Literature

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

She has done it again. She first did it in 1974/80. In 2024, she repeated it. The feat that no female northern Nigerian has ever performed. Hajiya Hafsatu Abdul Waheed (b. 1952, Kano, northern Nigeria) was the first woman creative fiction writer from northern Nigeria to be published in any language, although hers was in Hausa.

On 13th April 2024, she became the first female Muslim northern Nigerian to be honoured with D.Litt. (Honoris Causa “for the sake of the honour”) doctorate degree from a no less institution than the biggest online university in Africa, the National Open University of Nigeria (NOUN). This was at the 13th Convocation Ceremony of the university held on 13th April 2024 in Abuja, the main headquarters of the university.

In a way, Ms. AbdulWaheed represents a paradox. She is not Hausa or Hausa-Fulani. She is Fulani, pure and simple. She learnt Hausa only outside her family home, in school, but at home, it was Fulfulde all the way. Yet her creative writing has always been in Hausa, with the exception of one book of poetry in English and the recently published collection of short stories titled Sharo. Nothing in Fulfulde, though.

The common historical narrative on literary development in northern Nigeria was that a literary competition to encourage the reading culture among Hausa youth was organized by the Northern Nigerian Publishing Corporation (NNPC) in 1978. One of the entries, which was also one of the winners, was “So Aljannar Duniya” by Hafsatu Abdul Waheed. It was in the Hausa language. However, it would appear, according to Hafsatu herself, that she wrote the novel in 1972, and it was published in 1974.

It was, quite simply, the most radical novel in Hausa literary history. Even “Ƙarshen Alewa Ƙasa” by Bature Gagare (who died in 2002), an unconventional novel, , published in 1982 (as a result of a literary competition organized by the then Federal Department of Culture, Ministry of Social Welfare and Culture) did not come close. Curiously, they contrasted each other. Gagare’s novel is about the lost glory of the ‘original’ Hausa people—the Maguzawa. Hafsatu’s novel is about breaking the Pulaaku—the Fulani code of behaviour. Both Hafsatu and Gagare became spokespersons of their ethnicities.

So Aljannar Duniya is brash, bold, audacious, trenchant, and unapologetic. It is a declaration of war against Pulaaku. It was unarguably the first Fulani feminist tract written in Hausa. Hafsatu’s style and critique of tradition might be compared with those of Bilkisu Salisu Ahmed Funtuwa and Balaraba Ramat Yakubu. However, there are quite a few differences.

Despite its pioneering boldness, So Aljannar Duniya is difficult to read. Perhaps that was because the author started writing it while still in secondary school! Its narrative is often jumbled and non-linear. Understandable. It was written in anger, so words tend to wobble, but the message is clear. This is more so because it is ethnographic. Hafsatu wove a story around her sister, of course, a Fulani, who had every intention of marrying an ‘alien’—an Arab from Libya. So Aljannar Duniya is, therefore, a true story, spiced up by fictional elements to convey a message. As I said before, it is a feminist tract.

Balaraba Rama Yakubu, however, writes in a deeply engaging mature and absorptive style with plenty of hooks. For instance, “Wa Zai Auri Jahila?”, which I consider her best novel, is dark and deeply disturbing narrative of what in contemporary feminist Woke world would be considered an injustice to women, especially young girls in a traditional African society.

Although Novian Whitsitt, who did his PhD on Balaraba’s novels, referred to it as ‘feminist’ I disagreed with him. I labelled her works ‘womanist’, after Alice Walker’s short story, ‘Coming Apart’ (1979). As explained elsewhere, “a womanist is committed to the survival of both males and females and desires a world where men and women can coexist while maintaining their cultural distinctiveness.” This inclusion of men provides women with an opportunity to address gender oppression without directly attacking men (Adamu 2003). Balaraba reflects this in her novels, especially “Alhaki Kwikuyo” (translated by Aliyu Kamal and published by Blaft Books in India). Can’t say much about Bilkisu Funtuwa’s books, though, as I have never read any.

But Hafsatu AbdulWaheed is a feminist—at least as portrayed in So Aljannar Duniya. The plot revolves around a young Fulani lady who wants to marry an ‘alien’ (Arab) from Libya. In real life, Hafsatu’s elder sister. Their parents rejected the idea. The plot of the novel does away with the Fulani Pulaaku and introduces a brash, assertive, loud and anti-establishment heroine, Boɗaɗo, who, armed with a degree in Pharmaceutical Sciences, comes back to her village to set up a drug store (called Chemists in Nigeria, a bit like Walgreens) and introduces her fiancé—all un-lady like behaviours in the Fulani mindset.

