Opinion

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido, PhD

It was a warm afternoon in my office at the Zakah and Waqf Foundation in Gombe, and I had cleared my schedule for what was described as a “very important meeting.” A group of nine young professionals—doctors, nurses, and medical administrators—filed in with purposeful expressions. These were respected Muslim health workers in our community, competent and resourceful in their own rights, leading their Muslim body. 

They sat down, exchanged pleasantries, and after a few minutes, one of them cleared his throat and spoke. “We were hoping you could help us reach Qatar Charity. We want to build a mosque in our hospital.”

I paused. My mind raced not with criticism but with confusion. These were not poor villagers. These were professionals, all salaried, some likely earning above average. I asked gently, “How much will the mosque cost?”

“About ten million naira.”

“And how many Muslim staff do you have?”

“Roughly 500,” they responded.

I picked up a pen and scribbled something. “That’s twenty thousand naira each,” I said. “Divided over four months, that’s 5,000 naira per month.”

There was a short silence. “You don’t need Qatar Charity,” I told them. “You need yourselves; you need Gombe Charity.”

From my limited understanding, I explained that most international charities, like Qatar Charity, raise funds from within their own people first. They identify a problem in a country, develop a proposal, return to their citizens and say: “Donate to build a mosque in Nigeria.” If they can do that for us, why can’t we do it for ourselves? I then told them to put my name as the first donor of the twenty thousand naira to kickstart the project. 

That brief meeting offered a glimpse into a deeper issue—our chronic psychological dependence on external aid, even when we can act. The problem isn’t always material poverty; often, it’s a lack of belief in our collective strength—a poverty of the mind and will.

The Turkey Phenomenon: A Lesson Misunderstood

Take, for example, the popular trend in some Northern Nigerian states where applications pour into Turkish and other organisations for Qurbani (Udhiya) distributions. Turkish charities, may Allah reward them, buy cows and distribute meat during Eid.

But here’s a crucial question: Is this a model to emulate or one to reconsider? If every year, our people look outward to receive—and never inward to learn how to organise, fund, and distribute—we risk cultivating a culture of constant reception without reciprocity.

Islam is not a religion of passivity. It teaches us to act before asking, to solve before seeking, and to build with what is already in our hands. Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us that the upper hand is better than the lower one—the hand that gives is superior to the hand that receives.

The Al-Basar Example: From Vision to Visionary Impact

Now, let’s discuss a model worth following—Al-Basar International Foundation.

Al Basar International Foundation is a non-profit international NGO. Founded in 1989 by a group of concerned professionals. Al-Basar is a shining example of what happens when people come together to solve a problem themselves. Their focus? Combating preventable blindness across the Muslim world. No dependency. No grand donor campaigns. Just strategic self-mobilisation as well as waqf and collaborative mindset. 

It works in Yemen, Bangladesh, Sudan, Nigeria, Pakistan, etc. In Nigeria, for instance, a 2019 campaign funded by King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Centre in collaboration with Al Basar International Foundation saw medical volunteers from Saudi Arabia meet 8,000 eye patients and perform 800 eye surgeries to remove cataract and glaucoma in Ibadan, Nigeria, as well as in Lafia in Nasarawa State. 

The foundation manages the Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital in Kano state, Nigeria, where 4,000 free eye surgeries were carried out in 2021. The hospital treats eye conditions, including diabetic retinopathy. In 2022, Al Basar International Foundation, in collaboration with the King Salman Relief Center, sponsored 400 free cataract surgeries for residents of Kano, which took place at Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital. 

Over the years, Al Basar has conducted over 2,000 outreach programs worldwide, performed over 700,000 cataract surgeries, and dispensed nearly 2 million glasses. With 28 hospitals across six countries, the foundation has recorded 26 million outpatient visits. It also invests in education by establishing colleges to train eye care professionals, impacting Africa and Asia. Their school screening program has reached over 1 million children, providing immediate interventions and ensuring a comprehensive approach to their eye health.

Now ask yourself: is Al-Basar a government-funded operation? No. Did it start with foreign aid? No. It was “from them, by them, for them.” And now it is for us, too—because they nurtured it to the point where it could grow beyond them.

We should not only admire such models. We should replicate them.

Historical Echoes: Islamic Proofs of Self-Driven Solutions

Uthman ibn Affan (RA) and the Well of Rumah

When water scarcity plagued Medina, and a private owner monopolised a well, the Prophet (SAW) called for someone to purchase it for the Muslims. Uthman (RA) stepped up, bought the well, and made it a public waqf. He didn’t write to Yemen. He didn’t petition the Romans. He simply used what Allah had given him to solve a problem for Allah’s sake.

So, What Can We Do? A Homegrown Waqf Blueprint

If we genuinely want to stop relying on donors and start building resilient communities, here are practical steps:

Think Within, Act Within: Begin every solution by asking what the community already has—not what it lacks. Do you have professionals? Land? Skills? Social networks? Then, start from there.

Group Economic Self-Waqfing: Encourage professional groups (doctors, teachers, engineers, traders, lawyers) to dedicate a portion of monthly income to a fund. Even a modest 5,000 naira monthly from 100 people can generate sustainable capital. At Zakah and Waqf Foundation, we enjoy that from some professionals, and it works. 

Community Challenge Waqf: Identify a local challenge—maternal health, education for orphans, access to clean water—and collectively endow a waqf around it. Let the yield solve that problem perpetually.

Transparent Management Structures: Set up trustworthy waqf boards to manage resources. Trust fuels contribution. Accountability sustains it.

Celebrate Independence: Create cultural pride around self-funded projects. Showcase schools, hospitals, orphanages, and mosques built without a single foreign dime.

It is Time to Change the Script

Imagine if each LGA in Nigeria had one waqf-funded primary health centre, one vocational training centre, and one scholarship fund—all funded by local contributions from professionals, retirees, and small traders.

We would not be beggars. We would be builders.

It’s time to write a new story. One not of helplessness and application letters to foreign NGOs but of resolve, unity, and strategic giving. One of From Us, By Us, For Us—in the truest, most impactful sense.

When that story is told to future generations, they will say: There was a people who stopped waiting and started building.

