Opinion

By Godwin Philip Malgwi

Nigeria stands at a critical crossroads, facing the looming threat of a severe food crisis that could destabilize its economy, security, and social fabric. Without prompt, coordinated, and strategic intervention, the nation risks sliding into widespread food shortages, skyrocketing prices, and an unhealthy reliance on imports.

A major driver of this crisis is the growing trend of farmers abandoning the cultivation of vital cereal crops such as maize, rice, millet, and sorghum. The causes are clear: the costs of essential agricultural inputs—fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, and improved seed varieties—have soared beyond what most smallholder farmers can afford. Combined with rising inflation and limited access to agricultural credit, many have been forced to scale back or quit farming entirely.

The situation is further compounded by the declining market value of locally grown cereals. For many farmers, production costs now exceed potential profits, largely due to the unchecked importation of cheaper food products that saturate local markets and undermine domestic production. This double blow—high input costs and weak returns—is eroding farmers’ morale and threatening the foundation of Nigeria’s food system.

To its credit, the Tinubu administration has made progress in improving security, reopening key markets in northern Nigeria, and restoring access to farmlands previously abandoned due to insurgency. However, these gains must be consolidated through urgent, decisive measures that revitalize the agricultural sector and restore farmers’ confidence.

A critical first step should be the subsidization of essential farm inputs to reduce the financial strain on farmers and encourage continuous cultivation. In addition, the government should introduce a national grain-purchasing program to buy surplus cereals from farmers holding unsold stocks from previous harvests. This initiative would help stabilize market prices, stimulate rural economies, and demonstrate tangible support for local producers.

Equally vital is the revitalization of agricultural extension services. Many farmers still lack access to modern farming techniques, climate-smart practices, and efficient post-harvest handling methods. Strengthening these services would enhance productivity and reduce losses across the agricultural value chain.

Furthermore, key government programs like the **Presidential Fertilizer Initiative** and the **Anchor Borrowers’ Programme** must be not only revived but restructured. Transparency, accountability, and inclusivity should be the guiding principles—ensuring that these interventions truly benefit smallholder farmers, particularly women and youth, who are the backbone of Nigeria’s food production.

Ignoring these warning signs would be both an economic and security blunder. A food-insecure Nigeria is a vulnerable Nigeria. History has shown that hunger and poverty often fuel unrest, migration, and instability—consequences that are far costlier than proactive investment in food security.

As Nigeria’s population continues to grow, so too will the demand for food. Ensuring agricultural resilience and self-sufficiency must therefore remain at the heart of the nation’s development strategy. Strengthening food security is not just an economic imperative—it is essential for Nigeria’s stability, prosperity, and survival.

Godwin Philip Malgwi, Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri.

By Godwill Nandul Ponman

Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy, continues to grapple with daunting security challenges that directly undermine its development prospects. From terrorism and banditry to kidnappings and communal clashes, insecurity has created ripple effects across the economy, stifling growth, discouraging investment, and deepening poverty. For the nation to achieve sustainable economic progress, addressing these threats must remain a top priority.

The impact of insecurity on Nigeria’s economy is far-reaching. It has resulted in devastating loss of lives and property. Communities are destroyed, families are displaced, and businesses are forced to close, translating into enormous human and economic costs. In addition, insecurity disrupts day-to-day economic activities. Agriculture—the backbone of Nigeria’s economy—is particularly vulnerable, with farmers often unable to access their lands due to attacks. Similarly, trade and commerce suffer frequent interruptions, weakening productivity and slowing down growth.

Another key consequence of insecurity is its impact on investment. Both domestic and foreign investors naturally seek stable environments to channel their resources, but persistent unrest creates a climate of uncertainty that discourages capital inflows and limits development opportunities. Furthermore, the government spends heavily on security operations, stretching limited resources. Funds that should be invested in education, healthcare, and infrastructure are instead redirected to military and security interventions, slowing down development in critical sectors.

Resolving these security issues is essential for creating an enabling environment for economic transformation. One critical step is addressing poverty and unemployment, which fuel crime and unrest. Expanding economic empowerment programmes, creating jobs, and investing in skills development will help reduce the desperation that drives young people toward violent groups. When citizens are economically engaged, the lure of joining criminal gangs or insurgent movements diminishes significantly.

Another equally important measure is strengthening security governance. This requires reforming security institutions, improving intelligence gathering and coordination, and equipping personnel with the training and resources needed to act effectively. Better governance and accountability within security agencies will translate to quicker, more decisive responses to threats and a stronger overall security architecture.

Community engagement must also be considered a crucial pillar of any security strategy. Building trust between local communities and security agencies through grassroots partnerships, dialogue, and community policing fosters cooperation. When citizens feel included and protected, they are more likely to share vital information, collaborate in maintaining peace, and support government initiatives aimed at securing their environment.

Regional and international cooperation is equally vital. Many of the security threats confronting Nigeria, including terrorism, arms trafficking, and organized crime, are transnational in nature. Close collaboration with neighbouring countries and global partners strengthens border protection and helps to disrupt cross-border criminal networks. Without such partnerships, national efforts remain limited in their impact.

The economic benefits of resolving insecurity are enormous. A safer Nigeria will naturally attract both foreign and domestic investment, enabling new industries to emerge and existing businesses to expand. Enhanced security also creates an environment where commerce can thrive, agriculture can flourish, and productivity can rise. In addition, reducing the need for excessive security spending allows government resources to be redirected toward development priorities such as infrastructure, education, and healthcare.

Stability therefore not only promotes peace but also creates fiscal space for long-term growth. It provides the foundation for sustained economic reforms and fosters an environment where human capital can be developed and innovation encouraged. Countries that have achieved economic stability after addressing security challenges prove the connection between peace and prosperity.

Rwanda stands out as an example where post-conflict security reforms and community-based initiatives created a safer environment that contributed to impressive economic growth. Similarly, Ghana’s relative stability has helped it attract foreign investment and achieve steady development over the years. These cases highlight the fact that security is not merely a national concern but a prerequisite for broader economic progress.

