Opinion

By Imam Malik ABDULLAHI Kaga

Your Excellency, Sir,

Permit me to respectfully introduce myself. My name is Imam Malik Abdullahi Kaga, a young advocate for youth inclusion in governance in Borno State. I hail from Wajiro village in Kaga Local Government Area and currently reside in Jere Local Government Area.

Your Excellency, I write this letter with two sincere intentions. First, to express my profound appreciation for the remarkable transformation that Borno State has experienced under your leadership. Second, to humbly advocate for the emergence of a worthy successor who will continue, and perhaps even surpass, the legacy you have built.

History often remembers leaders not only for what they achieved while in office, but also for the institutions, systems, and leaders they helped shape for the future. In this regard, your tenure stands out as one that will be remembered for courage, sacrifice, and a relentless commitment to rebuilding a state that once stood at the centre of one of the most difficult humanitarian and security crises in our nation’s history.

Since assuming office as Governor, Borno State has steadily moved along the path of recovery, stability, and development. Across critical sectors, specifically security stabilisation, education revival, healthcare expansion, infrastructure rebuilding, and human capital development, your administration has restored confidence and renewed hope among citizens.

Across the state, the impact of your leadership is visible. The name Zulum has come to represent resilience, discipline, and purposeful governance. In the eyes of many citizens (both indigenous and non), you have demonstrated that leadership is not merely about holding office, but about service, courage, and responsibility.

Indeed, like every human endeavour, governance inevitably carries moments that fall short of expectations. Yet the weight of your accomplishments far outweighs such moments. May Allah forgive your shortcomings and reward your sincerity and dedication in the service of the people of Borno State.

Your Excellency, Sir,

As elections gradually approach, conversations about the future leadership of Borno State will naturally intensify. This moment, however, not merely presents a political transition, but an important historical responsibility. 

The foundations your administration has laid must not only be preserved but strengthened. The Borno 25-Year Development Framework provides a clear vision for transformation and development; the leadership that succeeds you will be responsible for ensuring this vision continues to move forward with the same discipline and determination.

Over the years, Your Excellency, you have mentored and entrusted many young, capable individuals with leadership responsibilities across government parastatal and ministries. Many of them have grown under your guidance and have demonstrated commitment, discipline, and service in various capacities. This is one of the enduring strengths of your administration. You have not only governed but also cultivated leadership.

Among those who have served under your watch are individuals who have observed your work ethic, your decisiveness, and your relentless focus on results. Such individuals understand the philosophy that has driven your administration. 

Your Excellency, therefore, you are uniquely positioned to recognise who among those you have mentored possesses the character, vision, courage, and administrative capacity required to sustain the momentum of your achievements.

Your Excellency, sir, across the world today, younger leaders are increasingly demonstrating the capacity to drive reform, strengthen institutions, and accelerate economic development. When youthful energy is combined with discipline, experience, and mentorship, it often yields bold, transformative leadership.

Sir, closer to home, the youthful leadership within your administration stands as clear proof that young minds can bring innovation, energy, and integrity to governance. These qualities speak directly to the four enabling foundations of the Borno 25-Year Development Framework. 

One of the most defining qualities of your leadership has been decisiveness. At critical moments, your ability to make firm and timely decisions restored confidence in governance and accelerated progress across many sectors. This quality has become a hallmark of your administration.

As Borno looks toward the future, it is important that the leadership which follows continues to embody this same strength of character, clarity of purpose, and courage in decision-making. Such leadership will ensure continuity, preserve stability, and sustain the progress already achieved.

Your Excellency, sir, many citizens across the state quietly share a hope that the next phase of Borno’s leadership will not only preserve your legacy but also elevate it even further. In most conversations across the state, one often hears a phrase that captures this aspiration in simple language, the desire for what some describe as a “Zulum Pro Max.”

By this, people mean a leader who embodies the courage, discipline, integrity, and commitment to service that have defined your tenure, while also building upon the strong foundation you have established.

Your Excellency, the decision regarding the future leadership of Borno State carries immense significance. History will remember not only the progress achieved during your tenure but also the path charted for the years that follow.

May Allah continue to guide your wisdom, strengthen your resolve, and bless Borno State with lasting peace, stability, and prosperity.

In my next letter, I intend to respectfully share my thoughts on one of your mentees, whom many Bornoans believe reflects the qualities needed to advance this vision and carry Borno State to the next level of development.

Yours sincerely,
Imam Malik Abdullahi Kaga.

By Malam Aminu Wase 

As 2027 approaches in Nigeria, a troubling sentiment is spreading among many citizens. There is no point in voting. Frustration is understandable. Economic hardship is real. Insecurity is real. Public disappointment is real. But choosing silence at the ballot box is not a solution;  it is surrender.

Democracy does not collapse in a single dramatic moment. It weakens gradually as citizens withdraw, participation declines, and people convince themselves that their voices do not matter. The most dangerous political decision is not voting for the wrong candidate; it is refusing to vote at all.

If we are dissatisfied with leadership, the answer is not apathy. It is participation. If we desire better governance, accountability, and reform, we must use the one instrument that gives power to ordinary citizens, the ballot.