Amir Lamido wrote from Gombe via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Ibrahim Inusa

Over the years, the Almajiri system of education has served as a traditional form of Islamic education in northern Nigeria, where young boys, often aged between 7 and 14, are sent far from home to memorise the Qur’an by their parents under the supervision of a Malam (teacher). While the system’s intent was to instil religious knowledge, encourage direct engagement in Islamic activities, and provide practical moral learning, it has largely become disconnected from its original purpose.

At present, the system has turned millions of pupils into nuisances, leaving most of them without literacy or numeracy skills. Pupils divide their day between reading and wandering the streets to beg for food and money, intended to cover their living and schooling costs. This model places the pupils in highly vulnerable situations, exposing them to all forms of exploitation and manipulation, and even rendering them a threat to national security.

The Almajiri system of education has been a cornerstone of learning for many Nigerian children. However, its implementation has raised concerns about child welfare, education, and human rights. As Nigeria strives for progress, it is essential to address the challenges within the Almajiri system. One major issue is the lack of regulation and oversight, which leaves children vulnerable to all forms of abuse.

Another significant challenge is the limited access to quality education. Traditional Almajiri schools focus solely on Islamic studies, neglecting secular subjects such as mathematics, science, and English. This restricted curriculum can hinder students’ ability to compete in the modern world. By incorporating modern subjects, Almajiri schools can offer students a more comprehensive education.

The Almajiri system also raises concerns about radicalisation. Some Almajiri schools may promote extremist ideologies, which can have far-reaching consequences. To mitigate this risk, it is essential to encourage critical thinking, tolerance, and inclusivity within Almajiri schools.

To reform the Almajiri system, a decisive approach is necessary. Government agencies, NGOs, and communities must collaborate to provide support for Almajiri students, including access to healthcare, nutrition, and protection from abuse. Almajiri schools should be encouraged to adopt a modern curriculum and teaching methods.

Furthermore, teachers and caregivers in Almajiri schools require training and support to provide a quality education. Community engagement is also important, and parents, guardians, and community leaders involved in decision-making processes are encouraged to prioritise children’s welfare and education.

The current Nigerian government can play a crucial role in reforming the Almajiri system through policy initiatives, such as the Almajiri Education Programme. However, more needs to be done to ensure effective implementation and sustainability. Long-term commitment to reform requires a sustained effort to improve the lives of Nigerian children. By working together, we can create a more inclusive, equitable, and prosperous society for all.

In conclusion, monitoring and evaluation mechanisms are essential for tracking progress, identifying challenges, and making adjustments to reform initiatives. Reforming the Almajiri system is a complex task that requires collaboration, commitment, and creativity. By working together, we can create a more just and equitable education system that benefits all Nigerian children.

Ibrahim Inusa writes from the Department of Mass Communication at Abubakar Tatari Ali Polytechnic Bauchi and can be reached via Ibrahiminusa216@gmail.com.

• Company: Mai Kwai Movies
• Director: Abubakar A.S Mai Kwai
• Producer: Abdul Dan Small
• Language: Hausa
• Cast: Ali Nuhu, Aminu Sharif (Momo), Maryam Ceeter, Baballe Hayatu, Hafsat Idris, etc.
• Year: 2018

The question of whether married women should be allowed to work remains contentious in Hausa society. Modern people support the idea, while traditionalists continue to frown upon it. As the debate continues, a Kannywood production company, Mai Kwai Movies, weighs in with their film Dr. Halima.

The story revolves around the eponymous character (played by Maryam Ceeter), a PhD holder whose husband, Yusuf (Ali Nuhu), allows her to work at a construction company. Dr. Halima takes pride in her appearance and enjoys being complimented on her looks, but her husband is a rigid alpha male who dismisses that as frivolous and never cares to praise her. Instead, she receives attention and admiration from her male colleagues, whom she openly welcomes despite being married. As a modern woman, Dr. Halima doesn’t see anything wrong with dressing fashionably and being appreciated by others.

However, jealousy consumes Halima’s husband when he realises she has become the centre of attention at her workplace. He reacts by neglecting her and sleeping separately. Despite her attempts to address the issue, he turns a deaf ear, leading to growing tension and a deterioration in their marriage. Meanwhile, Halima’s colleague, Dags (Aminu Shareef Momoh), who has long harboured feelings for her, gets an opportunity to intrude into her life. He eventually succeeds in his pursuit, taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Thanks to its powerful story, the film generally captivates despite having a limited narrative hook. It succeeds in delivering its central message: that the problem with married women working is mostly not from the work itself, but from the behaviour of the women involved. When a married woman respects herself, she repels temptation, and when she doesn’t, the opposite occurs. We see how Dr. Halima attracts indecent colleagues with her scanty dress, but repels them later when she begins to dress modestly.

The film also underlines the need for effective communication in marriage and the dangers attached to neglectful relationships. We see how cold communication leads Yusuf and Halima to neglect each other and sleep separately for over three months. This emotional distance is what plays a key role in Halima’s decision to commit adultery with her colleague, as shown in the movie.

Additionally, the film introduces a moderate Fatwa that a marriage does not necessarily have to end if a wife has committed adultery. What matters most is sincere repentance and seeking Allah’s forgiveness. Ultimately, Dr. Halima repents without revealing her transgression to her husband, and they continue to live happily ever after.

On the other hand, the film falls slightly short in its technical aspects. Both sound design and editing are poorly handled. The continuity and costume use are also noticeably flawed. For instance, in one sequence, a messenger is seen meeting Dr. Halima on the company premises. However, moments later, the same messenger appears wearing a different outfit when she enters the office.

Regarding the actors, Maryam Ceeter, with her mature presence, is perfectly cast as Dr. Halima. She brings emotional depth, portraying both the confidence and vulnerability of her character. Ali Nuhu excels as Halima’s rigid husband. He gives a realistic performance, with his love for Halima subtly evident even as he distances himself from her. Aminu Momoh fully inhabits his dubious character, as he often does, using his charm and great comic timing.

Other supporting actors, including Baballe Hayatu and Hafsat Idris, are equally well-cast and perform commendably.

Overall, Dr. Halima is a compelling family drama that does full justice to its serious subject matter. While it may not be suitable for children, it is a must-watch for adult audiences. Rating: 3.5/5

Habibu Maaruf Abdu wrote from Kano via habibumaaruf11@gmail.com.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

They are both young boys, although one seems slightly older. From March to May 2025, they captured the attention and interests of Hausaphone social media with their radically different approaches to digital media visibility. In the process, they provided a template or script for the future of youth engagement in public culture and demonstrated the power of agency. 

