Opinion

By Lawan Bukar Maigana 

From the ashes of battle-weary Borno to the powerful corridors of Aso Rock, Vice President Kashim Shettima has consistently defied the odds. His journey has never been one of privilege but of perseverance, grit, and unswerving faith in destiny.

As governor, he governed Borno State at a time when Boko Haram unleashed one of the worst humanitarian crises in Nigeria’s history. While others fled, Shettima stayed. He took bold, calculated risks to keep his people safe, rebuild destroyed communities, and stabilise a state under siege. Many thought Borno would collapse—yet under Shettima’s leadership, it stood.

Transitioning to the Senate, Shettima faced different types of warfare—political manoeuvring, underestimation, and party intrigues. Yet again, he rose above, earning his place as a voice of reason and strength within the APC, known for his eloquence, intellect, and firm grasp of national issues.

Today, as Nigeria’s Vice President, Shettima faces yet another challenge—this time from within. A coordinated campaign has emerged, allegedly pushed by political actors with ambitions for 2027, aiming to sow discord between him and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Fake news merchants have been deployed to twist narratives and fabricate rifts. But the facts remain stronger than fiction.

President Tinubu’s trust in Shettima runs deeper than many understand. Tinubu chose Shettima as his running mate—without pressure, without external consultation, and certainly without seeking endorsement from even the most powerful figures like former President Muhammadu Buhari. His decision was based on conviction, not compromise.

Each time the media speculates on a rift, President Tinubu swiftly dispels it, reiterating his confidence and respect for Shettima. This alliance is built on shared vision and mutual respect, not convenience.

Kashim Shettima has emerged stronger, wiser, and more determined through every fire he has walked. History shows us that adversity sharpens his focus. This latest round of animosity, though loud, is fleeting. Just like before, he will rise—not only to prove his critics wrong, but to reaffirm the values of loyalty, resilience, and visionary leadership.

The noise will fade in the end, but Shettima’s legacy—like his rise—will endure.

Lawan Bukar Maigana is an award-winning journalist and humanitarian who can be reached at: lawanbukarmaigana@gmail.com.

By Hauwa Mohammed Sani PhD

The phrase “No women, no peace” has become a rallying cry for those who recognise the critical role of women in peacebuilding. Yet, in conflict-prone regions like rural Northern Nigeria, this vision often feels like a distant dream. During my recent visit to communities of displaced women, coinciding with the Ramadan period in March 2025, I witnessed heartbreaking realities. Despite the challenges, I remain convinced that positive change is possible and that women hold the key to it.

My first heartbreak came from witnessing the deplorable conditions in which these women live; hunger, poverty, ignorance, and social exclusion were evident in their lives. 

The second heartbreak occurred when a child fetching water fell into a deep, uncovered well. I have never felt a more profound sense of helplessness. 

Although these women may not be able to read, write, or comprehend my work, this article represents my humble contribution to the society I belong to, with the hope that it will reach the ears and eyes of those it may concern.

As a researcher, I am supported by the Science for Africa (SFA) Foundation in Nairobi, Kenya, and the Carnegie Corporation through the Preparing Outstanding Social Science Investigators to Benefit Lives and Environments in Africa initiative (POSSIBLE Africa) Postdoctoral Fellowship. My research aims to go beyond portraying women as victims to spotlight their potential as active peacebuilders in Northern Nigeria.

The statistics are staggering: In the conflict-prone zones of Northern Nigeria, women and girls suffer disproportionately from conflict, displacement, and violence. They flee their homes, lose their livelihoods, and often face trauma that leaves lasting scars. During my visit, I saw this pain firsthand. The tears I shed were more than emotional; they were a testament to the suffering I witnessed.

It is pathetic to recount that these women’s expectations have shrunk to a single plea: “May the government come to our aid.” When I inquired about their own efforts toward peace, they shared that they engage in regular prayers and fasting. Yet, they feel that their tormentors are always one step ahead because they are often accompanied by clerics. Still, they seek spiritual protection and divine intervention, clinging to faith as their last refuge. 

Some even recounted instances where women, in acts of desperation and courage, pretended to be mentally unstable or “mad”, hoping that such displays might scare off their oppressors, which in many instances worked.

This mindset illustrates the psychological toll of prolonged violence and displacement. Over time, a person’s sense of agency may erode. Many begin to see themselves solely as victims, dependent on external rescue.

