Opinion

By Saifullahi Attahir

There was a time when most individuals engaged in either campus or labour association politics harboured the ambition of moving into mainstream politics. But years later, only a few achieved this dream. What went wrong? What is the difference between the two forms of politics, and why does success in one not guarantee success in the other?

Trade unions like the Nigeria Union of Teachers (NUT), Nigerian Union of Petroleum and Natural Gas (NUPENG), Nigerian Medical Association (NMA), Association of Resident Doctors (ARD), Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU), Nigerian Union of Journalists (NUJ), National Association of Road Transport Owners (NARTO), Manufacturers Association of Nigeria (MAN), Nigerian Bar Association (NBA), the umbrella Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC), and hundreds of others are examples of trade unions that have a form of politics almost similar to students’ unionism. They address the welfare of their members and are often in constant confrontation with the ‘government’.

Trade unionism and students’ unionism share similar characteristics and differ entirely from mainstream politics — the partisan politics of electing Chairmen, Governors, and Senators. Unionism involves a group of people sharing similar ideologies, mostly young, and is mistakenly believed to necessarily be led by vibrant, idealistic, talkative, and radical individuals.

Of course, a handful of trade union leaders were lucky enough to do well in mainstream politics. Examples include Senator Ibrahim Shekarau (former National President of Secondary School Principals), Senator Adams Oshiomhole (former NLC Chairman), Dr Chris Ngige, Senator Shehu Sani, Senator Dayo Faduyile (former NMA Chairman), and a few more.

But those “born comrades” in mainstream politics are very few compared to the hundreds of politicians who were once averse to joining even school politics but are now full-blown politicians in Nigeria. Ironically, many of those occupying seats in Nigeria are accidental politicians: either a retired civil servant, a retired Army General, a tired oil marketer, a former banker, a university lecturer, or a classroom teacher with no apparent political ambition, only to be dragged in by either their constituency or by influential people in their region. That’s the sheer power of fate!

One of the factors I have curiously come to realise as a roadblock is the inherent attitude in those ‘comrades’ — rebellion, radicalism, idealism, and hot-headedness — that makes it difficult for them to conform with their people; hence, they cannot be easily entrusted to lead others outside campuses. Most of them have fire and fury in their bones, and are men of stone, not easily bent or manipulated.

Most unionists are anti-business, and also suffer from identity problems when it comes to street politics. 

There is also the problem of funding. Party politics rewards money and godfatherism with little regard for grassroots mobilisation.

Some are unfortunately consumed by bitterness. For them, surrender was an unforgivable act. Of course, that does not apply to all. But it is obvious that even those comrades who accidentally find themselves in political seats do not endure long. They are either in constant fight with their colleagues — Shehu Sani, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi, Nasir El-Rufai, Ali Ndume, Dino Melaye, etc. — or always prefer to rebel — Sowore, Lukman Salihu, Naja’atu Mohammed.

Negotiation is a key tool for success in mainstream politics, especially when dealing with people who have different ideologies and perspectives. Unfortunately, unionists are trained to strike and rebel.

Some have even been tried as leaders but failed. The story of Tai Solarin is an example. He constantly criticised President Ibrahim Babangida. It was said that IBB cunningly entrusted the newly established People’s Bank to Tai Solarin as Chairman, only for the scheme to fail a few years later.

Success in mainstream politics is complex and multifactorial, and carries a good chunk of luck and right timing. It is not purely sagacity or intelligence. It is not purely based on ingenuity either. But there is an obvious Darwinian theory of survival of the fittest.

I have summed up the following as some of the factors that aid seamless transition and success in mainstream politics: flexibility and adaptation, ability to tolerate others and accept their views, bigger ambition, independent source of income, self-knowledge and education, learning when to speak and when to remain silent, mentorship and obedience to those mentors.

Of course, even with the above, it is still not a guarantee of success. Success belongs to God the Almighty.

Saifullahi Attahir is the President of the National Association of Jigawa State Medical Students (NAJIMS). He wrote this piece from Federal University Dutse, via saifullahiattahir93@gmail.com.  

By Shamwil Ibrahim (Justice)

Dauda Kahutu Rarara, I have a question for you: after all your years in Kannywood, is Triple R really the best name you could come up with?

Creativity should mean more than having a popular name, a large following, or the ability to attract attention. It should also mean having the imagination to create something distinctive, something people can associate with your vision without immediately conjuring an established historical legacy.

The name Triple R Kannywood for Renewed Hope Initiative merits more than a passing glance. For anyone familiar with Nigeria’s history, the name immediately evokes the Three Rs introduced under General Yakubu Gowon’s government after the Nigerian Civil War: Reconciliation, Rehabilitation and Reconstruction.

Rarara, did no one on your team pause to consider the historical association before settling on this name? Was there no alternative that could give the initiative a more distinctive identity? Or has the standard for creativity in our entertainment industry fallen so low that a name only needs to sound appealing to be accepted?

That is what troubles me.