Taranding in an open cesspool (Kabiru Isma’il, Kano).

The first was Kabiru Isma’il, better known as Kabeer2pac (apparently a fan of the late American rapper 2Pac Shakur).He had 1.8m followers and 15.1m likes on his TikTok account, which prominently displays his phone number (or that of his agent) for advertising purposes. His early videos clocked in millions of views. His most famous video, in which he shakes the dust off his body and jacket, has earned 51 million views. He devised two strategies to achieve this fame. 

His first videos were posted during the 2025 Ramadhan on 19 and 20th March 2025. In the videos, he was recorded immersed in a stagnant open cesspool of household wastewater (kwatami), dunking himself in it and smearing the sediments on his face. The videographer asked for his motives, and he replied he was doing so to “tarand” (trend) because he yearns for fame (ɗaukaka). He affirms he was not a lunatic. The video had 2.6 million views. He further explained that he resorted to this because his earlier attempts at trending were unsuccessful.

On 3rd April 2025, he switched from cesspool contents smearing to getting a sack of charcoal dust dumped on his head,which earned the video 14.8 million views. By then, his fame spread because the CoalDust video he posted two days later earned him 51 million views. His videos attracted Gwanki Travels and Tours International Ltd in Kaduna, who invited him and offered him a free ticket to perform the lesser Hajj, Umrah. Beaming with happiness, Kabeer2pac declared his gratitude that he had achieved the fame he had sought and had “taranded” very well. Of course, Gwanki also trended because they were riding on his coat-tail, as it were, to advertise their services.

Reactions to Kabeer2pac’s fame and fortune were varied but predictable. Most commentators were happy for him and took umbrage at any view that condemned his behaviour as unhealthy and unbecoming. Some Muslim clerics condemned him. Others were against the money spent on his Umrah, arguing that he was young and the money should be invested in either a trade or his education. His behaviour led to copycat copying. 

Quite soon after it started trending, copycats appeared in various guises, including a cesspool girl, from dousing themselves with petrol to set fire on themselves, to having cement blocks banged on their head, to immersing themselves in a stagnant pool of waste water. In one case, a young boy entered a soak away— all in their desire to “tarand” and possibly get a free Umrah ticket.

In an RFI video interview posted on 16th April 2025, Kabeer 2pac admitted that the possibility of his social media celebrity status is likely to be short-lived, as he understands that people will soon get bored with his antics and switch to something else. But for the period he was trending, he was happy with the endorsements he received and his branching out into comedies and short dancing skits in his trademark winter jacket. 

He has accurately anticipated the ephemeral nature of his antics. About two years ago, others who trended and quickly faded away were even more famous and established what I call “celebrification culture”. The first was Ale Rufa’i Bullgates, who devised his own currency, “Gangalion”. He was followed by Ale Umar Bush, whose speciality was foul-mouthing everyone around him. Each was given a social media celebrity status – private jets, fancy meals, endorsement deals by fancy local merchants. Ale Umar Bush seemed to have a Middle-Eastern “girlfriend”. People mocked their mental health and turned them into the theatre. That was probably why Kabeer2pac prefaced his first video by proclaiming that he was not mad. 

What motivates people to watch grisly events as lookie-loos, whether on screen or in physical spaces? Kabeer2pac’s audience can be called voyeuristic or spectator audiences. Odd or outlandish behaviour fascinates them because it provides novelty, entertainment, and sometimes a sense of shock or disbelief. Due to its unconventional nature, such content often triggers curiosity, amusement, or even a desire to share with others. 

Trending Young Dangote (Sadiq Usman Ahmed, Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna)

In contrast to Kabeer2pac, Sadiq was a street hawker in Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna, whom someone tagged Young Dangote. His nickname refers to the Hausa business mogul Aliko Dangote, the richest Black man in the world at the time. Anwar Textiles Ltd discovered him at a traffic stop in Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna, on 18th May 2025, when the young lad, who looks about 13 years old, was hawking car fresheners. 

Intrigued, the videographer asked how he started the business. Beaming an incredibly infectious smile (alone enough to make you buy his ware, even if you had no intention of doing so), he said he started with ₦300 with which he used to purchase cotton buds for ₦50 and sold for ₦70-₦100, before moving to products he bought for ₦350, selling at ₦500, happy with whatever profit he made. Gradually, his capital reached ₦5,000, then ₦1000, “har jari ya kai dubu hamsin cifi cif”/up to ₦50,000 neat. He said he prefers schooling to hawking, but poverty forced him into hawking. He relates this with a devastating, charming smile and enthusiasm for his current station in life, clearly with a business goal in mind. 

Touched by his resolve to improve his business, the video was posted on Anwar Textiles’ personal account and went viral. This impressed so many people (including the Pop Cola company in Kano) that they sent their widow’s mite to Anwar Textiles to improve the boy’s capital. Some asked for an account. In a very honourable way, Anwar Textiles traced the boy’s father. They recorded a video in which the father explained their happiness about the crowdsourcedfunding efforts made by Anwar Textiles. He emphasised that they were not begging for assistance as such (they were well off, but had a bad patch in life), but are grateful to those who contribute to the boy’s entrepreneurial ambitions. An account number was given. 

By 16th May 2025, Sadiq had over ₦300,000 capital and a larger basket to hold more products, which Anwar Textiles helped to purchase for him. The balance of the money was handed over to the father. He thanked Anwar Textiles for making it possible for people to know him. He displayed his new “mobile shop” and declared, “daga nan sai ƙasar waje, inshaa Allahu”/next, overseas, by God’s grace. He also stated his intention to go back to school soon. 

I find Anwar Textiles honourable. He located the boy, helped him, and supported his family. Importantly, he did not engage the boy in a gaudy marketing gimmick for his company, as done with Kabeer2pac. The boys’ marketing strategy was brilliant, as seen in a video posted a few days later in which he persuaded a motorist to buy more car fresheners than the customer actually intended to buy!

Both of these teenage boys demonstrate what personal resolve can achieve. Through social media, each person has attained something they wanted at the beginning of their lives. Kabeer2pac’s social media platform, which thrives on trends and viral content, where the unusual or unexpected can quickly gain traction through likes, shares, and comments, further amplifying its reach, worked perfectly well. He has the fame (ɗaukaka) he strives for. 