Thus, she discards the Fulani munyal (self-control), semteende (modesty) and hakkillo (wisdom)—central components of Pulaaku—and declares, openly, her love for an “alien” in her auntie’s presence! The opening dialogue from the novel sets the pace in which Boɗaɗo, speaking, informs her aunt:

(Hau) Aure! Inna ni fa na gaya muku ba zan auri kowa ba sai wanda nake so. Kun san zamani ya sake.

(trans) Marriage! Aunty, I have told you that I will only marry the man I love. You know times have changed.

Such direct confrontation in a Fulani village was uncommon and reflects the author’s autobiographical rebellion against tradition. Her aunt—delegated to mediate in these matters on behalf of the protagonist’s mother—is shocked. As she lamented:

(Hau) Mhm! Wannan zamani, Allah Ya saukaka. Yarinya ki zauna kina zancen auren ki, sai ka ce hirar nono da mai. Don haka fa ba ma son sa ɗiyar mu makarantar boko. In kun yi karatu sai ku ce kun fi kowa. Me kuka ɗauke mu ne?

(trans) Mhm. These are difficult times. May Allah save us. Listen to you talk about your marriage as if you are talking about milk and butter. That is why we don’t want to send our daughters to school. After you finish, you feel superior to everyone. What do you take us for?

A battleground and the rules of engagement have been established—female empowerment through education—and Hafsatu chose the most conservative arena: a Fulani settlement, considered generally more trenchant about Pulaaku than urban Fulani. Additionally, the novel’s subtext of rebellion against arranged and forced marriage underscores Hafsatu’s acerbic demand for personal choice in marital affairs by women. It was a template for rebellion.

Another contrast between Hafsatu’s So Aljannar Duniya and Balaraba’s Wai Zai Auri Jahila? is in the choice of careers. Hafsatu chose Pharmacy for her protagonist, while Balaraba made her own a nurse. Pharmacy was a profession in the period, and by making her character a pharmacist, she thrusts Boɗaɗo into a man’s world to compete equally with men. Balaraba, on the other hand, by making her character a nurse instead of a doctor, maintains the womanist ethos of an achieving woman in a male-dominated society, fitting in with career stereotypes of women in caring professions.

The success of So Aljannar Duniya sent a message to the budding Hausa literati to pick up their pens and set to work—thus spawning a genre which t revolutionized the Hausa literary landscape in contemporary times.. Furthermore, the combined effects of the harsh economic realities of the 1980s (the decade of military coups and counter-coups in Nigeria) ensured reduced parental responsibility in the martial affairs of their children. Therefore, fantasy, media parenting, especially Hindi films, anti-authority and a loud, persistent message from bursting testosterones in a conservative society that sees strict gender separation combined to present Hausa youth with soyayya (romance) as the central template for creative fiction. It was a safety valve to repressed sexuality.

Hafsatu’s radicalism, however, did not end at rebellion against arranged or forced marriage for women. At one stage she declared to run for the office of the Governor of Zamfara State. This was provoked by a statement by the sitting governor that there were no educated women in the state. To prove him wrong, she decided to campaign for his chair! She even made posters, but was asked by her father to stop. At least, she had made a statement. Furthermore, her real-life echoes Boɗaɗo’s—she was also married to an ‘alien’ from the Middle East (a Syrian). Incidentally, it was a marriage that took her to Gusau, the Zamfara State capital, and I had the pleasure of meeting her late husband, Malam Ahmad Abdul Waheed, during a British Council “Intensities in Ten Cities” Islamophobia tour on 9th July 2003. Both Hafsatu and her husband were born and raised in Kano. It was his career that took them to Gusau.

In literary circles, she also has a voice. For one, she used to assiduously attend every single literary convention anywhere it was held. As part of ANA Kano activities, we were together in Niamey and Maraɗi in Niger Republic at various times to attend international conventions of Hausa writers. She never tired of attending and actively participating. Wonderful enough, she often went with her children and grandchildren, showing them the way. It is little wonder that some of these children became well-celebrated in their chosen professions—for they had a strong role model at home. A good example is her eldest daughter, Kadaria Ahmad, the award-winning journalist who owns and runs the NOW FM radio station in Lagos.

Thus, the recognition of the pioneering efforts of Hafsatu AbdulWaheed by the National Open University of Nigeria (NOUN) on 13th April 2024 during the university’s 13th Convocation was a salute not only to the resilience of feminist women but also to all Hausa language writers of both genders. As far as I know, she was the first female Muslim Fulani (or Hausa) writer to be so honoured by any university in Nigeria. She has, therefore, entered the history books. She is truly a woman of substance.

References.

Adamu, Abdalla Uba. “Parallel Worlds: Reflective Womanism in Balaraba Ramat Yakubu’s Ina Son Sa Haka.” JENDA: A Journal of Culture and African Women Studies, no. 4 (2003). https://bit.ly/3Q2gNlY.

