Feature Story

By Abdulsalam Alkali

Haruna Muhammad, known on the streets of Maiduguri as ‘ABALE BORNO’, had always chased greener pastures. His journey from his hometown to the bustling Nigerian capital, Abuja, was a familiar blur of hope and hardship. For a long time, he sold apples on Abuja’s streets, dreaming of the day he could return home to his mother and family.

When the month of Ramadan arrived, Abale felt a pull stronger than any market stall could offer. “I travelled from Abuja to Maiduguri, my heart light with the thought of sharing Eid al-Fitr with my loved ones. The journey was long, but the anticipation of reunion kept my spirits high”. Abale recounted with tears.

Back in Maiduguri, Abale slipped into his usual routine, posting short videos on TikTok. ‘’I voiced out my neighbourhood’s frustrations over an unfinished road project and the dilapidated Wadiya Primary School in Gomari Kostin’’ Abale stated. Residents slogging through potholes and the school’s crumbling walls quickly garnered attention.

One morning, seeking a quieter spot to rest during the Ramadan fast, Abale spread his mat under a lone tree inside the school, where he had earlier raised concerns about its dilapidated condition, offering some respite to the neighbourhood. As he lay there, three men approached—a Civilian Joint Task Force member and two policemen in traditional kaftans. “I felt relaxed even after seeing them, as I never thought the videos I made could trigger such a response from security,” Abale recounted.

While in Police Custody

“I was sceptical and confused about my arrest. I was first taken to the G.R.A Police Station, where I was temporarily detained until the Commissioner of Police, now-retired Yusuf Muhammad Lawan, arrived and ordered my transfer to the CRACK Division’’ Abale stated. Crack Division of the Nigeria Police is a unit specialised in tackling armed robbery, theft, and other capital offences.

“While in custody, I was denied access to my phone. I begged the policeman at the counter to help inform my mother. He agreed but charged one thousand naira for a call that lasted less than a minute,” Abale recalled.

At the CRACK Division, “I was informed that my offence was criticising the state government on TikTok, and I was arrested by ‘orders from above.’ There was no proper explanation. I was subjected to a thorough interrogation by scores of policemen, all asking the same question repeatedly: ‘Who is sponsoring you to attack the government?’ They took my phone, tripod, and microphone, searched them, but found nothing. The disappointment on their faces was visible,” he stated.

Abale recalled being treated like a criminal for expressing his community’s frustrations. “A policeman threatened my mother, telling her I was a criminal who would be jailed for no less than 20 years.” He was held for six days, despite laws requiring that an accused person be charged in court within 24 hours, or 48 hours if no court is within proximity, as stipulated by section 35 of the Nigerian Constitution. 

Abale had not initially engaged legal services. “However, a human rights lawyer, Hamza Nuhu Dantani, came to me. He was God-sent.” Abale stated

The Court Case

Abale was charged at Magistrate Court Number 2, popularly known as ‘Koton Madam,’ in Maiduguri. However, the court was in recess, and the case was referred to another magistrate. “The court found no significant reason for my arbitrary detention, and I was released,” Abale said.

Legal Struggle

After his bail was granted, Abale returned to Abuja to recover from the losses and expenses caused by his detention. However, the case was continuously adjourned. “I travelled from Abuja to Maiduguri three times to seek justice and retrieve my gadgets—two phones, pods, and a microphone—but to no avail. There was no conviction, no acquittal. The case was swept under the carpet,” he lamented.

Violations Continued

Suleiman Usman, 26, known as Sultan, was arrested and detained for three days simply for disagreeing with a public office holder on Facebook. “Even after promising my lawyer, I would be released within 24 hours, I spent three days in the cell,” Sultan recounted.

He was arrested after criticising the Executive Secretary of the Borno State Geographic and Information Service on Facebook. “The complainant insisted it amounted to criminal defamation, even though there was no proof. My words were harmless,” Sultan stated. After three days in the CRACK Division, he was released unconditionally.

Similarly, Alhassan Musa, 40, a father of nine, was arrested and detained for five weeks on the orders of Governor Babagana Zulum. “I was carrying passengers near the newly built flyover bridge in Bolori Store when a white Hilux vehicle drove into our way. It was Governor Zulum. He immediately ordered the police to arrest me,” Alhassan stated.

Detained at the CRACK Division for what was clearly a civil matter, Alhassan was repeatedly refused bail. Without formal charges, and only after his lawyer’s intervention, he paid N100,000 to the Borno State Traffic Maintenance Agency (BOTMA) for a traffic violation. “Five weeks of detention went under the carpet, unexplained,” he said.

Amnesty International Nigeria

In August 2025, Amnesty International Nigeria raised concerns over allegations of human rights violations by the Borno State government. “Borno, based on our initial findings, is increasingly becoming a bastion of repression, abuse of office, and unlawful attacks on the right of the people to disagree with those in power. People have the right to agree and disagree with those in power,” the statement read.

It further attests, “People who criticise the governor are being arbitrarily arrested and detained for months or more, without trial or access to a lawyer or family. A detention centre run by the police has now become a den of unlawful detention and ill-treatment. Some are even refused bail in utter disregard for due process.”

The statement was necessitated by the sentencing of five young people to five years imprisonment for organising and participating in an #EndBadGovernance protest.  Efforts to locate them proved abortive, but a relative of one of the sentenced individuals, who chose to remain anonymous, confirmed ‘’they are still in Maiduguri Maximum Correctional Centre”.

Similarly, Ibrahim Muhammad of the National Human Rights Commission in Maiduguri acknowledged the commission’s awareness of such claims but clarified its role. “We must receive a formal complaint, either in person or through other means of communication, before we can act. We have established protocols, and no violation has been officially reported to us,” he stated.