For Young Dangote, who has no social media presence (I even doubt if he has a phone, for he would probably plough the money into his business), we see what the power of crowdfunding and simple determination can do spontaneously. Comments from those who knew the family indicated that they were stable (as indeed even the father stated), but went through a bad patch. Instead of mourning their turbulent period, Sadiq dropped out of school, picked up a basket, got some money, bought car fresheners, and started hawking them at traffic stops. The rest, as they say, is a viral history. 

Social media can be a space for what Bala Muhammad (Adaidaita Sahu) at the DEEDS Book vs Screen May 2025 KHAIRUN Dialogue refers to as “digital iskanci”—or something else. Your judgment of each is, of course, personal.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

April is traditionally a month of pranks and laughter. But in Nigeria, the joke was on no one except, perhaps, on a nation whose security architecture is under siege from terrorists, bandits, and kidnappers.

Far from fearing our security operatives, criminal elements across the country displayed shocking audacity, reminding us that the battle for Nigeria’s soul remains bloody and unresolved.

In a horrific display of lawlessness, notorious bandit leader Bello Turji celebrated Eid in Sokoto by executing kidnapped victims, recording and broadcasting the gruesome act without fear of consequences. Across parts of Katsina, Kaduna, and Zamfara, bandits not only continued their reign of terror but have begun levying taxes and operating parallel governments in areas still supposedly under state control.

Compounding public anxiety, National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu made headlines when he advised families of kidnapped victims to “stop paying ransom.” While theoretically sound, the reality is far more brutal. Without swift and credible government intervention, desperate families have no option but to finance their tragedies. Until state forces can decisively rescue captives, this vicious cycle will continue.

In just one month, attacks escalated across Plateau, Kwara, and Benue States, leaving communities in mourning. Boko Haram and ISWAP insurgents resurfaced with deadly ambushes, signalling their continued relevance in Nigeria’s security equation.

April’s bloodshed has revealed operational lapses and a deep strategic and moral crisis. The Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA) must urgently intensify efforts, especially by working discreetly with rescued victims to extract intelligence, boost surveillance systems, and dismantle criminal networks worldwide.

While commendable successes by security operatives, such as rescuing hostages and recovering illegal arms, were recorded, they were dwarfed by the scale of atrocities witnessed within just 30 days.

The Department of State Services (DSS), often criticised and even facing calls for disbandment, must seize this moment to redeem itself. Encouragingly, recent commendations from the Plateau State Government and Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna for the DSS’s contributions to curbing insecurity suggest a glimmer of institutional reliability. Their successful arrests of gunrunners and dismantling of kidnapping syndicates are steps in the right direction.

Notably, the DSS also intercepted a British Army Major in Delta State attempting to smuggle 50 AK-47 rifles and ammunition—a major bust, and a signal that the service can perform under pressure. Their ability to withstand calls for the suspect’s release further strengthens public confidence.

Going forward, DSS and ONSA must strengthen collaboration through real-time joint operations, intelligence sharing, and visible outcomes. The Nigerian Intelligence Agency (NIA) also must integrate its overseas capabilities with ONSA’s domestic strategies. Today’s criminals are sophisticated—our response must be smarter.

Beyond the battlefield, Nigeria’s fight against corruption also demands attention. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) must intensify efforts with ongoing arrests of internet fraudsters and by pursuing justice in high-profile cases involving figures like Betta Edu and Sadiya Umar Farouq.

Regarding Aisha Achimugu’s case, the EFCC must adhere to due process and uphold its promise to act with diligence and integrity. Recent arrests, including that of Bauchi State Accountant General Sirajo Muhammad Jaja, show the commission is active, but visibility and transparency are critical.

Despite receiving accolades, such as the Government Spokesperson Award and the Courage in Justice and Transparency Award from the Nigerian Human Rights Community, EFCC must do more to recover funds stolen through schemes like CBEX. Collaborating with Interpol to dismantle international fraud networks and prevent future scams using forged EFCC certificates will reinforce the commission’s credibility locally and abroad.

Transparency is the only antidote to growing public cynicism about the Commission’s integrity.

The Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC), though laudably organising programs like its stakeholders’ meeting on accountability in local government, must now transition from talk to action. Corruption within Ministries, Departments, and Agencies (MDAs) remains rampant. A recent ICPC report showed that over 60% of corruption cases involved diverting healthcare funds—a scandal demanding decisive intervention.

April has ended, but the wounds it inflicted are still fresh. If we’ve learned anything, it is that the fear of the Nigerian state must be restored—not with hollow rhetoric, but through coordinated, courageous, and relentless action.

The enemies of Nigeria no longer fear our uniforms, our institutions, or the name “government.”

The time to act was yesterday. Today is already a dangerous gamble. Tomorrow may be too late.

Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a PRNigeria Fellow and author. He can be reached via exponentumera@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Yusuf

Nigerians’ incessant stir on social media about Nigeria’s economy and the current president’s leadership style has become common business across all the platforms available to citizens. On the other hand, there is a group of netizens employed by the government to serve as a shield from the masses’ uproar about the government’s incapacity. They vehemently respond to critics directly aimed at their paymasters.

Such people exist at all levels of government, and they are taken care of by the appointed social media aides of any administration.

My state, the liberal state or centre of learning, is currently in a situation that has turned into a noisy and confusing commotion, drawing significant attention from people everywhere. According to the masses, the state is striding in the opposite direction, unlike before, when it became a beacon of development that other states looked up to. The only development people are observing is exaggerated projects on social media.

The PR Boys, as they are called on X (formerly Twitter), or Data Boys, as they are called on Facebook, are recruited to counter any narrative against the administration. They properly utilise the “Agenda Setting Theory” concept by repeatedly posting about a single project over time to create an imaginary delusion that the administration is doing better. As directed by their paymasters, they are doing quite an impressive job.

The sad reality is that people doing such jobs are mostly educated young people who are unemployed or underemployed. If you are to have an honest conversation with them, they will lament that they are doing it for what they are being paid or because of the hollow promises made by their masters. When informed people try to talk sense into them, which they usually consider an attack directed at their masters, the masters give them morale by reminding them that they also began like them and now are in higher positions in the government. They keep enslaving their minds with promises, whereas only a few of them can be uplifted.

