Art and Culture

By Salim Yunusa

Art Xplosion 4.0, the youth-focused art and mental health festival organised by Friends Advocacy for Mental Health Initiative (FAM Initiative), concluded in Zaria after a week-long celebration of creativity, resilience, and cultural identity. The event, the first of its kind in the city, marked a major step toward exposing young people to art as a tool for emotional expression, cultural grounding, and mental well-being.

Over 100 children and adolescents participated in the program, which featured bead-making, painting, mosaic art, upcycled crafts, gypsum art, traditional performances, cultural showcases, storytelling, and an art exhibition. Participants were drawn from different communities across Sabon Gari Local Government and beyond, including young people with invisible disabilities and those from underserved socio-economic backgrounds.

For the organisers, Art Xplosion 4.0 was more than an event. It was a statement about the role of creativity in strengthening mental resilience among young people navigating social pressure, identity struggles, and emotional challenges.

Program Manager and Lead Artist Aisha Ahmad Ibrahim said the week-long festival reaffirmed her conviction that art remains one of the most accessible and transformative tools for youth mental health. She said, “Art Xplosion 4.0 was truly a wholesome event for me that reaffirmed that what I do is worthy,” she said. “Despite the hassles and rigorous work I handled as Programs Manager and Lead Artist, I genuinely enjoyed every part of the experience, from preparation and procurement to organising and leading my team. The diversity of participants initially made me sceptical about coordination, but art once again proved to be a natural medium of expression. Healthy children, children and youth with neurological and non-visible disabilities, and those from low academic and socio-economic communities all expressed their artistic abilities beautifully. My team and I moved easily between groups to guide and support them. With about 100 participants from almost all parts of Sabon Gari and beyond, Art Xplosion 4.0 was a deeply fulfilling success.”

Curator Jecinta Egbim described the edition as a powerful testing ground for the resilience strategies she teaches adolescents during mental health outreaches. “This year’s Art Xplosion 4.0 was an entire experience, not just for our participants but for me,” she said. “Going through some of the tests of my own resilience strategies, I have seen that resilience is truly the key. Tools like art, effective communication, emotional regulation, support systems and outlets helped us push through.”

She added that the implementation process itself came with emotional and logistical challenges. “We faced hard times, tough ‘no’s, shut doors, and some interesting stakeholder management issues, but we emerged stronger. One of our biggest successes was simply seeing the week through from start to finish. We received multiple reports from adolescents, parents, school owners, community leaders, and caregivers. Even two days after the event, a mother visited our office with her daughter to thank us. It was humbling to see the impact extend into homes. That was the essence of this year’s edition: Art Xplosion should not just be immersive on-site, but a holistic experience that follows participants into their houses, schools, and workplaces.”

She noted that even with less than 20 sponsors supporting 100 participants, the team stayed committed to impact. “Fundraising was tight and discouraging, but our successes outweighed every challenge. It reminded us of what we are really made of.”

One of the program’s partners, NEST AI, highlighted the deeper emotional significance of art for young people. Its founder, Yazid S. Mika’il, said the initiative reflected how creativity can help youths build confidence and shape their futures. “Art speaks to one’s emotions and the core of being… it helps young people realise that they matter, and can determine what a beautiful and healthy future looks like,” he said.

Poetic Wednesdays Initiative, also a partner, expressed satisfaction with the program’s impact. Founder Salim Yunusa said the organisation was proud to support an initiative that brings creativity and healing into the lives of young people in Northern Nigeria. “We are pleased with what this initiative achieved, especially in Zaria,” he said. “We hope to see more of this replicated across Zaria and northern Nigeria at large.”

The Art Xplosion model uses creative expression to help children and adolescents communicate feelings, build confidence, improve emotional regulation, and reconnect with cultural identity. Many of the participants came from families dealing with psychosocial stressors, developmental challenges, or limited access to creative opportunities.

FAM Initiative reported that participants showed improvements in communication, empathy, and artistic expression. Parents and community leaders also noted that the activities helped their children feel calmer, more expressive, and more connected to their heritage.

This year’s edition introduced an expanded cultural showcase, featuring participants who displayed traditional attire, shared cultural stories, and performed dances. The art exhibition and auction also allowed the public to appreciate the creative output of the young participants.

With Art Xplosion 4.0, Zaria has now hosted its first large-scale festival that blends art, cultural pride, inclusion, and mental health advocacy. Organisers say the program’s success has opened a new chapter for community-driven youth development initiatives in Kaduna State.

FAM Initiative announced that future editions will expand mentorship opportunities, deepen community outreach, and strengthen support structures for children and adolescents dealing with emotional and developmental challenges.