But women are not just victims of conflict. They are also agents of change. In some rural Northern Nigeria, women are organising themselves into cooperatives, advocating for their rights, and supporting one another to rebuild their communities and foster peace.

How can we support these women in their quest for peace and development?

Amplify their voices: Provide platforms for storytelling, problem-sharing, and solution-finding, for example, through theatre for development, etc.

Build their capacity: Offer education, psychosocial support, and economic empowerment tools. Address root causes: Confront the structural issues, poverty, injustice, and exclusion that feed cycles of violence.

Healing Collective Traumas: From Erasure to Memory

Violent conflict does not just destroy homes; it scars communities. Healing collective trauma involves:

1. Acknowledgement and Recognition: Validating and recognising the suffering of affected communities.

2. Truth-telling and Documentation: Recording stories and preserving collective memory.

3. Community-Based Initiatives: Promoting healing through solidarity groups and cultural activities.

4. Education and Awareness: Raising understanding to encourage empathy and reconciliation.

Conclusion

“No women, no peace” is more than a slogan. It is a truth we must act upon. Women are essential to peacebuilding, particularly in conflict-prone regions like rural Northern Nigeria. By recognising their voices, supporting their efforts, and addressing the systemic roots of violence, we can build a future where peace is not just possible but sustainable.

Hauwa Mohammed Sani, PhD, is the Deputy Director of the Institute for Development, Research &Training at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. She can be reached at hauwamohammedsanim@gmail.com.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

With a single stroke, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has upended Nigeria’s constitutional order, suspending Rivers State Governor Siminalayi Fubara, his deputy, and the state legislature under the guise of a state of emergency.

This unprecedented and legally questionable move raises urgent questions: Has Nigeria’s democracy just been hijacked? If a sitting president can summarily remove elected state officials without due process, what stops Abuja from toppling any governor who falls out of favor?

The political crisis in Rivers has been simmering for months, with intense factional battles within the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) leading to threats of impeachment against the governor. But was the situation truly dire enough to warrant a presidential intervention of this magnitude?

Under Section 305 of the 1999 Constitution, a state of emergency can only be declared in cases of war, imminent danger of invasion, total breakdown of public order, or natural disasters. Even then, such a declaration requires National Assembly approval.

More importantly, the Constitution does not grant the President the power to suspend a sitting governor, deputy governor, or members of the state legislature.

By single-handedly ousting a duly elected state government and replacing it with a military figure, Tinubu has overstepped his constitutional bounds, effectively staging what many legal experts are calling a “constitutional coup.”

If this move is allowed to stand, it raises a troubling question: which state is next? Today, it is Rivers; tomorrow, it could be any other state where the President or ruling party faces political opposition. The implications are chilling—no governor, regardless of electoral mandate, would be safe from federal interference.

Would this have happened in Lagos or Kano? Would a northern state be subjected to such federal strong-arming? The answer is clear. Rivers, an oil-rich and politically volatile state, is an attractive target.

But what happens when this dangerous game of executive overreach extends beyond Rivers? If Tinubu can remove Fubara this easily, then Nigeria’s entire federal structure is under threat.

Beyond the political chaos, a more pressing question emerges: Is this really about governance, or is it about controlling Rivers’ oil wealth? History has shown the federal government’s keen interest in oil-producing states—from the militarization of the Niger Delta under past administrations to the strategic placement of federal loyalists in key oil-rich states.

The pattern is all too familiar. Could this move be less about political stability and more about tightening Abuja’s grip on Rivers’ vast economic resources?

With the Constitution clearly violated, all eyes now turn to the judiciary. Will the Supreme Court rise to the occasion and declare this move unconstitutional? Or will the courts bow to political pressure, allowing a dangerous precedent to take root?

The judiciary must recognize that this is not just about Rivers—it is about safeguarding Nigeria’s fragile democracy from the creeping shadows of authoritarianism. If this unconstitutional takeover is not reversed, no state governor in Nigeria will ever govern with full confidence in their electoral mandate again.

Since the return to civil rule in 1999, Governor Siminalayi Fubara is now the third sitting governor to be suspended by a Nigerian President under a democratic setting. In 2004, former President Olusegun Obasanjo suspended Plateau State Governor Joshua Dariye and the State Assembly over ethno-religious violence in Jos and other parts of the state, appointing Maj. Gen. Chris Alli (rtd.) to take charge.

