigerians have been so brutalised that they now laugh off their own destruction. “Lecturers are always complaining.” Yes, because they are slowly being buried alive.

We will not forgive

To those in power, your days of immunity from truth are over. You will be remembered not as leaders, but as executioners. We will not forgive you for the lives you’ve ruined. Not in death. Not in history. Not in the court of God.

You have destroyed one of the few remaining sectors that held credibility in this country. And for what? Your greed? Your power games? Your bottomless stomachs?

Prof. Roko is dead, and I pray for Allah to accept his good, innocent soul into the highest level in paradise, amin. But this article is not about him alone. It is about every Nigerian academic suffering right now in silence. It is about every student being denied a future. It is about a nation killing its own brain and expecting to survive.

Enough is enough. Let this death be a curse on the conscience of every politician who has contributed to this decay.

Let this be a rallying cry for every Nigerian who still has a soul left.

Muhammad Lawal Ibrahim, PhD, wrote from ABU, Zaria, lawalabusalma@gmail.com.

By Oladoja M.O

How Nigeria’s Traditional Medicine Policy Falters in the Face of a Healthcare Crisis

Traditional medicine remains a lifeline in the heart of Nigeria’s vibrant communities. For millions, the village herbalist is not just a healer but the only accessible one. Yet, despite its ubiquity and potential, traditional medicine in Nigeria remains largely relegated to the fringes of the healthcare system.

Why? Because the one policy that could breathe life into it, the “Traditional Medicine Policy” of 2007, is quite frankly a policy without a pulse.

It exists on paper, yes. But in practice, it drifts in the ether of neglect, underfunding, and governmental lip service. The intent was noble: to recognise, integrate, and regulate traditional and complementary medicine (T&CM) harmoniously with Nigeria’s conventional medical framework. But over 15 years later, the landscape remains fragmented institutions, unrecognised practitioners, and a glaring vacuum of legislation that could bind it all into something functional.

The 2007 policy envisioned institutionalising traditional medicine education, promoting evidence-based practices, and protecting indigenous knowledge. It proposed the development of curricula, collaborations between practitioners and scientists, and most importantly, the integration of traditional health workers into mainstream healthcare delivery.

But here’s the reality in 2025:

Despite repeated attempts to pass the Council for Traditional, Alternative, and Complementary Medicine Practice Bill, there is no functional regulatory council for traditional medicine practitioners.

No constitutionally defined or legally licensed role for herbalists or traditional health workers within Nigeria’s medical profession.

Institutions like NICONMTECH, Ibadan College of Natural Medicine, and African College of Traditional Medicine train thousands annually, but no professional pathway exists to license or employ them formally.

Only National Diplomas or certificates exist; there’s no accredited B.Sc. program, no postgraduate clinical practice recognition, and no universal standard for certification.

The result? A generation of “trained” traditional medicine practitioners with no seat at the healthcare table.

Counting some blessings, Nigeria’s Ministry of Health did establish the Department of Traditional, Complementary & Alternative Medicine in 2018, but its impact has been symbolic at best. NAFDAC mandated herbal product registration and labelling, which doesn’t translate into practitioner recognition or integration. The Natural Medicine Development Agency (NNMDA) was signed into law in 2019 to spearhead research and development, but there is no central governing council, which means that coordination remains chaotic. State governments have made some strides, e.g., Governor Soludo’s Anambra State Herbal Practice Law, but it is an isolated effort with no national backing. Ultimately, it’s like having a beautifully designed ship without a captain or compass.

One might ask, why does this matter more than ever now?

It is no longer breaking news that Nigeria is bleeding professionals. The “Japa” wave has not spared doctors, nurses, or dentists. With over 65% of qualified health workers seeking opportunities abroad, Nigeria’s healthcare system is being hollowed out from within.

To compound this, the country now faces blocked financing from global donors like the U.S., partly due to concerns over poor transparency, suboptimal health data management, and systemic inefficiencies. With this dwindling foreign aid and a crumbling workforce, we should explore every viable alternative, and traditional medicine stands at the crossroads.

But rather than mobilise this ready workforce, we shackle them with policy paralysis, leaving our vast herbal and traditional knowledge base languishing in semi-formal practice, unprotected, unregulated, and unsupported.

Time after time, the National Association of Nigerian Traditional Medicine Practitioners (NANTMP) has repeatedly called on the National Assembly to pass the Traditional, Complementary and Alternative Council of Nigeria (TCACN) Bill. Their plea is simple: recognise, regulate, and give us a voice in the national health discourse. They are not asking for a free ride, but for the years of training at herbal schools, skills acquisition centres, and research institutes across Nigeria to be met with a legitimate path to service.