There was a concern regarding the state of the general hospital in Rigasa regarding human resources. The hospital, which caters for the health needs of over a million residents living in the community, is not equipped with the facilities, equipment, and staff needed by any standard health facility. Instead of these gullible propagandists considering it a call to action, as it affects them directly or indirectly, they began to call the agitators unpleasant names, all in the name of impressing their paymasters. The concern was directed to the state health ministry and addressed to the Commissioner. 

The ministry’s response on their page reiterated the governor’s effort to renovate the state’s existing health facilities. The said project was part of the Immunisation Plus and Malaria Progress by Accelerating Coverage and Transforming Services (IMPACT), which the World Bank is funding (I stand to be corrected). The project was started in 2020 and is set to end in 2030. We don’t need to mention the administration that began hosting the project in the state.

Ideally, during campaigns, everybody has their preferred candidate against their opponents. Waging support for your candidate and calling on others to support them is a right that no one should be denied. But for developmental purposes, after elections, it should be the elected leaders against the masses, not in a violent or degrading manner, but in keeping the leaders on their toes and reminding them of their primary responsibilities. These propagandists are making it look like anyone criticising the government is an enemy of the ruling class.

When concerned citizens bring up facts about the government’s inaction and lack of tangible evidence to counter them, they immediately stoop to emotional blackmail. Using words like “hypocrisy” or telling the world they are proud of being political puppets just annoys or silences those calling their paymasters to order. Many of them cannot stand an evidence-based argument due to insufficient facts. They receive orders from their superiors in their various groups to counter anything they consider mischievous about their masters online. They will flood your timeline or comment section with the duplicate content they copied from their groups as directed by their leaders.

I tweeted on X, “There is one state in Nigeria where you can only find out what the governor is doing on social media. But in reality, nothing has been on the ground since the last administration. Guess the state!” The tweet was viewed by over 12 thousand people within 10 hours and engaged by hundreds. To my greatest surprise, people kept mentioning my state in the comments and quotes. This is evidence that all the Data Boys and PR guys are doing is nothing short of mere propaganda.

Ultimately, I want to call on these propagandists to know that those they criticise for calling out the government are closer to them than those in the government. And the damage you’re covering for the ruling class will affect not only those criticising the government, but you may be the first to receive the consequences. Those sending you to criticise the former administration—most of them were part of it. They wined and dined with the then-ruling class, cleaned their mouths, and now eat with the current administration while spitting on the faces of their former masters.

May we be guided.

Abdullahi Yusuf writes from Rigasa, Kaduna. He can be reached via abdoolphd@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido, PhD 

It was after a wet Thursday Asr prayer in a quiet neighbourhood of Gombe that Mallam Isa stood up to speak. The small mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with humidity and the scent of earth. His voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the message he bore.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, “let me ask you: what would happen if today, right now, your heart stopped, and your children became orphans?”

A hush fell. Even the children at the back stopped playing. That question pierced through the hearts like an arrow.

“You pray five times a day, you give Zakah and fast Ramadan, but have you made any plan for the ones you might leave behind?” he continued.

It was not just a rhetorical question. It was a wake-up call.

The Crisis of Orphans in Our Midst

In every corner of Nigeria—especially in the north—there are orphans. They are in the streets, in distant relatives’ homes, in understaffed orphanages, and in classrooms with torn uniforms and hungry eyes. Every funeral of a husband, a father, a provider, often produces not one or two, but sometimes 10, 15 or even 20 orphans. In a society with polygamy and a high birth rate, the multiplication may be frightening.

The silent cries of orphans echo through our communities, a poignant reminder of our collective responsibility. In societies like northern Nigeria, where large families are common and the spectre of loss ever-present, the number of children left without a guiding hand is staggering. 

Losing a parent can mean losing everything: food, shelter, education, and the loving embrace of family. While various efforts exist to care for these vulnerable souls – from individual families to community and religious organisations, and a few dedicated orphanages – a critical challenge remains: the lack of sustainable, reliable funding. This is where the profound and enduring institution of Waqf emerges as a beacon of hope, offering a pathway to a robust and self-sustaining future for orphans.

What do we do with this growing population?

Islam doesn’t leave this to chance. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said:

“I and the one who looks after an orphan will be like this in Paradise,” and he held his two fingers together. (Bukhari)

This Hadith should not be a mere quote for charity posters—it is a divine incentive for action.

The Legacy of Layth b. Sa‘d: A Model for Us

Let us take a lesson from the noble jurist and philanthropist Layth b. Sa‘d, a contemporary of the great Imam Malik. He was not only a scholar of high standing (who was often described as more grounded in fiqh than Malik -Afqah min Malik), but also a man of immense wealth. One of his investment —earning over 70,000 dinars annually (The current Naira equivalent of 70,000 Dinars, based on the pure gold content of those Dinars and today’s market price of gold, is approximately ₦51,188,742,500, ie Fifty-one billion, one hundred and eighty-eight million, seven hundred and forty-two thousand, five hundred Naira). Yet he gave away so much that he didn’t even have zakātable savings. One day, he bought a house, only to discover it had been used as a shelter for orphans. Without hesitation, he declared:

“This house is now a waqf for them. Let it remain a refuge. And I shall endow another waqf whose profits will feed and clothe them.”

Today, we admire his foresight. But more importantly, we must emulate it.

The Missing Link: Waqf as Sustainable Support

Most of our current models for orphan care, although well-meaning, are unsustainable. We rely on inconsistent donations or goodwill that may not last.

But waqf is not a charity of the moment. It is a charity of the generations.

“When a person dies, all their deeds end except three: a continuing charity (Sadaqah Jariyah), beneficial knowledge, or a righteous child who prays for them.” (Muslim)

Waqf is Sadaqah Jariyah. And every orphan fed, educated, healed, or empowered through it continues your reward in the grave.

How Do We Build a Waqf for Orphans?

1. Family-Level Waqf

Families should dedicate one house, piece of farmland, or business as a waqf for orphans. It could be residential housing, a school, or a rental property whose income supports orphan welfare.

Imagine if, in every city block, one family donated one apartment to serve as orphan housing or as an investment asset to support orphans.

2. Community-Level Waqf

Mosques, Islamic centres, and community associations should establish orphan waqf portfolios. These can include:

Schools with waqf-run canteens and hostels

Hospitals or clinics with orphan wards funded through waqf

Skills acquisition centres that train orphans for real livelihoods

3. Organisational Waqf

Existing orphanages should stop relying solely on donations. Let them build waqf farms, shops, or event halls. The Prophet (peace be upon him) said:

“The best of people are those who are most beneficial to others.” 