Complaints on social media do not change governments. Private anger does not change governments. Boycotts by the disillusioned do not change governments. Votes change governments.

When citizens stay home on election day, they do not protest the system; they strengthen the influence of those who show up. Every empty polling unit is not a statement of resistance; it is an opportunity handed to someone else to decide the future.

The power to shape 2027 does not lie solely with politicians. It lies with citizens who choose to participate. Leadership is not imposed in a democracy; it is permitted. And permission is granted through votes.

This is not about blind loyalty to any party or personality. It is about responsibility. It is about understanding that disengagement guarantees continuity of whatever we claim to oppose. If we want reform, we must vote for it. If we want accountability, we must demand it through participation.

Nigeria’s future will not be written by observers. It will be written by participants. In 2027, the real question will not only be who wins. The real question will be, did we show up?

Silence is not a strategy. Withdrawal is not resistance. Our vote is our voice, and 2027 is the time to use it.

Malam Aminu Wase writes from Kaduna. He can be reached at aminusaniusman3@gmail.com.

By Mohammed Bello Doka 

History is a stubborn thing. It does not bend to the whims of revisionists, nor does it dissolve under the weight of repeated falsehoods. For some time now, a particular narrative has been carefully cultivated and spread across social media platforms and traditional dinner tables. This narrative suggests that during the eight years of Muhammadu Buhari’s presidency, the North maintained a conspiratorial silence, shielding itself while the country drifted. It paints an entire region as a monolith of blind loyalty. But as the saying goes, a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes. Today, the truth is fully dressed and ready to walk.

If the people making these claims are truly ignorant of the facts, this record will serve as a much-needed education. If they are speaking from a place of hypocrisy, then this record will serve as a mirror to their own intellectual dishonesty. To suggest the North was silent is to erase some of the most daring, scathing, and consequential political and intellectual battles fought against the Buhari administration from within its own base.

Let us begin with the most intimate of critics. On October 14, 2016, through the BBC Hausa Service, the First Lady of Nigeria, Aisha Buhari, stunned the world. She did not just offer a mild critique; she declared that her husband’s government had been hijacked by a few people who did not even know the party’s vision. She stated plainly that out of fifty people the President had appointed, he probably didn’t know forty-five of them. 

This was not a Southern critic or an opposition politician speaking; this was the President’s own wife. She followed up on December 4, 2018, as reported by Punch and Premium Times, during a leadership summit in Abuja, where she challenged Nigerian men to stand up to two or three people dominating the government. On May 25, 2019, as reported by Channels TV and Daily Trust, she attacked the administration’s Social Investment Programme, labelling it a failure in the North and questioning the procurement of mosquito nets. If the North was silent, was the First Lady’s voice not Northern enough?

The intellectual and traditional pushback was equally fierce. As the Emir of Kano, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi used his platform to deliver economic lectures that the presidency found deeply uncomfortable. On August 24, 2016, during the 15th meeting of the Joint Planning Board in Kano, as reported by Punch Newspapers, he warned that the Buhari administration was on the path of the Jonathan government if it did not end its flawed foreign exchange policies. Years later, as reported by Vanguard on August 20, 2023, he provided a post-mortem, stating that the administration had decimated the economy and left a thirty trillion naira debt through illegal central bank borrowing.

Then there is the Northern Elders Forum. For years, this group acted as a stern watchdog. On June 14, 2020, as reported by The Guardian and The Cable, the Chairman of the forum, Professor Ango Abdullahi, issued a statement titled Life has lost its value under Buhari. He described the administration as a total failure in the face of escalating banditry and insurgency. He noted that the North was completely at the mercy of armed gangs. 

This sentiment was echoed repeatedly by the forum’s spokesperson, Doctor Hakeem Baba Ahmed. In April 2022, following the Zabarmari massacre, Baba Ahmed appeared on Channels TV and was quoted in Daily Trust stating that in any civilised nation, a leader who failed so spectacularly to provide security would have resigned. He was one of the most consistent voices debunking the myth that the North was satisfied with the status quo.

Even the clergy did not stay silent. Sheikh Ahmad Gumi, once considered a supporter of the President’s integrity, became a vocal opponent. In an interview with Punch on July 7, 2018, Gumi stated that he knew Buhari would make Nigeria worse than it was when Jonathan left. He accused the administration of being worse than its predecessor and criticised what he called the deification of the President.

When we turn to the political theatre, the evidence of Northern opposition is even more undeniable. Consider Buba Galadima, one of the original signatories to the formation of the APC. On July 4, 2018, as reported by Punch and Premium Times, Galadima led a faction to form the Reformed APC. He held a press conference in Abuja where he described the party’s leadership as a charade and the government as a disappointment. In an exclusive interview with Premium Times on July 22, 2018, he accused Buhari of betraying the loyalists who built his political career to empower a clannish inner circle.

Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, the former Governor of Kano, also broke ranks early. On July 24, 2018, he was among the senators whose defection was reported by Punch and Premium Times as part of a mass exodus from the APC to the PDP. Throughout 2018 and into the 2023 election cycle, Kwankwaso was a relentless critic. 