Whitsitt, Novian. Kano Market Literature and the Construction of Hausa-Islamic Feminism A Contrast in Feminist Perspectives of Balaraba Ramat Yakubu and Bilkisu Ahmed Funtuwa. PhD dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 2000.

By Muhammad Sani Usman

If you are an introvert and, worst of all, you don’t want to go out and meet strangers, or you are not financially stable enough to explore the world you romanticise in your head, then you should read fictional books.

Consider The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini for a unique perspective on Afghanistan. Unlike the war-torn image often portrayed in American movies, Hossien’s narrative paints a different picture. He depicts a flowing country, with small boys flying kites in the streets of Kabul and the vibrant Afghan holidays like Nowruz. 

You will learn about friends and kinship. There is Amir, the privileged son of a wealthy businessman, and Hassan, the son of their family servant, who grew up together in Kabul. Despite their different social statuses, they are inseparable as children. They spend their days flying kites, with Hassan being the best kite runner, always ready to retrieve the kite Amir cuts down. 

If you don’t know what betrayal is by a friend, then you should look at how Amir witnesses Hassan being sexually assaulted but chooses to do nothing out of fear and selfishness. This event haunts Amir, leading to guilt and a sense of betrayal that defines much of his life.

If you are still wondering about the lengths people go to with the ones they love, you will see how Amir chooses to marry Soraya (his girlfriend), accepting her past and the societal judgment that comes with it. In essence, you will see matured and refined love between Hassan and Soraya.

You will only get all this information from creative writers pushing the world close to you. 

Muhammad Sani Usman wrote muhdusman1999@gmail.com. 

By Saifullahi Attahir Wurno.

John Grisham’s The King of Torts tells the story of Clay Carter. He is a Washington city-based, poorly paid lawyer who works as a public defender on the city’s outskirts. Like most employees, he was unsatisfied with his job as it hardly paid his monthly expenses. Another problem with Clay was that he had been dating Rebecca for a long time, and her parents were unhappy with their relationship. These issues kept Mr Clay’s poor mind busy, always thinking of nothing but how he would become rich.

One afternoon at the office, a man named Max Pace appeared before Mr Clay, claiming to be an insider of one pharmaceutical company that secretly carried out a clinical trial on some prisoners without their consent. The story goes that a drug called Tarvan had a side effect that forced its victim to carry out senseless killings without any remorse. Mr Clay became interested in the case and went to investigate up to the prison and interviewed the victims. 

Mr Clay gathered enough evidence to sue the pharmaceutical company involved. Before that, he went into an agreement not to disclose or involve Max Pace in the dealing. After lengthy litigation, the company pleaded guilty and made a massive settlement for the victims through Mr Clay’s hands. This made Mr Clay a hot cake within a month. 

Surprisingly, Max Pace appeared again while trying to adjust to his new life, promising Mr Clay that more litigation cases needed another lawyer for the investigation, so he advised Mr Clay to try his luck. Ever greedy with money, without question, Clay accepted the challenge and plunged into action.

 This one involved another giant pharmaceutical company called Ackerman Laboratories that developed a drug called Dyloft, which was found to be carcinogenic (potential to cause cancer). This time, Mr Clay raised a campaign in TV and magazines until, eventually, the Ackerman laboratories pleaded guilty and agreed to pay a 100 million Dollar settlement. Barrister Clay became an overnight Millionaire and the talk of the city, with magazines featuring and making stories about him; they even nicknamed him ‘The King of Torts’.

Typical of a man longing for cool Dollars, Mr Clay bought a new black and latest Mercedes Benz for a couple of millions, purchased a house in a neighbouring suburb, leased a building and founded a private law firm just for handling litigation cases. He hired more smart rookies ( young lawyers) and decorated his office building to appear prominent and affluent. 

The problem with soft Dollars is that they often affect our thinking negatively. This time, Mr Clay’s relationship with Rebecca becomes sour, and he begins to distance himself from her, although they genuinely love each other. The fact that her parents are not happy with their relationship and would not allow them to live together forced Mr Clay to date other young girls secretly. He was always roaming from one five-star hotel to another, paying huge bills to satisfy his desire.

 He entered the big league of Great lawyers in town, spending lavishly, travelling around the country attending conferences in a state-of-the-art private Jet he leased! and travelling to the Caribbean Islands during holidays to enjoy his wealth. 

 He eventually met a lady named Ridley, who was a beauty Model. Ridley (modern-day prostitute). That is where Mr Clay was losing his soft Dollars quickly and without noticing. He bought many properties in her name, fearing to lose them to the FBI, thinking he trusted her enough and their relationship would be permanent.