Two years later, Obasanjo removed Ekiti State Governor Ayo Fayose and his deputy over political crises and impeachment controversies, installing Brig. Gen. Tunji Olurin (rtd.) as the new head of the state.

In 2013, President Goodluck Jonathan declared a state of emergency in Borno, Yobe, and Adamawa States in response to Boko Haram’s escalating insurgency. However, unlike his predecessors, Jonathan did not suspend the sitting governors; instead, he allowed state governments to continue operating alongside increased federal military intervention.

Now, in 2025, Tinubu has declared a state of emergency in Rivers State, citing political crisis and governance breakdown. But his move goes even further—suspending Governor Fubara, his deputy, and all members of the House of Assembly for six months.

While past interventions were carried out under Section 305 of the 1999 Constitution, the legality and necessity of removing elected officials have always been controversial. The Constitution outlines a clear procedure for declaring a state of emergency: the President must issue a proclamation, publish it in the official Gazette, and submit it to the National Assembly for approval.

Yet, in Rivers, Tinubu has acted unilaterally, preempting legislative approval and exceeding constitutional limits by removing elected officials.

As these events unfold, one thing is certain—2027 is shaping up to be a defining moment for Nigeria’s democracy. Will the courts uphold the rule of law, or will this be remembered as the moment Nigeria’s democracy took a dangerous turn?

The Nigerian people, civil society, and democratic institutions must resist this unconstitutional move by all legitimate means. If left unchecked, this will mark the moment when the line between democracy and dictatorship in Nigeria blurred beyond recognition.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu- an NYSC serving corps member, writes from Center for Crisis Communication (CCC) in Abuja.

By Maimuna Aliyu Katuka

Easter is a season of joy, reflection, and renewal. While it is often associated with festive meals, it is also an opportunity to embrace healthier habits without taking away from the fun and spirit of the celebration.

As the world becomes increasingly health-conscious, we can find creative ways to enjoy Easter while taking care of our physical and mental well-being.

By making thoughtful choices, we can turn this season into a meaningful and health-positive experience for ourselves, our families, and our communities.

Easter, which marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ, according to the Christians, is one of the most significant holidays in Christianity. For many, it symbolizes the triumph of life over death—a powerful reminder of hope, rebirth, and new beginnings.

Even non-Christians often take advantage of the holiday to travel or spend time with loved ones, making it a perfect occasion to reflect on personal wellness and communal values.

Whether you are planning a large family gathering or a quiet weekend retreat, here are some practical tips to help you celebrate Easter in a healthy and fulfilling way:

Healthy Eating and Drinking Habits

1. Balance indulgence with healthy choices:
Enjoy traditional Easter treats in moderation. Complement your meals with fruits, vegetables, and whole grains to maintain a balanced diet.

2. Stay hydrated:
Drink plenty of water throughout the day, especially if you are consuming rich or salty foods.

3. Choose healthier alternatives:
Opt for baked or grilled meats instead of fried ones. Dark chocolate or fruit-based desserts can also be tasty and nutritious options.

Staying Physically Active

1. Take a walk or hike:
Incorporate light physical activities like walking, hiking, or biking into your day to stay energized and connected with nature.

2. Plan outdoor games:
Organize family games or community sports that encourage movement and bonding while having fun.

Supporting Mental Well-being

1. Practice mindfulness:
Take time to relax, meditate, or simply enjoy the presence of family and friends. Mindfulness can help ease stress and promote gratitude.

2. Set boundaries:
Prioritize self-care by setting healthy limits on social and work commitments. Maintain a balance that supports your mental peace.

Additional Smart Tips

1. Plan meals ahead:
Prepare healthy dishes and snacks in advance to reduce the temptation of unhealthy choices.

2. Be mindful of portion sizes:
Enjoy your favorite dishes without overindulging by keeping portions in check.

3. Educate the next generation:
Teach children the importance of healthy living. Turn Easter traditions into learning moments about good nutrition and staying active.

Last Line:
As we prepare to celebrate Easter, let us take this opportunity to embrace a lifestyle that reflects the true spirit of the season—renewal, joy, and wellness.

By making simple, conscious changes, we can foster healthier habits that last beyond the holiday.