On August 27, 2018, as reported by Punch, he stated in Owerri that Buhari lacked the capacity to improve the economy. Later, on April 15, 2022, as reported by Channels TV, he expressed deep worry that a retired General could allow insecurity to reach such levels, calling the administration’s second term a missed opportunity.

The most dramatic phase of Northern criticism occurred in the build-up to the 2023 general elections. 

This was not just rhetoric; it was a legal and constitutional war. Nasir El-Rufai, the then Governor of Kaduna State, became the face of internal resistance. Long before the currency crisis, El-Rufai’s critical stance was documented in a 30-page memo dated September 22, 2016, which was eventually leaked by Sahara Reporters on March 16, 2017. In that memo, he warned the President that the APC was losing its supporters’ trust and that the government was adrift. 

By 2023, the tension culminated in a Supreme Court lawsuit. On February 3, 2023, as reported by Channels TV and The Punch, El-Rufai, along with Governors Yahaya Bello and Bello Matawalle, sued the Federal Government over the naira redesign policy. On February 16, 2023, after Buhari’s national broadcast, El-Rufai issued a counter-broadcast in Kaduna, which was transcribed by Vanguard and The Cable, where he told his citizens to continue using the old notes, effectively challenging the President’s authority in a way no Southern governor dared at the time.

Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, the then Governor of Kano, was equally confrontational. On January 28, 2023, as reported by The Niche and Daily Post, Ganduje officially asked the President to postpone a visit to Kano because the people were too angry over the currency policy to guarantee a peaceful reception. 

In early February 2023, a viral video reported by Daily Trust and Sahara Reporters showed Ganduje mocking the President’s political history, noting that Buhari only won after a merger was formed for him and was now trying to destroy the party on his way out. On February 14, 2023, as reported by The Cable, Ganduje threatened to demolish any bank in Kano that refused to accept the old notes, promising to replace such banks with schools.

How then can any honest person say the North was silent? We have the names, the dates, and the publications. From the First Lady’s BBC interview in 2016 to the Supreme Court case in 2023, from the intellectual rebukes of Sanusi Lamido Sanusi to the scathing memos of Nasir El-Rufai, and the open defiance of Abdullahi Ganduje, the North was a hotbed of criticism. Those who claim otherwise are either victims of a deep ignorance or are intentionally peddling a hypocritical double standard.

The North is not a monolithic political entity that blindly follows a leader. It is a region with a rich tradition of debate, dissent, and internal correction. When the Buhari administration faltered, it was the Northern elders who first called for his resignation. When the economy drifted, it was Northern intellectuals who provided the most data-driven critiques. When the currency policy threatened to trigger a social crisis, it was Northern governors who took the President to the Supreme Court.

To repeat the lie that the North never criticised Buhari is an insult to the courage of those who risked their political standing to speak truth to power. It is an attempt to rewrite history to fuel division and promote a false narrative of regional complicity. But the records are in the archives of Daily Trust, Punch, Vanguard, Premium Times, and Sahara Reporters. 

The records are in the transcripts of the BBC and Channels TV.

Let this be a final answer to those who peddle this falsehood. The facts do not just speak; they shout. The North did not just criticise Buhari; it provided some of the most formidable and effective opposition his administration ever faced. Whether it was on the pages of newspapers, in the chambers of the Supreme Court, or from the pulpits and palaces of its traditional leaders, the North spoke up. To ignore this is to choose a lie over the truth, and to repeat it after reading these facts is to move from the camp of the ignorant to the camp of the hypocritical. The truth has been told, the evidence has been presented, and the myth of Northern silence is hereby destroyed.

Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via bellodoka82@gmail.com.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

Politics often produces strange moments, but every now and then a controversy emerges that says more about a society than it first appears. The recent uproar in Kano over viral images of women displaying red underwear allegedly linked to supporters of the state government is one such moment. What began as social media comedy quickly evolved into a serious conversation about political culture, digital misinformation, public dignity and the growing danger of supporter excesses in Nigeria’s democracy.

At the centre of the controversy are competing narratives. One version claims the act was staged by enthusiastic supporters seeking to mock the red symbolism associated with Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso and the Kwankwasiyya movement. Another insists no government official procured or distributed such items, and that the women involved purchased them independently as a form of protest. A third line of argument points to manipulated or AI-generated images, especially those showing Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf’s photograph printed on the underwear.

Whichever version one believes, the broader lesson lies elsewhere. In the age of instant virality, perception often outruns fact. Once provocative visuals hit the internet, they begin to live independent lives. By the time clarifications arrive, opinions are already formed, jokes already shared, and reputations already bruised. That is the brutal logic of modern information warfare.

This is why the Kano episode should not be dismissed as mere comedy. It highlights how politics in Nigeria is increasingly shifting from policy contests to symbolic warfare. Rather than debates over education, healthcare, water supply, youth unemployment or urban planning, public attention is hijacked by spectacles designed to humiliate opponents and energise online loyalists. The result is a shrinking space for serious governance discourse.

Kano is especially vulnerable to this kind of politics because of its unique political history. The state is one of Nigeria’s most politically conscious arenas, where colours, slogans, movements and personalities carry deep emotional weight. The red cap is not merely fashion; it represents a political identity. Any attempt to ridicule that identity will naturally provoke backlash. Supporters may consider such mockery clever mobilisation, but politics rooted in humiliation often boomerangs.