As for his work, he was luckily getting more dollars, litigating more pharmaceutical companies, the latest involving a company called Goffman that produced a drug called Maxatil. Thinking it’s always a win, he invested heavily in this case by orchestrating expensive adverts, hiring expensive lawyers, and even recruiting fake victims just to get the soft Dollars. Unfortunately, Goffman was not ready to back down; they hired more expert lawyers and conducted a deeper investigation. Eventually, Mr Clay lost the case.

Losing for the first time, Mr Clay lost his balance, and more trouble awaited as the Goffman company sued him for blackmailing their products; this forced Mr Clay to lose a large proportion of his fortune.

 Mr Clay was sued again before the court by the clients on whose behalf he collected a massive settlement for not paying them enough to cover their hospital bills after leaked news by one of his close allies. Without saying, Mr Clay becomes more deeply in trouble.

He was eventually investigated by the FBI, risking a jail term or a settlement that would cost him almost all of his fortune. He has the option for the latter.  He lost all his assets and new ‘friends’, including Ridley, who fled without a trace. He fled the country, and surprisingly, all this while, his original lover Rebecca was married to another man but got divorced later. Finding out Mr Clay’s story, she travelled to meet him, console him and offer her genuine care and love. They continued to live afterwards, and Mr Clay learned his lessons.

History has continually shown that overnight riches or those who stumble upon a vast fortune suddenly and effortlessly are similarly more susceptible to losing it. The problem with overnight riches is that they impede our positive thinking, allowing us to dive deep into fantasies, opening unrealistic doors, and drawing us toward deceptive paths.

This story can reference some of our lives today; this insatiable search for soft money by all and sundry, hook or crook, could remind the old maxim that happiness, contentment, genuine wealth, and loving family matter more. 

By Kamal Alkasim

Last year, I hung out with my good friend Umar, a hotshot writer and all-around awesome guy. He proudly introduced me to his younger siblings, calling me a writer and poet. My heart did a flip-flop – being called that in front of his sisters made me a little nervous! But I took a deep breath and chatted with them, especially the super smart Maryam. 

Maryam showed me a cool book she had. I wanted to read it badly, but I didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring everyone else. You see, I’m all about cheering on women and helping them reach for the stars.

Not everyone likes the idea of strong women, which stinks. Girls should write their own stories, not have others write them for them. So, we decided to write a fun story together in our language. Maryam, her eyes shining, told me how writing was her passion and how she wished she could be like me. 

I shared my writing journey, the good and the bad, and told her, “The only way you fail is if you avoid making mistakes. Sometimes messing up is what gets you ahead.” Maryam seemed impressed, which was fantastic!

Here’s the thing: sometimes it’s better just to listen than to try and give advice. Words are powerful. They can build you up or tear you down. Think of yourself as a special gift to everyone you meet. And you never know where you might find success.

Maryam shared how her teacher had slammed her dreams. “They said I’m wasting my time on something nobody cares about. They even said girls shouldn’t be writers, especially if their boyfriend doesn’t like it!” she sighed. I told her to keep reading, even more than she wrote, like planting seeds of hope to water her dreams.

It’s crazy how often we forget to talk about dreams with our sisters like their voices don’t matter. Too many girls deal with this kind of drama at home. Our chat got a little sad when Maryam talked about her late sister, but it just made me even more determined to keep lifting women, no matter what.

So there you have it: a story about sharing ideas, encouraging dreams, and the power of friendship. Remember, everyone has a story to tell; sometimes, they need a little push to start writing it.

Kamal Alkasim is a Freelance Writer based in Kano, Nigeria. He wrote via kamalalkasim17@gmail.com.

By Bilyaminu Abdulmumini

One of the four books I read in 2023 was They Called Me A Lioness, which I read courtesy of Dr Muhsin Ibrahim, who shared the soft copy. The book’s true-life storytelling and the author’s command of the English language captivated me, keeping me glued to its pages.

Ahed Tamimi, the book’s narrator (written by Dena Takruri), was born and raised in the village of Nabi Saleh, northwest of Ramallah, a city known for its flashes in the Israel-Palestine conflict in the West Bank. Nabi Saleh gained notoriety for its resistance system, characterised by coordinated processions that garnered local and international attention every Friday. Journalists, sympathisers, and NGOs witness these Friday processions. Nabi Saleh vehemently opposed the Israeli occupation (I reserved the history and Israeli occupation saga to another article).

While the protests in Nabi Saleh were generally considered peaceful, occasional outbreaks of violence were not unheard of, though they were one-sided. While Palestinians employed stones, the Israeli soldiers were armed with superior weapons such as water cannons, tear gas, rubber-coated steel bullets, and sometimes even live ammunition.