Kannywood is built on storytelling, music, imagination and expression. Its artists understand the power of words and the importance of creating work that captures people’s attention. Yet the name of this association has left the public asking why a concept so closely associated with an important chapter in Nigeria’s history has resurfaced in this form.

If you want people to take your initiative seriously, give them a reason to see it as something genuinely distinctive. Do not expect applause simply because your name is attached to it.

You have spent years building your reputation, Rarara. One would expect that experience to be reflected in the ideas associated with your name. Instead, the choice of Triple R raises an obvious question: why this name, when so many possibilities are available?

I am not claiming that the resemblance proves deliberate copying. I am questioning why a public figure with your experience would choose a name that immediately invites comparison with an established historical policy. That is a legitimate question, and it deserves a serious answer.

Unfortunately, public discussions in Nigeria sometimes confuse criticism with hatred. When a popular figure is questioned, some supporters rush to defend them without addressing the issue itself. That attitude does little to encourage accountability or improve the quality of ideas in our creative industry.

Popularity is not a substitute for originality. Influence is not proof of creativity. And fame should never put anyone beyond public scrutiny.

Kannywood needs people who can think beyond the familiar. It needs fresh identities, bold ideas, and individuals who understand that influence comes with responsibility. We should challenge our creative people to raise their standards rather than lower our expectations because they have become popular.

So, Rarara, what informed this choice? Was the historical connection considered? What makes Triple R the right identity for your association? And what distinguishes it from the concept Nigerians have known for decades?

These are fair questions. You may disagree with my criticism, but that does not make the questions themselves unreasonable.

My concern is not that you have established an association. My concern is that an opportunity to demonstrate originality has produced a name that invites an immediate comparison with history.

If we cannot question the choices of influential figures in our entertainment industry, then what exactly are we allowed to question?

Kannywood deserves creativity. The public deserves explanations. And those who occupy influential positions should be prepared to defend their decisions.

TRIPLE R. WHY THIS NAME? WHY NOT SOMETHING DISTINCTIVELY YOUR OWN?

Shamwil Ibrahim (Justice) can be reached via Ibrahimshamawilu@gmail.com.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) of Nigeria appears to have placed itself in a catch-22, so to speak, by failing to demonstrate sufficient decisiveness, consistency, and finality in handling candidates’ lists ahead of the 2027 general elections.

The relevant provisions of the Electoral Act, including Sections 29(1) on the submission of candidates’ lists; 29(2) on candidates’ qualifications; 29(3) on the publication of candidates’ particulars; 77(2) on party membership registers; 77(4) on the submission of membership registers; 77(5) on eligibility to participate; 77(6) on valid membership registers; 77(7) on failure to submit registers; 84(1)–(2) on the nomination of candidates; and Section 85 on the qualification of aspirants, provide a legal framework for electoral administration.

Furthermore, the Supreme Court’s September 24, 2026 judgment upholding the constitutionality of Sections 77(5), 77(6), 77(7), and 84(2) reinforces the need for clarity and consistent enforcement. These provisions should provide sufficient legal guidance for INEC to act decisively, subject to applicable court orders.

However, the Commission’s apparent back-and-forth has created unnecessary uncertainty. Today, a candidate’s name appears on the list; tomorrow, it disappears; the next day, people expect it to reappear.

This inconsistency has opened the door to accusations, speculation and finger-pointing, familiar features of Nigerian politics. It has also given politically dependent supporters, whose livelihoods revolve around politicians, opportunities to drag the names and reputations of high-placed individuals into needless controversies.

INEC must demonstrate firmness, consistency and independence in implementing electoral laws. Its decisions should be transparent, legally defensible and guided by established procedures rather than any other considerations.

Ultimately, however, the beauty of representative democracy lies in inclusiveness, fairness and equal opportunity; a system in which every qualified citizen has a fair chance to participate, either as a candidate on the ballot or as a voter at the polling unit.

Furthermore, since Nigeria’s democracy is still in the ‘learning stage’ the Electoral laws must be enforced firmly, but never at the expense of fairness, justice and democratic participation.

 Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja, zaymohd@yahoo.com, 08036070980.

By Abubakar Suleiman 

For a people or a region plagued by insecurity and extremism, it is understandable that peace-loving people would embrace or support anyone who presents themselves as a peace advocate or ambassador. These ambassadors could be atheists, Muslims, Christians, or agnostics. However, there is a fundamental difference between advocating peace and being hell-bent on striking at the very pedestal upon which Islam has stood for centuries. The latter will inevitably come with its own blowback.

The search for peace, rightly so, can be likened to a drowning man holding on to anything that looks like a stick, even if it is a snake. Many found what seemed like a stick in Masussuka. Hadith, the second source of Shari’ah, which comprises accounts of the sayings and actions of Prophet Muhammad (SAW), was dismissed, mocked, misinterpreted, and abused by Masussuka. His treatment of Hadith was not guided by any established scholarly procedures, and this is where Masussuka fell short of intellectual rigour. He became the authority who made or marred a Hadith according to his own whims and caprices.