So, gather your loved ones, get creative with your traditions, and make this Easter not just memorable—but meaningfully healthy.

By Salihi Adamu Takai

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salihi Adamu Takai wrote via salihiadamu5555@gmail.com.

By Blaise Emeka Okpara

If recent events in Nigeria’s body politic are anything to go by, then one would be right to conclude that our democracy is headed for the rocks. At no time in our nation’s history has such a calamity of monumental proportions befallen us! What is worse, we are witnessing for the first time an unholy alliance between the three arms of government. What this portends is that the people, who should be the primary concern of governance, are now being relegated to the background.

There is great danger, and from the look of things, it might not get better anytime soon. The current reality in Nigeria, where both the legislature and judiciary have collapsed their structures into that of the executive, has created an atmosphere of distrust and hopelessness among Nigerians. There is a disconnect between the government and the people. This dichotomy exists due to the nonchalance associated with the current crop of political leaders.

Of great concern is the recent declaration of a state of emergency in Rivers State, which saw the suspension of a duly elected governor and the appointment of a sole administrator. While it is undeniable that the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, in Section 305, bestows upon the President the power to declare a state of emergency, it does not grant him the power to remove an elected governor. 

More disheartening was the speedy ratification by the Senate through a voice vote. How, on earth, did the Senate determine a two-thirds majority through a voice vote? These and many other questions continue to bug the discerning.

As if that were not enough, the Attorney General of the federation and Minister of Justice, Lateef Fagbemi SAN, was vociferous  in his outburst, threatening that the President would not hesitate to declare more states of emergency in any state if it becomes necessary. In a democracy! Such unguarded utterances should not be encouraged because they go against the principles of democracy. 

Moreover, from all indications,it seems that the days of healthy debates in the national assembly are gone. Today, Nigeria has a  national assembly that functions as an extension of the executive. One wonders what might become of our democracy if President Ahmed Tinubu decides  to prolong his stay in office beyond the constitutionally required terms. With the antecedents of this current national assembly, one might conclude that it is a done deal. 

Sadly, the judiciary is not exempt. At a time when Nigerians look to the judiciary as the bastion of democracy, the institution has been so undermined that it no longer inspires confidence among the populace. Brazen disregard for justice, driven by monetary inducement, has become the norm. This is even more evident in the audacity with which Nigerian politicians now instruct aggrieved individuals to go to court. 

Outcomes of judicial processes can easily be predicted by simply observing those involved. When a nation has a judiciary that takes orders from the executives, where then lies the hope for the common man? One can only find judges hobnobbing with politicians in a compromised judiciary.  

The return to constitutional democracy was met with great expectations and optimism from Nigerians after years of military rule. However, more than two decades later, it seems Nigeria is gradually drifting towards a darker era where only a privileged few individuals manage the affairs with little or no regard for the people.

There is a pervasive feeling of helplessness among Nigerians that those in positions of authority can do and get away with anything. As scary and unsavory as this may sound, it is the truth, given recent occurrences. It reeks of a lack of empathy for a President to declare the removal of the subsidy on the day of his inauguration without considering the impact on the people. To this day, Nigerians are still reeling from the effects of that hasty decision. Needless to say,millions of Nigerians were plunged into poverty as a result. 

Unlike in 2013, when the then-President removed the fuel subsidy and Nigerians had the freedom and courage to take to the streets, the reverse is now true. In fact, during the last “Hunger protest,” most protesters were teargassed by the police, and some were arrested. The criminalization of protests in Nigeria by the current administration has instilled fear among citizens. When citizens are frightened by the government of the day, it’s not a democracy.

The usual refrain by the police that protests would be hijacked is purely a calculated attempt to suppress dissenting voices. This confrontational approach to peaceful protesters is undemocratic because it contradicts citizens’ rights to freedom of expression as enshrined in section 39 of the 1999 constitution (as amended). If citizens’ rights to protest are being trampled upon, then it is correct to conclude that we are gradually sliding back to the despotic years of the military, where speaking truth to power was considered an act of bravery. 

Conclusively, most of those in positions of authority today, like the sitting President, often wax lyrical about their heroics during the NADECO days of the military. President Tinubu was among the major organizers of the “occupy Nigeria” protests, which saw his party, the All Progressive Congress(APC), come to power. If protest was fashionable then,why is it not now? 