Nigeria can achieve the same results. With the right policies, genuine political will, and committed partnerships, the country can overcome its insecurity challenges and lay the foundation for a more stable and prosperous future. The journey will not be easy, but the benefits far outweigh the costs of continued insecurity.

Moving forward, it is essential that Nigeria develops a comprehensive national security strategy that directly tackles the root causes of insecurity while simultaneously strengthening security institutions. This must include a renewed focus on intelligence gathering, better coordination among agencies, and increased investment in training and equipment for security personnel. At the same time, greater engagement with communities will ensure that local populations remain active participants in the quest for peace.

Collaboration with neighbouring states and international partners must also remain a priority. Nigeria cannot operate in isolation in the fight against terrorism and cross-border crime. Shared intelligence, joint operations, and stronger diplomatic ties will strengthen the overall security framework and boost the chances of success.

Conclusively, peace and stability are not just security goals but economic imperatives. Nigeria’s path to prosperity depends on its ability to secure its people, protect its resources, and build an environment where development can truly thrive. Without addressing insecurity, all other economic reforms will remain fragile and unsustainable. Security must therefore be seen as the cornerstone upon which the nation’s long-term growth and stability are built.


Godwill Nandul Ponman, Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri.

By Ugochukwu Ugwuanyi

Kanye West, better known as Ye, is an American songwriter and rapper with 24 Grammy Awards under his belt. Some comments he made several months ago have resurfaced on social media when his daughter disclosed her ambition to be a pastor. The convenient coincidence seemed more like a ploy by dark forces to dampen the impact of the piercing message delivered by Northwest, the child of Kanye and Kim Kardashian. 

Joined by her mother in an interview with Entreview Magazine last week, North said it is her passion to learn more about God and sharing the Gospel to help others. The teenager expressed her resolve to “tell people about God, and how problems get solved if they follow His word and His ways”. Indeed, North’s words are didactic enough to strengthen the backsliding believer. It even goes to the heart of her dad’s exasperation when he said the following: “I am a Christian, but I have my issues with Jesus. There’s a lot of stuff I went through, and I prayed but I didn’t see Jesus show up… We’re so into the belief that prayer is all we need to solve our problems. But we ain’t praying our way out of prison. These prayers ain’t working. We have to apply actual physical work.” 

If that were the way to go, Luke 18:1 wouldn’t have demanded that “Men ought always to pray and not faint.” With North asserting that people’s problems get solved when they follow God’s word and His ways, isn’t it wondrous how God has used the daughter to correct her father? From God’s Word, you will know His ways, the application of which is the solution to our problems. Let’s hope that Ye has repented of his issues with Jesus. If only he had sought to know God better, as his daughter recommended, he would have realised that nothing is as effective as prayer. That’s what the Word of God says. Let God be true and every man a liar. 

Now, many a Christian must have at one point, or another found themselves in Kanye’s quandary, thinking that this faith thing isn’t working. They must have cried their hearts out to God for intervention without answers, as if it isn’t the same God about whom Matthew 7:11 testified: “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!” 

Whenever there is no proof of prayer, the supplicant should, before giving up on God, check how they went about praying. With Jesus declaring in Matthew 6:7 that “when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do,” how then do you expect God to answer prayers made as animists would to their god? If He does, won’t those gods take the glory? 

The concluding part of the scripture pointedly says, “For they think that they will be heard for their many words.” To be clear, repetition of a prayer request isn’t what is being condemned here. After all, Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prayed three times, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26:39). The unacceptable “vain repetitions” in reference is rendered in other translations as “babble,” “empty phrases,” “ramble”. The Contemporary English Version defines it as: “talk on and on as people do who don’t know God.” In other words, the phrase means saying many things of nothing! 

The point must be made that too much talking isn’t necessary for effective praying. Christians only betray ignorance of their identity in Christ and shallow confidence in God when they babble at the prayer altar. When they pray as if they need to convince God, it’s because they don’t see Him as their Father. This makes them beat about the bush (pardon the cliche) when they should go straight to the point. Duration doesn’t determine the potency of prayers because much of that time is usually spent blabbing.

Why use too many words to convey your plight to the God who Matthew 6:8 says already knows what’s in our hearts before we ask Him?  We shouldn’t be praying to inform God since He is more informed about our predicament and needs than we will ever know. We can barely present our causes to Him because our language of expression is deficient, hence our need for the Holy Spirit to intercede on our behalf (Romans 8:26). 

The saints’ approach to prayers must show their conviction that they are asking of the Lord with the capacity to meet all their needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19). We don’t have to pray to convince God because He is liberal and gives liberally. James 1:5 says, “God gives generously to all without finding fault.” He is therefore kind enough to give without us asking, as has been the case with our basic needs. 

Here is something else that seems rather simplistic yet is a proven route to receiving answers to prayers: the lifting up of holy hands while praying. The same way that the stretching of arms skyward exercises the body, especially while standing, that is how it exercises your faith when done in the place of prayer, praise and worship of the Lord. Lifting holy hands isn’t merely a gesture but a spiritual signal of triumph. Since faith requires a corresponding action to deliver, outstretched arms can be the catalyst for victory.

This calls to mind what happened during Israel’s battle with Amalek as documented in Exodus 17. Israel prevailed as long as Moses’s hands were lifted, but when his hands grew weary and came down; their opponents dominated the war front. The hands of Moses were so instrumental that Aaron and Hur cleverly devised a means for Moses’s hands to be perpetually lifted. That way, the Israelites carried the day. What a winning strategy the stretching of hands towards Heaven is! 

