Literature

By Salim Yunusa 

When we were neck deep into planning for KAPFEST 1.0, we decided that we would definitely have a poetry slam. Having seasoned spoken word poets on the team who had participated, judged, or simply watched one made planning for it easier. Everyone knew what to expect and what structure would work. The poetry slam was not going to be a filler—it was going to be a central experience of the festival.

Then came the aspect of naming it. Without hesitating, I suggested we either name it the Aminu Kano Poetry Slam or the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Both names carried weight. Both men represented distinct traditions of intellectualism, activism, and the power of the word. At the end, we settled for the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. It felt right. It felt timely. It felt necessary.

When I informed my friend Mukhtar that we decided to name a segment of our program after his dad, he was elated. Genuinely elated. We didn’t do it because we wanted sponsorship from the family or anything like that. We didn’t do it because we were friends with the family members. We did it because of what Mudi Sipikin stood for—creative expression, social commentary, economics, science, thought, and literary legacy.

Salim Yunusa is the founder of Poetic Wednesdays Initiative and curates the Kano International Poetry Festival. He writes from Zaria, Nigeria.

He was one of those voices that had shaped public thought and intellectual culture in Arewa for decades. So came to pass the first edition of the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Young people from different places participated. They competed. They poured their hearts out. They won cash prizes. And they made history.

Two of Mudi Sipikin’s children—Mukhtar Mudi Sipikin and Sani Misbahu Sipikin—were there physically. Mukhtar, in a touching gesture, gifted the winners beautiful textile materials. The SSA to the President also showed up and made generous cash donations. It was a moment of recognition. It was a moment of continuity. It was a moment of reclaiming history.

Then came ZABAFEST. I was pleasantly surprised when they named their poetry slam after Dr. Abubakar Imam, the famous writer and intellectual who lived in Zaria. His name, for those who know, is one of the pillars of early Northern Nigerian literature. The slam segment was electric and greatly thrilled the audience. Two of Dr. Imam’s children were in attendance, and they expressed their appreciation for the gesture. It was not just about honoring their father—it was about honoring an entire generation of thinkers who laid the foundations for what we now call Northern Nigerian literature.

And then, just yesterday, the Jos Art and Culture Festival announced that there would be a poetry slam and it would be named after Danmaraya Jos. That news made me deeply happy. Danmaraya Jos was not just a musician. He was a griot. A chronicler. A custodian of memory. And seeing young people take the initiative to immortalize his name within a literary event speaks volumes. It is not about nostalgia. It is about remembering rightly. It is about giving names their due.

During the opening ceremony of the maiden Kano International Poetry Festival in 2024, I emphasized the significance of literary festivals, stating: “Can we have enough festivals? I am thrilled that we are having literary festivals spring up in this part of the country, where we have many unsung literary heroes and heroines. You see, festivals are remarkable opportunities to educate, empower, enlighten, and entertain the public. They are a breath of fresh air, where we reignite the fires of our literary passion, cultivate new friendships and rekindle old ones, and above all, engross ourselves in rich conversations about the arts, culture, music, and poetry.”

This is why naming these events after literary icons goes way beyond immortalizing them. It is a way of preserving their contributions to the literary world. It is a method of introducing their names—and possibly their work—to younger audiences who may never encounter them otherwise. When I curated the poetry exhibition on the life of Alu Ɗan Sidi, I realized how much has been forgotten. For many attendees, it was the first time they were hearing that name, let alone engaging with the literary and scholarly contributions of the emir. But what pleased me most was how that exhibition opened a portal of learning. It sparked appreciation. It generated questions. And it even led to plans for follow-up conversations and more literary and cultural exploration on of our rich literary legacy. That is how preservation begins.

We are in a time where the literary contributions of our ancestors are being neglected or sidelined. Curriculums barely reflect their names. Public discourse often forgets them. Archives are dusty. Monuments are few. So it is refreshing—no, it is necessary—to see young people bringing back these names and personalities to life through poetry, exhibitions, festivals, and critical discussions. This is more than memory work. It is cultural survival. It is literary resistance. It is about stitching our present to our past, so that the future does not forget.

Hopefully, this growing momentum will lead to proper archiving of their works. Hopefully, it will inspire scholars to take interest in their contributions. Hopefully, it will lead to deeper appreciation and appropriate honor for their legacies, in Nigeria and beyond.

Because the names live on. Because we must speak them. Because the griots must never be forgotten.

By Sa’adatu Aliyu 

Whenever I think of Nigeria, my mind swiftly veers towards the plot of author Adamu Kyuka Usman’s book “Hope in Anarchy.“ A book that explores the disastrous effects of poverty in Beku City where Ahoka, the main character, finds himself, and how this impoverishment, caused by the enormous economic disparity between the rich and poor, injustice, and political disillusionment, slowly tore into the fabric of society, creating a Republic of criminality and lawlessness, consequently proving that injustice and poverty largely birth insecurity.

Security in a country can’t be underestimated. It is a thread stitching other things together. It is what lets a nation thrive; without it, the potential of a people is diminished, as fear is one of the greatest potential killers. Unfortunately, this menace bedevils our country today, disorganising everything and everyone, causing citizens to lose their lives and means of livelihood. While the state appears to be attempting to tackle this, little success has been recorded, leaving most in utter despair and repeatedly asking: When will this nightmare end?

Similarly, I am writing this piece with the question: When will this mayhem cease? But while also seeking accountability from the government, in addition to challenging them to bring an end to this menace, though I do not want to point accusing fingers at some malicious politician as being in the know of the root cause of this instability or as having direct involvement with the current status quo for one selfish reason or another—primarily to enrich themselves or capitalising on the insecurity to gain political leverage during elections. I firmly believe that we’re not as helpless as we portray.