As the dust settles on this year’s event, the organisers say their biggest hope is that the young participants, many of whom are experiencing structured art therapy for the first time, will carry their newfound confidence, skills, and cultural pride into the next chapters of their lives. Art Xplosion, they say, is not just an event. It is becoming a movement for healing, expression, and resilience across Northern Nigeria.

By Nazirah Muhammed,

Before the first note of his debut single, My Time, hit any speaker, Boluwatife Balogun lived in a world deliberately shielded from the glare of celebrity, a rare reality for the firstborn son of Afrobeats icon Ayodeji Ibrahim Balogun, popularly known as Wizkid. To understand his entry into music, you must first appreciate the calm, structured upbringing that shaped him.

Born in 2011, the same year Wizkid’s Superstar album launched him into global recognition, Boluwatife arrived at a moment that reshaped his father’s life. Unlike the public drama that often surrounds celebrity births, his early years were quietly protected. His mother, Shola Ogudu, Wizkid’s former partner and one-time manager, built a bubble of normalcy around him, ensuring that despite his father’s fame, his childhood remained grounded.

Privacy defined Boluwatife’s early life. While fans saw only occasional birthday photos or short videos, Bolu lived what many would consider a normal Lagos childhood. He attended regular schools, played basketball, hung out with friends, and focused on his education. Photos shared over the years showed a cheerful, well-adjusted boy enjoying vacations, milestones, and hobbies far from the spotlight. It was a deliberate effort to let him grow into himself, not into the expectations attached to his surname.

As he got older, one truth became impossible to ignore: Boluwatife is the spitting image of his father. From his eyes to his smile and lean frame, the resemblance earned him the nickname “Wizkid’s twin” among fans. And while Wizkid rarely posts about his children, the love is unmistakable. In a 2020 birthday message, he called Bolu his “twin” and expressed heartfelt affection, a glimpse into a quiet but strong father-son bond.

But beyond the looks, Boluwatife was absorbing another inheritance: music. Growing up around one of the most successful African musicians meant witnessing the creative process up close. The first public hint of his musical journey came in 2023, when his mother shared a video that quickly went viral. It didn’t just show a teenager singing along; it showed Boluwatife in a home studio, headphones on, confidently recording original material.

That clip changed everything. His voice, youthful but melodic and steady, revealed a natural ease with music. It was the moment “Boluwatife the artiste” shifted from speculation to reality.

My Time didn’t appear out of nowhere. It is the product of years spent watching, listening, learning, and quietly preparing. The same boy who hustled on the basketball court and completed assignments is now stepping into the booth with intention. His sheltered upbringing gave him self-awareness; his environment gave him artistry.

His debut marks not just a career launch but the beginning of a new chapter for a young man raised with care, balance, and an understanding of the legacy he represents. The world may just be hearing him now, but Boluwatife Balogun has been getting ready all along.

Nazirah Muhammed is an intern with PRNigeria. She can be reached at nazirahmuhammed01@gmail.com.

By Fatima Badawi

The Department of English and Literary Studies at Bayero University, Kano (BUK), successfully convened a two-day National Conference to critically examine and celebrate the prolific, well-grounded and giant literary works of the literary guru, Professor Aliyu Kamal, one of the Northern Nigeria’s most influential literary figures.

Held at the University’s Main Campus under the theme “Interdisciplinary perspectives on the works of Aliyu Kamal,” the conference attracted a diverse gathering of academics, writers, students, and family members of the prolific English author.

The event served as a significant platform to re-evaluate Kamal’s contributions to Nigerian literature and his unique portrayal of the socio-cultural dynamics of Northern Nigeria, which some view as Islamic genre.

The opening ceremony was chaired by the Vice-Chancellor of Bayero University, Professor Haruna Musa, who was represented by the Deputy Vice Chancellor Research and Development, Professor Amina Abubakar. In his address, the Vice-Chancellor commended the department for its initiative, stating that “Aliyu Kamal’s works are not merely stories; they are cultural archives that document the complexities, the joys, and the challenges of our society. This conference is a vital step in preserving our intellectual heritage, and it will pave way to getting a Nobel Laureate, starting from home.”

The keynote address was delivered by the renowned literary scholar, Professor Sani Abba Aliyu, mni. In a compelling presentation were he maintained that
Kamal possessed an uncanny ability to weave intricate tales that are simultaneously local and can equally be regarded as universal. His characters grapple with issues of modernity, tradition, governance, religion and personal identity in a way that resonates deeply across the Northern Nigerian landscape. He gave a distinct voice to the Northern Nigerian experience, ensuring it was an integral part of the national literary conversation.

Over the course of the conference, multiple lead papers featured presentations from scholars from various universities across the country. Papers explored diverse aspects of Kamal’s oeuvre, including feminist readings of his female characters, post-colonial interpretations of his narratives, stylistic and metaphorical analyses of his use of language, the Islamic genre and the philosophical underpinnings of his themes.