It is the Eagle that stretches its wings that gets to soar above stormy clouds. There is a sense in Apostle Paul recommending the lifting of hands while praying (1 Timothy 2:8). The psalmist even likened the posture to evening sacrifice, which is very pleasing to the Lord (Psalm 141:2). So, before concluding like Ye that prayers don’t work, also try lifting holy hands every so often and behold the turnaround that follows! Suffice to add that this throwing up of hands also symbolises total surrender unto the Lord Almighty as admittance that one has hit their wits’ end. It is at such a point of desperation and humility that God usually steps in to save the day.

VIS Ugochukwu is a Sage, Narrative Architect and Branding Strategist who responds to feedback via X @sylvesugwuanyi.

By Haroon Aremu,

In a vox pop, when they asked a simple question on the streets of Europe and America: “Which country is the poorest in the world?” The answers came quickly, confidently, and shockingly wrong.

“Africa.” “Africa is the poorest.” “Africa.” Not one voice hesitated. Not one voice paused to rethink. And therein lies the tragedy not of Africa, but of global ignorance because Africa is not a country. Africa is a continent. And more dangerously, Africa is not poor.

The birth of lies of how Africa became a Global stereotype. For decades, Africa has been reduced to a single, distorted image: poverty, hunger, conflict, corruption, and helplessness.

In global media narratives, Africa is often portrayed as a land of endless crises children with distended bellies, dusty villages, and hopeless economies. These images have travelled faster than facts, shaping how the world perceives the continent.

But stereotypes are not truths. They are shortcuts of ignorance. The reality is far more complex and far more powerful. Nigeria, Africa’s most populous nation and largest economy, is often caricatured as a land of scams, insecurity, and chaos.

Yet Nigeria is also one of Africa’s biggest economy by GDP, global hub of music, film, and tech innovation, home to billion-dollar startups and Africa’s largest film industry (Nollywood), and one of the world’s leading producers of oil and gas. Nigeria’s problem is not poverty of resources it is poverty of governance.

Ghana is frequently portrayed as a quiet, underdeveloped state. But Ghana is one of Africa’s most stable democracies, a major producer of gold and cocoa, a growing tech and fintech hub, and a country with rising middle-class influence and strong diaspora impact. Ghana is not poor. It is strategically under-recognised.

South Africa is often stereotyped as a crime-ridden society haunted by racial inequality. But in reality South Africa is also Africa’s most industrialised economy. It is a home to advanced infrastructure and global corporations and also one of the world’s largest producers of platinum, gold, and diamonds. Its challenge is inequality, not lack of wealth.

Kenya is a “Tech Savannah Ignored”. Kenya is often reduced to safaris and wildlife documentaries. But Kenya is East Africa’s innovation capital, home to M-Pesa, one of the world’s most revolutionary digital payment systems. Kenya is a regional hub for startups, logistics, and global investment. Kenya is not backward. It is digitally ahead of many Western economies.

Countries like Sierra Leone and Benin Republic are often dismissed as “poor African states.” But Sierra Leone has rich mineral resources, including diamonds and iron ore. It is a growing post-war economy and youthful innovation sector.

Benin Republic has strategic trade routes and ports with a vibrant informal economy and cultural influence across West Africa. Their struggles are historical and structural—not natural. 

Here is the irony the world refuses to confront, Africa holds an enormous share of the world’s natural wealth. The continent possesses about 30% of the world’s mineral resources, including gold, diamonds, cobalt, platinum, and uranium. Africa is home to vast reserves of oil, gas, rare earth minerals, and agricultural land that the world depends on. 

One of the most persistent and misleading stereotypes about African countries is the belief that Africans are largely uneducated, technologically backward, and incapable of innovation without foreign intervention. This narrative suggests that modern ideas, digital skills, and scientific breakthroughs are imported into Africa rather than created within it.

Yet this claim collapses under reality: African youths are building global tech startups, engineers are designing fintech systems used by millions, filmmakers are reshaping global entertainment, and researchers are contributing to science and medicine across continents. 

The problem has never been a lack of intelligence or creativity; it has been the lack of global recognition and supportive systems to amplify Africa’s homegrown brilliance. 

If wealth were measured by resources alone, Africa would not be poor. It would be unbeatable. So why does the world think Africa is poor? Because poverty is not just economic, it is political.

Africa is not poor in resources. Africa is poor in systems, leadership accountability, and equitable distribution of wealth. And that is not the fault of ordinary Africans.

The truth is painful, Africa is rich, but Africans are made poor by mismanagement. Africa is powerful, but its power is fragmented by borders and politics. Africa is wealthy, but its wealth is exported cheaply and imported expensively.

The vox pop passers-by responded to is a classic case of when ignorance meets reality. When people on Western streets say, “Africa is the poorest country,” they are not entirely guilty. They are victims of narratives created by western media framing, historical colonial distortions, and Africa’s own failure to tell its story convincingly.

The real question is not why foreigners think Africa is poor. The real question is why has Africa allowed the world to believe a lie? Imagine if Africa were one country. What if Africa was not divided into 54 countries? What if Africa spoke with one voice, traded with one currency, and defended its interests collectively?

Even in its current fragmented state, Africa remains the world’s most resource-rich continent. If united, it would not beg. It would dictate.

Africa is not poor, Africa is plundered. Africa is not the poorest place on earth. Africa is the most misunderstood. Africa is not lacking in wealth. Africa is lacking in systems that protect its wealth. Africa is not a burden to the world. Africa is the world’s hidden backbone.  

Until African governments rise to prove this reality, not with speeches, but with structures, the lie will continue to travel faster than the truth.

But history has a way of correcting lies. And when Africa finally tells its story in its own voice, the world will discover a shocking truth: The poorest continent was never Africa. The poorest thing about Africa was how the world chose to see it.

Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a Nigerian writer and wrote in via exponentumera@gmail.com.

By Daniel Nduka Okonkwo

Reports of killings, beatings, intimidation, harassment, and violent attacks on migrant communities, including incidents affecting children, allegations of denied hospital access to pregnant women, and the targeting of foreign-owned businesses, raise serious concerns about South Africa’s ability to uphold basic human rights. Despite a population surpassing 63 million in 2024, with a youthful demographic and steady growth, the state faces ongoing challenges in protecting the estimated 2.4 to 3.9 million foreign-born residents, who make up about 5.1% of its population.