For the record, he is not the first to subject Hadiths to scholarly scrutiny. Many others have done so, but they followed established procedures. This is what makes Masussuka appear more like a sophist than a scholar. With cheerleaders, both innocent and dishonest, hailing him in their search for peace and their fight against extremism, Masussuka basks even more in his whimsical delusions. Attempts to get him to participate in open intellectual debates have proved abortive.

When the heat in the kitchen became unbearable over his rejection of ALL Hadiths, Masussuka created novel criteria for accepting Hadiths: “It should not contradict the Qur’an, it should not impugn the reputation of the Prophet (SAW), and it should not call for terrorism.” I don’t know of any Islamic cleric or scholar in history who has proposed these criteria. This was entirely his own invention.

Even non-Muslims are well aware of the five pillars of Islam. Yet Masussuka reduced them to three. How the Hadith that explicitly outlines the five pillars of Islam failed to meet the criteria he set for himself is a conundrum he failed to address or reconcile before his unfortunate murder. Hadiths concerning voluntary fasting on Mondays and Thursdays, as well as many well-known Hajj rituals, also fell short of his criteria. He dismissed Islamic jurisprudence with a wave of his hand. He threw the historic martyrdom of Hussain (RA), the grandson of Prophet Muhammad (SAW), into the gutter. He denied history. That denial alone could strike at one of Shi’ism’s most important historical foundations.

Under the umbrella of peace advocacy, Masussuka enjoyed the protection and intellectual endorsement of people who would ordinarily be quick to criticise anyone resorting to unscholarly procedures in other fields of knowledge. He had sound Qur’anic memorisation, a sharp tongue, coherent and incoherent logic, and the ability to explain and translate Arabic words in a didactic manner. He also didn’t spare his interlocutors from name-calling: karuwar kundila, bunsuru da babban riga, jaba mai bakin sharri, etc. Even the foremost compilers of Hadith, Imam Bukhari and Imam Muslim, were not spared his invectives. Shehu Inyass and Ahmad Tijjani also got their fair share of name-calling. That’s the peace ambassador.

In fairness, he called for peaceful coexistence between Muslims and non-Muslims. He spoke out about out-of-school children and parental irresponsibility. On the other hand, he spoke against Hadiths with reckless abandon, devoid of intellectual honesty.

As I have said before, I understand that some intellectuals are genuinely concerned about taming extremism and tendentiousness, as well as ending the romance between religious leaders and politicians because of its ‘overbearing influence’ on governance. Hence, their newfound love for Masussuka.

But hatred or dislike of Hadith or of Sunni scholars should not make you hold a snake and mistake it for a stick. There’s nothing new in what he propagated. He has only regurgitated the past. Tomes were written long ago debunking the kind of logical fallacies he propagated. The democratisation of social media tends to make these arguments appear new, but they are not. To paraphrase Thomas Sowell, one of the most important reasons for studying history is that virtually every stupid idea in vogue today has been tried before and proved disastrous.

One credit you have to give Sunni scholars, however you feel about them, is that they have made themselves available for open debates and have written books to debunk ideologies they consider inimical to theirs. Therefore, intellectuals should endeavour to write books or engage them in open debates on the issues they have with Hadiths. Don’t be a coward like Masussuka, who threw insults and intellectual missiles from afar.

There is no gainsaying that no one deserves to die for holding a contrasting view or subscribing to a non-mainstream ideology, particularly when such a view or ideology poses no threat to social integration. The constituted authority should determine what constitutes a threat to overriding public interests or social stability and act accordingly.

It was with dismay that I received the news of Masussuka’s assassination. I remarked: “A hero has been created by cowards and bloody murderers.” I wish he had lived long enough to be defeated by the truth, or even suffocated by it. His death has also denied us the remarkable spectacle that would have accompanied the intellectual debates he shied away from.

I hope and pray that these murderers are apprehended and made to face the full weight of the law. I fear that, if precedent is anything to go by, his family and students would only be left to lick their wounds and grieve over his loss. But I pray that the Nigerian government proves me wrong this time around.

By Oladoja M.O

Encouraging is an understatement when you consider how far we’ve come in health insurance coverage in Nigeria. It’s pleasing to see health insurance gradually becoming a bigger part of Nigeria’s healthcare conversation. More people enrolling, more attention to coverage, and the ongoing expansion and adjustment of health insurance programmes all point in one direction: we are taking financial protection in healthcare more seriously.

For a country where illness can quickly become a financial crisis, this is certainly worth celebrating.

But while we celebrate the numbers, we should also ask: what happens when the insured person actually walks into a hospital?

There appears to be an emerging culture around insured patients that we should not allow to become normal. 

You hear it in the phrase, “they are under HMO.”

Some patients have experienced delayed attention, dismissive attitudes and poor communication simply because their care is being financed through insurance. There are stories of patients being made to feel like a burden because someone else, rather than the patient standing in front of the provider, is paying the bill.