Let’s be beneficial in a lasting way.

You Could Be Next

One chilling truth binds us all: no one knows who will become an orphan next. We plan our lives, but we often forget how fragile life is.

A car crash, a silent heart attack, a violent raid—your child could be orphaned tomorrow. So, build the system you would want them to find.

Would you want your child to sleep under a bridge?

Would you want them to beg for school fees?

Would you want them to eat once every two days?

“None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.” (Bukhari and Muslim)

Then love orphans as you would love your child.

Every Little Bit Counts: What YOU Can Do

Contribute to a waqf share initiative. You don’t have to give millions. Start with ₦1,000. Drops make oceans.

Educate others about the orphan waqf. Deliver a Friday khutbah, launch a WhatsApp and Facebook campaign, and distribute flyers.

Talk to local Imams, community leaders, and philanthropists. Propose orphan waqf projects.

Use your wasiyyah (will) to declare a portion of your estate as waqf for orphans.

Empower your children to understand this legacy so they can continue the chain.

Let us build an ummah where no orphan is neglected, where no child grows up feeling discarded, where our waqf institutions become sanctuaries of dignity.

Let Gombe, Kano, Lagos, Borno, Zamfara, Sokoto, Osun and every Nigerian state become shining examples of Waqf-Orphan Integration. Let Nigeria offer the world a new orphan care model—rooted in Islam, powered by community, and sustained by waqf.

And let each of us rise, in our small way, to be counted among those who build for the forgotten, the voiceless, the orphaned.

For on the Day of Judgment, it might just be that orphan’s dua that grants you the mercy you seek.

“They ask you what they should spend. Say: Whatever of good you spend must be for parents and kindred and orphans…”

— Qur’an 2:215

Amir Lamido wrote from Gombe via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Nura Jibo, MRICS

When John C. Maxwell wrote “The Power of Thinking Big,” it took me a few minutes to read most of it. In his book, Maxwell encourages human beings to think big and pursue their dreams.

Today, the world of science and technology has been corrupted by the global artificial intelligence (AI) euphoria orchestrated by so-called computer enthusiasts who are eager to sell something called AI in a manner that is far less, and implicitly below, the power of human imagination.

Whenever I see Americans, Japanese, Chinese, Germans, Asians, Arabs, and even my fellow Africans promoting AI beyond the banal and its quibbling superficiality, I genuinely sympathise with the world of science and technology “thinking” and what it holds for humanity.

AI, as it is, is a product of human imagination. It is always created using computer permutations and combinations of algorithmic packets and sets of calculated data encoded in computer microprocessors and central processing units. The computer system and its processes, which are subjected to the so-called futuristic determinations of events and activities, are again a product of human imagination embedded in what computer programmers prefer to call designed programs.

When I was in university, I was a poor student of computer programming because I didn’t take my computer teacher seriously. He failed to convince me about the processes, systems, and their creator. I spent my time playing with my classmates in the computer lab because I already understood that systems and processes are entirely products of human imagination. Indeed, the very day we decided to play in science by playing it to the gallery, it would automatically prevent us from asking more profound scientific questions beyond the basics. That would be the time when humanity would begin to lose its relevance and submit to the Elon Musks and Bill Gates of this cosmopolitan planet.  

In high school, my mathematics teacher, Malam Ali, taught me the fundamentals of working with a four-figure table from memory! Mallam Ali had committed the entire four-figure table to memory. He used to write the Cosines, Sines, and Tangents of 90, 180, and 45 degrees, as well as their reciprocals, even before we opened our four-figure tables. That was Mallam Ali’s stellar display of the power of human imagination at its best. As a novice in mathematics, I sincerely respect Mallam Ali to this day because I never had a mathematics teacher like him who taught me the power of original thinking using human imagination beyond artificial intelligence (AI).

There was also Malam Rabiu, a Chemistry teacher par excellence! Throughout my senior high school classes, I never saw him fail to teach us from his brain about REDOX reactions and the chemical reactions/compositions between an acid and a base, which to this day yield only salt and water! The “basicity” in my classmates and me created a bonding pair as opposed to finding a lone pair of electrons in every subatomic molecule.

Indeed, Malam Rabiu eventually left us to become the managing director of a Mentholatum Company in old Kano State, Nigeria. The last time I spoke with him was a week ago. He is there, being wasted away by Nigeria after having an excellent time as a hired teacher for the Kenyan government in the 1980s.

Indeed, it was the physics and chemistry teachings I received from my extraordinary teachers, such as Malam Rabiu, the late Malam Babale, Mudashiru Kolawole, and Mr. Isiaih, that led my friend, Ahmadu Saidu (now Lieutenant Colonel Saidu), and me to commit an organic chemistry textbook to memory. We crammed the entire textbook into our brains to the extent that we were not afraid of any organic chemistry examination that would ask questions on saponification or polymerisation processes in which small molecules (monomers) combine chemically to produce a giant chain-like molecule called a polymer. 

Science performed excellently for me! At that time, my thoughts and imagination aimed toward becoming an earth scientist who could change the entire geographical narrative of regional and global climate viewpoints forever. I never thought I would one day become a quantity surveyor – chartered, for that matter – because costing and construction estimates never seemed worthwhile to me as a course of study. 

As an aspiring global scientist of high standing, at the age of 15, I had already memorised the diameter of the Earth to be 12,756 kilometres! Therefore, I regarded courses like quantity surveying and accounting as suited for small minds that could not think big! But as history would have it, I find myself now “dining” and “sleeping” in quantities and what it takes to estimate the entire cost of buildings and infrastructure. Still, I never let my background in quantity surveying prevent me from pursuing geography as the mother of history. 

I eventually decided to blend quantity surveying with my passion for addressing climate change issues in Africa and globally. The two can be practised together with the time I have on earth. Hence, I developed the idea of establishing something that would ensure humanity remembers me even if I were to pass away. I founded an international NGO focused on climate change and registered it with the UNFCCC Secretariat in Bonn, Germany, as its climate observer organisation for 16 years now. The NGO has grown from a figment of my imagination, salvaging numerous communities by restoring their biodiversity in Nigeria, Africa, Niger Republic, Morocco, Ghana, and beyond.

