Opinion

Nigeria at 65: What exactly are we celebrating?

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

As Nigeria clocks 65 years of independence, one would expect a moment of pride and reflection on remarkable achievements. Yet, the reality on the ground tells a different story. 

The country continues to struggle with corruption, poverty, unemployment, inadequate infrastructure, insecurity, and a range of other social issues. These issues cut deep into the daily lives of ordinary Nigerians, making access to basic necessities and opportunities for growth a constant struggle.

For many citizens, there is little reason to roll out the drums. Independence anniversaries are usually a time for celebration, but how can we truly celebrate when millions remain jobless, when insecurity still holds communities hostage, when hospitals lack basic equipment, and when roads remain death traps? The weight of these problems overshadows whatever progress has been made.

This does not mean Nigeria has no potential or that the sacrifices of our founding fathers should be ignored. Leaders like Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, who gave Nigeria a voice of dignity on the global stage, or the Sardauna of Sokoto, Ahmadu Bello, who worked to strengthen education and unity in the North, envisioned a better future for this country. 

Chief Obafemi Awolowo’s free education policy in the West and Chief MKO Abiola’s ultimate sacrifice for democracy remain powerful reminders of what true leadership and patriotism demand. These men stood for a Nigeria that could rise above selfishness and mediocrity.

But after 65 years, Nigerians deserve more than repeated promises and underdevelopment. We deserve a country where leadership prioritises people, where accountability is more than just a slogan, and where citizens can genuinely take pride in the flag they carry.

So, if there is something worth celebrating at 65, perhaps it is the resilience of Nigerians themselves —the spirit that refuses to give up despite everything. Beyond that, the truth is clear: the road ahead requires serious action, not mere rhetoric.

May Nigeria succeed and prosper. Amin.

Muhammad Umar Shehu, who wrote from Gombe, can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

Malaria: The silent killer still at our doorstep

By Bashir Abubakar Umar 

Malaria remains one of the world’s most persistent public health challenges, particularly in tropical and subtropical regions. To gather more information about the disease, I contacted Dr Musa Muhammad Bello, who works with Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital (AKTH) in the Department of Community Medicine. It is a life-threatening disease caused by parasites of the Plasmodium genus, transmitted to humans through the bites of infected female Anopheles mosquitoes.

Despite advances in medicine and public health campaigns, malaria continues to claim hundreds of thousands of lives each year, with children under five and pregnant women among the most vulnerable groups.

Infection with Plasmodium falciparum, P. vivax, P. ovale, or P. malariae primarily causes the disease. The infection begins when an infected mosquito bites a person, releasing parasites into the bloodstream. These parasites travel to the liver, where they mature and multiply before re-entering the bloodstream to infect red blood cells.

Malaria is not spread directly from person to person; instead, it requires the mosquito as a vector. However, it can also be transmitted through blood transfusions, organ transplants, or from an infected mother to her child during pregnancy.

Symptoms of malaria typically appear 7 to 10 days after infection. Early signs include fever, chills, headaches, muscle aches, sweating, body weakness, vomiting, diarrhoea, and a change in taste. In severe cases, the disease can lead to anaemia, respiratory distress, organ failure, and even death if left untreated. Diagnosis is usually confirmed through laboratory methods, such as microscopic examination of blood smears or rapid diagnostic tests, which detect malaria antigens in the blood.

Malam Abdurrahman, a resident of Dorayi Babba, said that the mosquitoes used to bite him not only at night, but he also advises the general public to use nets for prevention.

Prevention is the most effective way to reduce malaria cases and deaths. Sleeping under insecticide-treated mosquito nets can significantly reduce the risk of being bitten at night, while indoor residual spraying kills mosquitoes that rest inside homes.

Eliminating stagnant water, clearing drainage systems, using window and door nets, applying body lotion, and fumigation are all measures that help reduce mosquito breeding grounds. In some high-risk regions, preventive antimalarial medication is recommended for vulnerable groups, including pregnant women, children under 5, and foreigners.

Hajiya Rabi’a, a resident of Tudun Yola, said that the mosquitoes prevent her from sleeping at night due to their bites, even when she is in a net.

Treatment for malaria depends on the type of Plasmodium parasite and the severity of the infection. Artemisinin-based combination therapies are currently the most effective treatments for P. falciparum malaria, which is the most dangerous form. Early and proper treatment is essential to prevent severe illness and to help break the cycle of transmission.

The global impact of malaria remains significant. According to the World Health Organisation, Africa accounts for more than 90% of malaria cases and deaths worldwide. Beyond its toll on health, the disease hampers economic development by reducing productivity, increasing healthcare costs, and deepening poverty in affected communities.

Although malaria is both preventable and treatable, it persists due to environmental factors, limited healthcare access, and poverty in many areas. A continuous global effort is essential, combining prevention methods, effective treatment, public education, and ongoing vaccine research. With dedication and coordinated actions, the world can progress towards eradicating malaria and creating healthier, safer communities.

Bashir Abubakar Umar wrote via baabum2002@gmail.com.