There is also an uncomfortable gender dimension to the saga. Across Nigeria, women are too often reduced to props in political performances—assembled for rallies, tokenised for optics, or used to dramatise partisan messages. Whether voluntary or orchestrated, any political theatre that places women at the centre of ridicule or sensationalism raises ethical questions. Political communication should elevate citizens, not use them as instruments of mockery.

For the Kano State Government, the greater challenge may not be the incident itself but how it is managed. Governments today do not only govern roads and budgets; they govern narratives. Silence can sometimes be wise, but in a digital environment, prolonged silence can also create a vacuum into which falsehood rushes. A vacuum of credible information often becomes fertile ground for stereotypes.

That is why communication experts increasingly advise a strategy of rapid clarification and narrative replacement. Rather than angrily chasing every rumour, a government can calmly provide facts, support independent fact-checking, and then redirect public attention to measurable achievements. If the public conversation is trapped on underwear for days, then governance has already lost valuable oxygen.

There is wisdom in the suggestion that the state should flood the public space with verifiable stories of schools rehabilitated, hospitals improved, roads completed, youth programmes launched, and social interventions delivered. This is not propaganda when the facts are genuine. It is simply the discipline of agenda-setting: ensuring governance performance is louder than viral nonsense.

Equally important is internal message control among supporters. Many governments underestimate the damage their unofficial defenders can cause. Overzealous loyalists often believe they are helping, while in reality, they create liabilities. Mockery, coded insults and reckless satire may thrill partisan circles, but they alienate undecided citizens and embarrass the leaders they claim to defend.

This is not a Kano problem alone. Across Nigeria, politicians increasingly face a paradox: their strongest online supporters can also become their biggest reputational risk. In a hyperconnected society, one foolish stunt can overshadow months of policy work. That reality demands more disciplined political engagement from parties and movements nationwide.

The final lesson is simple. Leadership should be measured by competence, compassion and delivery—not by who wins the latest viral skirmish. Kano deserves national attention for industrial revival, educational progress, urban reform and social development, not for underwear controversies. If this episode prompts a rethink of political conduct, media literacy and supporter behaviour, then an embarrassing moment may yet produce a useful correction.

Democracy is serious business. When politics becomes a permanent performance, everyone eventually loses.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja.

By Nasir Yakub

As time races toward May 29, 2027, when Bala Mohammed exits office, uncertainty has become the loudest voice in his political camp.

Those around him who harbour ambitions for governorship, National Assembly seats, state assembly positions, or other elective offices may be heading into avoidable doom — not because they lack aspiration, capacity or relevance — but because they remain tied to a leader who now appears politically unattached, operating like a freelance politician with no clear party destination.

The questions are no longer minor. They are urgent.

Will they remain in an “alive but dead” Peoples Democratic Party, a platform steadily losing strength, structure and national momentum?

Will they gamble on the emerging African Democratic Congress and hope it grows fast enough into a serious electoral vehicle before the race fully begins?

Or will they attempt the near-impossible route into the ruling All Progressives Congress, where tickets are neither cheap, automatic, nor freely handed to late arrivals?

These are not ordinary questions. They are questions of political survival.

As for Bala himself, the road ahead appears just as uncertain.

Does he remain in PDP and risk sinking with a weakened structure?

Does he seek refuge in APC, where political realignment may offer renewed relevance, stronger federal connections, and breathing space against looming anti-corruption scrutiny?

Or does he move into ADC, positioning himself as a heavyweight opposition figure ready for a fresh national bargaining table?

Every option carries gain. Every option carries danger. But delay now carries the highest danger of all.

Politics rewards movement, not hesitation.

While some are still waiting for signals, others are already building structures. While some remain loyal in silence, rivals are already negotiating alliances. While some hope for last-minute direction, others are quietly securing delegates, mobilising resources, and planting their flags ward by ward.

That is how elections are won long before voting day.

Those waiting endlessly around Bala should understand one hard truth: loyalty without direction can become political self-sabotage.

Aspirants need time. Structures need nurturing. Supporters need certainty. Defections need timing. Campaigns need preparation. None of these things flourish in confusion.

The tragedy ahead may not be that Bala loses influence. The real tragedy may be that many around him lose opportunities simply because they waited too long for one man to decide.

Time waits for no one.

And the earlier Bala chooses a road, the better for those whose futures still hang on his next move.

Because when the final whistle sounds, excuses will not be on the ballot.

Nasir Yakub writes from Bauchi State Nigeria and can be reached via nasiryakub990@gmail.com.

By Dr Eric Chinedu Omazu

On Saturday, 25 April, 2026, Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu bowed out of the service of Bayero University, Kano, upon attaining the mandatory retirement age of 70. The symbolism of that date should not be lost on anyone. The retirement date fell on a Saturday. The attained age was seventy. 