A social media post that circulated recently brought this into the open. Someone associated with a healthcare facility made a derogatory remark about a family who had come to receive care under health insurance. 

The concern isn’t just the statement, but the thought of what those people and many others may have experienced before that statement ever appeared online, and the comments under the post so proved a lot that people had been put through.

That was the one that became public.

How many others never do? An this is where health insurance meets something much deeper in our society: classism.

We already know that the ability to pay can influence how people experience healthcare. Health insurance is meant reduce that inequality, not create another label through which patients are treated differently.

And to note, quality of care is not just about eventually receiving treatment. It includes how the patient is received, how long they wait, how they are spoken to and whether they retain their dignity while receiving care.

Hearing from both sides, healthcare providers do have legitimate concerns about the economics of health insurance. Tariffs vs actual treatment cost, uncertainty of reimbursement, etc., factually, running a healthcare facility is expensive, and particularly for private providers, sustainability cannot be ignored. 

But while these are legitimate concern, it is a big problem when the gap is pushed down to the patient.

There are concerns about patients being asked to make additional payments even when the service is covered by their insurance, attempts to recover inadequate reimbursement through duplicating charges or claiming for services a patient did not actually receive, and patients routinely being asked to pay part of the cost even when the treatment falls within their insurance coverage.

Yes, this is not to indict healthcare providers, but we can all agree that these concerns are too important to ignore.

When the provider and insurer disagree about the cost of care, the patient should not quietly become the person who settles the disagreement.

I remember asking a question during a session at the maiden African Primary Health Care Forum in 2025, that how do we balance healthcare provision with the intention to make profit, without allowing profit to override the people who should remain at the centre?

Unfortunately, there was no easy answer. Truthfully, it is tricky.

Providers need to survive, insurers need to remain financially sustainable and government cannot carry every cost in the health system. Yet somewhere between these competing interests is the person who became sick in the first place.

This is why the response cannot simply be “let’s increase the tariffs” or “let providers absorb the loss.” Neither is sustainable. If tariffs rise without considering the wider financing burden, patients may eventually bear the cost. If providers continually operate below sustainable levels, quality of care will suffer.

And that’s why there’s need for a dive at whole financing structure.

The government needs to examine the real costs and obligations of healthcare provision and identify where targeted fiscal relief or support can ease pressure on providers without simply shifting it to patients. Insurers must reimburse realistically. Providers must be allowed to remain viable, but must also remain accountable for what they provide and claim.

Monitoring must become active!

Where systems have gaps, people will eventually find ways to exploit them. Claims should be monitored. Unusual billing patterns should raise questions. Services billed should correspond with services delivered. Patient complaints should not disappear into administrative files, and repeated non-compliance should have consequences.

This is not about setting providers against insurers. Everyone has a part to play.

The government must regulate and create an environment where healthcare financing is sustainable. Insurers must protect the integrity of the pool and pay fairly. Providers must deliver quality care without making patients pay for every weakness in the system. Patients must also understand their rights and speak up when something is wrong.

The point is not to remove profit from healthcare. That is neither realistic nor desirable. The point is to ensure that profit does not become more important than the person healthcare is supposed to serve.

That is the balance we need.

Because ultimately, the success of health insurance should not be measured only by how many people have been enrolled. 

It should also ask what those people experience when they finally need care, if the insurance actually protects them, if they can walk into a facility without being treated as a lesser patient because they are “under HMO”, if they receive the care they are entitled to without becoming the financial solution to a disagreement between provider and insurer?

Expansion of health insurance in Nigeria must weigh in on these questions. 

We are still building this system, and that gives us an opportunity to correct what is beginning to go wrong before it becomes normal.

Health insurance is too important to lose the very person it was created to protect.

The patient must remain at the centre, not at the receiving end of the system.

And the unintended negative stretches of this beautiful system must be confronted and, while we still can, nip in the bud.

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

By Fatihu Ibrahim

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

I don’t know where to start. I am literally in tears. I still cannot fathom the reality and fragility of life.

Huzaifa is no more. Ya Allah! 😭

I can’t remember the exact first day I met Huzaifa, but I remember seeing him from afar during our 100 Level days. He was just a normal classmate to me then. We weren’t particularly close.

We started getting closer in 200 Level through Abdul Aziz Ahmad Malam Boy, our mutual friend.

We were in the same room in 200 Level, Room 64, the last room in Area One Hostel. Our room was right beside the hostel mosque, and we always joked about being “Baƙin Allah” (Allah’s guests) because we lived right beside the mosque.

Huzaifa lived across the hall, about five or six rooms away from ours. If I remember correctly, he was Malam Umar Sale’s roommate in the Department of Animal Science. They used to visit our room frequently, and since almost all of us were classmates, there were four Agriculture students in the room. Our room eventually became a mini headquarters where we studied, played and spent time together.

Huzaifa was a very calm and reserved person.

Most times, we would get caught up in some banter, and I would use my naturally superior talkative nature to bash Huzee in an argument. Even when he clearly had the better point, he would simply nod, smile and say:

“Fatihu, kai ko…? Ba a cinka da zance.”