Between the modern Dangote Refinery and the old-fashioned oil and gas unions

By Khalid Imam

Today, it is undeniable that only a handful of Nigerian workers’ unions genuinely care about or operate in the overall interest of their collective members without brazenly exploiting (or, if you like, say, robbing) their loyal members, who pay through their skin all union dues monthly, year in and year out. The leadership of these seemingly monopolistic and rigid unions often lives flamboyantly, like kings, in the public glare at the expense of their poorly paid or oppressed members. Mostly, we only hear the phrase “injury to one, injury to all” as a slogan, drummed up by greedy leadership when it fits their vested interests, not those of dutiful Nigerian workers. 

For instance, I have been paying NUT/ASSU dues nonstop for over 20 years now without any appreciable benefits – no workshops, nothing. Despite formally withdrawing my membership, along with other colleagues, our deductions continue to this day by the said self-serving unions, which have been overseeing the collapse of the education system for decades. This lack of freedom to associate or not, plus serious issues of accountability, raises many questions about unions’ purpose and continued relevance in the fast-changing world and strategic economic competitions and innovations we are witnessing, as Nigerians, in other sane nations now strategising to lead in industrialisation, investment, technology, and science, especially in artificial intelligence and artificial super intelligence.

One may ask: Are unions advocating for their members’ rights and welfare, or are they simply enriching only the vultures parading as their leaders? The answers to these questions are evident. Now more than ever before, Nigeria requires a radical systemic overhaul of the whole labour union system and operation, to ensure even unions and the country are rescued from the hawks called labour union leaders, if indeed the unions are to serve their foundation purposes – protecting members’ welfare, etc and helping to develop our betrayed and badly raped country, not enriching insatiable individuals living extravagantly unchecked.

Without genuine reform, unions like those fighting the Dangote Refinery now may continue to hold the entire country hostage. Patriotic Nigerian unionists must wake up from their docility to fight to save our unions. Subjecting all labour unions to public scrutiny should be our collective duty as citizens. Now, if any union with strategic responsibility fails to innovate, it should not blame anyone when it risks losing credibility and relevance in the scheme of things.

We must resist any attempt by any union to insist that Nigeria must live in the past, or Nigerians will continue to suffer in long queues buying fuel at a high cost. The world is fast-changing and innovating; the earlier our so-called labour unions wake up to these realities, the better. Change can’t wait for anyone, and Nigeria must reform to develop.

My sincere advice to serious investors like Dangote is that they should refrain from engaging in verbal battles or heated exchanges with PENGASSAN, etc., and instead focus on effectively mitigating their excesses by boldly advocating for a comprehensive overhaul of trade union laws in the country. There is no harm in pushing for new legislative bills or fighting hard in courtrooms to silence corrupt union leaders shouting about workers’ rights to join unions, all in the pretence of saving Nigerian workers from enslavement. Who is enslaving employees in the real sense: the oligarchy that hijacked the unions or employers striving to create more jobs for our teeming jobless youths while contributing billions to our national treasury? Aren’t most domestic union leaders, in some cases, in the forefront of enslaving Nigerian workers by living lavish lives with their union’s funds?

Yes, let there be unions, but not exploitative and monopolistic ones. I repeat, let there be unions, but not ones that block the country from progressive developments and innovative transformations, like the one we have witnessed with the arrival of the Dangote Refinery. Flexible labour union laws are the water and fertilisers Nigeria needs now. The Dangote refinery represents a significant step forward not only for Nigeria’s economic growth and development but also for Africa as a whole. Unions should support such initiatives rather than hindering them with outdated and rigid labour market laws.

At a time in the US President Trump, was and still woos American tech giant investors like the owner of Facebook to the White House to discuss the future of America, as a Nigerian with Nigeria first in my heart, I urge my President, Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu, to act as a strategic leader he has been since his days as governor of Lagos state. The President, more than any other person, now has an onerous duty not to allow unionists to prostrate national heroes like Dangote.

PBAT must, in the overall interest of present and future generations of Nigerians, wade in to champion flexible labour union market reforms. This is the best time, presenting him with a rare opportunity to put Nigeria first and attract numerous patriotic investments, not just from visionaries like Dangote, but from both domestic and international investors. Clinging to outdated and rigid labour laws is detrimental to our economy both now and in the future.

The flexibility of labour laws in countries like Germany and China has contributed to their economic stability and China’s soaring dominance amidst global competition. Nigeria should draw valuable lessons from these nations rather than adhering to outdated British-style labour laws that have hindered the UK’s economy from soaring like an eagle.

Finally, I invite all patriotic Nigerians to reject exploitative and monopolistic unions. Dangote is a national asset! His refinery is also a national asset. Dangote, too, must put Nigeria first, always. We have a duty to protect both Dangote and his refinery from vultures who have held our country captive for decades. May God bless Nigeria, Dangote, and his Refinery. Amin.

Imam is a Kano-based published writer of over two dozen books, a teacher, and an Art Administrator. He can be reached via email at khalidimam2002@gmail.com.