The Head of the Department of English and Literary Studies, Dr. A’isha Umar, in her remarks, described the conference as a resounding success. “Our objective was to ignite a renewed scholarly interest in Aliyu Kamal and to introduce his rich legacy to a new generation of students. We expect an overwhelming participation and the quality of discussions today and in the remaining days of the conference. This is not an end, but a beginning of a more sustained engagement with his works.”

Some of the participants urged that the papers presented should be compiled and published in an edited volume, ensuring that the critical insights generated would contribute to future scholarship on Nigerian literature. The event firmly re-established Aliyu Kamal’s position as a cornerstone of the nation’s literary canon.

The conference is still ongoing and it is expected to finish next Thursday.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu 

Let me start with a context. It happened on June 27, 2024, Gabon’s Show on YouTube.

“Zarmalulu no work” was an expression uttered by TikTok influencer Sayyada Sadiya Haruna, describing the state of her marriage to another TikToker, Abubakar Ibrahim, a Hausa Rapper based in Kano, northern Nigeria, and known by the stage name G-Fresh Alamin. She used the expression during her interview with Hadiza Aliyu Gabon, a Kannywood (Hausa cinema of northern Nigeria) film actress, in an episode of Gabon’s YouTube Show, “Gabon,” on June 27, 2024. Haruna used the expression to inform Gabon and her viewers that G-Fresh was impotent on their wedding night, using ‘Zarmalulu’ as a social code for his non-performing reproductive organ.   

The expression, which quickly became a meme referring to the male sexual organ and its (dis)abilities, became a trending term in Hausaphone social media counterculture, and G-Fresh, usually full of swagger and macho posturing, was highly ridiculed and his swagger deflated, as it were. In this process, Haruna has provided males with an easy way of explaining their erectile dysfunction to either their partners or their healthcare provider in a less embarrassing and amusing way. The use of the term openly reveals a growing vocabulary of erotic neologisms in Hausa social media and reflects the emergence of what I refer to as Hausa digital counterculture.

This media incidence – which received massive views, significantly improving Gabon’s financial standing – reflects one of the fascinating aspects of language development within the context of media anthropology. I am pretty sure that Margaret Mead, the doyen of cultural anthropologists, would have welcomed social media and its potential in studying digital natives. Safer, too. With the increasing creation of conventional and alternative communities on social media, a new discipline has emerged to enable people to study others without the necessity of being in the same physical space and time with them. So, what exactly is “media anthropology”? 

Media anthropology is the ethnographic and critical study of how media—especially digital and social media—are embedded in the cultural, social, political, and economic lives of people. It is a subfield of anthropology that examines how people create, utilise, interpret, and are influenced by media in their daily lives. It blends the traditional ethnographic methods of anthropology—such as participant observation and in-depth interviews—with the analysis of media technologies and content.

My initial focus was on Hausa literature and its transformations – from physical print to online publishing, then to the film industry – encompassing feature films and distribution through tapes, CDs, DVDs, and YouTube series. I then moved on to music, from griot wordsmiths to rap and hip hop. It was all pretty exciting. Then, social media made its entrance and created multiple new entries into the field. 

As a media anthropologist, I immerse myself in communities—both online and offline—to understand how people engage with digital media. For this study, I focused primarily on Facebook as a social network. Hundreds of communities were created on Facebook—mainly by young people—that discuss a wide range of topics, providing a rich source of data concerning youth subcultures and how social networks offer a subversive template for creating new identities and expressions. 

As I swing from one community to another – using Robert Kozinet’s Netnographic methods – I began to notice a new pattern of language usage among young Hausa online digital natives. Then I started gathering new words and expressions that offer alternative meanings to their conventional ones. For the most part, they tended to be innocuous, while hiding a deeper, often darker meaning, and are essentially communicated to ingroup members of the communities. Quite rapidly enough, some of the words began to take on a new urban lexicon on their own. 

A typical example is “capacity,” an innocuous word that means exactly what it says: maximum production or containment. Yet, digital natives have turned it into “kafasiti” to indicate an urban cool, swagger, ability, capability, “arrived”, etc. The word is now used in multiple forms and contexts to refer to attainment of either distinction or class (“Alaji, wallahi an baza kafasiti a bikin nan”). 

But, then, old words have always had new meanings in Hausaphone urban language use. For instance, “shege” is literally a bastard in Hausa, but recontextualised to mean “an expert” or “outstanding.” “Mugu” (bad) became an adjective for extremities (“mugun kyau”, extreme beauty). “Arne” (pagan) transformed into contemporary “bro” (kai arne, yaya dai/yo, bro, wazzup?). “Kwaro” (insect) translates into a tenacious, usually studious person. For southern Nigerians, “Aboki” is an imagined insult referring to any northerner, whether Hausa or not, rather than “friend,” its actual meaning. 