The Borno State Police Public Relations Officer, ASP Nahun Kenneth Daso, declined to comment, insisting on a physical meeting. However, he neither picked up calls nor replied to messages at the appointed time.

What the Law Says

According to lawyer Barr. Alkali Adamu Askira, “No individual, whether a governor or anyone acting under his authority, has the power to arrest and detain any person beyond the constitutionally permitted period of 24 hours, or at most 48 hours where applicable, without either granting bail or arraigning the person before a court of competent jurisdiction.” He further clarified, “Any directive or action that results in unnecessary arrest or prolonged detention outside these legal limits constitutes a gross abuse of power and an act of lawlessness.”

Barr. Askira noted that the remedy is to file fundamental human rights enforcement suits. “Otherwise, we will have rights we cannot enforce,” he stated.

Commenting on Abale and Sultan’s detention, human rights lawyer Barr. Hamza Nuhu Dantani said, “Abale and Sultan’s cases exemplify the endemic abuse of power, suppression, and denial of access to justice by people in authority.” He advised, “Security agencies should respect the rights to freedom of expression,” and urged public office holders to “refrain from using their office to oppress citizens. 

By Anas Abbas

In the traditional rhythm of life across Kano, Jigawa Katsina and much of Northern Nigeria, the end of the rainy season has always been a time of relief, celebration, and abundance.

It is the period locals fondly call “Kaka” (harvest season) when the farmlands give back to the people, when barns are full, and when hunger gives way to laughter.

Grains, groundnuts, millet, maize, and beans flood the local markets. Prices fall. The air is scented with roasted corn, fresh harvest, and hope.But this year, something has changed.

The joy that once marked Kaka now feels faint and replaced by silence, worry, and a strange kind of poverty in the midst of plenty.

The Daily reality has reported that, in Kano’s bustling Dawanau Market, traders sit beside overflowing bags of produce, but the energy that once filled the air has faded.

“People come, they look, they ask, but they don’t buy,” said Malam Kabiru, a grain merchant of 20 years, wiping sweat off his brow. “Before, this time of year, I would not even have time to rest. But now, we are counting hours, not money.”

Traditionally, harvest season (kaka) is the season when life becomes easy. Farmers sell their crops, traders make profits, and households breathe again after months of lean times.

“Money used to flow like the rain that just passed,” said Hajiya Zainab, a mother and resident at Yankaba in Kano. “But this year, things are upside down. Food is cheap, but we don’t have money to buy. Even if you want to cook “tuwo with bean soup”, you will think twice before buying groundnut oil.” Zainab said.

The paradox is everywhere: prices of some staples have dropped slightly due to harvest supply, yet the economy has tightened its grip on ordinary Nigerians. The value of the naira continues to wobble, and salaries for those who are even lucky to have them barely survive a week.

A Season that feels different

In villages around Katsina, Jigawa, and Sokoto, The Daily reality gathered that farmers recount the same story. Fertilizer prices went up, transport costs doubled, and insecurity chased many from their farmlands. Those who managed to plant and harvest now face a market that no longer rewards their sweat.

“Last year, we prayed for rain. This year, we got it. But now we are praying for buyers,” said Alhaji Isa, a millet farmer from Bichi. His barns are full, yet his pocket is empty.

For decades, Kaka was more than a season it was a social equalizer. Families cleared debts, marriages were planned, and children returned to school with new uniforms bought from market profits. Today, that cycle of joy has broken.

The harvest still comes, but the happiness doesn’t. I recently harvested my onions and took them to the market, said Alhaji Musa Dan’Isa, an onion farmer from Badume in Kano State, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We sold a sack for between N10,000 and N11,000. After all the expenses fertilizer, labour, and transport.There’s almost nothing left for us. I can’t even recover what I spent.”

“To be honest, I’m beginning to lose interest in farming. If things continue like this, I don’t see any reason to invest again next year.”

Economy of Survival

Experts say the situation reflects the larger economic strain facing the country. Inflation has eaten deep into every pocket, and the spending power of ordinary Nigerians has collapsed.

Even when goods are available, the money to circulate them is not.In the past, money used to move like water in a stream from farmers to traders, from traders to transporters, and then back to the villages.

Now, the stream has dried up. Money no longer circulates; it only passes through a few hands and disappears before it reaches the people who truly keep the economy alive.

Economist Dr. Ibrahim Umar explains to The Daily reality: “What we are seeing is a liquidity drought people simply don’t have cash flow. Harvest season should naturally boost local economies, but insecurity, subsidy removal, and currency devaluation have created a heavy burden. So even in abundance, there is scarcity.”

A Cultural Loss

Beyond the numbers, something deeper is being lost the cultural spirit that defined Kaka. The community celebrations, the songs of the farmers, the laughter of women sorting grains in woven baskets all seem quieter now.“Our parents used to say that Kaka is God’s mercy after hard labour,” said Aisha Abdullahi, a teacher in Hadejia.

“Now it feels like we are working for survival, not for joy. The harvest doesn’t bring the same peace anymore.”

A Call for Reflection

The fading joy of Kaka tells a larger story one of resilience, struggle, and a people trying to hold on to dignity amid hardship. It reminds us that the economy is not just about figures and policies, but about lives, emotions, and traditions deeply woven into the seasons.

Northern Nigeria still celebrates the rains, the soil, and the spirit of farming. But until the people can once again taste the sweetness of their own labour, Kaka will remain a season of memory rather than a moment of joy.

The changing face of Kaka is more than an economic issue; it is a mirror of how hardship has reshaped everyday life in the North. A season that once united communities in gratitude is now marked by quiet markets and worried faces.

From Kano to Katsina, Sokoto to Bauchi, people are beginning to wonder if the old Kaka will ever return when the harvest truly brought relief, not reminders of survival.