Christians are not persecuted in Nigeria

By Bashir Jelani, PhD

It has been trending over the past two days that Boko Haram killed more than 500,000 Christians and burned 18,0000 churches in Nigeria since 2009. Local and international news media are spreading false information that Muslims are carrying out ethnic cleansing against Christians. 

Till now, no news media from Arewa has debunked this news. No Arewa intellectual, writer, or public figure responded to this. It is a big shame on us. Thanks to Femi Fani-Kayode for sincerely putting the record straight.

This phoney propaganda did not start today. Some insincere Nigerian Christians have been working hard to blackmail Muslims on the international stage. I don’t know what they want to get by fabricating that fake news. The dead silence from Arewa is what makes this misleading information gain momentum. 

I have debated this issue with Christian friends for many years. I have maintained that the majority of the victims of Boko Haram and bandits are the Muslims themselves. The Boko Haram terrorists do not spare Muslims. They don’t care about your religion. 

Boko Haram wouldn’t be operating in Northern Nigeria if its target were to cleanse Christians. I sympathise with some Christians who were affected, but the truth is that the Muslims are Boko Haram’s target. That is why they do their evil atrocities in the Muslim dominated regions, mainly killing Muslims.

Arewa needs to wake up. Debunking this dangerous propaganda is very important.

The political identity crisis in a “horse” race for power

By Abdulrahman M. Abu-Yaman 

The title race is between two horses and a little horse that needs milk and needs to learn how to jump. –  Jose Mourinho

When the controversial Jose Mourinho made this statement above, it was about football and the race to the Premier League title in 2014, but we never knew a time would come when it would be more suitable to fit into the Nigerian political context as it relates to the switch and frequent change of allegiance from one political party to another.

THE FIRST HORSE

The first horse, being the All Progressives Congress (APC), is the current defending champion in political power and the acclaimed favourite to retain the presidential title going into 2027, based on the power and influence that come with being an incumbent leader in Nigeria. Only once has it occurred since the fourth republic that an incumbent was defeated, and even that took what some have tagged as a miracle when President Jonathan made the famous call to the late former President Muhammadu Buhari (of blessed memory) and conceded. 

This horse has taken on different forms over the years and has been given various names by the political power brokers who have bet on it to win. Part of its defunct origin was the All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP), formed in 1998, a year before the fourth republic general elections. However, its popularity was quite limited to the northern part of Nigeria, not as pronounced in other regions of the country. Former President Muhammadu Buhari had contested twice and lost under the ANPP in 2003 and 2007, respectively.

Another major segment of its primordial origins emerged from the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), which was formed in 2006. It was formerly known as the Action Congress, which in turn was formed from the merger of its factions with minor political parties, including the Alliance for Democracy (AD), the Justice Party (JP), and the Advanced Congress of Democrats (ACD), among others.

Then came the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), founded in 2009. It gained significant influence due to the impact of late Muhammadu Buhari and his millions of supporters in the northern part of Nigeria, who contested under the party’s platform in the 2011 elections. 

In 2013, the progressives and congresses in some major political parties with these words present in their acronym merged into one; the Action Congress of Nigeria, Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), a faction of the All Progressive Grand Alliance and finally, the All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP) to form the All Progressives Congress (APC) – the most formidable opposition group as a party in Nigeria since the return to democracy in 1999 to unseat any incumbent President in power.

THE SECOND HORSE(S)

The second horse(s) in the race are obviously divided and sharing that position based on recent trajectories and events that had left one of the horses deemed as second favourite to crumble and hanging on a thin thread; speaking of the Peoples’ Democratic Party (PDP), as long as it still has time to regroup and put its house in order, it cannot be ruled out of the race based on its political structure long established that cuts across all states in Nigeria.

The PDP was formed in 1998, in the twilight leading up to the 1999 general elections, by a group of political bigwigs who adopted Chief Olusegun Obasanjo, a former military head of state and a prisoner released from the dungeon after the end of the Abacha era. Obasanjo, coming from the south-west region of the country, was seen by many as the best candidate to step into what would have been Chief MKO Abiola’s rightful position as winner of the annulled June 12 elections if he had lived up to 1999 but for his sad and shocking demise in 1998.

The PDP won the 1999 election by a majority of votes and held a majority of seats in the National Assembly. In 2003, the party continued to dominate the political space in Nigeria, growing in influence and power, albeit under some questionable electioneering processes in 2003, 2007 and 2011, respectively, having spent sixteen years in power as the ruling party. During that period, it became the largest party not only in Nigeria but also on the African continent.

However, unfortunately for the PDP, their dream of achieving the milestone of twenty years in power was cut short in 2015 when the APC, a new, formidable force energised and regrouped, ran them out of control. 

Since then, the PDP has contested twice as an opposition party and lost to the APC in 2019 and 2023, but edged them out in 2015. The PDP has also had to lose some of its members who have decamped to the APC and has since struggled to remain as firm and relevant as it once was. The only reason it occupies the second spot as a favourite is its longevity, structural base, and the influence of some stakeholders behind the corridors of power, who are still salvaging what is left to stand firm.