Migrants, largely from Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Lesotho, Malawi, Nigeria, Ghana, and other African nations, are widely reported to contribute significantly to the economy, often bringing skills, entrepreneurship, and labour. Yet xenophobic violence and social exclusion continue to persist in some areas. Critics argue that government responses have been insufficient or inconsistent, raising concerns about gaps in protection and accountability.

South Africa’s leaders frequently emphasise democracy, freedom, and equality. However, for many migrants, lived experiences are described as marked by fear and uncertainty. Nigerians are sometimes portrayed negatively in public discourse despite their economic contributions. Zimbabweans who fled economic hardship often face precarious working conditions, while Malawians, Mozambicans, and Basotho migrants also report experiences of discrimination. Observers say that inconsistent responses to xenophobic incidents risk creating the perception of official indifference.

Migrants are not a homogeneous group, and many contribute meaningfully to South Africa’s economy. Some studies indicate that immigrant-headed households may, on average, earn higher incomes or have higher levels of post-school qualifications. They also fill labour gaps and support small and medium enterprises. However, public narratives in some quarters continue to frame migrants as competitors for scarce resources, contributing to social tension instead of focusing on broader structural challenges such as unemployment, inequality, and governance issues.

Responses to xenophobia have sometimes fallen short of addressing root causes. Allowing the destruction of businesses or failing to respond swiftly to violence, they argue, reflects weaknesses in enforcement capacity. Others point to the need for stronger governance, improved economic policies, and clearer communication to counter misinformation and division.

South Africa can reinforce its role as a continental leader by strengthening protections for all residents within its borders, or it risks continued reputational and social challenges if violence and exclusion persist. The effectiveness of its response will likely shape both domestic stability and international perception.

Addressing recurring xenophobic incidents remains a significant responsibility for the government. While frameworks such as the National Action Plan against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance exist, implementation has been described as uneven. Law enforcement responses are sometimes criticised as delayed or insufficient, leaving victims vulnerable and raising concerns about accountability. These issues point to broader institutional challenges in treating xenophobia as a sustained national concern.

Systemic factors also contribute to tensions. Reports of discriminatory policing, the presence of vigilante groups, and political rhetoric linking migrants to unemployment and crime have influenced public attitudes. Groups such as Operation Dudula operate within this environment, while enforcement actions targeting undocumented migrants are sometimes perceived as contributing to broader hostility toward foreign nationals.

Xenophobic violence in South Africa has developed into a recurring and complex issue. Foreign nationals, particularly African migrants, continue to face risks of violence, intimidation, and exclusion. Commonly link these developments to socio-economic pressures combined with institutional limitations.

High unemployment, poverty, and competition for limited resources have created conditions of tension. Many citizens view foreign nationals, especially undocumented migrants, as competitors for jobs, housing, and services. Concerns about border control and immigration enforcement further shape these perceptions. In some cases, these frustrations manifest in vigilante actions by community groups.

Authorities have not fully addressed these underlying tensions, allowing xenophobia to persist. Over time, foreign nationals have often been scapegoated for broader socio-economic challenges such as crime and inadequate service delivery, contributing to exclusionary attitudes and, in some instances, violence.

President Cyril Ramaphosa has publicly condemned xenophobic attacks and called for adherence to the principle of ubuntu, emphasising shared humanity and mutual respect. He has also highlighted the need to distinguish between undocumented migrants and lawful residents who contribute to society. Despite these statements, concerns remain that migration management and law enforcement responses could be strengthened.

Government responses continue to face scrutiny for inconsistency. While policies exist, implementation gaps remain a concern. Law enforcement agencies are sometimes criticised for delayed responses, while limited prosecutions may contribute to perceptions of impunity.

Concerns about systemic challenges persist. Reports of harassment by some authorities have contributed to mistrust among migrant communities. Vigilante groups have, in certain instances, operated with limited intervention. Movements such as Operation Dudula and Put South Africa First have gained attention for campaigns that emphasise citizenship verification in access to jobs and services, raising debates about exclusion and legality.

Political rhetoric has also shaped public perception. Statements linking migration to unemployment and crime have reinforced negative stereotypes in some quarters. While enforcement against undocumented migration may be lawful, broader messaging is sometimes interpreted as contributing to public hostility toward foreign nationals.

The historical pattern of xenophobic violence highlights the persistence of the issue. In 1998, three foreign nationals were killed in Johannesburg. In 2008, widespread attacks resulted in over 60 deaths, more than 1,700 injuries, and the displacement of approximately 100,000 people. Violence in 2015 required military intervention. In recent years, organised groups have continued to disrupt communities and enforce exclusionary practices.

Regional and international responses have varied. The African Union has faced criticism for what is perceived as a limited response. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights has condemned xenophobic attacks as violations of fundamental rights. Nigeria has called for improved security measures, accountability, and diplomatic engagement.

Several structural factors continue to influence xenophobia: weak law enforcement, political pressures, economic inequality, and social acceptance of vigilantism all play roles. A limited coordinated regional response may also reduce external pressure for reform.

Xenophobia in South Africa is not solely a spontaneous reaction but reflects deeper structural and institutional challenges. Addressing it will require stronger governance, consistent law enforcement, and sustained accountability. Long-term solutions will depend on coordinated national action and regional cooperation grounded in human rights, dignity, and African unity.

Daniel Nduka Okonkwo is a Nigerian investigative journalist, publisher of Profiles International Human Rights Advocate in collaboration with Daniels Entertainment, and a policy analyst and can be reached at dan.okonkwo.73@gmail.com.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

The Saturday, 25th April 2026, coordinated attacks by gunmen in Mali are frightening and call for serious reflection. Several news outlets have reported that insurgents have attacked multiple locations across the country, including the capital, Bamako, and nearby Kati, as well as Gao and Kidal in the north, and the central city of Sévaré.