After all, how do you tell a Nigerian College of Natural Medicine Technology graduate that their diploma is valid, but they are legally invisible? How do you justify decades of policy silence when the country desperately needs all hands on deck?

A living policy evolves with need, responds to gaps, and energises sectors. The 2007 policy is comatose, hanging on by technical documents and departmental charades. What it needs now is:

An active national council to regulate, license, and accredit T&CM practitioners.

Curriculum reform and NUC-approved B.Sc. degrees to professionalise training.

Legal recognition of traditional practitioners under Nigeria’s health law.

Clear collaborative frameworks between conventional health professionals.

Nigeria cannot afford to sideline its heritage medicine when its hospitals are overcrowded, its workforce is thinning, and its people are desperate for healing, wherever it may come from.

We do not need another policy document. What we need is a pulse.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com

By Malam Aminu Wase

Once upon a time, Plateau State was a beacon of peace and prosperity. Nestled in the heart of Nigeria, it was a place where nature, culture, and hospitality came together in perfect harmony. Tourists enjoyed its cool weather, striking landscapes, and vibrant local communities. The Tin City, as Jos was fondly called, bustled with life, creativity, and promise.

But the tragic eruptions of religious and ethnic crises turned that promise into pain. In just a few years, the spirit of unity that defined Plateau faded, and the state began slowly declining economically, socially, and psychologically. What once symbolised Nigeria’s peaceful coexistence became a cautionary tale.

As we reflect on what was lost, we must confront what can still be regained. The nostalgia we feel for those better days is not just sentimental—it is a reminder of what is possible when peace reigns. Plateau’s beauty remains, as does the enduring goodwill of its people. We need a collective recommitment to peace, tolerance, and shared progress.

Let us not be deceived: the divisions that tore through our communities were not inevitable. They were fanned by the greed and political ambition of a few elites, who found power in division. But the people have grown wiser. Today, Plateau has a growing desire to put those dark times behind us and rebuild a society anchored in unity and mutual respect.

The future of Plateau depends on us, ordinary citizens who choose dialogue over conflict, cooperation over suspicion. If we unite sincerely, we can restore trust, attract investment, and lay the foundation for a thriving economy. Peace is not a luxury—it is the bedrock of development.

With stability, there is no limit to what Plateau can achieve. Its tourism potential, agricultural wealth, and strategic location can be leveraged to turn it into a hub of economic activity, perhaps even rivalling global success stories like the UAE, in sha Allah.

Plateau belongs to all of us. It is our shared heritage and responsibility. The time to recover its lost glory is now.

By Usman Muhammad Salihu

I never truly grasped the danger of exposing personal information in the digital space until Mr. Yushau Shuaib, my boss and mentor, handed me a book—Born Digital: Understanding the First Generation of Digital Natives by John Palfrey and Urs Gasser. 

It was an eye-opener, full of prescient warnings about the hidden costs of living in a world where our lives are increasingly mediated by technology. Ironically, neither of us imagined that the warnings in that book would soon play out so personally, and so dramatically.

Mr. Shuaib, a respected public relations expert and founder of PRNigeria, participated in Senior Executive Course 47 at the National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS). On May 2, 2025, he was abruptly suspended from the course. 

His offence? Publishing articles highlighting and supporting President Bola Tinubu’s Digital and Blue Economy reforms. One article, “Understanding the ‘Blue’ in the Blue Economy,” praised the government’s innovative strides in marine resource development. 

Another, “NIPSS Goes Digital,” celebrated the institute’s transition to a paperless administrative system—part of Nigeria’s broader digital transformation agenda. While he did not write or edit the latter, it appeared on his media platform.

In response to his suspension, Mr. Shuaib petitioned the President, citing harassment, cyberbullying, and professional ostracism. He argued that the action was punitive and lacked due process. 

NIPSS, however, insisted he breached institutional policy by publishing materials related to the institute without clearance—a rule they claim he had previously been warned about.

But a chilling twist escalated the matter beyond internal disciplinary lines: PRNigeria’s editorial email account was allegedly compromised. Confidential communications between journalists and their sources, private story drafts, and editorial exchanges were reportedly accessed without consent. 

The intrusion, attributed to officials of the same institute that suspended Mr. Shuaib, raised serious ethical and legal concerns. This was no ordinary data breach. It directly violated professional boundaries, journalistic independence, and Nigeria’s own Cybercrime Act. 

It represented something more insidious than a lapse in judgment—it was, in many ways, a digital form of trespass. The incident sent ripples through the media and security circles. 

If an elite policy institute tasked with grooming Nigeria’s future strategic leaders could be implicated in such an act, what message does that send about our national commitment to digital ethics and the rule of law?