To quote a PhD student of Political Science, Hamza Aliyu, who is also a political analyst, “Sometimes if there’s a prolonged state of insecurity in a nation, the government is aware of its actors.” Backing former military president Gen. Sani Abacha’s quote, “Any insurgency that lasts more than 24 hours, a government official has a hand in it.” While these claims may be exaggerated, and I do not want to make myself believe such statements, I strongly insist that we cannot continue like this. As such, with the right attitude, there’s a way forward.

And this is why I am calling on President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to put necessary mechanisms in place to fight these insecurities presenting themselves in multiple shades: from ethnic and religious tensions to kidnapping. Doing so will certainly elevate his reputation in the sight of the people; otherwise, the current groaning continues. Moreover, it is wise to do so as a leader who intends to recontest in 2027. If Nigerians were to vote for him, on what basis would that be? The bloodbath, harsh economic policies, or delivering to the people based on the 2023 campaign promises? I think it’s time to look beyond the politics of money (vote buying) because Nigerians are tired of having an endless trail of failed leadership.

Additionally, the Northern part of the country remains the hardest hit, and it is disheartening to see the lack of ingenuity of Northern politicians who care more about sustaining their lavish lifestyles along with those of their families. At the same time, their region is aflame, doing very little to develop the region. I’m using this medium to call on the Arewa Elders’ Forum and Northern politicians and businessmen to put self-interest aside and work tirelessly and collectively towards ensuring regional security. 

And among other things, one of the ways forward is reforming the Almajiranci system of education; Almajiris, being citizens who have become easy targets for electoral violence and other acts of criminality, must be integrated into society and equipped with the necessary basic education and skills to become useful citizens of the country.

Insecurity affects everyone, rich or poor. For this reason, they should invest primarily in securing the region and attract foreign investors, in addition to creating a conducive environment for economic development for hardworking entrepreneurial Nigerians, even if this means devising strategies typically unheard of.  

Difficult situations call for drastic measures. Whether Nigeria has failed as a state and people to secure the nation is not up for debate at this point, but prioritising the security of our people and the way forward is the goal.

If this means seeking foreign intervention from well-equipped and well-trained military mercenaries like the Russian Wagner group to train our security personnel and enhance our security apparatus, I think we should take the plunge. Critics, however, might argue that this move is myopic, as doing so is akin to inviting foreign intervention into the country, which has suffered at the hands of colonialism. 

Moreover, arguments like indulging private mercenaries come at a price, mainly that of exploiting natural resources in exchange for security services. As such, the mercenaries might work against, instead of for, the betterment of the country by worsening the insecurity and prolonging it to continue gaining access to solid or liquid minerals, as seen in CAR, Sudan, Libya, and Mali, where the Russian Wagner group has had some presence. An argument that holds water to an extent, but is essentially not solid in the face of the realities staring Nigeria in the face.

Besides, political meddling by foreign powers, especially the United States and its other Western allies, has been constant in Africa. While ideally, this is a time for the continent to be ridding itself of foreign aid in its multifaceted nature, we have failed to give hope and instil confidence in our people.

As a young military leader, Ibrahim Traore seems to be the only leader currently making waves and admirable political reforms on the continent. However, he might not be the best example to cite for some because his leadership is undemocratic. But who cares about democracy? While the governance system is suited for the West, we Africans must find a system that works to drive significant change and development, fostering capacity building in Africa. It could be a modified form of democracy suited for our place, people, and time – there should be several routes to the market.

Having said that, I am calling on northern politicians to wake up. We do not need more bloodbaths before the fog is parted from our eyes to see the glaring realities of the North. Particularly, the way our elites display wealth, wining and dining in luxury, while their masses are subjected to inhumane conditions at the hands of criminal gangs and biting poverty. The wedding ceremonies of the sons and daughters of elites, intimidatingly littered across social media platforms, with wads of crisp hard currencies on display, sleek exotic cars, and palatial wedding halls, prove our misplaced priorities. We can do better. All that money could go a long way in developing the region, investing it into something that profits the population.

So, I’m calling on the youth of the North as well. The younger generation must try to outdo their fathers, ensuring they work for the good of the nation and not to satisfy their greed. We do not want a country like the Beku City Republic, as rightly portrayed by Adamu Kyuka Usman in “Hope in Anarchy,” where: “The Republican police were sent to arrest armed robbers but did not return. It was later learned they had joined the armed robbers. Eventually, the police and the armed robbers were brought to the judges for trial, but the judges joined them. This is the order of things in our Republic today.” A country “where everyone will prosper by the strength of their arms or perish by the lack of such strength.”

However, while there’s huge dysfunctionality in the nation, I want to convince myself that Nigeria may not be a failed state, despite the anarchy; I’m trying to hold on to hope. But it is undoubtedly unapologetically swaying its shameless hips towards that direction. But we, the masses, cannot afford that. I believe even the rich do not want to wake up to the realities of a nation where deep resentment, as a result of poverty, drives an unquenchable thirst for the blood of the rich.

If President Nayib Bukele of El Salvador can round up notorious criminal gangs, we can restore Nigeria’s peace and security. Therefore, in this spirit, I am calling on Northern youth, Nigerian youth – rich and poor – the nation’s development is in your hands. Rise.

Sa’adatu Aliyu is a tutor at DLC Ahmadu Bello University, pursuing a Master’s in Literature. She writes from Zaria, and can be reached via this email: saadatualiyu36@gmail.com

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

As we celebrate the World Book and Copyright Day (the UNESCO, not UK version) on 23rd April 2025, and even though it is targeted at children and youth, let’s reflect; after all, we were once children and youth. A historical excavation of our reading habits shows how lucky we were.