Amid these sporadic instances of violence, Ahed would witness her mother being shot in the leg by a soldier, her younger brother pinned to the ground by another soldier, her favourite uncle bleeding to death, night raids, and the repeated arrest and imprisonment of her father.

To say that this series of events paved the way for Ahed’s transformation into a brave individual, as her nickname implies, would be an understatement. Ahed’s courageous resistance and fearless confrontations with Israeli soldiers earned her both local and international acclaim.

Tamimi first gained international recognition when she was just a child, under the age of 10, for confronting Israeli soldiers who had abducted her brother. This confrontation, captured on film, went viral, captivating people worldwide. She was seen as a symbol of the bravery of Palestinian children and the spirit of their resistance against the Israeli occupation. Early during the Ukraine-Russia war, the video resurfaced, and the usual social media misinformation circulated it to be a Ukraine child protesting against Russian inversion.

Tamimi’s next international spotlight was intriguing. She engaged in a confrontation with soldiers to prevent them from arresting an Israeli, Miko Peled. Few expected this turn of events. Miko is the son of the famous Israeli general Mattityahu Peled, a celebrated hero who fought in the 1967 war on the side of Israel. However, he later retired from the army and became a tireless peace activist, advocating for Israel’s withdrawal from the occupied territories. 

The last straw that broke the camel’s back was when Tamimi lost her temper and slapped a uniformed, armed Israeli soldier. As expected, this action went viral, leading the Israeli authorities to imprison her for eight months. A prison, even run by one’s country of citizens, might be full of provocations, rights abuses, and infringement, let alone a prison run by an arch-rival. Tamimi and many Palestinians who got under the net of Israel had to endure a series of incarcerations. 

Ironically, imprisonment is one of the most successful ways to achieve fame and knowledge. While someone may be imprisoned as a deterrent, it can inadvertently lead to greater recognition and public sympathy, drawing attention to their cause. The same happened to Tamimi; her imprisonment further elevated her fame and the cause she advocated for. In Nigeria, imprisonment got sympathy from both former presidents Muhammadu Buhari and Olusegun Obasanjo; the former Ghanaian president, Jerry Rawlings, would change the course of history from a death sentence to being a president; and in this regard, no one remained fresh in the memory like Nelson Mandela.

Beyond fame, Tamimi, alongside her mother, who was also incarcerated, completed her high school education. This accomplishment was particularly telling in the mother’s case because she had been unable to complete her education since her marriage. This fact resonates well with Nigerian correctional service centres where many inmates complete online degrees, which, of course, like Tamimi’s Mother, might not achieve the feat without imprisonment. 

Last month, a Turkey legislator slumped in a chamber (and died later in hospital), challenging the president’s seeming “accomplices”. Excerpt from the opposition legislator to Tayyip Erdogan: “You allow ships to go to Israel, and you shamelessly call it trade. … You are Israel’s accomplice”. This reminded me of the Tamimi encounter with Erdogan. 

While Tamimi was visiting Turkey to receive the Handala Courage Award, Erdogan sought an audience with her. In their meeting, he would express how much he loved Palestine, indicating that Turkey would always support the Palestinian people. In response, the iron lady, who never minced words, threw a hammer directly in the face, “How can you say you love us when we have to enter your country with a visa, but Israelis can travel here with no visa?” Erdogan became speechless.

Bilyamin Abdulmumin is a doctoral researcher in chemical engineering at ABU Zaria.

By Sa’id Sa’ad

In 2021, I sat at Arewa House. I listened to Late Ummaru Danjuma (Kasagi) thunder – in his old throaty yet commanding voice – bitterly about how Hausa culture and stories have diluted over the years. His face, though saddened, lit by fluorescence – old, yet much alive – spread goosebumps throughout the room, reawakening all the murdered tales back to life. No one would think that that command births the reawakening of not just Hausa culture, stories, and language but northern Nigeria’s stories.

That was the maiden edition of the Hausa International Book and Arts Festival (HIBAF)—a time when literary festivals have suffered lashes of COVID-19. Literary enthusiasts, writers and journalists were once again full of life to reconnect. While some see it as a promising beginning for a new Jaipur Literature Festival of Northern Nigeria, a lot thought it was just a naming ceremony of yet another Nigerian literary festival that will soon wither due to shrinking funds.

Hausa or northern Nigeria literature – before now – couldn’t afford itself a “consistent” arts festival that solely promotes and celebrates its artistry, culture, and stories until the advent of HIBAF. However, there were several one-off attempts previously, but mostly political. One might argue that festivals like Kaduna Book and Arts Festival (KABAFEST) have blanketed the same purpose. Still, I would differ because KABAFEST is an international festival bringing international guests with national stories to a northern city. KABAFEST is – or now probably was – an arts festival “in” northern Nigeria, while HIBAF is an arts festival “for” northern Nigeria. This is not a dismissal of the influence KABAFEST had on northern Nigeria. It would be stupid to dismiss that.