Hausa digital natives utilise the unconventionality of the social media they inhabit to create neologisms that often reflect hidden, dark, or altered meanings, frequently dealing with in-group lexicons. After trawling through various sites and TikTok videos, I was able to gather approximately 35 neologisms and incorporate them into a paper I am still working on. 

Looking at these digital coinages and the transformation of words, I was struck by the fact that many of them refer to bawdy or sexually suggestive language along the entire sexual preference spectrum. They tend to be more common in social networks (e.g., Facebook, WhatsApp, Telegram, Signal), where interactions are mainly conversational, than in visual social media (e.g., TikTok, Instagram). The reason is that visuality often identifies the person easily, and in Kano, an Islamicate state in northern Nigeria, this could lead to prosecution on moral grounds. On social networking sites, users often use aliases instead of their real names. Such anonymity gives them the freedom to express their thoughts and use these neologisms in their correct grammatical sense. The sentences are meaningful only to in-group members, within or outside the online communities. 

Examples include “Malam Zakari da almajirai biyu”, referring to the male reproductive organs. “Kaya” (load, baggage) referring to trophy (girl, money, etc), “tarkon alƙali” (judge’s trap/jailbait) for pedophilic behaviour, royal rumble (orgy) and murfi (cover) referring to lesbian activity.

As I noted, over 70% of the neologisms in my collection were bawdy and sexually slanted. Their creators chose the anonymity of online communities not only to create new coinages but also to perpetuate them, without any fear of social labelling or prosecution. Some of these words will gradually become part of conventional social usage, along with their attendant meanings. There is no stopping them. Their very existence highlights another way social media is influencing our culture, language, and traditions. 

But, what do you think – good, bad, indifferent? Whatever your feeling, what can we do about it? Hausa is not the only language facing this, though. A recent book by Adam Aleksic, Algospeak: How Social Media Is Transforming the Future of Language” (July 15, 2025), reveals the international nature of this phenomenon through “algorithmic speech”. As the blurb indicates:

“From ‘brainrot’ memes and incel slang to the trend of adding ‘-core’ to different influencer aesthetics, the internet has ushered in an unprecedented linguistic upheaval. We’re entering an entirely new era of etymology, marked by the invisible forces that drive social media algorithms. Thankfully, Algospeak is here to explain. As a professional linguist, Adam Aleksic understands the gravity of language and its use: he knows how it has evolved and changed, how it reflects society, and how, in its everyday usage, we carry centuries of human history on our tongues…New slang phrases emerge and go viral overnight. Accents are shaped or erased on YouTube. Grammatical rules, loopholes, and patterns surface and transform language as we know it. Our interactions, social norms, and habits—both online and in person—shift into something completely different.”

No, I don’t have “eCopy” to Acibilistically share. You gotta buy the original print copy if you are interested in the way in which social media usage transforms contemporary language. I can give you the cover of the book for free, though!

By Habib Sani Galadima

In 2021, I attended the wedding dinner of my friend Jamilu Ibrahim Lawan. I was seated close to the front, on a white plastic chair wrapped in gold fabric. Before me, the table was neatly set: a plate of Jollof rice, definitely not Nigerian, soft meat, and chilled drinks.

Then the emcee began his greeting: “Malam Alhaji Dr. Musa, Hajiya Barrister Halima, distinguished guests…” The crowd responded with approving nods. The roll call was not mere protocol. It was a performance of hierarchy, identity, and cultural choreography; compressed into names.

Last week, I was at another gathering with my brother. We both wore beads, but his was longer and more ornate. I casually called him by his marketplace nickname “Ustaz”. Minutes later, someone suggested he should lead the zuhr prayer. I cannot say the title alone earned him that role, but I am certain it tipped the scale. In Hausa society, a name does not just identify, it calibrates power. Every title is weighed by a specific cultural logic.

Whether it is ‘Malam’, ‘Alhaji’, ‘Ustaz’, ‘Engineer’, or ‘Sarki’, each one signals something; scholarship, pilgrimage, class, inheritance, or even self-promotion. To outsiders, they may sound interchangeable. To insiders, they map power, piety, education, and ambition.

Understanding Hausa titles is not about translating words. It is about interpreting what they signify, how they command trust, confer legitimacy, or inflate status.
Ask a Hausa child who taught them how to read Qur’an, and the answer is often the same: “Malam.” But today, that word travels far beyond the Tsangaya.