Hausa folks over 50 have always lamented the death of reading culture among contemporary Hausa youth. Such old fogies always hark back to the days of reading, mainly English language authors: James Hadley Chase, Denise Robins, Jacqueline Susann, Frederick Forsyth, Nick Carter, Stephen King, Robert Ludlum, Harold Robbins, Ayn Rand, Wilbur Smith, etc. Almost always English. Always British or American. The novels written by these authors, I would argue, laid solid foundations for their knowledge, command and mastery of the English language. 

And the comics. Tintin (actually, Tan-Tan), Asterix, Mad Magazine, Marvel comics (Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Thor, X-Men, etc). The entire comics of London’s Fleet Street. Evoking memories of Valiant, Thunder, Eagle, Commando, Cor!!, Buster, Tiger, Battle. Even football comics (even though I don’t particularly like football at all), such as Roy of the Rovers. The novels, the comics and the TV shows (Star Trek, Space 1999, Man from U.N.C.L.E., Man from Atlantis, Perry Mason, etc.), to be frank, laid the foundation of what I am today. Not much from Africa, though. But the little we had was superb as well. These included Lance Spearman’s African Film, Fearless Fang’s Boom, and a romantic tear-jerker, Joy.  

All were readily available at the Post Office in Kano and major supermarkets of Leventis and Kingsway. The latter in particular became a must-visit place for me in the 1970s. Nothing, absolutely nothing, beats the wonderful smell of fresh books being stacked on their shelves. And it wasn’t just books. I scrimped and saved pennies and shillings until I had enough to purchase my first vinyl record album – Rare Earth’s Get Ready in 1972, three years after it was released in 1969, when I first heard a single version on the radio. 

This was what defined reading culture, at least for those of us in the urban centres who grew up with it. And even if one can’t afford fresh new books and comics from Leventis and Kingsway stores, there are many places in Kano centred around Plaza in Fage, Coca Cola Roundabout, and even the main Post Office frontage itself, where hundreds of second-hand books are sold, even up to now. 

Exchanging books and discussing their plots, characters, and titles set the tone of conversations with friends. The most popular pulp fiction writer, of course, was René Lodge Brabazon Raymond, most popularly known as James Hadley Chase. Interestingly, his novels were written in the 1930s and later, painting an often-depressing picture of his setting (mainly the United States, even though he was British). Titles like Tiger By the Tail, Tell It to the Birds, Just a Matter of Time, Knock, Knock! Who’s There? There is a Hippy on the Highway that evokes our hastily copied Americanism. The garish covers, almost always graced by a long-legged sultry female model, made many truly judge the book by its cover. 

These foreign novels existed alongside African novels, particularly those published by Heinemann since 1969. The Heinemann African Writers Series produced a massive variety of novels, almost 225, many by people from the eastern part of Nigeria. For most of us, though, their postcolonial themes seemed too intellectual. Further, they were made part of the set reading for those offering literature, so again, many who want to read a novel just for pleasure rather than pan-African political philosophy simply avoided them. 

The struggle for the souls—and pockets—of school children in the 1970s continued in efforts to dislodge James Hadley Chase. In 1977, Macmillan Publishers decided to publish a low-cost paperback series under what they called the Pacesetters Series. These were published from 1979 to 1988 and became massively popular. I remember seeing one of the earliest, The Undesirable Element by Mohammad Sule from Kano, published in 1977, while we were students at ABU. 

When Sule finished the novel (which he wrote while a student at the now Rumfa College Kano), he initially took the manuscript to the Northern Nigeria Publishing Company (NNPC) in Zaria, which rejected it because it was in English. Luckily, Macmillan was in partnership with NNPC and the MD, a Briton, asked his wife to evaluate it. She did it positively and recommended it to Macmillan London, who were just about to start their Pacesetter series. See providence. If NNPC had accepted it, they would have created a large pool of English language novelists in northern Nigeria

For Baby Boomers (1946-1964) and Generation X (1965 to 1979), the Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) of 1986 severely affected their reading culture in one way: the books just dried up, whether foreign or local. Foreign became too expensive, local became too repetitive and static. We simply went back to the old classics and read them again and again. It was Robert Ludlum re-read (especially The Parsifal Mosaic) for me. 

All this was for ƴan boko. What about Hausa novels or reading materials? There are very few. By the 1980s, all the classics had been read, and no new ones were coming out. These included Magana Jari Ce, Ilya Ɗan Maiƙarfi, Gogan Naka, Nagari Na Kowa, Sihirtaccen Gari, Dau Fataken Dare, and a whole bunch of plays. Writing and publishing was very strenuous. Publishers could only publish if the books were to be made part of the set reading for WAEC, which limits the writer’s imagination and creativity. 

Then Hafsat AbdulWaheed came along with So, Aljannar Duniya in 1980. The first published Hausa language novel. The first by a woman from northern Nigeria. Plotting the classic Hausa marriage situation. A revolution was ignited in Hausa language fiction, leading to Mills and Boons style romantic fiction or Littattafan Soyayya. In less than five years, both male and female writers had emerged with stories to tell. Writers’ collectives were formed. The printing presses of party politics made it easier to self-publish. So, the writers ignored the snotty hoity-toity “big” publishers, especially NNPC (although NNPC can PRINT your book for payment, as they did with Balaraba Ramat’s early novels).  

In less than five years, the emergent authors have published more volumes than Heinemann (225) and Pacesetters (130). This made Hausa the most voracious reading public in Nigeria. Prof. Graham Furniss of the SOAS London even published a bibliography of the genre, including a whole website based at SOAS. When they became too much for the Kano State public culture, for that was where they flourished, a censorship board was created in 2001 to curb them. When that did not work, the Kano State government burned them in 2007 to cleanse the youth of the books. A harsher censorship regime debilitated them even more, throwing them out of business. The Hausa reading culture died. 