I would laugh in triumph and respond:

“Dama na faɗa maka.”

Those little moments are memories I never knew I would one day desperately wish I could have again.

Huzee loved his family more than anything.

I have never met most of his siblings, except his sister, but somehow I knew all their stories. You could hardly spend an hour talking with Huzee without hearing about his younger brother, Sauban.

“Sauban did this… Sauban did that…”

Ya Allah.

I cannot even begin to imagine what Sauban is feeling right now.

I remember one day when we left Wudil together in the company of friends. As we reached Kano Line, Yahaya Rabi’u Abdullahi (Kundaz), in his usual banter, was trying to piss Huzee off.

His immediate younger sister, Khadija, if I remember correctly, came to welcome him and greeted us. Kundaz, just to provoke him, told Huzee point-blank that he loved his sister.

Huzee simply smiled and said:

“Zan ba ka number ɗinta.”

Whenever Kundaz wanted to tease him afterwards, he would ask:

“Kai, ina budurwata?”

And Huzee would just smile and say:

“Tana nan lafiya.”

That was Huzee. Calm, reserved and patient. Even when we were joking with him, he rarely got angry.

When he decided to venture into student politics, Malam Boy and I were firmly against it. His Level 2 result, whether it was first or second semester, I can’t remember exactly, was above 4.0, and we didn’t want politics to distract him from his studies.

But Huzee had a way of making you eventually agree with his point. He would calmly explain himself until you found yourself thinking, “Maybe this guy actually has a point.”

And no matter how intense the political rivalry became, Huzee never treated you as an enemy. That was one of the things I admired about him.

I still remember him complaining to me:

“Fatihu, ba ka da mutunci. Kana Gwammaja amma ba ka faɗa min inda kake ba. Rannan na zo wajen Siya-Siya. When I come next, dole mu haɗu.”

I never imagined that one day, those words would become a memory.

Perhaps what makes this loss even more painful is that this is not the first time we have had to say goodbye to someone from our circle.

Years ago, we lost another friend and classmate, Anas Rano. I thought I had somehow learned to live with that pain, but Huzee’s death has brought it all back. It is as though an old wound has suddenly been opened again.

One moment, you are young students sharing classrooms, hostels, jokes, arguments and dreams for the future. You never imagine that some of the people making those memories with you will one day become memories themselves.

Anas. Now Huzee. Maybe tomorrow, me or you. 😭

Ya Allah.

The fragility of this life is frightening.

We make plans, argue, laugh and tease each other. We worry about tomorrow. And then, without warning, someone is gone.

Huzee, I still cannot believe this.

From being a classmate I once only saw from afar to becoming a friend, a brother and a fellow student leader, you became part of a chapter of my life that I will never forget.

You were here.

Now you’re gone.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

May Allah forgive your shortcomings, have mercy upon you, illuminate and widen your grave, and grant you Jannatul Firdaus.

May Allah forgive Anas Rano too, have mercy upon him and grant him Jannatul Firdaus.

May Allah give Huzee’s parents, Sauban, Khadija, his siblings, his entire family, his friends, the UG15 family, classmates and everyone who loved him the strength to bear this painful loss.

May Allah preserve the rest of us, forgive us before our own time comes, and grant us a beautiful ending.

Adieu, Brother Huzaifa Sabo Usman.

Allah Ya jikanka, Huzee. 😭

Allah Ya jikanka, Anas.

We will never forget you.

Sai mun taho.

By Haladu Muhammad

I want to speak about an issue that has deeply concerned and disturbed me for quite a while—for over half a decade, if not a full decade. The topic I wish to discuss today is clear and well known to all of us: the state of our education sector.

Education is paramount and sacrosanct. It is everyone’s duty, concern, and business. The core issue I want to address is the performance of teachers in our public schools compared to those in private schools. When comparing public and private institutions, which system possesses better infrastructure and facilities to properly instruct, guide, and develop our children?

To set the context, we are all aware of the economic hardships the country is facing. Citizens across all sectors are struggling with their daily or monthly earnings. It is no secret that the remuneration for teachers and civil servants is often inadequate.

However, what I find difficult to accept—and must question—is the persistent reliance on salary grievances as an excuse for poor performance. While I am not dismissing their financial concerns, education remains a collective responsibility.

To clarify, I am not simply shifting blame onto our educators. Look at states like Borno, Zamfara, and Jigawa. During my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) service year in Zamfara State, where I served at Government Girls Secondary School, Maru, I engaged in many intellectual discussions with my colleagues regarding this situation. 

Under the previous state administration, teachers went unpaid for two to three months, leading to stagnation in the education sector. However, under Governor Dr Dauda Lawal Dare, workers’ entitlements, pensions, and gratuities have been prioritised and paid promptly. Similar positive administrative steps regarding welfare can be observed in Borno and Jigawa States.