Originally from the Arabic ‘mu’allim’, meaning teacher, ‘Malam’ once marked someone rooted in Islamic knowledge, versed in tafsir, guardians of moral clarity, respected in both mosque and marketplace. A ‘Malam’ was more than a scholar. He was a compass.
Now the title is elastic. It applies to schoolteachers, lecturers, civil servants, even radio presenters with confident diction. In classrooms, it confers authority. In markets, it softens tone. Sometimes it is just what you call a man whose name you do not know. And on social media, Malam can shift from respect to ridicule, used to mock someone who parades borrowed wisdom.

This stretch reflects Hausa society’s deep reverence for learning, but also its evolving standards for what counts as knowledge. Malam no longer guarantees scholarship. It signals the appearance of learning, genuine or not.

Still, the word carries weight. It opens doors, commands silence, curates tone. Whether whispered by students or shouted from campaign stages, Malam remains a title that balances between reverence and performance. Between earned wisdom and social display.

Once upon a time, calling someone ‘Alhaji’ or ‘Malam’ was enough. Today, it is Alhaji Engr. (Dr.) Chief Sani, and the wedding card has not even listed his full name yet.
Across Northern Nigeria, title stacking has become a performance of prestige. What began as distinct acknowledgments of religious devotion (Alhaji), scholarly authority (Malam), or traditional office (Waziri, Sarki or Galadima) now mingle with Western academic and professional badges like Pharm., Barr., or Engr. One name carries five honorifics.

How did we go from single titles to full-length prefixes? The answer lies in both competition and code-switching. In a society where jobs are scarce and respect is fiercely guarded, titles become symbolic currency. They signal arrival. They fend off dismissal. A stacked name becomes shorthand for success, even when its credentials are uneven.

But it is more than vanity. Hausa speakers navigate overlapping systems of esteem; Islamic virtue, traditional nobility, colonial bureaucracy, and global credentialism. The title stack tries to contain them all: faith, lineage, modernity, merit, compressed into one string of prefixes.

The cost is semantic overload. At some point, ‘Dr. Alhaji Barr.’ says less about your knowledge than about your insecurity. It clutters public introductions and invites satire, as comedians mimic “Comrade Chief (Dr.) Honourable Mallam Digital Strategist…” to lampoon inflated self-worth.

Still, the inflation persists. Because in a culture where ‘girmamawa’ is armor, each new prefix feels like one more layer of protection.

In Hausa culture, titles matter. But girmamawa (respect) runs deeper.
An old man in a village, never called Alhaji or Malam, may command more silence in a gathering than someone with ten honorifics. Why? Because Hausa society has always known the difference between a name and a reputation.

Titles like Dr., Hajiya, Malam, or Waziri can open doors. They invite polite speech, they soften refusals, they protect ego. But respect is built slowly: through action, humility, and how one treats others when no one is watching.

People admire the man who settles disputes without shouting. The woman who feeds orphans without posting about it. The trader whose word is stronger than a receipt. These are the quiet architects of girmamawa.

The tension is real. A person can be called ‘Alhaji Barrister’ and still be mocked behind their back if they abuse power. On the other hand, someone with no title might be described as ‘mutumin kirki’ (a person of upright character) and be trusted with community secrets or village leadership.

Hausa proverbs capture this wisdom. One says, “A bin da ya fi ado, shi ne hali”, meaning, (character is greater than decoration).

The lesson is simple: titles may impress, but they cannot replace trust.

By Maryam Shehu

In April 2025, the historic city of Zaria, long hailed as Birnin Ilimi (City of Knowledge), witnessed its first-ever Books and Arts Festival, a groundbreaking literary and cultural event curated by a young visionary determined to rekindle the flames of creativity in Northern Nigeria.

Despite its rich academic tradition, Zaria has often left arts, literature, and creativity feeling orphaned, without the nurturing hands they deserve. It takes a persistent muse to find a home in the hearts of the younger generation. To fill this void, in 2022, driven by passion and a deep desire to engage in literary conversations with like-minded individuals, I founded Pen Warriors. It began as a shade tree for emerging voices to be heard and appreciated.

Later, the initiative was rebranded as Bookish Alchemy, with a bookstore arm, Bookish Alchemy Bookstore, whose profits now partially fund our literary programs. Since then, we’ve hosted programs that have reached over 300 individuals, including poetry competitions, a mentorship session with Abduljalal Musa Aliyu, book chats with authors such as Sani Abdulrazak and Aliyu Danladi, serene Silent Book Reading sessions, and intensive August mentorship weekends on spoken word, short story writing, and public speaking.

Toward the end of 2024, the idea of hosting Zaria’s first Books and Arts Festival took hold of me. At first, I was paralysed by thoughts of funding. Some peers warned that such an event would require thousands of dollars I didn’t have. But the idea felt like a child ready to be born–it refused to be ignored.