Then the Smartphone came in 2007—the then-Kano state Governor publicly burned Hausa books the same year. The same year, a harsher censorship regime was instituted in Kano that made life hell for the creative industries (Maryam Hiyana, anyone?). The iPhone, while not the first smartphone (Blackberry, anyone?), nevertheless revolutionised communication in its innovative approach to design. Clone copies with Android operating systems cemented the mass appeal of the smartphone. Eventually, it became commodified. 

Then, in 2013, Hausa novelists had their epiphany. They realised that with Facebook bubbling away, they could write their novels and escape censorship. Sure, no money, but they would be sharing their ideas. Things then blossomed from there. They created hundreds of Facebook pages for Hausa novels. When they became technologically proficient or engaged those who were, they created blogs sharing Hausa novels and creating massive readership throughout the Hausaphone world. For instance, Hafsat Hausa Novels (H²) had 471,000 members last time I checked. 

Then they discovered Wattpad, which had been in existence since 2006. They moved on the site with massive gusto, creating novels in three presentation modes – Hausa, English and Enghausa. Mainly by women. The migration online redefines “reading culture” if it is seen as engagement with text. Wattpad’s metrics alone convincingly show that the Hausa reading culture has been revived. For instance, Jewel by Maymunatu Bukar had 1.1 million reads. Thus, E-books and online literary content became increasingly popular, and social media can be used to share and discuss these resources

And let’s not ignore social networks and social media posts and COMMENTS. Agreements, disagreements (including insults typical of Arewa Social Media), expanded explanations – all are READING, and far livelier than just reading a book on your own. But again, social media gives us the opportunity to discuss – have a debate – about the books we like/hate (Goodreads, anyone?). 

“Reading culture” is a dynamic and evolving concept that encompasses more than the mere act of reading. It is an intricate web of practices, values, and institutional structures that defines how individuals and communities interact with texts. Whether viewed through a sociological, historical, or digital lens, understanding reading culture involves recognising the interplay between technology, policy, and the deeply personal ways that texts influence and reflect who we are.

I therefore argue that reading social media is very much part of today’s reading culture. It is a re-invention of reading culture. It may differ from traditional literary reading in depth, tone, and purpose, but it still involves interpretation, meaning-making, and cultural exchange. In any event, all the books, comics, and TV shows you so favoured are now digitally available (I have sourced all of these that defined my youth).

As reading culture adapts to the digital age, social media becomes an important arena for literacy and engagement in all spheres. Hey, you might even find the rest of the James Hadley Chase books you missed (you know he published 98, right?). 

Happy World Book and Acibilisian Day to y’all.

By Abdullahi Yusuf Tela

Introduction 

In many societies, women are constantly reminded of their roles as wives and mothers. They are saddled with the responsibilities of producing and nurturing children and caring for the home. Over the years, however, women have embarked on a struggle aimed at affirming their identities while at the same time doing all they can to transform the societal, cultural, or traditional perceptions of their gender. Women are striving very hard to change these perceptions through education and by creating awareness.

Female writers have significantly helped by making the female characters in their works more prominent. They aim to have female characters that are powerful and outspoken. This is because women in most male writings are often illustrated as subservient. 

In 1966, Flora Nwapa broke the silence of women by publishing her first novel, Efuru, inspiring other female writers. These women used literature to explain the state of their societies, either good or bad, and the importance of female existence in society. These feminist writers include Zaynab Alkali, Buchi Emecheta, Mobolaji Adenubi, and Hilary Rouse-Amadi.

Notably, Azizah, like other female writers, has been able to outline the following feminist angles in her book, A Sackful of Wishes.   

Cultural Feminism:

Cultural feminism celebrates human attributes in women. It focuses on the feminist virtues by celebrating the positive sides of women. In A Sackful of Wishes of Azizah Idris M., Inna Binta, Hadiza’s mother, is a character who portrays aspects of cultural feminism. Inna Binta is a calm, reserved woman who faces a lot of tragedies as a new bride to Mallam Musa. She is hated and manipulated by her co-wife, Mairo Lauje. Inna Binta’s character shows a woman with patience despite the confrontations she faced from Mama Mairo. Cultural feminism believes that there is strength in a woman’s silence. They see the strength in women in the face of oppression. 

Hadiza’s mother, Inna Binta, could endure hardship from her co-wife or return to her parents. Binta remains strong even when Mairo Lauje makes her evil plot to charm her into never staying in Mal Musa’s house. 

Despite all the plots, Binta says, “It’s okay, I can do that . . .as long as she lets me stay with you. You are worth it.”

It is evident from the above quote that Binta, as being put in the cultural feminism, wanted peace for herself, her husband, and her children; that was why she heeded Mama Mairo’s deal. At this point, the cultural feminists view the mother’s strength as crucial. “Mothers have to be strong to take on both roles, loving, protecting, and counselling in turns” (Ngcobo 536).

Marxist feminism: 

The Marxist feminist approach propounded by Karl Marx is embedded in this work. The author portrays Hadiza Musa as someone who earnestly wants to earn for herself and feed her children. When she faces hunger, starvation and poverty, Hadiza immediately engages in a skilled job to take care of her children. She was into plaiting people’s hair and got an immense reward in cash. Hadiza becomes her own woman, independently sourcing and feeding herself and her children. 

It should be noted that Marxist feminists connect the oppression of women to social exploitation and oppression. A Sackful of Wishes by Azizah Idris M. majorly portrays an oppression of the female gender. According to Sotunsa, Marxist feminists believe that male domination is one of the societal ills, and gender oppression must be overcome to overcome societal ills. Hadiza resists the dominance of her husband, AR, whom society believes she needs to bow to. In the text, Hadiza says:  

“I want to start a business.” 