In mystical numerology every ten is reduced to one, each decade stands as a year and seventy years are but seven years, and seven years are but seven days. The Holy Bible records that God, the creator of the universe, rested on the seventh day, on a Saturday. And so did Professor Adamu. This is no coincidence. It was neither planned nor wished for. The stars merely realigned for a man whose whole life is a manifestation of a divine spark. He lived by his name, servant of Allah. And Allah honoured him with a rest on His day of rest.

Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu is a professor’s professor. His entire life is a classroom. In a world where preachers mount the rostrum to deliver sermons they themselves cannot live by, Professor Adamu lives by the highest standards he has set for himself. He excuses others when they try and fail to rise to those standards. The world, as he understands it, is a field of experiments and mistakes. His only rule is that failure should not be driven by impunity. Impunity is an affront to justice. 

Anything said about a great man is an understatement. In Professor Adamu’s case, what my mind knows and my heart feels cannot be fully conveyed by existing words in the languages I speak. This leaves me with only approximate estimates. In that light, Prof. Adamu is my Boss, father, mentor, teacher, friend, guiding light, and so much more that my approximations still cannot capture. The foregrounding of all these modes of being is his role as a teacher. He taught me how to live. No, not just how to live, but how to live like a human. With love, compassion, empathy, understanding, wisdom, respect and contentment. These, too, are understatements.

I first met Professor Adamu ten years ago when he was appointed the Vice-Chancellor of the National Open University of Nigeria. In that role, he demystified public office. I was a close witness to all that he achieved. 

So, mine is more of a testimony to the lived experiences I witnessed. For example, I witnessed an effortless resolution of one of the knotty problems in political philosophy: reconciling idealist and realist recommendations in public space. The idealist recommendation: simply follow the just. The realist recommendation: follow the powerful. The evil of the two systems is that the just without power is impotent, and power without justice is tyrannical. Now the conundrum: How do we make the just powerful or the powerful just? 

Put in another way, where can we find a man in whom justice and power mix? I swear by the heavens that I witnessed the resolution of this conundrum in the person of Abdalla Uba Adamu during his tenure as NOUN VC. If I were to generate a postmortem motto for his tenure in NOUN, it would be: Power in service of justice. This is based solely on what I witnessed. 

As a leader, Professor Adamu was guided by a mantra: only the known best action is worth taking. He dispensed justice, promoted scholarship, demonstrated kindness, protected the weak, maintained equity, and entrenched standards. He was so down-to-earth that clerks, gardeners, and security staff regarded him as one of their own. He was the only Vice-Chancellor they could stop on the road and whisper their words in his ears.

Beyond his human touch in leadership, Professor Adamu transformed NOUN in ways no one imagined. The infrastructure he conceived and built remains the cynosure of all eyes in NOUN. The reforms he initiated are the backbone of NOUN’s operation to date. 

The biggest of them all, he did all these and left NOUN with his integrity intact. Zero scandal. Zero allegation of corruption. Now he retires in peace of mind and happiness.

Congratulations, Sir, on your retirement. And happy 70th birthday anniversary.

Dr Eric Chinedu Omazu is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Philosophy, NOUN. He served as Special Assistant to the Vice-Chancellor during Professor Adamu’s tenure as VC, NOUN.

Jamilu Uba Adamu 

A man of strong character and unwavering principle, Ibrahim Galadima, MFR, traversed every level of football and sports administration in Nigeria. He served as Chairman of the Nigeria Football Association (NFA) for four transformative years.

His journey began as Chairman of the Kano State Football Association from 1977 to 1979, a period marked by the rapid development of football across the state.  

An accomplished community leader and administrator, Galadima served as Executive Chairman of the old Kano State Sports Council from 1981 to 1983. 

Honourable and diligent beyond compare, he was elected 1st Vice President of the Nigeria Olympic Committee in 1985, serving until 1987 before returning as Chairman of the Kano State Sports Council. He excelled once more, leading the Kano State Government to appoint him Commissioner for Social Welfare, Youth and Sports in 1989. By 1990, he became Commissioner for Works, Housing and Transport, with sports placed under the Governor’s Office.

In 1999, he chaired the Kano Sub-seat of the Nigeria team at the 1999 FIFA World Youth Championship. Under his leadership, Kano recorded the highest match attendances of the tournament.  

Three years later, with an unblemished reputation for honesty and accountability, he was elected Chairman of the Nigeria Football Association. During his tenure, the NFA proposed its working Statutes to FIFA. FIFA ratified them, and the 2006 Executive Committee elections were conducted under those Statutes, which still guide the Federation today.  

Ibrahim Galadima, MFR, also served as Member, Presidential Committee on Vision 2010 (Sports); Member, National Commission on Problems of Sports Development in Nigeria (2001); Vice Patron, Nigeria Olympic Committee; Member, Board of Trustees, Nigeria Sports Hall of Fame; Vice Chairman, Presidential Advisory Committee on Vision 20:2020; and Member, CAF Standing Committee on Legal Affairs and Players’ Status.  

In 2019, he chaired a special committee set up by the Kano State Government to guide Kano Pillars FC in their maiden CAF Champions League campaign. The debutants stunned Africa by eliminating Al-Ahly of Egypt, Africa’s Club of the Century, to reach the semi-finals.  

When the former Governor Abdullahi Umar Ganduje administration created the Kano State Sports Commission in 2016, he was appointed its pioneer Executive Chairman.