Democracy thrives on fundamental principles such as the separation of powers among the three branches of government to ensure checks and balances, fundamental human rights, the rule of law, popular participation, and, most importantly, legitimacy. 

Only the people can bestow this legitimacy through periodic elections. When these core principles are abused,democracy is in danger. Political office holders need to engage in introspection to curtail their high-handedness and save our democracy from imminent collapse. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.

Blaise Emeka Okpara writes from Abuja and can be reached at: emyokparaoo1@gmail.com.

By Huzaifa Dokaji

Kano is not a place you reduce to a headline or dismiss with a stereotype. It is a city with too many layers for that—too much memory, too many voices. This is the Kano of Muhammadu Rumfa, the ruler who gave it form and vision, and of Ibrahim Dabo, the scholar-king. The Kano of Kundila and Dangote, where wealth meets ingenuity.

It is the Kano the British once described as the ‘London of Africa,’ the Tripolitans praised as ‘a city like a thousand others’, each one magnificent—and its own people, knowing its complex social and ideological chemistry, named tumbin giwa, the intestine of an elephant: vast, winding, and full of hidden depths.

Kano has always carried many lives at once. It is the home of Shehu Tijjani Na Yan Mota and the sanctuary of Abdullahi dan Fodio when he felt the revolution had been betrayed. It is Madinar Mamman Shata and the home of Aminu Ala, the author of the philosophical Shahara and masterfully composed Bara a Kufai. This is the same Kano that made Dauda Kahutu Rara, the master of invective lyrics, and Rabiu Usman Baba, the Jagaban of Sha’irai.

Here, contradictions do not cancel each other, they coexist. It is the city of yan hakika and yan shari’a, of Izala and Tariqa, of Shaykh Rijiyar Lemo and of Shaykh Turi. It is the Kano where people will argue passionately about doctrine, then share tea afterward. Where silence and speech, mysticism and reform, are all part of the same long interesting yet boring conversation.

This is the Kano of the diplomatic Emir Ado Bayero and combatant Muhammad Sanusi II. Of Rabiu Kwankwaso, the red-cap-wearing jagora, and of the agreeable Ibrahim Shekarau. It is that same Kano of the incorruptible Malam Aminu Kano and Dollar-stuffing Ganduje. The cosmopolitan city of Sabo Wakilin Tauri and of the saintly Malam Ibrahim Natsugune.

If not Kano, then what other city could birth Barau Kwallon Shege, the bard of the profane, and welcome Shaykh Ibrahim Nyass, the towering saint of the mystics? Where else but Kano would you find Shaykh Nasiru Kabara- scholar and Sufi master- sharing the same cityscape with Rashida Yar Daudu and all the remembered and forgotten Magajiyoyin Karuwai? This is the Kano of yan jagaliya and attajirai, of the sacred and the profane, the pulpit and the street. The Salga and of Sanya Olu and Ibedi streets. Kano has never pretended to be a city of one truth, its greatness lies in the multitude it carries.

So when people speak carelessly about Kano, they miss the point. Kano is not a relic. It is alive. It debates itself. It holds its tensions with pride. And like Adamu Adamu said, “the story of this enigmatic city is simple and straight backward – and , in the end one can only say Kano is Kano because Kano is Kano – and that’s all; for; it is its own reason for being.”

You don’t explain Kano. You respect it.

Huzaifa Dokaji is a PhD student and teaching assistant at the Department of History, State University of New York at Sony Brook. He can be reached via huzaifa.dokaji@stonybrook.edu.

By Musa Kalim Gambo

ND Shehu Kanam, a political scientist and son of the soil, offered a searing insight into Governor Caleb Mutfwang’s recent statewide broadcast in a Facebook post following the blood-soaked tragedy that befell some communities in Plateau. In dissecting the speech, he made a remark that has lingered in my conscience like smoke from an unquenched fire:

“The governor made reference to previous attacks including Dogo Nahauwa and completely ignored the attack in Garga District of Kanam LGA in 2022 where over 100 lives were killed. At all times, Kanam LGA is being treated as third-class citizens in Plateau State.”

And how true that is—how bitter, how brazen. One would expect that in the arithmetic of grief, every loss would count, that memory would not play favourites. But alas, even in mourning, there is politics. Even in death, there are those deemed more worthy of remembrance than others.