“I don’t have enough money, but I have skill in weaving hair. So, I’m going to start making people’s hair, I want your permission.” (129)

When her husband, AZ, decides to stop her, Hadiza says:

You can’t stop me, you know. You don’t feed me, nor clothe me, you don’t know how I buy my detergent or my body cream or provide the needs of Maahir. You just go out and come home. Some nights, you would try to come near me. Why do you think I got the money for those perfumes and creams that make me feel smooth and appealing to you? You either man up and hold on to your responsibilities or you let me start a business. (129)    

Fortunately for Hadiza, she wins the battle to make people’s hair after Umma Sala, Abdurrazak’s mother, intervenes.   

In portraying her bizarre situation, Hadiza was quoted as thus: 

I resorted to selling two of my wrappers from Mahir’s naming gifts to buy some foodstuffs since I was so heavy, I could not plait my customers’ hair at this stage. I found it difficult to sit for long. They did not sell for much. I saved some of the cash because I knew my situation, and I could need it anytime. I bought some spaghetti and vegetables. My sisters came to check on me the next day. We ate and chatted, and I even gave them some transport fare. Nobody would think things were amiss in my house. (141) 

Another portrayal of Marxist feminism in the text is in the character of Umma Sala, Abdurrazak’s mother. Umma is the boss of the house because her husband, Abdurrazak’s father, is not earning much, and she’s making money with her food business. 

As it turns out, Umma took over control of the house. With her business as a food vendor and other small businesses, whenever she did something in the house, she billed it to Baffa. Whether he had it or not, he would pay when he got some money. 

Radical Feminism: 

A Sackful of Wishes by Azizah Idris M. portrays richly a form of radical feminist approach. Radical feminists view society fundamentally as a patriarchy in which men dominate and oppress women. According to Shulamith Firestone, radical feminists seek to abolish the patriarchy in a struggle to liberate women and girls from an unjust society by challenging existing social norms and institutions. This struggle includes opposing the sexual objectification of women, raising public awareness about such issues as rape and violence against women. 

The central character, Hadiza Musa, exhibits a taste of radical feminism as a woman who mysteriously falls in love with a man so obsessed with her that Hadiza rebels against her husband’s oppressive behaviours. The radical feminism inked in the work portrays Hadiza as a woman who stays firmly and fights against starvation, rape, humiliation, and disrespect from her husband and, subsequently, his. Hadiza Musa rebels to the extent that she leaves her husband’s house several times out of her mother’s frustration and anger. 

Hadiza states that: 

I was fed up with my life. I was just twenty-five years old, but I had seen the difficulties of a sixty-year-old’s lifetime. I did not put on fancy clothes, nor did make-up appeal to me. I had forgotten how to laugh heartily, my soul was a wreck, my spirit in shambles. I was a walking time bomb waiting to explore. The things I bore in my chest were unimaginable. I had a sackful of wishes that I craved, that I needed to explore but could not do that because I was a coward. There, that’s it. (172)

Her rebellious act makes her stand tall against society, which tends to make her return to her horrible marriage. With the assistance of her brother, Yusuf, Hadiza can take the matter to court. She perseveres despite the intricacies of her husband, Abdurrazak, until she finally gets a favourable judgment dissolving the marriage.  

Conclusion

A Sackful of Wishes is one of the many texts that portray the difficulties, hardships, pain, angst, and oppression women experience in their marriages. It is one of the works that uses a feminist approach to fight for women’s freedom and free them from society’s shackles. 

Thus, it is evident from the text that there still exists a repressive and hostile environment against women. The text shows how young Hadiza faces and traverses through oppression and pain from her psychopath husband and his mother. 

Abdullahi Yusuf Tela wrote via abdullahiyusuftela@yahoo.com.

By Aisha Musa Auyo

Dear Dad, I can’t believe you’ve left this world

Earlier today, I found myself

Praying for your health

Instead of praying for your Rahma and Ghuffar

In my subconsciousness

You’re still alive

I’m still in the denial stage of my grief

It’s unbelievable, the man that brought me into this world

The man who loves me from day one

The man who nurtured me day and night

Even after my marriage

He never let go of me

Is no more to see me grow

His dreams for me were larger than life

His belief in me was stronger than rock

His patience with me was deeper than the ocean

His respect for me was limitless like air

Dear Dad, I tried to move on from your death, as you would have loved me to

But I couldn’t escape the reality that my hero was gone

During the day I’m mostly fine

During the night it’s a different story

Only God knows the silent tears I’ve shed

The numerous plates I’ve broken

The countless foods I’ve burnt

The tiny cuts on my fingers

As I tried to move on from your death

Dear Dad, I was told your grave was full of water

That I should be happy, it’s a sign of Rahma

But this news tore my heart

As I imagine you inside the mud

Alone in your grave

But I learned that,

Your Ruuh is with our Lord

It’s just your body under the mud

Dear Dad, I was reminded that you lived a fulfilled life

Reached the pinnacle of your profession

Touched thousands of souls

Mentored countless lives

Fathered numerous of us

Built dreams and hope for others

Cemented relationships and communities

That your life is a dream of many

The smiling scholar as they named you

Yet, I still hoped you were here

To witness my PhD viva

To witness that big appointment you’ve always envisioned for me

To witness the marriage of all your kids

The successes of all your kids

But Allah’s timing is never to be questioned

And in His will, we were together

Few hours before your death

And your parting words: ‘Allah Yai muku albarka’

Will forever echo in my ears

For you’ve repeated it too many times at that moment

The prayers are too much I thought to myself

Not knowing that was the last thing I’d hear from you

Dear Dad, till we meet in Jannah I would say

For I hope writing this poem

Will give me closure

Will make me accept the reality

That you’re no more with us

That you’re in a better place

That you’re in light and peace Bi iznillah

By Sa’adatu Aliyu

It was in the harmattan of December 2023. My siblings and I were at home when my elder sister, the firstborn, called to update us on her husband’s current state.