Observers say these attacks are well coordinated and “unprecedented.” Reports also indicate that fighting is ongoing in several locations, including areas near the airport in Bamako, an alarming development that underscores both the scale and audacity of the assaults. The ability of insurgents to strike multiple, geographically dispersed targets almost simultaneously suggests not only careful planning, but also a growing level of sophistication and operational confidence.

These coordinated assaults, particularly in the Malian capital, should be a cause for concern for everyone in West Africa, especially in the Sahel, a region already grappling with the activities of numerous armed groups linked to extremism, separatism, and organised crime. What is unfolding in Mali is not an isolated crisis; it is part of a broader regional security challenge that continues to evolve in both intensity and complexity.

If underfunding, weak training, corruption, and poor intelligence are persistent problems within the military, then such daring and large-scale attacks become not only possible but inevitable. The situation raises critical questions about the preparedness and effectiveness of Mali’s security architecture. It also highlights the urgent need for institutional reform, better coordination among security agencies, and a renewed commitment to professionalism within the armed forces throughout the Sahel

Assimi Goïta, the current military leader and head of state of Mali, seized power in 2020 and again consolidated control in 2021, largely on the grounds of addressing severe insecurity. His rise was justified as a corrective measure to restore stability and reclaim territory from insurgents. Yet, under his watch, Mali is now witnessing some of its most brazen and coordinated attacks, even right in the heart of Bamako.

This reality presents a stark contradiction. It forces both the leadership and the public to confront difficult truths about the current trajectory of the country’s security situation. Has the strategy changed in a meaningful way? Are the structural weaknesses being addressed, or merely managed? And perhaps most importantly, is the state regaining control, or gradually ceding more ground?

Beyond Mali, these developments carry serious implications for neighbouring countries across the Sahel and West Africa. Borders in the region are porous, and armed groups have repeatedly demonstrated their ability to exploit weak state presence to expand their reach. What happens in Mali rarely stays confined within its borders.

This moment, therefore, should serve as a wake-up call, not only for Mali’s leadership but for the entire region. It demands stronger regional cooperation, intelligence sharing, and a unified approach to tackling insecurity. Without this, the cycle of violence risks deepening, with consequences that could destabilise an already fragile region.

The attacks in Mali are not just headlines; they are warnings. And ignoring them would come at a high cost.

Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja via zaymohd@yahoo.com.

By Grey Akans 

In the lush, undulating hills and valleys of Southern Kaduna, a quiet crisis is unfolding. It is not the kind that makes headlines with sudden violence, but one that works its way silently through generations, eroding the very bedrock of our identity. Our languages, the ancient vessels of our wisdom, history, and worldview, are gradually going extinct.

Each of the dozens of languages spoken here—Gbagyi, Bajju, Atyap, Kataf, Jaba, Fantswam, and many more—is a unique universe. They are not mere collections of words but intricate systems of knowledge. Our languages carry the names of medicinal plants known only to our ancestors, the proverbs that distilled centuries of wisdom, and the folktales told under the moonlight that taught us morality and courage. They hold the specific terms for the textures of soil, the phases of the moon for farming, and the subtle behaviours of animals. When a language dies, it is not just words that are lost; it is an entire library of human experience and ecological understanding that burns down, leaving no ashes behind.

The forces behind this silent extinction are complex and powerful. The dominance of Hausa as the lingua franca of commerce, administration, and social interaction in Northern Nigeria is a primary factor. For our children to thrive in markets and schools outside our communities, fluency in Hausa becomes a necessity, often at the expense of their mother tongue. Adding to this is the overwhelming influence of English, the official language of education and modernity. From nursery school to university, success is measured in one’s command of English. Our native tongues are increasingly confined to the homesteads, and even there, their territory is shrinking.

Perhaps the most painful agent of this loss is our own shift in attitude. A dangerous narrative has taken root, subtly branding our languages as “local” or “vernacular”—synonyms for backwardness in the minds of many. Parents, with the best intentions for their children’s future, now speak to them only in Hausa or English, believing they are giving them a head start in life. Unwittingly, they are severing the deepest root connecting their children to their heritage. The younger generation, fluent in the languages of the wider world, now stumbles over the proverbs of their grandparents. The rich, melodic tones of our ancestors are becoming unfamiliar, replaced by the utilitarian cadence of global tongues.

The consequences are profound. When a people lose their language, they experience a form of cultural amnesia. The unique songs sung during harvest, the playful riddles that sharpened our wits—all these fade into silence. We risk becoming a people without a past, adrift in a homogenised global culture, our distinct identity diluted into a vague, generic label.

But the whisper is not yet silent. There is still time to act. The fight for linguistic survival must begin at home. We must consciously choose to speak our languages to our children, making them the language of love, play, and storytelling. Our community leaders and cultural associations must take the lead by documenting these languages, producing written literature, and organising festivals that celebrate them. We can lobby for the inclusion of our native tongues in the early school curriculum, not to replace English or Hausa, but to stand proudly beside them.

Our languages are more than just a means of communication; they are the soul of Southern Kaduna. They are the breath of our ancestors and the birthright of our children. To let them die is to surrender a part of ourselves we can never recover. We must listen to the fading whisper and raise our voices to sing our songs, tell our stories, and speak our names once more, loudly and proudly, before they are lost to the wind forever.

Grey Akans can be contacted via his Facebook account: Grey Akans.

It is no longer surprising, though still highly debatable, that any political outing by Dr Bala Maijama’a Wunti unsettles opponents and triggers a wave of commentary. Such reactions often generate more noise than substance, with some analysts offering arguments that appear less objective and more dismissive. At times, this tendency reflects a reluctance to confront observable realities or to revisit history in ways that enable a more informed understanding of current developments.