Moving away from the PDP, the other second favourite only came to fruition and gained traction a few months ago, orchestrated by one man, Mal. Nasir El-Rufai, who initiated the movement that led to the formation of a coalition that later evolved into the political party rebranded as the African Democratic Congress (ADC). The party had been in existence before its formation in 2005 as the Alliance for Democratic Change. 

The formation of the ADC elicited mixed reactions in the Nigerian political space. While some saw it as the long-awaited vibrant opposition to challenge the incumbent party in power, others viewed it as a selfish endeavour created by those who had been bruised and pushed out of the epicentre of power, seeking to make a comeback by any means necessary. This notion was proven to be more relevant when the ADC reached out to past or aggrieved members of the APC and PDP to form part of its board and core membership from the official flag-off. 

Nevertheless, it is still considered the second favourite in the race because if history is anything to go by, just as in the words of Jesse Jackson: 

“In politics, an organised minority is a political majority”

Just as in the case of the APC, which was formed two years short of the 2015 elections and later emerged as the winner, the regrouped ADC party and its influx of new members can’t be underestimated.  

Another reason the ADC could be frontrunners could be their ability to capitalise on the harsh economic realities in the country that have affected the masses and present the party as an alternative to better their welfare, just as the same members of the ADC did way back in 2015 when they were members of the APC, which they now want to substitute out of power. 

THE LITTLE HORSE IN THE RACE

The little horse that needs milk to learn how to jump is the Labour Party (LP). It was also driven and triggered to relevance in the 2023 general elections due to the influence of one man, specifically Peter Obi, who was spoken of as the party’s flag bearer. The LP not only defeated the APC in their own stronghold in Lagos but also defeated the ruling party in the Federal Capital Territory, Nigeria’s capital and centre of governance. It was unprecedented and sent a clear message that the LP did not just come to make up the numbers like some minority parties. 

But be that as it may, their numbers in Lagos and Abuja, coupled with the ones from the east and the Niger Delta region, were not enough to put them in second position in the race. This is why it needs to spread its wings to cover all political nooks and crannies in other regions, especially northern Nigeria, where it is yet to get a solid grip.

The recent involvement of Peter Obi with the ADC could lead to a compromise and weaken the party’s strength, as it revolves around him. One of the LP’s former spokesmen also lamented him for not doing enough as a leader and his inability to resolve the party’s internal crisis. He also raised concerns about his failure to build a strong party base to secure the mandate. 

Still, the only reason the LP is coming in third in the horse race is because of the unexpected stunt it pulled and its potential to do more if, and only if, it can capitalise on its momentum to leap ahead like other horses in the race.

THE EXODUS AND CONVENIENT SWITCH BETWEEN PARTIES 

Nigerian politics and politicians tend to switch sides to any political party that offers them a higher chance of winning. It occurred in 1999, when the PDP was formed and founded by members of various political parties. 

In 2003, as the PDP grew in strength and power, it received more members, and others had to decamp from their prior political platforms to join it. It was beginning to look like the only way to win an election was to join the party that was already winning. 

2007 and 2011 were no different as the PDP retained power in government. However, the only parties that managed to maintain some of their strongest and most popular members were the ANPP in 2003/2007, and the CPC in the 2011 general elections, when they fielded Muhammadu Buhari as their presidential candidate in the respective years.

In the buildup to the 2015 election, a massive exodus of politicians decamped from the ‘umbrella’ that had sheltered them in political office to the newly formed APC, which was gaining immense popularity, especially in the northern and western parts of Nigeria. The presidential flag bearer was a familiar figure who was contesting for the fourth and possibly his last attempt, having been persuaded to do so. The APC, like the PDP in the past, also welcomed all members from other parties, irrespective of their past reputation or allegations while in office. In the end, the party grew from being the strongest opposition to becoming the favourite to win the election, which they eventually did.

LOST OF POLITICAL IDEOLOGIES/IDENTITIES

When we start seeing political players decamping at will, it is time to question whether any of the political parties place a high premium on their criteria for membership in relation to their ideologies before accepting any candidate into their fold. Do politicians care any less if the party they join aligns with their manifestos and visionary blueprint for good governance and leadership?

It is beginning to look like a game of chess, with calculated moves aimed at checkmating the ultimate power in the political positions they crave. The only pawns in this game are the masses who have yet to figure out that changing their clothes to another has nothing to do with the real person behind those clothes. A stained reputation, especially in previous leadership positions, coupled with a proven track record of underperformance and incompetence, cannot be covered by new political platforms.

However, the interesting aspect of all this is the emergence of a solid opposition to keep the ruling parties on their toes. Previously, with the decline and crisis in the PDP, Nigeria was moving towards a single-party state due to the frequent switch of its members to joining the APC. It is well timed that the LED coalition, which has resolved to adopt the ADC as its political platform, includes big names like former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, who is also a former PDP presidential aspirant. Peter Obi, the Labour Party’s presidential candidate, has also been seen and involved in some of their meetings. And for the first time since the APC’s ascension to power, they seem concerned about the growing popularity of the ADC and the threat it may pose to their hold on power. Deja vu?