He had recently undergone surgery and was back home recovering with his family. I couldn’t tell whether she spoke calmly or sounded agitated when she called my brother on the phone. But as soon as he hung up, he said she told him that her husband’s sickness had resurfaced, and they were heading to the hospital.

Aside from my faith in God that everything would be fine, I remained calm because I believed it was normal for people to fall ill from time to time. Sometimes, the illness may be severe, and other times, it may not, but eventually, everything will be fine. I held onto this thought as I continued eating my plate of boiled yam.

But shortly after, my brother called back to ask what was happening, as anxiety was starting to get the better of him. I kept eating the soft yam with a sprinkling of oil and “yaji” while my brother waited for my sister to answer the phone.

“Ya rasu, he’s dead,” she said as soon as she picked up the phone. My brother then softly exclaimed, “From Allah we are and to Him is our return.”

Since I hadn’t considered the possibility of death in our family and had taken the illness lightly – I mean, I, too, have undergone surgery before – my brother’s words didn’t immediately make me think of death. But I couldn’t explain why my heart sank in terror despite my attempt to brush it off. However, I carefully got out of bed and went to the parlour to ask what was happening.

My brother told me that she said he had passed away. I said, “From Allah we are and to Him is our return,” knowing that after this, I wouldn’t return to eating my yam and that it would be a long night.

This was the only thing I had the strength to do. While I watched my younger siblings break into tears and the news spread to the rest of the world, I pretended to be strong. I wanted to be strong. I couldn’t wail like others. Despite being known as the emotional one in the house, I was unusually calm. I easily shed tears over the slightest pain, but I didn’t cry when I heard the news of my sister’s husband’s death, a man who had loved and treated us well.

Later, I realized it had been three to four months since I last saw him physically. I had been studying in my first year of master’s at university, and due to my health issues and other reasons, I couldn’t visit his house.

Afterwards, I realized I had let many memories of him slip away due to forgetfulness. When the announcement of his death came, I struggled to recall even his appearance. I don’t know if this is a form of betrayal. However, after time had somewhat eased our loss, I began to feel a little bereaved. At least I remembered that he fervently supported my writing and had confidence in my ability to succeed in the literary world.

Then, something gripped me. I felt hollow, like a bottomless abyss, suddenly doubting my ability to be the great writer he always praised. I felt like I had betrayed him. I couldn’t shed a tear, only once, and it was when I went to console my sister, and she expressed gratitude to her siblings for being there. Now, my dreams felt hollow, no longer worth pursuing. He called me “our writer” with delight in his eyes and pride in his voice.

However, perhaps I didn’t break down at his death news because I’ve learned to be a pillar for my family to lean on. Maybe I knew that showing blatant grief would break us all. But this death arrested me unexpectedly, making me exhibit a composure that felt real when it was just a mask. It stole my reason to pray consciously for him despite him being a loved one. It reinforced the reality of death as our eventuality and the need to move on, which I tried to do, perhaps too early.

However, I know the fatality of my emotions. Or perhaps I’d changed as a human being, embarrassed to be perceived as emotional, and had become so cruel and cold in this December harmattan because I’d been accused in the past by people I loved of being too emotional. Ever since maybe I’d subconsciously vowed never to show weakness in the face of adversity. Whatever it may be, now I know that I may never forgive those who have accused me of being too emotional because they’ve essentially succeeded in making me a little less compassionate and merciful.

And if this is just one of those things death does to people – causing them to evolve – then I’ve seen such change in my sister. After spending a month in her house during the mourning period, I saw her sometimes hiding her tears as she remembered her now late husband and sometimes reaching for her phone to place a call to her husband to ask for the location of something she couldn’t find in the house before she remembered he was no more. I’ve since noticed new things about her. She would hide her phone underneath the bed every night when she was about to sleep and ask if I did the same with my phone. “My husband always did that to keep away from robbers in case of a break-in,” she would look at me and say. I didn’t know what to tell her.

She cooked spaghetti differently from how we cooked in our house before she was married. She would say, “The foaming top of the ogbono soup must disappear before it’s ready to be eaten.” She did other things I’ll call strange, only because her husband did them. Sometimes, they were against my liking, but I reasoned that perhaps the death of a loved one altered us in ways I could not comprehend. Maybe she held on to those things, even though they sometimes felt strange – a museum of special memories of him that were quickly within reach.

Though I was numb for days after his death, it wasn’t until recently that I was able to pray for him consciously. I hope I’ll pay his rightful due to him, my fervent supporter. May Allah have mercy on him, amin.

Sa’adatu Aliyu is a writer from Zaria. She is currently pursuing an M.A. in Literature at Ahmadu Bello University, where she also works as a lecturer at the Distance Learning Centre. Her writing interests include Prose fiction and International politics. She can be reached at Saadatualiyu36@gmail.com.

By Aliyu Idris

Engausa is a new emerging phenomenon that involves code switching and code mixing in English and Hausa. It’s a creative bilingual blend encompassing importance, uniqueness, and sending a message using a fusion of two popular languages (Hausa and English). It’s another genre of poetry and writing with its peculiarities. Its linguistic efforts are not to create a phenomenon that is Hausa or English but to create a genre that’s genuinely “Engausa.”

Khalid Imam and Ola Ifatimehin worked to establish a new writing phenomenon in the atmosphere of writing. After submission, they edited the ENGAUSA poetry anthology titled KWARAPTION.

Kwaraption Engausa Anthology is a poetry anthology comprising fifty-one poems penned by forty-five teeming poets. Various notable works of art have been produced on corruption in Nigeria. The poems in this anthology were written in various styles, from traditional to experimental, and they reflect the diverse voices and experiences of the poets.