Wunti’s second major appearance since declaring his interest in the gubernatorial race has sparked fresh debate. Central to the discussion is his comparison of Qatar and Bauchi State, which he supports with logical reasoning and verifiable data. For me, this was not the first time I had heard him draw such parallels. I recall a previous engagement where he elaborated extensively on this comparison and shared some insights.

One striking point he raised is the contrast in population. As of January 2026, Qatar has an estimated population of about 3.3 million, while Bauchi State is home to over 8 million people, more than double Qatar’s population. Yet, despite its smaller population, Qatar boasts one of the highest GDPs per capita in the world, supporting a high standard of living, robust infrastructure, and extensive social services. In contrast, Bauchi and Nigeria more broadly continue to grapple with unemployment, inadequate electricity supply, limited access to clean water, and a struggling economy.

Land size presents another compelling contrast. Bauchi State spans approximately 45,837 square kilometres, making it more than four times larger than Qatar, which covers roughly 11,600 square kilometres. Despite its smaller size and limited arable land, Qatar has built a thriving economy. Bauchi, on the other hand, is richly endowed with vast agricultural land, offering significant potential to diversify and expand its economic base.

In terms of natural resources, Qatar produces approximately 2 million barrels of oil per day, forming the backbone of its economic strength. Bauchi State also holds promise in this regard, particularly with the Kolmani oil reserves, though these remain largely undeveloped. The contrast, therefore, is not one of absence but of utilisation. While Qatar has effectively harnessed its resources, Bauchi’s remain underexploited.

Dr Bala Wunti’s experience in the oil and gas sector adds weight to his argument. His perspective invites a reconsideration of what is possible, urging stakeholders to reflect more deeply on the state’s untapped potential.

With strategic planning and a commitment to good governance, transformative progress is achievable. Qatar’s success story is, at its core, a product of deliberate policy choices, effective leadership, and sustained investment. Bauchi State, with its abundant human and natural resources, possesses the foundational elements required for similar advancement.

Mallam Musbahu Magayaki writes from Sabon Fegi, Azare.

By Daniel Nduka Okonkwo

Nigeria’s debt clock has surged to ₦159.28 trillion, a figure that translates to roughly ₦724,000 per citizen when spread across a population of more than 220 million. This arithmetic alone underscores the scale of the nation’s obligations. While official voices emphasise that the debt-to-GDP ratio remains within accepted thresholds, the underlying reality is sobering: the country’s current account is being financed through persistent domestic borrowing and mounting external debt. Each statistic is a reminder that today’s fiscal gaps are tomorrow’s responsibilities, with the burden of development increasingly shifted onto generations yet unborn.

Is there a way out for Nigerians? The path forward demands more than borrowed billions. It requires a fundamental reassessment of how resources are managed, how revenue is diversified, and how structural weaknesses are addressed. While the figures may suggest sustainability on paper, the lived reality reflects rising costs, shrinking opportunities, and a future increasingly tied to creditor obligations. Breaking this cycle will require bold reforms, transparent governance, and a commitment to building an economy driven by productivity rather than dependence on borrowing.

When distributed across the population, the debt translates to roughly ₦700,000 to ₦725,000 per citizen. This figure is only a statistical illustration and not a legal obligation on individuals. Public debt remains a sovereign responsibility shared by the Federal Government, state governments, and the Federal Capital Territory, and it is serviced through public revenue rather than direct payments by citizens.

As of late 2025, Nigeria’s total public debt stood at approximately ₦159.28 trillion, equivalent to about $103 billion to $111 billion depending on the exchange rate applied. This represents an increase from about ₦144.7 trillion in 2024, reflecting continued reliance on borrowing to finance fiscal deficits.

Nigeria’s debt stock consists of both domestic and external borrowing. Domestic debt is estimated at ₦84-₦85 trillion, while external debt stands at ₦74 trillion. Persistent budget deficits have driven the growth in total debt, increased domestic borrowing through treasury bills and government bonds, and led to exchange rate depreciation, raising the value of the naira against external obligations. By mid-2025, total debt had reached about ₦152.39 trillion before rising further to ₦159.28 trillion by year-end.

Debt servicing remains a more pressing concern than the size of the debt itself. In 2025, debt servicing costs rose to approximately ₦15.8 trillion, up from about ₦12.8 trillion in 2024. Higher interest rates on domestic debt instruments largely drove this increase. Servicing costs for domestic debt rose sharply due to increased yields on treasury bills and Federal Government bonds. At certain points in 2025, the debt service-to-revenue ratio exceeded 80 per cent, meaning that a substantial portion of government revenue was used to service existing debt.

Looking ahead, Nigeria’s 2026 fiscal outlook reflects continued pressure on public finances. The proposed budget projects total expenditure of about ₦58.5 trillion against expected revenue of approximately ₦33.2 trillion, leaving a fiscal deficit of about ₦25 trillion. This gap is expected to be financed largely through additional borrowing, which could push total public debt beyond ₦160 trillion.

Planned borrowing includes external loans estimated at $6 billion, along with an additional $516 million under consideration. However, claims suggesting approvals equivalent to ₦68 trillion appear inconsistent and are likely the result of conversion or reporting errors rather than actual borrowing approvals.

The comparison between Nigeria’s per capita debt of roughly ₦724,000 and the national minimum wage of ₦70,000 is largely symbolic but highlights deeper economic realities. It reflects low-income levels, rising cost of living, and mounting pressure on public finances. It does not imply that citizens are personally responsible for repaying the debt.

Nigeria’s debt-to-GDP ratio, estimated at 35 per cent to 37 per cent, remains below the commonly referenced 60 per cent threshold. However, experts consistently stress that revenue constraints, rather than debt size alone, represent the country’s most significant fiscal risk.

Key concerns include the high share of revenue devoted to debt servicing, limited fiscal space for critical sectors such as infrastructure, health, and education, and potential inflationary risks if deficit financing continues to expand. Exchange rate volatility also affects the dollar value of external debt, adding further complexity to fiscal management.