Despite public school teachers receiving higher salaries—often ₦60,000 to ₦77,000 or more, compared with private school teachers who may earn as little as ₦30,000 to ₦40,000—we consistently observe greater commitment and better pupil performance in private institutions. Private school educators, despite lower pay and inferior physical infrastructure, are often held to higher standards of accountability.

In many public schools, particularly during periods such as the rainy season, teacher absenteeism is rampant. It is not uncommon to visit a public school and find only two or three teachers present alongside the Vice Principal, while students roam the premises without instruction. Meanwhile, frivolous excuses for absence that are tolerated in the public sector would result in immediate financial deductions or termination in a private setting.

This disparity stems primarily from a lack of leadership, self-discipline, and institutional accountability. While public education has a superior structural and administrative framework on paper, it suffers from poor implementation and weak oversight.

Therefore, my call to action for state governors, Commissioners of Education, and key educational stakeholders is straightforward: establish and empower strict, independent monitoring committees within every Local Government Education Area (LGEA). These committees must actively oversee public school operations, enforce teacher attendance, and monitor academic performance across all wards and communities to restore standard quality to our public education system.

Haladu Muhammad is a concerned Nigerian citizen, and he writes from Maiduguri, Borno State.

By Muhammad Muhammad Salisu, Esq.

One of the fundamental differences between Islam and Christianity is the extent to which their revealed texts regulate human life beyond matters of personal faith and morality.

Islam is described as a Deen, a complete way of life. This is not merely a theological slogan. The Qur’an and the Sunnah contain guidance on matters ranging from worship and personal conduct to marriage, divorce, inheritance, contracts, finance, crime, governance, international relations, war and peace.

Christianity, particularly as centred on the New Testament, does not contain a comparable comprehensive legal system for civil, commercial and criminal affairs. This distinction should, however, be stated carefully. It does not mean that Christianity has no law, nor does it mean that Christians have no sophisticated legal or ethical tradition. The Old Testament contains substantial legislation, while Christianity later developed canon law and natural law traditions. The real distinction lies in Christianity’s theological relationship with that earlier law.

1. Sharia and Fiqh

It is important to distinguish between Sharia and Fiqh.

Sharia refers to the divinely revealed path, while Fiqh is the human scholarly effort to understand and apply that revelation to particular circumstances. This explains why different schools of Islamic jurisprudence can arrive at different rulings while relying upon the same revealed sources.

The principal sources of Islamic jurisprudence include the Qur’an, Sunnah, Ijma and Qiyas, supplemented in different schools by principles such as maslahah, istihsan, istishab and urf.

The significance of this is that Islam does not place worship in one compartment and worldly affairs in another. Classical Fiqh deals with both ‘ibadat, such as prayer, fasting, Zakat and Hajj, and mu’amalat, such as contracts, marriage, commerce, crime, governance and war.

2. Marriage, Divorce and Family Law

The Qur’an does not merely tell Muslims to marry and behave morally within marriage. It provides actual rules.

It addresses the mahr, divorce, the waiting period, reconciliation, maintenance, breastfeeding and other family matters. Fiqh subsequently develops detailed rules concerning custody, guardianship and maintenance.

This is a significant distinction. The Qur’an contains legislation which is then developed by jurists into an extensive body of family law.

3. Islamic Inheritance Law

Perhaps nowhere is the legislative character of the Qur’an more obvious than in inheritance.

Qur’an 4:11, 4:12 and 4:176 prescribe specific shares for heirs, including children, parents and spouses. Muslim jurists subsequently developed ‘ilm al-fara’id, the specialised science of inheritance, including detailed mathematical rules for complicated estates.

In other words, inheritance in Islam is not left entirely to personal preference or general moral instruction. There is a revealed framework determining who inherits and in what proportion.

4. Commerce, Contracts and Finance

Islamic revelation also regulates economic activity.

Qur’an 2:282, the longest verse in the Qur’an, deals with the documentation of debts and witnesses. Qur’an 5:1 commands believers to fulfil contracts. The Qur’an also prohibits riba and establishes broader principles governing legitimate commercial transactions.

Islamic jurisprudence consequently developed an extensive law of transactions covering sales, partnerships, uncertainty, debt and other commercial matters. Modern Islamic finance has extended these principles to contemporary instruments through juristic reasoning and ijtihad.

5. Criminal Law

Islamic jurisprudence also contains a developed criminal-law structure.

Hudud concern certain offences for which specified punishments are prescribed. Qisas and diya deal with homicide and bodily injury, while ta’zir covers offences for which punishment is left to judicial or governmental discretion.

The classical law also developed demanding evidential standards, particularly in relation to certain hudud offences.

Whether one agrees with every aspect of classical Islamic criminal jurisprudence is a separate question. The point here is simply that a criminal-law framework exists within the Islamic legal tradition.

6. Governance and Public Affairs

Islamic revelation also addresses governance.

The Qur’an speaks of authority, consultation and justice, while the political experience of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ in Madinah provided an actual historical model of governance.