Let’s be clear: every act of violence against any group of people is an abomination. It should be met with absolute condemnation. Those who carry out such horrors—burning homes, hacking down the old and the young, silencing lives with the crack of a rifle—are not just criminals. They are monsters in human form, agents of chaos and cruelty, and they must be made to face the full wrath of justice, if justice still has a name.

But then we turn to the governor’s address. Perhaps the speechwriter, weary and burdened, meant no harm. Maybe it was all too much—the urgency, the pressure, the tears behind closed doors. Perhaps grief blurred the pen, and memory failed. But selective memory tells a deeper story, whether by accident or design. It speaks of a hierarchy of pain where some cries echo louder in the chambers of power while others are muffled into silence.

The omission of the Kanam massacre, where bullets and blades buried over a hundred souls in 2022, is not just an editorial oversight. It is a symbolic erasure. It is a painful reminder that suffering is not always seen in some communities in Plateau. The state does not always mourn their dead. Their pain is not always acknowledged. In the cold theatre of political memory, Kanam seems to occupy the balcony—watching, grieving, unheard.

But why? Why must Kanam and others like it constantly beg to be seen?

Maybe the intention of the governor’s speech wasn’t to compile a historical record of tragedies. Perhaps it was just a passing mention meant to stir the ghosts and frame the urgency. But even a passing mention must carry the weight of justice. When invoking past massacres, we must strive for balance, breadth, and truth. We cannot cherry-pick grief.

This is not mere sentimentality—it’s about shaping policy from a place of inclusion. When the memory of a people is consistently erased or ignored, how can they believe in the solutions presented to them?

Interestingly, embedded in the governor’s speech was a subtle but telling reference to the nature of the attacks. The subsequent ban on open grazing and cattle movement at night across the state implies that the perpetrators may be connected to patterns of pastoral violence. Whether these connections are definitive or speculative is for the intelligence community to clarify. Yet, in that policy, one senses that the governor has a working theory of the violence–it is, therefore, expected that this act of violence will be brought to a definite end very soon.

Still, even the most astute policies will fall flat if people feel excluded from the conversation—if they feel like third-class citizens in their own land.

A state cannot heal when its government speaks selectively, and a people cannot move forward when some of their dead are left behind in the narrative. To move forward, we must gather all the names, all the villages, all the cries, and lay them bare—without hierarchy or hesitation.

Governor Mutfwang must do better. Plateau deserves better. Kanam demands no pity—only remembrance, and justice.

Let this not be another footnote in the long, bitter history of the Middle Belt. Let this be a turning point—where silence gives way to truth, and truth gives rise to healing.

Musa Kalim Gambo writes from Barkinladi, Plateau State.

By Maimuna Katuka Aliyu

Pollution poses one of the greatest threats to human existence, yet it remains highly underestimated. All over the world, air, water, and land are being contaminated by industrial waste, plastic, toxic emissions, and deforestation. 

The impact is devastating—rising diseases, extreme climate shifts, and dwindling biodiversity. Yet, many people treat it as a distant problem, failing to see that the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the soil that grows our food are already contaminated.

With rapid industrialisation, urban expansion, and population growth, pollution has reached critical levels, threatening ecosystems and human survival. The consequences are already here—millions of lives are lost to pollution-related diseases annually, while climate change escalates natural disasters. 

Without urgent action, the world may be heading toward irreversible environmental collapse.

The Invisible Killer in the Air

Air pollution remains one of the deadliest forms of contamination, responsible for nearly 7 million preventable deaths yearly. Toxic substances such as carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen oxides fill the atmosphere due to vehicle emissions, industrial activities, and deforestation. 

Respiratory illnesses, cardiovascular diseases, and lung cancer are rising sharply, even in developing nations where pollution regulations are weak.

A recent World Health Organisation (WHO) campaign has garnered support from nearly 50 million individuals, highlighting the growing global concern over pollution’s impact on health. 

Advocates call for cleaner energy, stricter environmental policies, and large-scale sustainable infrastructure. Without such efforts, air pollution will continue to rob millions of their health and shorten lifespans worldwide.

Poisoned Waters and a Dying Ecosystem

Water pollution is another crisis unfolding before our eyes. Industrial waste, plastic pollution, and chemical runoffs have turned once-thriving rivers and oceans into toxic dumps. 