He was elevated to the position of Patron of the Nigeria Olympic Committee and served as Chairman of the Governing Council of the National Institute of Sports from 2018 to 2022.  

His most recent national assignments included serving as Chairman of the 10-Year Presidential Football Master Plan Committee and as Acting Chairman of Kano Pillars FC.  

The memory of the late Ibrahim Galadima will endure in the hearts of all who encountered him, especially for those of us who regarded him not only as a father figure but as a true role model. I remain deeply grateful for the encouragement he gave me when I approached him to write the introduction to my book, Takaitaccen Tarihin Asalin Wasan Kwallon Kafa a Kano.  

A stickler for rules, regulations, and transparency. His legacy of integrity, service, and excellence in Nigerian sports will never be forgotten. Allah ubangiji ya gafarta masa, amin.

Adamu wrote from Kano via jameelubaadamu@yahoo.com.

By Oladoja M.O

For some time now, the conversation has been quietly shifting from elections to succession. Not a clear constitutional succession. We are talking about political succession as design. The deliberate grooming of a successor within an existing power architecture so that leadership rotates but direction and influence remain within a defined circle.

In Lagos, many say it has worked since 1999. In Rivers, we saw what happens when the choreography fractures. Now, as 2031 sits faintly on the horizon, there are whispers again of names being mentioned, alignments being speculated, shadows being interpreted.

Let us remove names. Let us remove rumours. Let us interrogate structure.

The serious question is this: in a democracy built on four-year mandates and an eight-year ceiling, is protégé succession a stabilising mechanism for development, or is it a refined method of elite entrenchment?

To answer that, we must first admit something uncomfortable: Nigeria’s institutions are not yet strong enough to guarantee policy continuity through institutional design alone. Parties are weakly ideological. Bureaucratic insulation is thin. Policy reversals are common. In that environment, continuity through personal alignment can look attractive. It reduces disruption. It keeps long-term projects alive. It reassures investors. It avoids destructive resets every four or eight years.

This is the strongest argument in favour of succession politics and it is not foolish.

Lagos provides the most cited example. Over two decades, fiscal reforms were not dismantled. Internally generated revenue grew consistently. Infrastructure planning maintained coherence across administrations. Successors did not come in to burn down the previous house simply to prove independence. That continuity mattered. It produced an administrative rhythm.

But here is where analytical discipline must intervene.

Was Lagos successful because of succession politics or because it possessed economic density, commercial capital concentration, and revenue capacity that most Nigerian states do not? If succession were the decisive factor, then every state practising elite continuity would display similar outcomes. That is not what we observe.

Kogi has seen continuity patterns without transformative development. Cross River experimented with political coherence without fiscal stability. Rivers demonstrated how quickly elite alignment can dissolve into institutional paralysis when patron–successor relationships rupture. This tells us something critical: succession is not a development formula. It may coexist with development under certain structural conditions, but it does not produce development on its own.

Now let us go deeper.

Democracy is not defined merely by the holding of elections. It is defined by uncertainty. Adam Przeworski’s core insight remains powerful: democracy is a system where incumbents can lose. The possibility of loss disciplines power. When succession becomes predictable within a narrow elite network, that uncertainty diminishes. Elections may still occur, but the competitive field tightens.

Elite theory reinforces this concern. Political systems remain dynamic when elite circulation is open. When elite reproduction becomes concentrated within a single patronage chain, innovation slows, and access narrows. It does not immediately collapse democracy, but it gradually converts it into a managed rotation.

And this is where I lean.

Succession politics in Nigeria is a second-best adaptation to institutional weakness. It compensates for fragile parties and inconsistent policy frameworks. It can produce short- to medium-term stability in exceptional contexts. But it does not deepen democracy. It does not institutionalise continuity. It personalises it.

If continuity depends on one individual’s blessing, then institutions remain dependent. And dependency is not consolidation. It is controlled stability.

Supporters argue that Nigeria’s diversity requires careful continuity, that radical alternation could destabilise fragile coalitions. That concern is real. But if the only way to preserve stability is through personalised grooming, then we are admitting that institutions are too weak to survive open competition. And if institutions never learn to survive open competition, they never mature.

Development that relies on personal choreography is fragile. It works as long as the central figure remains politically dominant. Once that dominance weakens through age, miscalculation, factional drift, or simple political fatigue, the structure can wobble because it was never fully institutionalised.

This is why I do not romanticise succession politics, even when I understand its logic.

Endorsement is not anti-democratic. Every leader is entitled to support a preferred successor. That is politics. The danger arises when endorsement becomes determinative rather than persuasive when the system makes alternative emergence structurally improbable.

Nigeria does not need constant disruption. But it needs genuine contestation. It needs parties strong enough that continuity does not depend on lineage. It needs primaries that are competitive in substance, not ritual. It needs bureaucracies that can survive alternation without policy vandalism.

Succession politics may stabilise a weak system. But it does not strengthen it.

And a country of Nigeria’s scale cannot permanently depend on second-best solutions.

So, the issue is not whether someone is being groomed for 2031. The issue is whether our institutions are growing strong enough for grooming to become politically irrelevant. If they are not, then what looks like continuity today may become stagnation tomorrow.