The Constitution of Madinah, the Prophet’s agreements with different communities and later works of Muslim jurists such as al-Mawardi demonstrate the development of an Islamic political and legal tradition.

7. War, Peace and International Relations

Islamic sources also contain rules concerning armed conflict, treaties and relations with other communities.

The Qur’an prohibits transgression in warfare, encourages peace where the opposing side inclines toward peace, and provides protection for a person seeking safety. The Sunnah and early Muslim practice further developed principles concerning non-combatants, treaties and prisoners.

The classical work of al-Shaybani on siyar is particularly significant in the development of Islamic rules concerning international relations.

What About Christianity?

A fair comparison must begin by acknowledging that the Old Testament contains a substantial body of law.

The Torah contains rules dealing with criminal law, inheritance, divorce, debt, land, kingship, warfare and other matters. In that respect, the Old Testament is considerably closer to the Qur’an in legislative scope than the New Testament is.

The crucial issue, therefore, is not that “the Bible contains no law.” That would be historically inaccurate.

The real issue is Christianity’s relationship with the Mosaic law.

The New Testament presents a different orientation. When Jesus was asked to intervene in an inheritance dispute, he declined to act as an arbiter. When questioned about taxation, he distinguished between obligations to Caesar and obligations to God. He also declared that his kingdom was not of this world.

Paul’s writings further demonstrate the shift in the Christian understanding of Mosaic law. Acts 15 records the early Christian decision that Gentile converts were not required to observe the full Mosaic legal code.

Consequently, while the New Testament contains important moral and ecclesiastical instructions, it does not provide a comprehensive revealed code dealing with inheritance, commercial contracts, criminal procedure, taxation, international treaties and governance in the manner Islamic jurisprudence does.

But Christianity Developed Canon Law

This point must not be ignored.

As Christianity became established within the Roman Empire, the Church developed an extensive legal tradition dealing with marriage, clerical discipline, church property, heresy and other ecclesiastical matters.

Canon law became highly sophisticated, and thinkers such as Augustine and Thomas Aquinas developed major Christian traditions concerning natural law, morality and just war.

But the method is different.

Islamic jurisprudence principally develops its legal framework from the Qur’an and Sunnah through recognised juristic methodologies. Christian natural-law thought, by contrast, relies substantially upon reason and philosophical reflection on general principles, while canon law involves ecclesiastical legislation and historical legal development.

The Real Distinction

Therefore, the strongest argument is not that Christianity has no law.

That would be an oversimplification.

The stronger and more accurate argument is this:

Islam developed as both a religion and a community with a legal and political order, and its revealed sources consequently addressed both man’s relationship with God and his relationships with other human beings.

The Qur’an and Sunnah provide principles and rules concerning worship, family, inheritance, commerce, crime, governance, war and peace. Islamic jurists then developed those principles into an extensive jurisprudential tradition.

Christianity developed under substantially different historical circumstances. Jesus did not establish an independent political state, and the early Christians lived for centuries as a minority within the Roman Empire. The New Testament therefore did not develop into a comprehensive civil and criminal code.

This does not make Christianity morally inferior, nor does it make every aspect of Islamic jurisprudence automatically correct merely because it is Islamic.

It simply means that the two traditions have fundamentally different relationships between revelation, law and society.

Islam presents revelation as guidance for both the mosque and the marketplace, both the family and the courtroom, and both personal morality and public affairs.

That is what Muslims mean when they describe Islam as a complete way of life.

And that claim is not merely theological rhetoric. It is reflected in the structure and content of the Islamic sources themselves.

Muhammad Muhammad Salisu, Esq., wrote via muhammad.writes01@gmail.com.

By Aliyu Idris

Damage is Abubakar Adam Ibrahim’s third novel and fifth book. It is a social novel written in twenty-two unequal chapters, set in post-colonial Nigeria during the heated military years spanning the last days of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida through the General Sani Abacha years, and back to the present day.

It accounts for the life of Rn. Nasrin Amin, a woman who carried a secret pain through decades of dictatorship and brutality. She was sexually assaulted by an army veteran, General Shehu Jarumai, while searching for her husband’s freedom, trying to secure the release of Aliyu Bello from Abacha’s men. She decides to speak out against Jarumai’s tyranny, which wants his secret buried. And when she does, she drags three generations with her.

For almost three decades, we have been told to move on. To forget military brutality, to forget the khaki years, to forget the frightening knocks on the door and abductions at midnight.

In addition, June 12, 1993 was the day Nasrin cast her first vote. She and her heartthrob, Aliyu Bello, thought that the election would change Nigeria. She was voting for herself. For her heart, for a new dawn, for love, for a future, for a country she believed would finally love her back.

Then one brutal night takes it all. That is the heart of Damage. Not the coup, not the annulment, not the years that followed, but what one night does to a woman and her entire clan, and how that wound keeps bleeding for 30 years.