Marine life is being suffocated by plastic debris, while communities reliant on rivers and lakes for drinking water are facing increasing cases of waterborne diseases. The situation is especially severe in developing countries, where clean water is still viewed as a luxury rather than a basic right.

Land pollution is also eroding our ability to produce safe food. Improper waste disposal, deforestation, and unregulated pesticide use are depleting the soil, making it more difficult to grow crops. This issue coincides with the rise of global hunger, further exacerbating the suffering of millions.

Nigeria’s Battle Against Pollution and Disease

While the world grapples with pollution, Nigeria confronts a dual crisis—environmental contamination and disease outbreaks. The country is currently facing an alarming rise in Lassa fever cases, with the Nigeria Centre for Disease Control and Prevention (NCDC) implementing emergency measures to contain its spread. 

This outbreak, linked to poor sanitation and rodent infestation, is a stark reminder of how environmental degradation fuels public health disasters.

The parallel concerns of pollution and infectious diseases demand urgent intervention. Nearly 50 million individuals worldwide have signed petitions demanding stronger policies to combat pollution, but actions on the ground remain insufficient. 

If nations like Nigeria fail to address these twin threats, millions more could be at risk.

The Fight to Save Our Planet

The crisis may seem overwhelming, but solutions exist. Governments must enforce stricter environmental laws, encourage the adoption of clean energy, and invest in waste management systems. Individuals also have a role to play—reducing plastic use, supporting eco-friendly products, and advocating for policy changes.

Nigeria, in particular, must strengthen its disease surveillance systems and healthcare access, especially in rural areas where pollution-related illnesses are rampant. Public health campaigns must be intensified, educating citizens about preventive measures against pollution-induced diseases and outbreaks like Lassa fever.

There is no more time for complacency. The battle for a cleaner planet is also a fight for human survival. Every moment wasted brings us closer to a world where clean air, safe water, and healthy food become privileges rather than rights. The time to act is now.

Maimuna Katuka Aliyu is a correspondent of PR Nigeria in Abuja.

By Musa Idris Panshekara 

Everyone who cares about the future of our society must be terribly worried about some social media users’ behaviours in the name of trendsetting. One of the most trending topics these days is a video clip of a young boy pouring ashes and filthy charcoal over his head.

The youngster vividly states his motive and goal without considering the negative impact of the dust on his health. Earlier this week, another woman appeared, adopting the same style as the young boy. Who copies the other’s style is unbeknownst to me; however, they share the same approach.

Moreover, another young man comes out of the blue – licking a goat’s vagina and uttering his goal of doing the animalistic behaviour. He briskly and shamelessly urged his followers to share it for him to trend. Unfortunately, many people have been sharing and reacting to the post, forgetting that they are indirectly helping to popularise the malicious and extra-moral behaviour contained in the clip.

Nevertheless, setting a goal and working to achieve it is never a sin; rather, the nature of the goal is what matters. Nowadays, youth are desperately seeking popularity blindly, regardless of the means they employ.

Whoever lived in the two or three decades back will undoubtedly know how discipline and moral training are diminishing in our society. By reflecting on the current situation of our youth and the trajectory of their future, if deep thought is given to the scenario, there will be a great challenge in the near future. Our youth lose direction, and they are the so-called leaders of tomorrow. No concrete foundation has been made, yet they are eager for overnight success and popularity.

However, almost no one is safe – as long as there is a smartphone in your house, the moral discipline of your family is at stake of demoralisation. Most children have more interest in comical videos, and many comedians are now pornographising their videos to gain more viewers and followers, which is becoming normal. Thus, everyone can be victimised unknowingly and unintentionally.

How can these bad attitudes be stopped from spreading? Who is responsible for doing so? These two questions can occupy the minds of every good individual who seeks the betterment of society. Thus, if these two important questions were asked, people might have different opinions. But, to me, it is a collective responsibility, while providing individual responsibility remains constant.

We use our phones for personal reasons and have complete control over whom we follow and unfollow on social media. We have the power to decide which posts to like or share. No one besides ourselves has total control over these actions. Therefore, I urge everyone to take immediate action on this issue to shape, clarify, and prepare the future for our born and unborn children.

May Allah guide us to the straight path.

Musa Idris, HND. (Laboratory science technology microbiology), CERT. (Animal production technology), CERT.(Cybersecurity and Digital Forensics investigation), wrote from Panshekara, Kumbotso LGA, Kano.