One of the anthology’s strengths is its focus on Engausa poetry. Engausa is a hybrid form of poetry that blends Hausa and English languages. It is a relatively new and still evolving form of writing. The anthology features several poems in Engausa, allowing readers to experience this unique and dynamic form of writing.

The poems provide readers with a vast knowledge of Nigerian richness and valuable resources, but they’re not properly managed and are embezzled due to corruption. They also portray corruption as a major hindrance to the country’s progress, lament the nation’s current status, and inquire when corruption will end. The poems highlight many causes of corruption and its consequences.

The poets come from various backgrounds and experiences, and their poems reflect this diversity. The anthology features poems from established and emerging poets, which shows diversity in the anthology.

They try to display the pervasiveness of corruption in all parts of the country. Clearly, corruption was endemic but has now metamorphosed into an unending pandemic that continues to destroy the nation’s advancement. Several instances of the poem address corruption in different sectors of life, ranging from offices to hospitals to markets to politics to schools.

Kwaraption Engausa: An Anthology of Poems is a valuable contribution to Nigerian and Hausa literature and literature at large. It is a must-read for anyone interested in contemporary Nigerian poetry or the Engausa form of poetry as a newly branded way of writing.

Aliyu Idris wrote via aliyuidris063@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Khairalla

I am not a huge fan of reviewing books that come my way because of personal reasons, but this time around, I felt compelled to share some major lessons and takeaway from a book I personally found rich in ideas for building and shaping leadership journey of any aspiring leader across different sectors.

“Lead Disruption” is a book written by Dr. Akin Oke with thrust and focus on providing a guide for exceptional leadership performance in this era of turbulence and uncertainty.

To begin with, the author began by establishing the fact that, the world today is faced with all kinds of disruptions, chaos occasioned by the accelerating rate of change and uncertainty in our hyperkinetic environments caused fundamentally by three seismic events:

• Global Health Pandemic(Covid-19)
  *Global reorganisation of work due to the adoption of new technologies and
• The ongoing geopolitical transformations across the globe (east/west tension).This according to him, summarises our world into VUCA meaning– Volatile, Uncertain, Complex and Ambiguous.

Additionally, recent predictions about the advance of the fourth industrial revolution indicate that the speed of change, uncertainty and disruption to businesses will continue to increase. The world will have to brace up for potential global economic recession and the effects of climate change due to the continued depletion of ozone layer. This rapid change taking place, will invariably displace the old order and that will require leaders who are well-packed and positioned with requisite skills to transit their businesses and societies into prosperity in line with the new realities.

It is not a matter of conjecture that the Covid-19 has taken the world by surprise and has shifted and dismantled many old conventions, practices and ways of doing things that had previously existed during the pre-Covid era in our business space, industries, government halls and social realm. One thing that stood out is the complete migration of human race into a technological world, work from home, a situation he terms as the “new normal”

To effectively provide effective leadership in light of the current precarious reality of our fast-paced world, the book outlines among other themes and concepts such as self-awareness, resilience, innovation quotient, empathy and effective communication as critical elements for leaders to navigate through the tough and murky waters of the VUCA world.

I will touch briefly on each of the concepts for the sake of time. Self-awareness is the bedrock of effective leadership. This is because effective leadership, begins with good self-leadership. For a leader, knowing yourself and staying true and authentic to oneself is one of the salient assets you need, to be able to lead others in times of uncertainty. Asking yourself how well do you know your personal traits, your strengths, weaknesses, values and preferences? are very critical for a leader that aspires to lead his people even in times of turbulence. Dr. Akin Oke gave an analogy of a dangerous turbulence called “clear-air” by aviators that airplanes face which occurs when the plane has stabilised and in the cruising altitude and is always difficult to predict as radars cannot signal it in advance.

At this point, pilots are not too concerned about it, because the body of the plane itself has the ability to come back to its original planned position based on the inherent strengths of the plane itself. “Aeronautical engineers call this ability positive stability and pilots will tell you that the secret lies within the complex technical configurations at work in-between the wings of the plane and the in the belly of fuselage. This is the same way ‘self-awareness works for a leader. Leaders should have this capacity within them-they must build that resilience within them, that positive stability. And you cannot do that without having a good configuration of yourself (you morality, integrity, honesty, etc)”

Again,self-awareness is very important as there is a strong nexus between private morality and public morality of a leader because his personality is molded by these two realities. Though, this assertion has met stiff criticism by some leaders who try to separate public morality from their private morality. Unfortunately, these two intertwined. While it’s true a leader is human like everyone else and is entitled to private life outside the public role, the reality is that the leader’s private life can have serious consequences on the larger society especially in terms of public perception or behaviour. A bigoted leader, for example, is unfit to lead a company or plural society made up of people of diverse inclinations, backgrounds and idiosyncrasies. This is because his professional sense of judgement will be affected. A bad father , would not be the ideal person to lead or speak to other about fatherhood or parenting,especially if his private life as a failed father is a matter of public knowledge.

Another key element highlighted in the book is of course ‘resilience ‘ which is about the ability of a leader to respond in a positive and constructive way to uncertainty. It is about adapting to a prompt change and capacity to bounce back after a setback. A leader is required to be resilient even in the face of towering threat and dilemma and do everything to emerge out of it. This of course led the author to introduce me to a concept previously unfamiliar to me ‘antifragility’ which is a notch higher than resilience. While resilience rests on the capacity to bounce back after a setback, antifragility has to do with not only bouncing back but how to learn to thrive in the face of adversity and uncertainty. Simply put ‘a resilient leader resists shocks and stays the same, the antifragile leader gets better”.