Similarly, it bleeds into the life of her second husband, Bashar, and her children like Mustapha, the rational dreamer, who thinks logic can save a family that runs on secrets, until he meets a wound that logic cannot touch. Suraj, the second child, the awaiting soldier, who wants to become the very thing that broke his mother. Zubaida, the youngest daughter, who stands with her mother in the turbulence.

They are all haunted by one question: Who is this man (Jarumai) who caused their mother’s pain and is the frontrunner of the brutal occurrences that cost the life of their father, Aliyu Bello?

Moreover, the novel explores how our system, power structures, culture, and orientation aid and abet perpetrators. It asks a devastating question: What does justice look like when silence has already stolen so much?

When Nasrin finally waited decades to speak, the country had already moved on. But the memories kept haunting her, while the perpetrator had entirely forgotten her and the incident.

We are a new generation born after June 12, 1993, who think June 12 is just a public holiday. We don’t know or ask how people like Nasrin get justice after memory itself has been damaged.

No wonder Chika Unigwe calls it “a powerful and unforgettable story of love, loss, inherited trauma, and the relentless pursuit of justice.”

And Helon Habila is right to say you dig deep into characters’ motivations like few can. This is far beyond Season of Crimson Blossoms and When We Were Fireflies. This is his most political and most personal book yet.

As the author opined in his Line of Sight column, “The victims are bold and resolute, but the perpetrators don’t even know they are victims too, victims of the power they serve.”

Damage is not just about what was done to Nasrin on that night, or the arrest and detention of her late husband, Aliyu Bello. It is about the experiences of families with military brutalities, what it means to seek revenge, to love, to lose, to feel guilt and conviction. This is not a book about soldiers in power. It is a book about what soldiers left in us.

If Season of Crimson Blossoms was about forbidden love and When We Were Fireflies was about memory, Damage is where Abubakar fuses both concerns into something enormous.

For me, Damage is the novelist’s best work yet because it refuses to let us do what we do best as Nigerians: move on without processing. It is a story about the cost of memory, the inheritance of pain, and, as the blurb says, the fragile hope that love might endure even after everything else is broken.

To sum it up, it is an easy read with many literary tropes. It is a necessary one to read because it reminds us where we came from as a nation. It is for the generation that was brutalised and learned to be silent. For the generation that inherited the silence without knowing why. And for the generation born under democracy, the one now raising kids, the one that thinks it can romanticise military rule because they never lived it.

And in a move that will unsettle many readers, the perpetrators are also damaged. Not innocently damaged by the system they served, by their own avarice, by a military that victimised Nigeria and, in doing so, victimised itself. Just like General Jarumai and Bankole. This is what elevates it beyond a simple trauma narrative.

Aliyu Idris can be reached via aliyuidris063@gmail.com.

By Muhsin Ibrahim

The tragic trail of political and religious violence in Northern Nigeria has claimed yet another prominent life. It began in 2007 with the gruesome assassinations of Sheikh Ja’afar Mahmud Adam, who was shot dead in Kano while leading dawn prayers, and Sheikh Umar Hamza Dan-Maishiyya in Sokoto. 

Seven years later, in 2014, Sheikh Muhammad Auwal Albani Zaria was murdered in Kaduna State. 

Today, in 2026, the targeted killing of Sheikh Yahaya Masussuka by unknown gunmen in Katsina marks a deeply disturbing escalation. 

In every instance, an influential voice has been violently silenced, leaving a nation burdened with unanswered questions and followers in deep grief and confusion.

This recurring pattern represents a severe threat to public safety and social cohesion across Northern Nigeria. Jubilating over the violent end of an ideological rival is dangerous shortsightedness; no cleric, regardless of popularity or sectarian affiliation, is safe in an environment where lawlessness reigns. A society where religious scholars can be executed with impunity for their identity or teachings is one where human life has been stripped of basic security.

Adding to the gravity of the situation, a video recently surfaced on social media depicting youth in JIBWIS attire issuing threats against Christian communities in Enugu and Jos. While public commentary must remain cautious of conspiratorial thinking, the alignment of this incendiary material with the assassination of Sheikh Masussuka cannot be casually dismissed. The synchronisation suggests a deliberate effort by malicious actors to ignite a broader sectarian conflict across the region.

Security agencies must undertake an immediate, rigorous, and transparent investigation. Broad public confidence in the judicial process can be restored only if those responsible, regardless of status or political influence, are identified and brought to justice.

In the interim, the public must resist the temptation to engage in reckless speculation. Emotional outbursts and unsourced allegations on digital platforms risk repeating past errors. 

Following the 2007 murder of Sheikh Ja’afar, baseless accusations targeted national leaders, state officials, and traditional institutions, ultimately forcing news outlets to issue public retractions for spreading fabricated reports. Unverified claims ruin reputations and risk sparking retributive violence at a time when national calm is required.

We must exercise utmost restraint. Sharing unverified media, amplifying inflammatory rhetoric, or taking the law into one’s hands will only compound the crisis. Sustained development and progress are impossible without security. National stability must remain the primary objective.

May peace prevail in Nigeria, and may the Almighty forgive our deceased loved ones, amin.