I now register people from across the globe every year as UNFCCC climate change observer delegates. The UNFCCC Secretariat in Bonn, Germany, has designated me as its Designated Contact Point on climate change for 16 years now. The power of human imagination has enabled me to request and issue visas to my UNFCCC climate delegates, allowing them to attend our UNFCCC COP meetings free of charge.

Indeed, my dream project of constructing the Asayaya Regenerative City (ARC) generates interest among professionals and technocrats nowadays. The curiosity it ignites is just like a lady’s skirt, short enough to create attention but lean enough to cover the subject matter. My goal is to design a city with zero carbon emissions. The ARC will be energised by a hydrogen power plant using water electrolysis.

In the field of space science, the Wright brothers succeeded in presenting to the world the first aeroplane they manufactured and flew successfully on December 17, 1903.

Of course, the two right honourable gentlemen, Wilbur and Orville Wright, often fascinate me with their contributions to science and what I believe I can achieve with it to help humanity. Indeed, Orville and his brother would not have succeeded in flying what they called the “Wright Flyer” without the power of human imagination, which they trained their minds to develop beyond the ordinary.

They believed that any object obeying the laws of aerodynamics would automatically defy gravity and fly! That’s their rule of engagement! Thus, the entire world must always salute and doff its hat to the well-documented, extraordinary success stories of the duo, Wilbur and Orville. I see no reason why the world’s successful airline manufacturers, such as Boeing, Airbus, and Bombardier, along with their customers and clients like British Airways, Lufthansa, Delta Air, Qatar Airways, Emirates, etc., cannot establish a “Wright Brothers’ Day” in honour of Wilbur, Orville, and America! Thanks to the Qatari government and the royal family for taking the bold step to gift the American president, Donald, their royal luxury jet as a sign of respect and profound camaraderie towards America, a nation that produced extraordinary individuals like the Wright brothers!

Hence, the influence of mentorship and counselling in nurturing the power of human imagination above artificial intelligence or artificial science and technology is paramount.

The Wright brothers would not have achieved global success in aviation without reading the book by Octave Chanute, which succinctly explained almost all the technical knowledge they had in the field of aviation. Orville and Wilbur devoted ample time to studying their “Progress in Flying Machines” from 1894! The relationship between Chanute and the Wright brothers blossomed to the extent that he would often provide commentary on their technical expertise.

It is this same mentoring strategy that we witness today in the remarkable case of Barcelona’s wonder kid, Lamine Yamal. Lamine diligently followed Messi’s football doctrine at La Masia Football Academy in Barcelona. Whenever he is on the pitch, Lamine IMAGINES (emphasis mine) himself as Messi, dodging and dribbling past players with a dazzling performance that effortlessly bewilders opponents and excites spectators. Today, both Messi and Lamine could be likened to the world’s greatest footballer of all time, the legendary Pelé of Brazil.

That’s what the power of human imagination can accomplish!

At an early stage in my formative years, I was genuinely inspired by the works of the great Nigerian physicist, PN Okeke, who is regarded as the father of astronomy in Nigeria. Prof. Okeke was the brain behind unravelling the mysteries in physics by making them as simple as ABC. He helped me clearly understand the positive impact of Newton’s third law of motion in aviation and engineering. According to Newton, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This explains why aeroplanes must gather momentum and run at high speed until their engines produce a substantial force against gravity, enabling them to reach escape velocity.

For some of us who are still students of science, as soon as we witnessed the very sympathetic OceanGate Titanic submersible saga, we understood perfectly that one of Archimedes’ principles was grossly violated in that ill-fated and catastrophic implosion.

In the field of religion, two prominent Islamic scholars stood out globally in terms of Quranic recitation. Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi and Sheikh Sudais of Saudi Arabia are indeed global Islamic colossi whose oral Quranic recitations are second to none. I travelled throughout the Arab world and the Arabic-speaking countries, but I had not heard or seen the power of oratory Quranic recitation, such as the one I heard from the duo, as I had imagined. 

The way Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi recites Allah’s verses leaves most people in Arabia agog because his style of Warsh Quranic recitation far surpasses and is utterly different from Hafs, which is prevalent in the modern Islamic world. It would take Muslims who are unfamiliar with Warsh a considerable amount of time to grasp the mastery of the Quranic language and its verses as recited by Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi. With his oratory power and human imagination in understanding Islam, he convinced some of us to adopt the Sunni Islamic school of thought.

Sheikh Sudais, with his rare oratory Quranic recitation in Makkah, is today one of the living Quranic miracles; whenever he leads prayers in Masjid Al Haram, the entire Muslim world shivers in total submission to Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala. The very day I queued up behind Sudais during a lesser hajj, I felt fulfilled entirely by listening to his eloquent and convincing voice live and direct in Allah’s house, Ka’aba.

In the field of Christian respect for humanity and fair judgment within the Christian religion, the power of thinking beyond the margins emerged in King Najashi of the old Habasha dynasty. King Najashi was an epitome of hope, fairness, and equal treatment, ruling his dynasty in Ethiopia with genuine, not artificial, intelligence. One day, the Prophet of Islam sent his emissaries to King Najashi to seek refuge due to his profound compassion amidst religious discord in Mecca and Madina.

Nura Jibo, MRICS, wrote in from Ezdan Oasis, Al-Wakra, Qatar.

By Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari

Across Nigeria today, the earth is wet with the blood of innocents. Villages are raided without warning, highways have become death traps and communities live in a cloud of constant fear.

Yet, even as the nation bleeds, much of the political class appears more fixated on the 2027 elections than on saving lives in 2025.
Insecurity has become a cruel backdrop to political ambition—a painful reminder that, for many leaders, the pursuit of power still matters more than the safety and survival of the people.

The current administration, led by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, was elected on a promise to restore security and revive the nation’s economy. But less than two years into his tenure, insurgency, banditry, and economic instability have remained stubbornly persistent.

What was supposed to be an era of renewed hope has turned into a daily struggle for survival for millions of Nigerians. Despite interventions by security agencies, no significant improvement has been recorded.

Families are displaced from their homes. Schools are shut down. Markets are abandoned. Mass graves are dug with horrifying regularity.
States such as Zamfara, Benue, Plateau, and Borno have become synonymous with unending violence.

Our beloved Nigeria—once full of hope and promise—is fast becoming a theatre of tragedy. Critics argue that government efforts have been largely reactive instead of proactive. Intelligence failures are frequent.