I assembled a team of six brilliant minds: Halliru Sani Salihu, Abdurrazak Maiwada, Mardiyya Nura, A’isha Ibrahim Ahmad, Sani Abdulrazak, and Hadiza Isyaku Abdulsalam. We dived headfirst into planning, reaching out to guests, drafting sponsorship proposals, and building the foundation from scratch.

With the generous support of organisations like Duniate Culture (Kaduna), Gidan Dabino (Kano), Creative Corner (Kano), Katsina Times, Poetic Wednesday Initiative, Beyond the Pages, and the Bukar Usman Foundation (Abuja)–though none from Zaria itself–Bookish  Alchemy brought the Zazzau Books and Arts Festival (ZABAFEST) to life.

A FESTIVAL IS BORN

To ensure a smooth and enjoyable experience for guests and attendees, Hadiza and Mardiyya coordinated 10 incredible volunteers. Out of sheer love for the arts, Mahmud Jimada, Abdulmumini Yahuza, Abdullahi Abubakar, Maryam Jalo, Khadija, Hauwa, Asma’u, Fatima, Auwal, and Ibrahim took on various roles, including registration, ushering, stage management, and guest welfare.

On April 26–27, 2025, ZABAFEST debuted at the Sultan Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar Assembly Hall, Barewa College.

“Maryam, how many times have you cried while putting this together? If you haven’t yet, get ready for more,” said Prof. Audee T. Giwa, a day before the festival, as he submitted his book collections, fully aware of the emotional toll such a project could take.

With the theme “Legacy Reimagined,” the dream came to life.

HIGHLIGHTS OF DAY ONE

Day One opened with the presentation of a Lifetime Achievement Award to Alhaji Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino, actor, author, filmmaker, and cultural icon. The award was presented by Isma’il Bala, author of Ivory Nights, in a moment of reverent celebration.

Prof. Audee T. Giwa delivered a stirring keynote on The Role of Arts in Preserving Our Culture, emphasising how the arts help conserve heritage and foster unity in Nigeria’s diverse landscape.

Next came a rich Hausa panel titled “Ma’abota Al’adu: Muhimmancin Marubutan Hausa wajen Kiyaye Gadon Mu,”moderated by Mal. Abba Abubakar Yakubu, featuring Prof. Ibrahim Malumfashi, Safiyya Jibril Abubakar, and Gidan Dabino. Together, they explored how Hausa literature sustains cultural identity.

The festival’s literary journey was anchored on four key books: Ivory Nights by Isma’il Bala, ZABBA’U by Prof. Audee T. Giwa, An Abundance of Scorpions by Hadiza El-Rufai, Girls and the Silhouette of Form by Star Zahra (who could not attend due to illness)

A captivating book chat on Ivory Nights, moderated by Abduljalal Musa Aliyu, provided readers with an opportunity to engage with the author and ask questions that had lingered since the book’s release.

After lunch, the session Cultural Amnesia: What Happens When We Forget Our Culture? Brought together Sani Abdulrazak, Isma’il Bala, and moderator Ibrahim Ahmed to reflect on the consequences of cultural neglect.

“It looks like a bird entangled in a cage, but it is worth it. It will pay–not now, but definitely. Just endure the pain,” said Gidan Dabino in an emotional aside to me backstage.

The afternoon wrapped up with Ahmad Mubarak Tanimu’s African Literature Quiz. Guests and attendees were grouped and tested on their knowledge of African books, with the winners showcasing impressive literary awareness.

The day closed with the Abubakar Imam Poetry Slam, named after the legendary author of Magana Jari Ce and Tafiya Mabudin Ilimi. Twelve contestants competed under the theme Al’adunmu: A Window to the Past for a ₦200,000 prize. Judged by Namse Udosen, Nasiba Babale, and Abdulbasit Abubakar Adamu, the session left a lasting impression on the hearts of the attendees.

“It wasn’t easy to choose the winners. They came with fire in their words and metaphorized our hearts,” a judge remarked.

DAY TWO: POWER, PEACE, AND POETRY

Day Two welcomed even more guests. The panel Women, Arts, and Activism: Using Creative Expression to Promote Social Justice featured Aisha Lawan Indabawa, Hadiza El-Rufai, and Nana Sule. Their discussion, from creative writing to activism, highlighted the intersections of creativity and impact.

The next session, “The Role of Arts in Conflict Resolution and Peace Building,” moderated by Aliyu Jalal, gathered Sani Muhammad, Salim Yunusa, Nasiba Babale, and Amir Lukman Haruna to explore how poetry and storytelling can serve as tools for healing.

Nasiba Babale also hosted a moving book chat with Hadiza El-Rufai on An Abundance of Scorpions, a novel that follows a woman’s journey through loss and recovery. It was called one of the festival’s most powerful sessions.