Equally, the author looks at the central role of innovation in propelling one to be an effective leader in times of disruptions such as the covid era. Innovative leadership lies in the ability of a leader to provide solutions that lead to improvement in the life of an organisation or society, using new ideas. Covid era is a referral case in point, with Zoom coming to the rescue of mankind at its most critical point of need. As a leader, your ability to generate breakthrough ideas that help and transform society at a time of needs and despair, speaks volume of you. Voltaire was right to say “no problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking”

The last but not the least, among the tips reeled out by the author is “empathy”. This is about a leader putting himself in workers’ or subjects’ shoes to understand their emotions and feelings while ultimately providing solutions to them. He interestingly demonstrated how a leader with no empathy may receive vitriolic backlash by his subjects or workers. The case of Adams Osiomole in 2013 was cited when he was begged by a widow illegally selling wares by the roadside, where he told her to, “Go and die”.

Although Oshiomole’s outburst stemmed from his frustration as a leader trying to enforce street trading laws in a bid to make the city better, his unguarded utterance was met with widespread condemnation. He had to organise a highly publicised reunion with the widow barely a month later to apologise.

The book reached its climax on stressing the invaluable role of ‘communication’ in engendering effective leadership. Effective leadership communication is about transferring message in such a way that it can be understood by all the parties involved. The leader should take into the audience’s level of understanding and ability, especially by enhancing the clarity and unambiguousness of the every message transmitted to them.

Without effective communication, nothing gets done in a society especially in hours of uncertainty. An example of former governor of New Yoke Mr. Andrew Cuomo was drawn especially his daily Covid-19 briefings viewed globally via CNN which were source of information, direction and vision casting without leaving his subjects second-guessing on every next move. It enabled New Yorkers to have clear vision of the impact of the Covid Pandemic on the state of New York and probably America at large.

As far as I am concerned, Borno state governor Prof. Babagana Umara Zulum is also a shining example of effective leader even in moments of fear and despair. This could be seen during his frequent state-wide broadcast during the pandemic in English, Kanuri and Hausa respectively which provided hopes, empathy, details of infection rates, estimated death toll, that way, the people of Borno were able to make informed decisions towards slowing down the spread of the virus by complying the with Covid protocols and appreciate the need to endure tough lockdown restrictions. This is the essence of leadership communication.

Finally, providing tips for building effective communication in leadership by the author is just “an icing on the cake” these are; Affirming words or communication with action(behaviour of the leader), Demonstrate and Provide stories, anecdotes that inspire and motivate action, Communicate relentlessly, Active Listening and encouragement of inputs, Clarity, and simplicity in communication.

Abdullahi Khairalla writes from Maiduguri

Author: Richard Eaton

Number of Pages: 489

Date of Publication: 2019

Publisher: University of California Press

In case you’re too lazy to read the book: it is all about the time when Islam was the dominant ruling religion in the Indian subcontinent from the sociopolitical, economic and military perspectives.

This is a very interesting book that, according to the author, challenges some preconceived narratives and stereotypes on the complex interactions between India and the Persian-speaking world during the medieval period.

The book takes a long course into the political dynamics of the Persianate age, discussing the emergence of the Mughal empire, its spread and culmination as well as interplay with other contemporary gunpowder empires: Ottoman and the Safavid.

Naturally, any discussion on the emergence of the Mughal Empire must include a historical look at Timur, a controversial figure whom I believe many Western authors, unfairly criticize. Of course, there was an entire chapter dedicated to Abu al-Muzaffar Muhi-ad-Din Muhammad Bahadur Alamgir Aurangzeb Badshah al-Ghazi, under whose 49-year reign the Mughal empire reached its peak in terms of glory and geographical extent.

The author builds the bulk of his arguments upon a very deep historical background, and he closely examines the role of Persianate age in shaping religious and intellectual developments in India.

He also discusses the impact of Sufism on Indian society and explores how Persian texts played a crucial role in the spread of Islamic mysticism across the subcontinent. This way, the book provides insights into the assimilation of Persianate cultural practices into Indian religious traditions, such as the development of Persian-influenced styles of devotional poetry in languages like Urdu.

The author, Richard Eaton is an American historian at the University of Arizona.

Shamsuddeen Sani wrote from Kano, Nigeria.

By Sabiu Abdullahi 

The Flame Tree Writers’ Project, in partnership with the Heinrich Böll Foundation, has announced a call for applications for a writers’ workshop targeting emerging writers from Northern Nigeria.

The initiative aims to support young writers in honing their craft and envisioning a more democratic and peaceful Nigeria.

According to Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, founder of the Flame Tree Writers’ Project, “This has been a passion project of mine for so long, and I am excited that, with the support of the Heinrich Böll Foundation, it is coming to fruition.”

The workshop, scheduled for June 24–28, 2024, in Abuja, will be co-facilitated by NLNG Nigeria Prize–winning authors Abubakar Adam Ibrahim and Chika Unigwe.

Participants will receive guidance in writing a short story suitable for publication in an anthology. 

Ere Amachree, Program Manager at the Heinrich Böll Foundation, noted, “The foundation is excited about the Flame Tree Writers’ Project, as it advances our vision of promoting writing as a means of political expression, just like Heinrich Böll, the German writer after whom our foundation is named.” 

The call for applications is exclusively for writers from the 19 Northern States of Nigeria, aged between 18 and 35. Female emerging writers are strongly encouraged to apply. 

Interested participants must meet the eligibility criteria and submit their applications to flametreewritersproject@gmail.com by June 1, 2024. 

Encouraging writers to apply, Mr. Abubakar said, “It’s not just a workshop but a project that will publish the stories from the workshop in an anthology of new writing and get them into institutions of learning, where they will be taught as part of the growing and exciting corpus of literature from this part of the country.”