However, as the region continues to suffer stereotypes about its literary prowess, HIBAF could stand on the edge of liberating northern Nigeria from such an ugly view. Perhaps the birth of what can be predicted today is the conscious reawakening of northern stories.

For a young festival with such an ambitious name, the question is: Is HIBAF only representative of the Hausa people or northern Nigeria?

It is easy to assume that HIBAF solely represents Hausas and their stories, especially for those who view them from the outside. This is mainly because, unlike other art festivals in Nigeria and around the world founded to represent a geographical entity, such as Lagos Book and Arts Festival, HIBAF is one of few whose nomenclature represents a tribe. In previous seasons, the festival granted conversations in the English Language; therefore, that says a lot about HIBAF going beyond Hausa “alone” in its programming, which I find healthy.

It would be great if HIBAF were only for Nigerian Hausas. It is okay if it is for Hausas globally. But it will be graciously honourary if HIBAF is for northern Nigeria in general. The value of this ambitious festival is in its capacity to reconnect Hausas and Hausa cultures with cultures around it through diversifying into introducing tribes that have existed with Hausas, such as Fulani, Nupe, Tiv, Igala and other northern tribes to its programming. This will mean Hausas and communities of non-Hausas in Hausa communities could re-share a space in arts and shape a positive narrative of the region in terms of collective literary and artistic prowess. This will create a unified northern story(ies).

Another issue that can’t be dismissed is the problem of northern consciousness – this time, refusal – to appreciate northern initiatives. It is a similar case for HIBAF. It is seldom difficult to see a representation of famous northern personalities – especially from Kannywood and music sub-sectors, aside from a few interested in literature such as Aminu Ala or Ado Gidan Dabino. Most hardly care. This does not mean that such personalities – who don’t care – will decline invitations from similar festivals in other parts of Nigeria. They certainly will accept. Now, the question of the “potentiality” of the festival in creating “value” and “shaping northern stories” has everything to do with bringing people of value, not just in literature but from other art sub-sectors such as Kannywood and Hausa music space into its fold.

Knowingly or unknowingly, the Kannywood industry needs more fora this time than ever. Imagine Ali Nuhu, Rahama Sadau, Fauziya D. Sulaiman and Salisu Balarabe on a panel to discuss how northern creative writers could get their – more well-written stories – to Kannywood screens. This panel can pave the way for collaboration that could place both the creative writing and Kannywood film industries decades ahead—a potential both industries share.

With its ambiguous programming nature of inculcating cultural programmes, the festival could give life to northern cultural heritages on the verge of fading with the recent digital revolution. It will be fascinating to see HIBAF Durba, HIBAF Tashe, HIBAF Dambe, Dandalin HIBAF, HIBAF Mawakan Gargajiya and other numerous HIBAF’s all-year-round that could bring back the northern cultural heritages while also Including non-Hausa cultural programme. Again, this creates unified northern cultural narratives.

This year’s HIBAF, in its third year of awesomeness and vibrancy – though still wounded by honest negative feedback from the second season – is bringing diasporic faces back home. Simply put, ‘going international with locals, and for locals.’ Such a breed can give life to a new dimension of cross-geographical collaboration between northern storytellers in the diaspora and Nigeria—a remarkable feat to a tremendous progressive bond.

While the festival, through its host organization, is becoming a spot for learning and sharpening creative and artistic mastery through workshops and seminars, it depicts how it can create a birthplace of yet new sets of Abubakar Imams and Zaynab Alkalis who would live to tell the stories. But this can also be limited if the focus is Hausa and literature alone as, thus, expansion both in language and sub-sector is where the growing inclusive value lies.

From pages of novelists to the rhymes of poets, from scenes of playwrights to screens of filmmakers, from the vocals of singers to the lyrics of songwriters, from the colours of culture to the lens of photographers, from northeast to northwest and northcentral, HIBAF could cook a recipe of blended stories – of all that have been around Hausa – to a valuable northern unified story.

Though all these are a long walk to a new revolution for northern Nigeria’s stories, it can place HIBAF at a point of liberating the region and demolishing its stereotypes.

Sa’id Sa’ad is a Nigerian writer, playwright and journalist from Maiduguri. He won the Peace Panel Short Story Prize 2018 and the NFC Essay Prize 2018. He writes from Bonn, Germany. He can be reached directly at saidsaadabubakar@gmail.com

Author: Vincent Hiribarren

Date of Publication: 2017

Number of pages: 310

Publisher: Hurst & Company, London

If you knew very little about the territorial framework of the Borno empire before now, then reading this book might likely shatter some previously held notions about the region. Borno has, in recent years, notoriously gained renewed academic attention as a result of the Boko Haram insurgency. Spoiler alert: this book isn’t about the origin of Kanuri or other inhabitants.