Security operations often come late. Many see a dangerous lack of political will to tackle the root causes of insecurity: endemic poverty, chronic youth unemployment, and deep ethnic divisions.
Without addressing these underlying issues, peace will remain a distant dream.

Yet, even as insecurity deepens, political calculations for 2027 are already underway. Massive defections are occurring across political parties as politicians jostle for advantage and consolidation of power.

Instead of emergency summits on security, we see strategic meetings on how to win elections.
The people, who ought to be the priority, are pushed to the margins of political discourse. Their cries are drowned by the noisy drumbeats of political ambition.

Nigerians deserve better. They deserve leaders who value their lives more than the pursuit of office. They deserve leaders who recognize that every life lost is a national tragedy, not just a statistic.

If current trends continue unchecked, by the time the 2027 elections arrive, Nigeria may have paid a price in blood too heavy to bear—and whatever victory is achieved will be a hollow, shameful one.

Nigeria stands today at a crossroads. The choices made in security, governance, and leadership over the next year will determine whether the country finds its way back to the path of stability and progress—or slips even deeper into violence and despair.

As the blood of innocent Nigerians continues to soak the ground, one question cries out louder than any campaign slogan: Who will listen? Who will act? And when?

The time to choose between survival and ambition is now. Nigeria cannot afford to wait until 2027 to find out what path we chose.

By Oladoja M.O

 There is a sickness far graver than malaria, deeper than cancer, and deadlier than an undiagnosed pandemic: it is the sickness of perception. A tragic, self-inflicted malaise where men and women, intoxicated by their bitterness, misread the vital signs of a nation and call it death. 

Nigeria, that African giant, that phoenix that has refused to be buried by dust or drowned by storms, stands misdiagnosed not by its enemies, but by its sons and daughters. They call for good governance, a sacred right, yet in the same breath, they auction the dignity of their fatherland for applause from foreign balconies. Climbing the stages of international conferences not as ambassadors of hope, but as broadcasters of decay, believing that to light their ambitions, the whole house must first be burned.

Yes, there are wounds, visible scars of leadership missteps and bureaucratic fatigue. Yes, the body occasionally limps, gasping for cleaner governance, for a fresher breath of accountability. But to declare her terminally ill? To parade her on global platforms like a festering corpse before she has even sneezed her last? This is malpractice of the highest order.

And yet, even as they wail, Nigeria births victories so luminous they should blind the eyes of every doubter.

In 2024, while cynics sharpened their tongues, Nigeria quietly pulled off the Dangote Refinery miracle. The largest single-train refinery in human history roared into operation. Built on African soil, by African hands, it shattered the historic curse of crude export dependency. Now, Nigeria refines for itself, and soon, for much of Africa. That is not a dying breath. That is the heartbeat of an empire in rebirth.

Even as global markets shook and economies shrank, Nigeria executed one of the most daring economic surgeries in modern African history: unifying its foreign exchange market in 2023, consolidating multiple exchange rates into a single one. The International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and even the Wall Street Journal stood still in reluctant applause. The Nigerian naira, which was once battered by artificial valuations, finally had its freedom to fight fair. It stumbled at first, as all warriors do. However, today, stabilisation is becoming a new reality, not a distant hope.

In health, the same nation that armchair critics mock has scored historic breakthroughs. Under the leadership of Professor Muhammad Ali Pate, Nigeria has launched one of the world’s first national rollouts of the Oxford R21 malaria vaccine, a game-changing move in a country that accounts for the highest malaria deaths globally. 

Again, Nigeria has turned pain into policy. The federal government, under this administration, declared a Health Sector Renewal Compact in late 2023 (PVAC), marshalling partnerships with global giants like the World Bank and Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, channelling billions into revamping healthcare delivery, local vaccine production, and training health workers at an unprecedented scale. No more is health an afterthought; it is now a frontline battle Nigeria is visibly winning. While others talk, Nigeria saves lives. While others point fingers, Nigeria vaccinates its future. 

Infrastructure? While “first-world” cities debate electric railways, Nigeria’s megacity, Lagos, launched its Blue Line Rail in late 2023, the country’s first electric-powered intra-city rail system. A steel artery now pulsing through a once-choked metropolis, easing congestion, breathing new possibilities. In Kano, Rivers, Abuja, and Ebonyi States, massive roads, bridges, airports, and industrial parks rose from the dust — monuments to silent nation-building.

Policy? Courageous policies thundered through governance corridors: the subsidy removal in 2023, ending decades-old economic black hole that bled over $10 billion annually. In its place: strategic investments in health insurance for the vulnerable, transport subsidies for the poorest, and agricultural revolution initiatives. The world’s harshest critics acknowledged it, but the nation’s sons spat on it, too drunk on their self-righteous venom.

In education? Nigeria has ripped the old rulebook. In 2023, the Student Loan Act was signed into law—an audacious leap toward democratising education. For the first time, children of farmers, traders, and artisans now have a gateway into universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education without fear of crushing tuition fees. 

As of 2024, the first batch of beneficiaries has received their loans under the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND), breathing hope into homes where education once felt like a broken dream. Now, a total of 525,936 students have registered on the loan platform, with 445,015 applicants successfully applying for financial assistance, representing an 84% success rate for student loan applications under the scheme.

Meanwhile, the accreditation of degrees has also been digitised, with Nigeria becoming the first in Africa to automate this critical gatekeeping process fully. New private universities have sprouted like fresh shoots, expanding access and excellence, whilst Nigerian universities are climbing global ranks. 

They call for “change” yet campaign on the ruins of hope itself. They drape themselves in victimhood, seeking pity instead of respect. The so-called “obedient” torch-bearers, the tribe of Peter Obi, shout of patriotism while waltzing through global forums, slandering their homeland, reducing Nigeria, a giant stirring from slumber to the caricature of a failed state, just to score a few cheap political points.

Calling out leadership is democracy; Denigrating your nation is betrayal.

One builds; the other burns.

Nigeria does not need saviours who love her only when she shines. She needs sons and daughters who hold the line when the storms rage, who sing her greatness even when she falters, who plant seeds of hope, not thorns of despair, into her soil.

To those who mistake criticism for patriotism, remember:

The world does not respect nations that cannot respect themselves.

Call out your leaders.

Demand reform.

March for justice.

But never sell your mother for the price of your pride.

Because when the dust of time settles, and history opens her immortal ledger, it will not be your complaints she remembers, it will be your loyalty.

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