That is where I stand.

Continuity is valuable. But continuity must be institutional not personal if it is to endure beyond the shadow of any one man.

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

By Saifullahi Attahir

History has repeatedly shown us that when rulers or elites indulge in throwing ultimate parties, they are usually sealing their fate. This universal rule is applied not only to dictators but also to empires, organisations, business leaders, athletes, celebrities, and even individuals who reach a climax in their trajectories without the ever-useful self-restraint.

Examples of these parables can be found even in the holy scriptures. Qarun is a brother of Prophet Moses, whom God blessed with so much worldly endowment that people living around him watch in awe. It was reported that many of his kinsmen were openly praying to be blessed as Qarun was. To them, Qarun was a role model, a success, and someone to emulate. 

Qarun’s story was a typical grass-to-grace story we often hear. At the beginning, a humble soul, spendthrift, calculative, hungry and ambitious for success. He left no stone unturned, had no time to even count his fortune, and was always on the lookout for more until he later ‘made it’.

He later started throwing lavish parties, erecting large buildings with so many rooms that he wouldn’t occupy, and amassing fleets of beautiful horses not for war, domestic use or trade. It was reported that the keys alone to Qarun’s treasury were so many that people couldn’t even carry them!

And what of the things inside those stores, of gold, ornaments, and precious metals? Qarun was admonished by his people to express gratitude for the benevolence through giving alms to the less privileged. He famously stated that it was his handiwork, his tactics, and his spendthrift ways (in today’s world, his financial intelligence) that helped him become wealthy. Qarun sealed his fatal fate with those words; he drowned!

Founders of any kingdom or empire usually begin as brave warriors or loyal servants who earn the respect and love of their masters, then become part of the empire and, within a few centuries, become kings themselves. Throughout these transformative years, you would find them humble, hardworking, disciplined, and considerate, until the hard-worn ancestors passed away and the bounty passed to their progeny, who were neither aware of nor shared in the initial struggles, thinking they deserved it. It was those later kings who would build extravagant palaces with magnificent walls, not as protection but for the sake of beauty and elegance.

The early pharaohs of Egypt were not as haughty and arrogant as the pharaoh whom the prophet Moses fought. The last pharaoh feels so high of himself that he declared himself the sovereign being worthy of worship in the land. The magnificent pyramids built in Egypt alone could signify the level of cruelty slaves were subjected to and the grand mania behind erecting them. That was their ultimate party.

The sixteenth-century Brits (Englishmen) were so brave, energetic, curious, prodigious, and ambitious that they set out to conquer almost half of the world, from Asia to Africa to India to the Americas. They spread their influence, civilisation, and language to every nook and cranny of the world. Astonishingly, several decades of the British Empire were led by women like Queen Elizabeth I and Queen Victoria. It was during the reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria that Britain reached its peak.

At the beginning of their campaigns, they were just merchants, explorers, and missionaries. They were later partners before transforming into cruel colonial rulers, subjugating human beings into serfdom and slavery. It was during the early 19th century that Queen Victoria decided to host a lavish party in India, inviting delegates from every colony: Asians, Africans, Arabs, Indians, and Caucasians. The Durbar was so magnificent that only watching the video (on YouTube) could give you a sense of the congregation. Every culture was represented, and performances were made. 

What was wasted during these festivities was enough to ruin the economy of a continent. Those extravaganzas, the subjugation of people into labour, and unnecessary wars were later to seal the fate of the British Empire. The colonists were dismantled into sovereign nations, and finally, the sun set for Britain.

Before the 1979 Islamic revolution, Iran was under a monarchy led by Shah Reza Pahlavi, who inherited the throne from his father in the 1920s. Between those years, thanks to the discovery of oil and his alliance with Western countries, the Shah transformed himself into a world-class political figure and a strong voice in the Middle East. Although a Muslim, he became so delusional that he dreamt of converting Iran into its former Persian Empire with all its anti-Islamic elegance. 

This automatically put him in constant conflict with the religious establishment of Iran, especially the Islamic clerics led by the pious, ascetic, and reserved Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini.

The level of enmity was so high that neither side was willing to give way until, finally, Khomeini fled to France as an exile. Despite Khomeini’s absence, he continued to preach to the Iranians, especially the youth, university students, and the less privileged masses who became his adherents.

In the 1970s, the Shah decided to throw a grand party in Iran to commemorate not only his anniversary but also the 2000-year anniversary of the Persian Pagan Empire. He coronated himself as ‘Shah of Shahs’ (King of Kings). The party was attended by thousands, including kings, prime ministers, presidents, heads of state, mistresses, business moguls and technocrats. Later analysis shows how that singular event almost threw Iran into debt despite its oil endowment.

That sealed the fate of Shah Reza Pahlavi, for a few months later, Iranian youths staged an uprising, culminating in the Islamic Revolution that brought Ayatollah Khomeini (the very person Pahlavi had sent into exile) to power.