It is precisely the kind of scenario “Born Digital” warns about—a world where our private digital footprints are vulnerable not just to hackers or corporations but also to institutions that should be protecting those rights.

In one haunting passage, the authors write: “Young people who are living their lives mediated by digital technologies will pay a higher price, sometimes down the road, for the way privacy is handled in this converged, hybrid environment… 

“Most young people are extremely likely to leave something behind in cyberspace that will become a lot like a tattoo, something connected to them that they cannot get rid of later in life.”

That line has stayed with me because it is no longer just about young people; it is about all of us. Our identities, habits, preferences, locations, communications, and relationships are all being recorded, stored, and sometimes exploited through what are now known as digital dossiers.

These dossiers are detailed archives of our lives compiled by apps, platforms, websites, and even institutions. They are often created without our consent or awareness. While they promise convenience and personalised experiences, they also have profound risks.

Privacy has become a currency we are forced to spend for access. And increasingly, it is a luxury only a few can afford. The NIPSS breach is a wake-up call. It reveals the fragile boundaries between transparency and intrusion, policy enforcement and personal violation. 

It is a reminder that digital transformation must be matched by ethical responsibility and legal accountability. As a journalist, I have often lived under the illusion of digital safety. 

But as a parent, I now worry for my young daughter and the millions like her growing up in a world where data is your shadow—and sometimes, your shackle. We must do more. We must demand stronger data protection laws, foster a culture of privacy awareness, and hold institutions accountable, no matter how revered. 

Our digital world should not come at the cost of our humanity, dignity, or freedom. The threats are real, the consequences are near, and the time to act is now.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The academic community is mourning the passing of Professor Abubakar Roko, a respected lecturer in the Department of Computer Science, Faculty of Physical and Computing. He died after a period of illness, despite efforts made to secure advanced medical treatment abroad.

Professor Roko had been battling a critical health condition that required specialist care, prompting a crowdfunding campaign to support his medical trip to Cairo, Egypt. The campaign received overwhelming support from colleagues, students, friends, and well-wishers.

Notably, the Governor of Kano State, Engineer Abba Kabir Yusuf, contributed ₦5,000,000 to the cause, a gesture that was widely appreciated by the family and academic community.

In a message announcing his passing, the department expressed deep sorrow and extended heartfelt thanks to everyone who supported him during his time of need. “We are saddened to announce the demise of Professor Abubakar Roko… May Allah SWT reward you abundantly,” the statement read.

Prayers are being offered across the campus and beyond for the repose of his soul. “May Allah bestow His grace on him,” the department added.

Professor Roko is remembered not only for his academic excellence but also for his humility and dedication to the advancement of computer science education in Nigeria.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

Aliko Dangote, Chairman of the Dangote Group, on Thursday named the road leading to the Dangote Refinery after President Bola Tinubu.

The honour was announced during President Tinubu’s first visit to the refinery, where he also commissioned the Lekki Deep Sea Port concrete road and flagged off Section 2 of the Lagos-Calabar superhighway.

Dangote disclosed that his company is investing N900 billion in road construction across Nigeria, despite paying N450 billion in taxes last year.

The newly named Bola Ahmed Tinubu Road connects the refinery to key infrastructure, including the Sagamu-Benin Expressway.

By Uzair Adam

Renowned academic and former Minister of Education and Petroleum, Professor Jubril Aminu, died at the age of 85.

The Daily Reality gathered that Professor Aminu passed away on Thursday in Abuja after a prolonged illness.

A prominent diplomat, medical doctor, and politician, Professor Aminu will be laid to rest in his hometown of Song Local Government Area, Adamawa State, following funeral prayers at 2:00 p.m. today at the Abuja National Mosque.

Professor Aminu’s career spanned decades of public service. He graduated from the University of Ibadan in 1965 as the best student from the University College Hospital (UCH), Ibadan.

He earned a PhD in Medicine from the Royal Postgraduate Medical School, London, in 1972.

He served as Minister of Education and later as Minister of Petroleum and Mineral Resources between 1989 and 1992. Professor Aminu was Nigeria’s Ambassador to the United States from 1999 to 2003 and represented Adamawa Central as a senator from 2003 to 2011.

He also participated as a delegate in the National Constitutional Conference from 1994 to 1995.

While leading the Petroleum Ministry, he was elected President of the African Petroleum Producers’ Organisation in 1991 and later served as President of the OPEC Conference from 1991 to 1992.