Conclusively, all the parties involved in the horse race have exhibited similar symptoms of identity and ideological crisis in their consistent switch of allegiance to suit their needs. The thin line between them is getting blurrier in their actions and adoptions. Everyone is welcome to any party at any time. No litmus test, exceptional integrity, or individual evaluation criteria needed. Once you are in, all sins are forgiven, and then you are baptised as a new member. 

The ADC is not only like the APC alphabetically, but also in the content of its members and its contextual existence. The primary concern here is whether some members of the ADC could potentially break away from the party in the future, particularly in the event of any unresolved disagreement or fallout within the party. Are we to brace ourselves for another hypothetical ‘ABC’ party if it comes to that? Time is the ultimate revealer. 

Dr Bala Muhammad and the A Daidaita Sahu phenomenon

By Alhassan Hassan Salihu

Few men leave a mark on society without holding office, wearing a uniform, or carrying authority. Bala Muhammad is not just a media scholar; he is a guardian of culture, discipline, and an architect of greatness.

In the early 2000s, Kano’s streets were alive with sound and colour. Markets bustled, commercial tricycles darted through traffic, and the rhythm of daily life carried on as it had for generations. But beneath the energy, a different reality was taking shape, one of disorder.

Road signs were ignored. Tricycle drivers cut across lanes at will. Pedestrians crossed wherever they pleased. Public order, once a matter of pride, seemed to be slipping away.

A renowned but marked by growing disorder, congestion, and a fragile sense of control that hinted at deeper challenges ahead.

It was in this climate that a quiet movement began, not through the force of law or the threat of arrest, but through the power of a voice. That voice belonged to Bala Muhammad.

A respected media scholar, newspaper columnist, and familiar voice on the radio, Bala had built a reputation for delivering reasoned and honest commentary. People trusted him because he spoke plainly and honestly. He explained ideas without lecturing, and he criticised without insulting.

When Malam Ibrahim Shekarau-led Kano State Government launched a programme called A Daidaita Sahu, meaning “straighten the public order” in Hausa, it aimed to restore discipline and order in public life. Many regarded it as just another government slogan that would soon fade away.

Bala saw something else; to him, “A Daidaita Sahu” was not just a policy, but a chance to change the city’s mindset.

He took to the airwaves, writing and speaking about the programme in a way the public could connect with. His columns carried titles like “DISCIPLINE AS A WAY OF LIFE”, “THE ORDERLINESS WE LOST”, and “ADAIDAITA SAHU: OUR CULTURAL RETURN.”

But instead of listing rules, he told stories. He spoke of a time when people queued without being told, when elders were given seats on buses without being asked, and when the street belonged to everyone, not just to the loudest or most aggressive.

His message was clear: public order was not something foreign. It was part of Hausa culture and Islamic tradition. It was part of the city’s heritage.

Bala’s campaign was not limited to print and broadcast. He visited mosques, speaking after Friday prayers. He went to motor parks, markets, and universities. Everywhere he went, his refrain was the same: “A Daidaita Sahu is not politics. It is a mirror showing us what we are supposed to be.”

At first, some thought he was being idealistic. But slowly, change began to appear; Tricycle drivers started queueing properly at parks, and street vendors kept their stalls cleaner. 

Schools invited him to speak to students about discipline and respect. These changes were not the result of fines or enforcement. They came because people were reminded of their own values.

Bala’s approach was simple but powerful: it shows people that discipline is not an enemy of freedom, but the framework that makes freedom possible.

Over time, the city’s atmosphere began to shift. Kano remained vibrant, but there was less chaos. The A Daidaita Sahu movement grew into one of the most ambitious civic initiatives in the state’s history. Its real success, however, was not in official reports, but in the everyday behaviour of ordinary people!

Bala Muhammad had no power to arrest, fine, or shut down businesses. All he had was a pen, a microphone, and an unshakable belief that people could rise to a higher standard when reminded of their shared culture and faith.

That belief proved stronger than any law.

By the height of the movement, Bala was more than a commentator. He had become a trusted voice in Kano, a voice that seemed to walk alongside people on the streets, even when he was not physically there.

A Daidaita Sahu’s story is proof that lasting change does not always begin with authority or force. Sometimes, it starts with one person speaking to the hearts of the people, telling them that they already have what it takes to live better.

Years later, many still recall the movement. Some remember the radio programmes. Others remember hearing Dr Bala at their local mosque or market. Still others remember reading his words in the newspaper and feeling proud of their city again.

His legacy is a reminder that you can write laws, but without public belief, they remain words on paper. True order comes when people take ownership of it.

Kano in the early 2000s was a noisy, restless, and often chaotic place. The city’s energy was undeniable, but it lacked direction, with disorder slowly eroding its social fabric. It was during this period that Dr Bala, through patience, wisdom, and unwavering conviction, helped the city rediscover a sense of balance. He guided it back to a rhythm rooted in respect, discipline, and communal harmony, restoring hope and dignity to everyday life.

Not with force, not with fear, but with faith; faith that the people of Kano could remember who they were and live up to it.

Let’s do it again!!!