 Similar stories can be narrated of Adolf Hitler’s rise to power and his expansionist, megalomaniac agenda, seeing himself as the Führer and Saviour of the German Reich, until he sealed his fate by mistakenly invading Russia and Poland and at the same time fighting several forces of France and the United Kingdom. The allied forces were rescued by the rising superpower of that time, the United States of America.

General Yakubu Gowon was in power from 1966 to 1975, the longest-serving military head of state. His period witnessed a surge in oil income never seen before in Nigeria, and even the government doesn’t know what to do with the sweet oil money. The Federal Government undertakes unnecessary construction and white-elephant projects just to get rid of the irritating money. 

Workers get unnecessary pay rises (Udoji salary award) without additional productivity. The General Yakubu Gowon government decided to sponsor a FESTAC celebration event in 1975, which cost a huge sum of money, throwing Nigeria into debt despite oil income. We didn’t wisely invest and save for the rainy days.

That sealed the fate of innocent and peace-loving General Yakubu Gowon. He was overthrown in a palace coup led by young officers, introducing the no-nonsense, disciplinarian Murtala Ramat. The rest was history….So watch out when you are sealing your fate by throwing the ultimate party!

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

By Aisha Musa Auyo, PhD 

I first learned about a tongue-tie when my third son, Anwar, was admitted to the hospital due to a high fever. I was to share a room with another patient, and I was furious. I told the nurses I would prefer to stay in the corridor rather than share a room. I hate sharing rooms, especially in a hospital.

“The amenity room is fully booked. A patient will soon leave, and you’ll be transferred there,” a nurse told me.

I kept whining and complaining. My husband kept saying I should be patient…..“it’s just for a few days.” In my mind, I was like, you’ll never understand what it means to share a hospital room, because you’ve never experienced it. It’s easier said than done.

I accepted defeat and entered the room. Anwar was crying so loudly that he drew the other patient’s attention. In my mind, I thought, you see why I avoid sharing rooms…. I dislike inconveniencing others. I didn’t think the patient would be able to sleep with that noise.

One of the women attending to the other patient asked me, “Do you know that your son has a tongue-tie?”

I said no. What’s a tongue-tie? I had never heard of it.

She told me to look at his tongue while he was crying and said I would see a tissue-like thread holding it, meaning the tongue isn’t free. When I checked, I saw it was very visible.

I asked her more about it, and she explained that it’s natural for some babies to be born with it. Usually, doctors notice it and remove it shortly after birth. But if it isn’t addressed early, it may require a minor surgery to remove it. Anwar was about six months old then.

I thanked her and asked for the way forward. She recommended a paediatrician.

Before the procedure, I read about tongue-tie from over a hundred sites, and spoke to more than ten doctors… lol. It turned out to be a minor surgical procedure that didn’t take more than a minute, since he was still a baby. It gets more complicated with age.

From my research, I also learned that Anwar’s feeding difficulty was likely caused by a tongue-tie.

Many children with tongue-tie may also experience:

– Speech difficulties, especially with sounds like “t”, “d”, “l”, “r”, “s”, and “th”

– Unclear or slightly slurred speech

– (Though not every child with tongue-tie has speech issues, it can contribute)

Other possible effects include:

– Oral hygiene challenges (difficulty clearing food, increased risk of tooth decay)

– Eating difficulties (trouble licking, swallowing, or moving food around the mouth)

– Dental or jaw development issues (such as gaps or bite alignment problems)

– Social or psychological effects, like reduced confidence due to speech or tongue movement limitations

Anwar’s procedure (frenotomy) was done seamlessly, and everything returned to normal. Alhamdulillah.

After that experience, I made it a point to pay closer attention to babies. I realised it’s quite common, yet not widely known. I’ve made it a personal responsibility to educate parents about it before it becomes complicated.

There’s also a lesson here:

1. Not everything we dislike is bad. Sometimes, what we resist is exactly what we need….or what will benefit us the most.

2. I hate sharing rooms with strangers because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone or feel like a burden. But from that experience, I learned something valuable…. and now I’m sharing it with others. So maybe it’s not so bad after all. Hausa people say, “mutane rahama ne” (people are a blessing).

3. No matter your position, knowledge, number of children, or experience, there’s always something you don’t know. And there’s always something you can learn from others—their experiences, exposure, and expertise.

Anyway, when I gave birth to Azrah, my fourth child, I was subconsciously checking for tongue-tie—and I saw one! Hausa people, again, say: “Mai nema na tare da samu”… Bature yace: “He who seeketh… findeth.”

That was after a full check-up by nurses, doctors, and even a paediatrician. I brought it to their attention, and they confirmed it. The minor surgical procedure (frenotomy) was done four days after birth.

I hated the sight of blood on her tiny mouth, but what could I do? The earlier, the better. Alhamdulillah.

If you’ve learned something from this write-up, kindly share it so others can benefit too.

If you’d like to read more stories and reflections like this, drawn from real-life experiences, you can get my book Between Hearts and Homes for deeper, relatable insights into everyday life.

Aisha Musa Auyo, PhD, is an Educational Psychologist, author, and media professional passionate about translating research into practical impact. She writes on parenting, family, and education, drawing from expertise and personal experience. Aisha is also a parenting and relationship coach and founder of Eesher Auyo’s Empire in Abuja, Nigeria.