Although the Borno empire found its roots in the 8th century, this book covered only the past 200 years of the kingdom’s existence. Therefore, the 8 chapters of the book started at the beginning of the 19th century down to around 2014 when the research for its publication was concluded. The author seemed very mindful of the political significance of the Borno empire following the Fulani jihad, even if the invasion had a different outcome, but that’s another topic entirely.

The earlier section of the book highlighted the spatial continuity of the territorial framework of Borno, which argued that fairly stable structural borders existed well before colonial times. This was a pivotal juncture, as discussed later in the book, for the ‘scramble for Borno’, where the 19th-century spatial frameworks were used to legitimise conquest by foreign invaders. It proved important even in the European colonial competition against each other.

Later on, the book explored how, essentially, the British and the Germans recycled the Borno region within their colonial spatial framework with an additional detailed perspective of the Indirect rule. It didn’t stop there, it goes on to analyse how, in reality, the colonial administration of Borno during the early colonial period played a decisive role in the preservation of its territorial continuity.

Navigating this book, you need to have an incredible tolerance for some nitty gritty details. The writing style is aggressively academic, and it is filled with flayed raw materials to inspire further reading. It is definitely not a very easy-to-read book but rather a slice of rock-hard brain playground! It’s very clear that the author is a cartography freak.

The book itself must have been inspired by the thesis undertaken by the author while pursuing a PhD at the University of Leeds in the UK with the title “From a Kingdom to a Nigerian State: the Territory and Boundaries of Borno 1810-2010”. The author teaches African History at King’s College London.

Dr Shamsuddeen Sani wrote from Kano, Nigeria.

By Dr Shamsuddeen Sani

It is easy for the narrative about Uyghur Muslims of China to draw your attention due to the fierce East-West political drama about them. Before now, I had no clue of the profound complexity inherent in the history of Islam in Muslim northwest China.

Jonathan N. Lipman skilfully avoids the more sensitive politico-religious aspects, as he aptly puts it, making it not a book about the history of the Muslims in northwest China but a comprehensive account of the history of Muslims living in northwest China.

This book offers a critical analysis of the origins of Islam in northwest China, the evolution of Muslim identity and culture in the region, and their intricate connections within the broader context of greater China. This examination spans six comprehensive chapters and incorporates both pre and postmodern contextual perspectives.

Following an elaborate introduction that combines geography and ethnography in northwest China, Lipman offers an extensive overview that spans nearly a millennium, encompassing the entire cultural landscape of China. He achieves this by positioning Muslims as unique elements within the familiar historical context of China from the Tang dynasty through the Ming dynasty.

After the Qing conquest of the 1640s, he investigated specific solidarities among Chinese Muslims and their leaders. Additionally, he examines the development of Sufism in northwestern China and the integral role played by the Shuyuks and Tariqa in the region’s social fabric. By the mid-18th century, as the book highlights, Sufi orders had already ignited a significant drive towards political activism, community cohesion, and horizontal competition.

Coming to the early 19th century, Lipman looks into the era marked by the transition from the Qing Empire to the Chinese nation-state. He explores the intricate processes of change, driven by internal factors and influences originating from Europe, America, and the Muslim world, which swept across the outskirts of China. These forces compelled individuals to make decisions under unfamiliar and challenging circumstances. The book took a tangent to meticulously analyse four key Sino-Muslim figures who embarked on distinct yet equally complex journeys towards finding common ground with a modernised China.

This book is not an easy read, given the unfamiliar names one must remember, but it is worth every minute of your time.

Dr Shamsuddeen Sani wrote from Kano, Nigeria.

By Muhammad Aliyu Gombe

The Centre for Reading, Research and Development (NCRRD) Bayero University Kano, Nigeria, has organized its Fourth National Conference on the promotion of reading culture among students and researchers. The event which took place at Ɗangote Business School, New Site, (BUK) was a 5 day even which included a Pre-Conference Workshop which aims at sensitizing the participants on the new methods of improving teaching especially from the basic level. The theme of the conference reads ‘Children’s Books and The Teaching of Early Grade Reading in Nigeria.’

The Director of the Centre Professor Talatu Musa Garba, during her speech, says that, as part of the mandate, of the Centre, it “had instituted the annual conference in 2019 to provide a platform for teachers, researchers and other educationists to share ideas on the best practices for the promotion of teaching of reading in Nigeria.” The Director, together with the Vice Chancellor of the University, Professor Sagir Adamu Abbas, commissioned the Centre’s resource room which is named Rebecca Rhodes Resource Room. The room has a modest collection of books and e-resources. It is open to researchers, teachers and students as a reference library.