Bala Muhammad demonstrated that respect, patience, and order were not Western imports; they were Hausa and Islamic values, deeply rooted in our identity.

He’s not just a man of letters; he is a man of legacy, who turned words into movement, and movement into memory.

The Almajiri System: A broken legacy we must bury

By Umar Sani Adamu

The Almajiri system, once a noble pursuit of Islamic knowledge, has degenerated into a humanitarian disaster spread across Northern Nigeria. From the streets of Kano to the slums of Sokoto, thousands of children wander barefoot, hungry, and hopeless victims of a tradition that has outlived its purpose.

The idea behind Almajiranci was simple: young boys, mostly from rural or poor families, would be sent to Islamic scholars for religious education. But over time, what began as a pathway to learning became a pipeline to poverty, abuse, and neglect. Today, these children beg for survival, live in unhygienic conditions, and face constant exposure to criminality and exploitation.

Every year, thousands more are pushed into this cycle. With no formal curriculum, no sanitation, no feeding structure, and no monitoring, the system violates every principle of child welfare and human dignity. Many of these almajiris live in overcrowded, unventilated rooms, sometimes as many as 18 children in a single space, with no access to health care, no protection, and no future.

While governments talk reform, very little action meets the urgency. Integration programs are underfunded, religious institutions are left unchecked, and families often forced by poverty continue to submit their children to this outdated system. Meanwhile, the streets of Northern Nigeria grow more unsafe as vulnerable children are manipulated by extremist groups and criminal syndicates.

Let’s be clear: the Almajiri system, in its current form, is not education. It is abandonment. It is state-sanctioned child endangerment masquerading as religion. Any society that claims moral or spiritual uprightness cannot continue to tolerate this level of systemic neglect.

What Northern Nigeria needs is not a patchwork of reforms, but a complete overhaul. Islamic education should be formalised, monitored, and integrated into the broader national curriculum. Children should learn in safe environments where Qur’anic knowledge is integrated with literacy, numeracy, hygiene, and vocational training. Religious scholars must be trained, certified, and held accountable.

Above all, we must shift the responsibility from children back to adults. Governments, communities, parents, and religious leaders must admit the system has failed and work together to end it. The Almajiri child deserves more than survival. He deserves dignity, opportunity, and a future.

This is not just a social concern. It is a national emergency.

Umar Sani Adamu can be reached via umarhashidu1994@gmail.com

Don’t postpone kindness, you may never get another chance (2) 

By Aisha Musa Auyo

The second story that inspired this reflection is the death of an acquaintance. She was the HR of a company that once offered me a job as an editor. We had exchanged emails, and I went there in person to explain why I couldn’t take up the role. That first visit also turned out to be my last. The company’s owner is a friend, so it was easy to discuss things openly.

After hearing me out, she understood my situation as a young mother. She said she had once been in my shoes and offered some warm advice, assuring me that the company would always welcome me if I were ready in the future. As I was about to leave, she asked about the fragrance I was wearing. She said, “The whole office is filled with your scent. It’s so calming.”

I explained that it wasn’t a regular perfume but Turaren Wuta (incense) and humra. She smiled and said she was familiar with them but had never come across such heavenly scents before. I promised to send her some to try.

It was a casual conversation, but I took it to heart. I packed black and white humra with some incense and gave them to my driver for delivery, as I was travelling at the time. Days turned into weeks, with excuse after excuse from him. When I called her, she said she never got his call, and even if she wasn’t around, he could have left the package at the office.

Back from my trip, I retrieved the parcel and handed it to another driver. Again, excuses. Frustrated, I shared my ordeal with a family member. She dismissed my worry: “You’re overreacting. This woman has probably forgotten about the incense. She doesn’t owe you anything. Why stress yourself over this?”

But deep down, I couldn’t let it go. Something urged me on. I said, “Whatever it takes, I’ll do this delivery myself, I insisted. The family member teased me, calling me stubborn, “Aisha kina da naci wallahi, kin damu kowa a kan abin da ba shi da mahimmanci”. I said na ji. It felt as though everything, including the universe, was determined to stop me from sending that gift.

Finally, when I demanded the second driver return the parcel so I could deliver it personally, he apologised and promised to take it that week. Two days later, she sent me a message, thanking me warmly. She said, “It was worth the wait.” I apologised for the delay, and that was the last time we spoke.

This week, I received the news of her death. She had been battling a heart condition. I remembered how she once mentioned wanting to lose weight for health reasons. My heart sank. I prayed for her soul and felt profoundly grateful that I had managed to give her something she wanted before her passing. Suddenly, I understood why my instincts had been so insistent.

The lesson is clear: never postpone kindness. Please do it now, because tomorrow is never promised.

Aisha Musa Auyo is a doctoral researcher in educational psychology. A wife, a mother, a homemaker, a caterer, a parenting, and a relationship coach. She can be reached via aishamuauyo@live.co.uk.

Ballon d’Or and the credibility question

By Amir Abdulazeez

I am writing on this not because I have any significant concern for the award or its credibility, or because it has any correlation with the well-being of anybody in need (which I am often more concerned about). I am doing so instead due to the massive perennial debate it generates, especially among youths in Nigeria, as well as the misinformed opinions surrounding it. 