Nigeria’s public debt, now approaching ₦160 trillion, is not excessive relative to GDP. However, the cost of servicing that debt and the country’s limited revenue base present a growing fiscal challenge. The per capita framing helps illustrate the scale of the burden, but the central issue remains how effectively borrowed funds translate into economic growth and improved living conditions.

As borrowing continues, the sustainability of Nigeria’s fiscal path will depend less on the amount owed and more on how effectively the economy generates the revenue required to support those obligations.

Daniel Nduka Okonkwo is a Nigerian investigative journalist, publisher of Profiles International Human Rights Advocate with Daniels Entertainment, a policy analyst, and human rights activist. He writes from Nigeria and can be reached at dan.okonkwo.73@gmail.com.

By Garba Sidi

Hadejia Local Government Area is the largest of Jigawa State’s 27 local governments, with over 200,000 residents. It is a historic, peaceful, religious town known for its legendary hospitality. When Boko Haram displaced Maiduguri residents, Hadejia welcomed and sheltered hundreds, showing unity and support across all levels.

Between March 8th and 13th, 2025, five lives were lost in Hadejia. A political fight led to a young man being stabbed with scissors. A game with sticks turned deadly when a youth was injured in the head. Two friends fought, and one killed the other. A mechanic was attacked and fatally wounded with a large knife at his home. Most heartbreakingly, a newlywed bride, just five months married, was found dead with her throat slit.

These are not statistics. These are our children, our neighbours, our brothers, and our sisters. And their blood calls out for answers.

As a Sport Officer with the Jigawa State Sports Council, I have spent my career witnessing the transformative power of athletics. I have seen the discipline it instils, the hope it generates, and the community it builds. And I am convinced that while we need police, while we need laws, and while we need parental responsibility, there is one vehicle that can carry Hadejia out of this darkness: sport.

Before we can prescribe a cure, we must first diagnose the disease. The insecurity engulfing Hadejia did not emerge from a vacuum. It has grown from specific, identifiable roots.

According to December 2025 reports, Jigawa State is the third poorest in Nigeria, with 80% of children out of school. In communities with large families, parents struggle to meet basic needs, leading to despair in youth without education or job prospects, fueling crime.

Drug abuse existed before the Boko Haram refugees’ arrival, with local youths accessing substances like Wiwi, Sholisho, and Tramadol. But refugees introduced large, powerful drug dealers who settled in town, worsening the situation. Young people gained easy access to new, varied drugs, increasing abuse, especially among females and under-18s, who had been less affected before. These new dealers made drugs more accessible and affordable, even to children.

The chemicals in these illicit substances are too strong for young minds. They cause users to fight one another in their hideouts and gatherings. A minor misunderstanding that would once have ended with words now ends with knives, scissors, or sticks drawn in anger. The connection is undeniable: drugs fuel violence, and violence fuels insecurity.

The pattern of crime in Hadejia has followed a predictable and terrifying trajectory. It began with shop-breaking, which gradually became more rampant. Then some youths started blocking small roads with sticks and cutlasses, robbing passengers of their money and phones. At first, these incidents were rare.

Now, these gangs have escalated further. They attack businesspeople inside their own shops, arriving two to a motorcycle, armed with guns. The progression from petty theft to armed robbery has happened right before our eyes, and fear has filled the hearts of all Hadejia people.

Some will ask how football or athletics can solve serious problems like drugs and armed robbery. As someone experienced in sports development, I’ve seen a well-organised sports program achieve much. Troubled youths become disciplined athletes, communities unite behind local teams, and hope replaces hopelessness when young people discover their talents and worth.

Let me explain precisely how sport can serve as the vehicle to carry Hadejia back to peace.

1. Sport Occupies Idle Hands and Minds.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us that two blessings which many people take for granted are health and free time. An idle mind, unoccupied with productive pursuits, becomes a workshop for mischief. When young people have nothing to do from morning until night, when they have no place to gather except street corners, when their only entertainment comes from substances that destroy their minds, trouble becomes inevitable.

Sport provides an immediate and powerful alternative. A young person who reports for football training every evening has no time to sit around smoking weed. A teenager who is preparing for a weekend basketball tournament is focused on practice, not on planning robberies. A youth who is exhausted from athletic exertion sleeps soundly at night instead of roaming the streets looking for trouble.

I have seen this transformation with my own eyes. In communities where we have established regular sporting activities, crime rates drop. It is not complicated mathematics. It is simple: a busy youth is a peaceful youth.

2. Sport Teaches Discipline and Self-Control.

Drug abuse thrives in the absence of self-discipline. The ability to say no, to resist peer pressure, to choose long-term wellbeing over immediate gratification—these are skills that must be learned and practised.

Sport is one of the most effective teachers of discipline. Every athlete learns to follow rules, to respect coaches and officials, to control their emotions in the heat of competition, and to work hard even when no one is watching. These lessons transfer directly to life outside the field.

Consider the young men who killed their friends over minor arguments in March 2025. Would they have reacted differently if they had spent years learning emotional control through sport? If they had been taught that losing your temper leads to defeat, that self-control is strength, and that violence has no place in resolving disputes? I believe they would.

3. Sport Builds Community and Breaks Down Division.

One of the dangerous consequences of the drug trade in Hadejia has been the introduction of powerful dealers from outside. These individuals have no loyalty to our community, no investment in our peace, and no concern for our children beyond the profits they generate.

Sport creates the opposite dynamic. When you play on a team with someone, you develop bonds that transcend neighbourhood, ethnicity, or background. You learn to trust each other, to work together toward common goals, and to celebrate shared victories. These bonds strengthen the social fabric and make communities more resilient against those who would exploit division.

Imagine what would happen if we established a Hadejia Youth Football League with teams representing each quarter of the town. Young people from different backgrounds would come together regularly, not to fight but to compete by the rules and shake hands when the match ended. Suspicion would be replaced by familiarity. Hostility would be replaced by respect.