It has been noted by various participants during the occasion that reading culture is past dying not only in Nigeria but across the globe. There is a huge need to revive it through practical methodologies which will guarantee and assist young readers to be taken right from the tender age.

Some of the participants, especially students and other invited guests, showed their appreciation and happiness with these gigantic efforts which the center is putting to revive reading culture in Nigeria.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

The painting evoked memories. And a sense of scholastic pride. Pride in being part of a process that has generated centuries of excellence. And today is Teacher’s Day, a case for celebration of scholarship from below. Even Google’s Doodle for the day acknowledges this.

Years ago, a painting was brought to me to purchase by an artist, Nura Yusuf – the artist being aware I am an art nut. It was a medium-sized canvas and truly beautiful in a photorealistic way. My Ajamization of Knowledge initiative inspired him. But there was no way I could afford the price he was asking, even if I accepted that it was a fair price. I asked his permission, though, to photograph it with my Sony DSC.

I eventually saw the canvas hanging in the outer waiting room of the Emir of Kano’s main reception chamber. Regretfully, you will only notice it if you swing your head up. I think, eventually, it was relocated.

Looking at the painting, as I said, evoked memories of Makarantar Malam Hussaini, Mandawari. Now renamed Makarantar Malam Buhari and reinvented as an Islamiyya school, along Sabon Titi, in the inner city of Kano. In the school, when Malam Hussaini was the Head, you left early if you reported early; otherwise, you stayed behind after the school closed to continue your studies.

Memories of going from house to house, requesting the good folks to allow us to brush their cooking pots with our bare hands, seeking the fine soot that covers the pots, the result of open-fire cooking with logs of wood. Once you gather enough powdered soot, you then dunk your hand in a bowl of water and wash the soot off. Next, you sprinkle a few crystals of gum Arabic in the water and boil the lot – effectively creating a syrupy ink, the classical ‘tawada’. While burnt wood from home cooking fires can do the job, the elite of Tsangaya inks is ‘zuge’, a burnt desert-date tree. The ink itself is often mixed in various colours, depending on its use in copying the Qur’an. These colours come in handy, especially on the graduating certificate – allo – when it is decorated with zayyana calligraphic designs. A whole industry has existed around this trade for years, especially in the heart of the city of Kano, northern Nigeria.

To make a pen, you need a thick dry stalk – gamba – from the grass used for fencing (zana) homes in rural areas. Using a Tiger razor blade (not Nacet, as it easily breaks), you sharpen the edge of the stalk and fashion a neat nib, creating an alƙalami — pen. There were many styles for the nib, depending on the writing to be done. For some, the alƙalami can be a true calligraphic tool.

Properly armed with a pen and ink, you begin the process of carefully copying the verses of the Qur’an, according to your grade, onto the wooden slate until you copy the right passages. You lean it against the wall for it to dry and await your turn to read what you copied by the teacher. Once properly groomed on the reading, off you go to practice reciting on your own.

Once you feel you are proficient enough, you go back to the teacher, read your passages and once satisfied with your diction, and cadence, you are permitted to go to the next passages – wash off the present one – wanke allo – and copy the next sequence. Due to the dark colour of the ink, the wooden slate often absorbs the ink and darkens the slate. The best way to get rid of it is to use sandpaper to scrape it completely – or, failing that due to cost, rice bran – ɓuntu – which works just as well – to remove traces of the previous ink. If the smudges or shadows of the ink still remain, you can use powdered limestone – farar ƙasa – to overlay the darker stain of the ink, giving a clean white surface on which to write.

Ink is kept in a pot, kurtun tawada, while the pens are kept in a pen holder, ƙorami/alkurdu. For adolescents starting up, it was the wooden slate. For the more advanced students, the writing is done on conqueror bond paper (usually imported from North Africa), but the pen is now a quill from the tail or wing feathers of a bird (chicken, duck, guinea fowl).

And in case one gets thirsty doing all that hard work, you can always quench your thirst from the water stored in your water bottle – jallo, made from a gourd. This type of water bottle enters into the Hausa lexicon with the expression: “ina neman sa kamar ruwa a jallo/desperately looking for him.”

This scholastic tradition is well-preserved in this painting by Nura Yusuf, who incidentally happened to be a brother to the writer and poet Khalid Imam. Being Teachers Day today, I dedicate this painting to all Alarammomi, Gardawa, and Ƙolawa, who are my fellow classmates in every Tsangaya in this country. We pray for the souls of our Malaman Tsangaya, who set us on the right path. Allah Ya jiƙansu da Rahama.