Again, the Ballon d’Or, like football itself, has transcended sport to become part of international politics and history. I became shocked when I saw a globally renowned Muslim scholar congratulating Ousmane Dembele for winning the 2025 version and hailing its award to a ‘practising Muslim’. Obviously, the crown now carries political significance that stretches well beyond the pitch. 

Since its inception in 1956, the Ballon d’Or has been regarded as football’s most prestigious individual award. Founded by France Football (conceived by sports writers Gabriel Hanot and Jacques Ferran), the award was initially designed to honour the best European player annually, with Stanley Matthews of Blackpool becoming the pioneer winner. Later, it evolved into a global prize, celebrating many other icons. Many have rightly questioned the credibility of the award, but mostly on myopic grounds centred around player and club sentiments. However, as a long-time football observer, I believe there are much broader issues regarding the credibility of the award that are worth discussing. 

Let us start with the politics. During the Cold War (1947-1991), Eastern European players (more aligned to the Soviet Union) often struggled to receive equal recognition despite dazzling performances, while Western European stars (more aligned to the United States and friends) enjoyed more favourable media attention. Although Russian goalkeeper Lev Yashin won the award in 1963, many argue that his case was only the exception that proved the unwritten rule of ‘politics, geography, and media exposure consistently play decisive roles’. Today, the award continues to reflect broader inequalities in the sport of football. European clubs dominate global coverage, which inflates the recognition of their stars. Players performing in less visible leagues, whether in South America, Africa, or Asia, rarely receive consideration, even if their contributions are extraordinary. 

Another concern is the award’s inconsistent eligibility rules over time. Until 1995, only European players competing in European clubs were considered, excluding legendary figures such as Pelé and Diego Maradona from even receiving a nomination. It was only after a rule change that non-Europeans in European leagues became eligible, allowing George Weah to win in 1995. Yet, by then, the award had already excluded decades of worthy non-European and non-European-based winners. Mild allegations of racism also cast a dark shadow over the award. Many believe players like Didier Drogba, Samuel Eto’o, Yaya Touré, Sadio Mané and Mohammed Salah were routinely ranked below their pedigree. In 2021, French pundit Emmanuel Petit openly questioned whether African players were judged by double standards. 

The selection of voters itself raises concerns. Initially restricted to journalists, it later expanded between 2010 and 2015 after a merger with FIFA’s “World Player of the Year,” adding coaches and captains to the electorate whose votes often reflected tribal, national or club loyalties rather than merit. The 2016 reversion to journalist-only voting may be a tacit admission of voting flaws, thereby creating difficulties in making comparisons across eras. For example, Lionel Messi’s consecutive wins (2009-2013) under a global, mixed electorate cannot be objectively compared to Michel Platini’s (1983-1985) under a European-only jury. The current co-organisation with UEFA, which began in 2024, signifies another attempt to lend the award more institutional weight. However, the constant changes in its format and governing alliances suggest an award in search of a stable identity, struggling to balance its commercial ambitions with its original purpose.

Bias towards attacking players has been an emerging hallmark of Ballon d’Or selections. Legendary defenders like Paolo Maldini, Alessandro Nesta, Sergio Ramos and Roberto Carlos, who defined an era of defensive excellence, always fell short. The exception of Fabio Cannavaro in 2006, along with a few others in the past, after a World Cup-winning campaign with Italy, serves as a testament to the rarity of a defender being recognised. 

More recently, Virgil van Dijk’s 2019 narrow runner-up finish sparked debate about whether non-attacking players could ever realistically win in a sport increasingly obsessed with goals and flair. The award relies heavily on football journalists who often prioritise goal highlight reels, statistics and global recognition over tactical nuance and defensive brilliance. Strikers and playmakers dominate the headlines that directly feed into voting behaviour. 

To combat positional bias, a more revolutionary approach could be implemented: nomination by quota. Why not have separate shortlists and voting panels for goalkeepers, defenders, midfielders and forwards? The top three or five of these categories could then be considered for the overall voting and eventual award. This would ensure that the unique skills of each position are evaluated by those who best understand them, guaranteeing that players are judged on their specialisations rather than against others with contrasting roles. 

The criteria for judgment also lack clarity and consistency. Officially, the award considers individual performance, team achievements, talent, fair play and career consistency. In practice, however, voters often seem swayed by a single outstanding tournament or by sentimental narratives. Luka Modrić’s 2018 victory after Croatia’s World Cup run exemplified this. While Modrić was superb, critics argued that other players had stronger year-round performances, but the emotional weight of Croatia’s fairy tale run tilted the scales. But how come this same emotion did not sway voters to select any player from Leicester City’s 2016 Premier League incredible winning team? A pervasive, though often unstated, criterion for many voters is team success. 

To win the Champions League or a major international tournament has become almost a prerequisite for contention. This creates an inherent unfairness, elevating players in dominant teams while punishing extraordinary individuals in less successful sides. This inconsistency reveals a fundamental confusion: is the award for the “best player,” “most popular player,” or the “most successful player”?