Timely and futuristic, the panel on “Ethics of AI-Generated Arts: Authorship, Ownership, and Creativity,” moderated by Mujaheed Aminu Lilo, featured Namse Udosen, Aliyu Danladi, and Ahmad Mubarak Tanimu, sparking debate and insights into emerging creative technologies.

Prof. Giwa’s novella ZABBA’U took the spotlight next, in a discussion with Ahmad Mubarak Tanimu, drawing philosophical and literary insights from the audience.

Later, Husayn Zuguru gave a mesmerising Afrodervish performance, whirling poetry and movement into a dance of spirit and silence.

The final session, The Poetry Garden, featured open mic performances by Abdulbasit, Hidaya, Aisha Indabawa, and other talented poets. It was a closing tribute soaked in metaphor and soul.

MORE THAN A FESTIVAL

ZABAFEST 2025 welcomed over 30 guest speakers from 7 states and more than 300 attendees from 13 states, uniting people from diverse ethnic and cultural backgrounds through a shared love for literature and the arts.

“Organising a festival isn’t easy, especially with today’s financial climate, but this is a much-needed initiative in Northern Nigeria,” said Hadiza El-Rufai. “I applaud your efforts and promise our support for future editions.”

For a first-time festival in a city that rarely spotlights the arts, the positive feedback far outweighed the challenges. Attendees left inspired, encouraged, and ready to write new chapters in their own lives.

The next edition of ZABAFEST promises to be even more expansive. It will explore themes such as climate change, digital creativity, and social advocacy and feature voices from across Nigeria and beyond.

We’re just getting started. The journey continues.

Maryam Shehu wrote from Zaria via maryamshehu6354@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 Abbas Datti

I am worried by the increasing broadcast of music videos featuring women in revealing, indecent dressing by the popular Arewa24 television station. In sum, it has reached a tipping point where women featured in music videos are sometimes half-naked, in a provocative, obscene dressing. 

Considering its audience, Arewa24, whose programming is widely accessible to viewers of all ages, must be subjected to public scrutiny for continuously airing content that contradicts the Hausa culture and traditional values of our society.

Many of these music videos not only portray women in revealing clothing but also promote gestures and themes that are inappropriate for family viewing. The consistent exposure to such content, especially during prime time when children and young adults are most likely to be watching, raises serious questions about Arewa TV’s commitment to ethical broadcasting and social responsibility. Most of those video songs are being shown during prime time.

Our society, rich in religious moral character and cultural pride, has always upheld values that protect the dignity and modesty of individuals, particularly women. The portrayal of women in such a demeaning and objectifying manner is not only an affront to Hausa Fulani’s traditions but also sends the wrong message to younger generations.

We call on the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) and other censorship regulatory bodies to urgently investigate some content being aired by the Arewa TV station. Strict measures should be taken to ensure that all media platforms operate within the boundaries of decency, respect, and cultural sensitivity. 

Furthermore, there is a pressing need for media houses to adopt self-regulation policies and prioritise programming that promotes positive values and Hausa cultural identity. Our religion and cultural heritage must not be compromised in the name of entertainment.

The time to act is now. Authorities must rise to the occasion and safeguard the moral fabric of the Hausa people from further extinction.

Abbas Datti writes from Kano via abbasdatti448@gmail.com.

By Salim Yunusa 

When we were neck deep into planning for KAPFEST 1.0, we decided that we would definitely have a poetry slam. Having seasoned spoken word poets on the team who had participated, judged, or simply watched one made planning for it easier. Everyone knew what to expect and what structure would work. The poetry slam was not going to be a filler—it was going to be a central experience of the festival.

Then came the aspect of naming it. Without hesitating, I suggested we either name it the Aminu Kano Poetry Slam or the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Both names carried weight. Both men represented distinct traditions of intellectualism, activism, and the power of the word. At the end, we settled for the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. It felt right. It felt timely. It felt necessary.

When I informed my friend Mukhtar that we decided to name a segment of our program after his dad, he was elated. Genuinely elated. We didn’t do it because we wanted sponsorship from the family or anything like that. We didn’t do it because we were friends with the family members. We did it because of what Mudi Sipikin stood for—creative expression, social commentary, economics, science, thought, and literary legacy.

Salim Yunusa is the founder of Poetic Wednesdays Initiative and curates the Kano International Poetry Festival. He writes from Zaria, Nigeria.

He was one of those voices that had shaped public thought and intellectual culture in Arewa for decades. So came to pass the first edition of the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Young people from different places participated. They competed. They poured their hearts out. They won cash prizes. And they made history.

Two of Mudi Sipikin’s children—Mukhtar Mudi Sipikin and Sani Misbahu Sipikin—were there physically. Mukhtar, in a touching gesture, gifted the winners beautiful textile materials. The SSA to the President also showed up and made generous cash donations. It was a moment of recognition. It was a moment of continuity. It was a moment of reclaiming history.