4. Sport Creates Positive Role Models and Mentors.

Every coach is a potential mentor. Every older athlete can set an example for younger ones. In a sporting environment, young people encounter adults who care about their development, who notice when they are struggling, and who can guide them away from dangerous choices.

Currently, who are the role models for many of Hadejia’s youth? In too many cases, they are the drug dealers with money and flashy lifestyles. They are the gang leaders who project power and fearlessness. Sport offers an alternative: coaches who demonstrate that hard work leads to achievement, athletes who show that discipline brings success, and community figures who prove that respect comes from contribution, not intimidation.

As a Sport Officer, I have seen coaches become fathers to boys who lack paternal guidance. I have seen athletic mentors intervene when they noticed a player showing signs of drug influence. These relationships save lives.

5. Sport Reveals Talent and Opens Pathways.

One of the most powerful weapons against hopelessness is discovering that you have value, that you are good at something, and that your life has potential. For many young people trapped in poverty and despair, sport provides this discovery.

Nigeria is filled with stories of footballers who rose from humble beginnings to achieve fame and fortune through their athletic talent. While not every young athlete will become a professional, many can earn scholarships, gain admission to higher institutions, or secure employment through sport. Even at the local level, talented players can earn income through semi-professional leagues, coaching opportunities, or equipment-related businesses.

When a young person believes their future holds possibilities, they are far less likely to risk that future on crime and drugs. Sport plants the seed of hope.

6. Sport Provides a Platform for Drug Education.

The fight against drug abuse cannot be won through arrests alone. We must also educate our youth about the dangers of these substances and equip them with the skills to resist temptation. And there is no better platform for this education than sport.

Young people trust their coaches. They listen to respected athletes. They absorb messages delivered during team meetings and training sessions. By integrating drug awareness programmes into sporting activities, we can reach the very population most at risk.

Imagine a football league where every team must complete a drug education workshop before being allowed to compete. Imagine tournaments sponsored by anti-drug campaigns, with messages printed on jerseys and banners at every match. Imagine former addicts speaking to young athletes about the destruction they witnessed. This is not fantasy. This is practical, achievable intervention.

I am not suggesting that sport alone will solve all of Hadejia’s problems. We still need effective policing, responsible parenting, economic opportunities, and strong leadership. But I am arguing that sport must be recognised as an essential component of any comprehensive strategy to restore peace.

Let me paint a picture of what Hadejia could become if we invested seriously in sport.

Picture this: Every quarter of Hadejia has a functioning football pitch where young people gather every evening for organised training. Coaches—some volunteers, some employed by the local government—provide supervision, instruction, and mentorship. Leagues operate year-round, with weekend matches drawing crowds of families and neighbours who celebrate their youth’s achievements.

Picture this: The Hadejia Township Stadium, which currently hosts only occasional events, becomes a hub of weekly activity. Basketball, volleyball, and athletics programmes complement football, ensuring that young people with different interests can find their place. Tournaments bring teams from across the local government together, fostering healthy competition and community pride.

Picture this: Every school in Hadejia has a functional sports programme. Physical education is taken seriously, not treated as an afterthought. Talented students are identified early and connected with clubs where they can develop. The 80% out-of-school rate remains a tragedy, but for those children who cannot attend school, community-based sport provides structure, supervision, and hope.

Picture this: The drug dealers who currently prey on our children find their customer base shrinking because young people are too busy, too healthy, and too hopeful to seek escape in substances. The gangs find it harder to recruit because belonging to a team provides the identity and camaraderie that gangs exploit. The armed robbers find fewer desperate youths willing to join their ranks.

This is not a dream. This is an achievable reality if we have the will to pursue it.

To the Executive Chairman of Hadejia Local Government, I say: invest in sport as seriously as you invest in security. Build pitches in every ward. Employ coaches for every quarter. Organise leagues that give young people something to look forward to each week. The budget required is small compared to the cost of insecurity.

To the Executive Governor of Jigawa State, I say: support local government initiatives with state resources. Make Hadejia a pilot project for using sport as a tool for peace. Deploy coaches and equipment from the State Sports Council. Create pathways for talented athletes to access higher-level competitions and opportunities. Show the nation that Jigawa is serious about innovative solutions to security challenges.

To the traditional rulers and community leaders of Hadejia, I say: use your influence to encourage youth participation in sport. Speak from your pulpits about the value of athletic discipline. Identify land that can be converted to playing fields. Support parents who allow their children to participate. Your blessing carries weight.

To the parents of Hadejia, I say: support your children’s involvement in sport. Attend their matches. Ask them about their training. Notice when coaches speak well of them. The same energy your child might otherwise devote to destructive activities can be channelled into athletic achievement.

To the youth of Hadejia, I say: choose the field over the street. Choose the ball over the drug. Choose the team over the gang. The path of sport is harder in some ways—it requires discipline, hard work, and patience—but it leads somewhere worthwhile. The path of drugs and crime leads only to prison or the grave.

The five lives lost between March 8th and March 13th, 2025, cannot be recovered. The newlywed bride, with her throat slit, will not return to her grieving husband. The mechanic killed in his own home will not repair another vehicle. The young men who killed their friends over arguments will carry that guilt forever.

But their deaths need not be the end of the story. They can be the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter in which Hadejia recognises the urgency of the crisis and takes bold action to address it.

I have spent my career believing in the power of sport. I have seen it transform individuals, unite communities, and create hope where none existed. I am convinced that sport can be the vehicle that carries Hadejia out of this season of insecurity and back to the peace for which this town has always been known.

The vehicle is ready. The road is before us. All we need are drivers willing to steer us toward safety.

Let us choose sport. Let us choose our children. Let us choose peace.

Garba Sidi is the Sport Officer 2, Jigawa State Sports Council, Hadejia, Jigawa State.