The timing and calendar controversies are another issue. International tournaments occur every two years, creating periods where national team success heavily influences voting. World Cup years traditionally favour tournament winners, regardless of club form. The recent calendar change, from July to August, aimed to address this imbalance but created new problems, with voters now contending with assessing performances from overlapping seasons and tournaments. This temporal confusion affects not just voting patterns but also the public’s understanding of what the award represents: is it recognition for calendar year performance, season achievement, or tournament success? The 2013 Ballon d’Or win by Cristiano Ronaldo was criticised following timing inconsistencies due to odd deadline extensions. The current system, which allows a player to win a major tournament in the summer and have their performance rewarded a year later, creates a disjointed narrative. 

The question of authority is another big one. FIFA represents 211 national associations, UEFA oversees European football’s institutional framework, yet it is a private French publication that bestows football’s most prestigious individual honour. The comparison with FIFA’s The Best awards and UEFA’s Player of the Year exposes this imbalance. This raises the paradox: why should a magazine possess such outsized influence in determining football’s most prestigious individual accolade, overshadowing awards backed by governing institutions? While there is nothing fundamentally wrong with this, it only emphasises the need for France Football to show more responsibility by sanitising and standardising its award.

I am not in a position to coach France Football on how to reform its awards to minimise the credibility dilemma; they have much better experts who can do that. My concern is to see young football followers and analysts become more informed and equipped for deeper debates that are beyond sentiments. My other concern, which has little to do with the Ballon d’Or, is to see football giving a little back to its estimated 3.5 billion fans that have made it powerful. While fans give it a lot, the sport appears to be offering almost nothing significant in return. 

It is sad to see football remaining silent, biased and indifferent in the face of global oppression and injustice. While it took FIFA and UEFA just four days to suspend Russia after it invaded Ukraine in 2022, both bodies have remained criminally silent for over two years since Israel launched its genocide on the football supporting people of Palestine.

Amir Abdulazeez, PhD, can be reached via abdulazeezamir@hotmail.com.

Need to tackle phone snatching and theft in Kano

By Suleiman Musa Yahaya Ikara

The jeopardy of thuggery and phone snatching in Kano State has evolved into a crisis, affecting the lives of students, as well as other residents in Kano. Just weeks ago, a student of Bayero University, Kano (BUK), became a victim during a routine trip in Dorayi.

This mounting violence threatens the safety, security, and well-being of residents, particularly in the metropolitan areas of Kano.

The Bayero University community has been thrown into mourning following the gruesome killing of a 300-level student, Umar Abdullahi Hafiz, by suspected phone snatchers. 

The incident occurred late Wednesday at the student’s off-campus residence in the Dorayi area of Kano metropolis.

Despite the crushing fear that spellbinds communities, remaining silent is not the positive alternative; being silent may simply refer to becoming the next victim of these brutal gangs that prey on the innocent souls.

From the streets of Danbare, Kofar Kabuga, Kofar Mata, Zoo Road, Dorayi, Rijiyar Lemo, Kurna and Gwagwarwa, terrifying reports of violence have become a daily routine. 

Street smashes, stabbings, daylight robberies, and innocent lives traumatised by mobs using axes, stones, and knives have turned these areas into unsafe districts. 

The brutality of these mobs, commonly known as practitioners of “fadan daba”, is more shocking.

Media platforms are flooding with illustrative graphics, videos and images portraying these violent incidents. 

Terrified witnesses film young thugs attacking victims who resist having their phones snatched, with many victims bleeding from multiple stab injuries. 

These vehement encounters are no longer isolated incidents but part of an alarming pattern that threatens the peace and stability of Kano.

Confirming the development in a statement on Thursday, the university’s Director of Public Affairs, Lamara Garba, stated that the institution has initiated a manhunt for the perpetrators in collaboration with security agencies.

“BUK Vice-Chancellor, Prof. Sagir Adamu Abbas, condemned the killing and vowed to work closely with law enforcement to ensure those responsible are brought to justice. He further urged students and staff to remain calm, assuring them of the institution’s commitment to their safety and security”.

Phone snatching has become a daily occurrence in Kano, often resulting in the loss of lives and injuries to innocent residents, just as in the case of Umar Abdullahi Hafiz.

This encounter serves as a sobering reminder of the escalating violence erupting anytime, anywhere, and of course ending in catastrophe in Kano.

This terrible act has ignited outrage across Kano. The fact that a well-known and respected educator could fall victim so brutally sends a clear message that no one is safe in the current climate of violence. 

Despite these efforts, the menace persists, the gangs’ deep-rooted networks rapidly replenish lost members, highlighting the inadequacy of enforcement alone. 

Underlying Political and socioeconomic challenges, including high unemployment, widespread drug abuse, and poor educational opportunities, fuel the cycle of crime and violence.

Need for Holistic Action

Security agencies cannot rely solely on arrests to resolve such enduring crises, which require a community-based approach. 

Strengthening community policing, empowering neighbourhood vigilante groups, improving local surveillance, and fostering trust between residents and law enforcement are critical for restoring safety.