Then came ZABAFEST. I was pleasantly surprised when they named their poetry slam after Dr. Abubakar Imam, the famous writer and intellectual who lived in Zaria. His name, for those who know, is one of the pillars of early Northern Nigerian literature. The slam segment was electric and greatly thrilled the audience. Two of Dr. Imam’s children were in attendance, and they expressed their appreciation for the gesture. It was not just about honoring their father—it was about honoring an entire generation of thinkers who laid the foundations for what we now call Northern Nigerian literature.

And then, just yesterday, the Jos Art and Culture Festival announced that there would be a poetry slam and it would be named after Danmaraya Jos. That news made me deeply happy. Danmaraya Jos was not just a musician. He was a griot. A chronicler. A custodian of memory. And seeing young people take the initiative to immortalize his name within a literary event speaks volumes. It is not about nostalgia. It is about remembering rightly. It is about giving names their due.

During the opening ceremony of the maiden Kano International Poetry Festival in 2024, I emphasized the significance of literary festivals, stating: “Can we have enough festivals? I am thrilled that we are having literary festivals spring up in this part of the country, where we have many unsung literary heroes and heroines. You see, festivals are remarkable opportunities to educate, empower, enlighten, and entertain the public. They are a breath of fresh air, where we reignite the fires of our literary passion, cultivate new friendships and rekindle old ones, and above all, engross ourselves in rich conversations about the arts, culture, music, and poetry.”

This is why naming these events after literary icons goes way beyond immortalizing them. It is a way of preserving their contributions to the literary world. It is a method of introducing their names—and possibly their work—to younger audiences who may never encounter them otherwise. When I curated the poetry exhibition on the life of Alu Ɗan Sidi, I realized how much has been forgotten. For many attendees, it was the first time they were hearing that name, let alone engaging with the literary and scholarly contributions of the emir. But what pleased me most was how that exhibition opened a portal of learning. It sparked appreciation. It generated questions. And it even led to plans for follow-up conversations and more literary and cultural exploration on of our rich literary legacy. That is how preservation begins.

We are in a time where the literary contributions of our ancestors are being neglected or sidelined. Curriculums barely reflect their names. Public discourse often forgets them. Archives are dusty. Monuments are few. So it is refreshing—no, it is necessary—to see young people bringing back these names and personalities to life through poetry, exhibitions, festivals, and critical discussions. This is more than memory work. It is cultural survival. It is literary resistance. It is about stitching our present to our past, so that the future does not forget.

Hopefully, this growing momentum will lead to proper archiving of their works. Hopefully, it will inspire scholars to take interest in their contributions. Hopefully, it will lead to deeper appreciation and appropriate honor for their legacies, in Nigeria and beyond.

Because the names live on. Because we must speak them. Because the griots must never be forgotten.

By Salihi Adamu Takai

Farida Musa Kalla(FMK) should be the exact definition of the Hausa woman in Kano, not as some of themmischievously intend to misrepresent to the world, being a hope of a lavish and luxurious life without a purpose in their matrimonial home. 

FMK, a woman who married her husband in her early years during her university days, uses her courage and ambition to define how women should be. She has steadfastly retained her femininity, contrasting with how others view them. 

Women are not a liability and shouldn’t be seen as such, neither by how “feminists” position them nor through the extremism of “masculinists.”

I was on Facebook, browsing my timelines when I came across a video on the DCL Hausa Page featuring an interview with Farida Musa Kalla, the CEO of FMK Nigerian Ltd. The program is titled “Sirrin Ɗaukaka,” and it invitesindividuals whose names trend in the media. 

In the interview, FMK disclosed how she started the business with a bit of capital of 30k in her matrimonial home. She used the market tactics she’s known for to advertise her business, recording videos for the materials she sells. This was the first time her name started coming to the media—Facebook, X, and YouTube.

As she improved the business, her husband advised her to put 600k in the business, given to her by her mother, to buy a car. According to her, this 600k expanded the business and blessed it in every second. And today she runs the business with hundreds of millions. 

As FMK’s business improves and gains recognition in the market, she poses a threat to prominent marketers in Kano, such as Mudassir & Brothers. They have started to adopt her market strategies — using videos to unveil their faces as the CEOS of their company, as she has been doing.

Interestingly, FMK has not been using immoral activities just to advertise her business, but rather strategies that are not questionable for a married woman. 

FMK should be a challenge to all the women in Hausa land who think that they’re a liability to their husbands, as they “belong to the kitchen,” as propagated by the immediate former President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, Muhammadu Buhari.

Salihi Adamu Takai wrote via salihiadamu5555@gmail.com.