The ‘Taskar Kannywood’ is a YouTube show that seeks to revive the glory of feature films that has been long abandoned since the emergence of web and TV serials. The show runs every Sunday, unveiling fresh standalone movies in a one-episode-per-week order, followed by a review and Q & A sessions to further engage the audience for criticism and opinions. The 7th episode, Da Na Sani, is the collection’s latest and most hyped release.

The film tells the story of a rather humourless and unromantic man (Mansur) married to a young girl (Samira) in her late teens. Samira would always act reminiscent of what we fondly call ‘Kwailanci’ (excessive childishness), which she believes to be her love language to express her romance, a gesture her husband finds too awkward and a clear affront to his dignity.

The biggest drama erupts when she draws a heart emoji with the caption “I love you” on his face while he is asleep and asks if he is ready so she can colour the drawings for a better look. Enraged, he gives her a few slaps and a stark warning about her childish manners, leaving her in tears as he heads back to the bathroom to clean up before leaving for work.

Moments later, after getting housework done, she develops severe chest pain, prompting her to be rushed to a hospital. But she abruptly dies after a brief diagnosis.

Returning home, Mansur finds a note she had dropped containing an apology for her wrongs, promising to change her manners if she made it back alive, plus a reminder that the meal she prepared for him and a visiting friend is already at the dining table. He screams out loud with tears running down his cheeks as he scatters the ice cream and candies he brought as a consolation package, realising the tragedy could have been avoided if he had tolerated her innocent frivolity.

Filled with emotional moments, the movie is ultimately compelling not only for its beautifully crafted drama but also for exposing the gap of misunderstanding between partners and the little effort it takes to fill it. The film is indeed a huge success and well worth watching.

Additionally, the production quality is top-notch, and both Aminu Shareef Momo (Mansur) and Amina Shehu Lulu (Samira) have delivered exceptionally well, thanks to Ahmad Bifa’s directorial expertise in handling family sagas.

However, the running time is relatively short for such a tragic story. The audience would have wanted a longer time frame to see the emotional trauma Mansur would supposedly go through as relief for the painful death of their favourite character, Samira. I rate it 4/5.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The African Union Commission has expressed concern over the recent travel restrictions imposed by the United States, which affect nationals from several countries, including some within the African continent.

In a statement released this week, the Commission acknowledged the right of sovereign nations to protect their borders and ensure the safety of their citizens. However, it urged the US government to exercise this right in a manner that is “balanced, evidence-based, and reflective of the long-standing partnership between the United States and Africa.”

The Commission warned that the new travel restrictions could negatively impact people-to-people connections, educational exchanges, business relations, and the diplomatic ties cultivated over decades between Africa and the US.

“Africa and the United States share mutual interests in promoting peace, prosperity, and global cooperation,” the statement noted, emphasizing the importance of maintaining and strengthening those bonds.

The Commission also called on the US administration to consider a more consultative and inclusive approach in such policy decisions, advocating for constructive dialogue with the countries affected.

Highlighting the value of transparency and collaboration, the AU Commission reiterated its readiness to support any initiatives to foster mutual understanding, address the underlying concerns, and enhance cooperation between the two sides.

The statement comes amid increasing scrutiny of the broader implications of the US travel policy on international relations and multilateral engagement.

By The Daily Reality

In what can only be described as a disturbing reflection of neglect, The Daily Reality has uncovered the deplorable state of facilities at the Tashan Babiye Primary Health Care Centre’s Accident and Emergency Unit in Bauchi metropolis.

A visit by our reporter revealed a distressing scene: a tattered, unsanitary sickbed where patients are expected to receive emergency medical care.

The bed, visibly torn and heavily stained, sits in a room with equally grimy walls—conditions that pose serious health risks to the very people the facility is meant to treat.

Despite repeated efforts by our correspondent to speak with the hospital’s management for a comment on the deteriorating condition, no official response was received as of the time of filing this report.

What makes this situation even more shocking is the location of the hospital—situated just a few kilometres from the Bauchi State Government House.

The proximity of such a facility to the seat of power raises urgent questions about the government’s commitment to basic health care delivery in the state.

Tashan Babiye PHC, which has been in operation since 1978, is supposed to offer round-the-clock services, including emergency care.

Yet, the condition of its facilities tells a troubling story of neglect and abandonment.

The image attached to this report, captured by our reporter, shows the exact state of the bed currently in use at the emergency unit.

It is a stark symbol of the decay within a health system that countless Bauchi residents depend on.

Public health experts warn that such conditions not only endanger patients but also demoralize medical staff who work under impossible circumstances.

A patient The Daily Reality spoke with calls on the Bauchi State Ministry of Health and the relevant authorities to immediately address the rot at the Tashan Babiye Primary Health Care Centre—starting with the very bed meant to save lives.