Opinion

By Prof. Abdelghaffar Amoka

I know Nasarawa State University, Keffi (NSUK), to some extent. In fact, part of the reason I submitted a sabbatical application there in 2024 was to get to know the university better, though I did not receive a response.

From what I know, Nasarawa State University, Keffi, is one of the fastest-growing universities in Nigeria. I have friends there. I also have very close associates pursuing their PhDs there, and they are doing very well.

A major reason for the university’s steady rise is something many people do not talk about enough: since its creation, successive governors of the state have largely allowed the university’s administration to breathe. That kind of non-interference matters. Universities grow when politics does not sit permanently on the neck of scholarship.

Its proximity to Abuja also gives it an undeniable advantage. Patronage from the capital is high. In fact, from some parts of Abuja, NSUK is easier to reach than the University of Abuja. 

Now to the uncomfortable part.

The graduation of a very large number of PhD candidates naturally raises questions. It should. In a country where too many people now chase titles over scholarship, any university that produces large numbers of doctoral graduates will attract scrutiny. That scrutiny should not be treated as hostility.

Every university has strong PhDs and weak PhDs. That is the truth. No institution is automatically exempt. Personally, I have not yet encountered a weak PhD graduate from NSUK, which is why I did not rush to join the noise.

But let us be honest with ourselves: when academics raise questions about standards, it should not be dismissed as envy, malice, or institutional rivalry. It should be seen for what it ought to be — a call to tighten the loose nuts before the system becomes attractive to those looking for the cheapest possible route to a title.

There is no doubt that we are a people that is in love with titles. That is why you will see an HND holder who is a political appointee with a name and titles like Chief Dr Hajiya XXXX. But with the recent decision of the Federal Executive Council on the misuse of the Dr title by honorary doctorate awardees and the prohibition of awarding honorary doctorates to serving political officeholders, the quest for the cheapest possible route to a PhD for the Dr title will increase. Meanwhile, the integrity of these degrees is in our hands. 

As academics, the university system is our immediate constituency. For decades, academics have fought governments to prevent the collapse of Nigerian universities. It would be a tragic contradiction if we were now to become participants in the internal erosion of the very system we once defended against external destruction.

Our degrees must mean something. Our universities must remain places where scholarship is earned, not merely awarded. Whether we admit it or not, the quality of our young people in the future is being shaped in our lecture rooms, laboratories, and supervision meetings.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

Education has long been seen as the backbone of national progress. Any country that hopes to compete in the modern world must invest in an education system that prepares its young people with relevant knowledge and practical skills. Yet the situation in Nigeria today shows a worrying gap between what students learn in school and what the realities of the 21st century require.

For many years, the country’s curriculum has remained largely theoretical and disconnected from real life. Students spend long hours memorising information for examinations, but many graduate without the ability to apply what they have learned to real-world problems. Certificates are awarded, but practical competence often remains weak. This situation raises serious questions about the direction of the education system.

One major issue is the outdated nature of many academic programs. While the global economy is rapidly shifting toward technology, innovation, and knowledge-based industries, a large portion of Nigeria’s curriculum still reflects ideas and priorities from decades ago. Digital literacy, modern research methods, and emerging technologies are not sufficiently integrated into many learning programs. As a result, Nigerian graduates often struggle to compete in an increasingly digital world.

Another concern is the weak connection between education and the labour market. Universities and other higher institutions frequently design courses without strong collaboration with industries that will eventually employ their graduates. Employers complain about a lack of practical skills, while graduates face rising unemployment despite years of schooling. This mismatch highlights the urgent need to align academic learning with real economic needs.

Infrastructure problems further complicate the situation. Across many parts of the country, schools operate with overcrowded classrooms, outdated laboratories, and limited learning materials. Teachers often do their best under difficult circumstances, but without adequate support, their efforts cannot produce the level of transformation the country needs. When the learning environment itself is weak, even the most dedicated educators struggle to deliver quality outcomes.

Reforming the curriculum is therefore not simply an academic debate. It is a national necessity. Education must move beyond rote memorisation and focus more on critical thinking, creativity, and problem-solving. Students should be encouraged to explore ideas, question assumptions, and develop solutions to real challenges within their communities.

Technical and vocational education must also receive greater attention. For too long, society has treated vocational training as a lesser option compared to traditional academic degrees. Yet many developed economies thrive because they place a strong value on technical skills and practical training. If Nigeria hopes to reduce unemployment and stimulate economic growth, it must elevate the status of vocational education.

Entrepreneurship education is another area that deserves serious attention. Rather than preparing students only to search for jobs, schools should equip them with the knowledge and confidence to create their own opportunities. Basic business education, financial literacy, and innovation training can help young people develop the mindset needed to build sustainable ventures.

Teachers must also be central to any reform effort. No education system can rise above the quality of its teachers. Continuous training, improved working conditions, and access to modern teaching resources will empower educators to guide students more effectively. When teachers are supported, the entire learning process improves.

Ultimately, meaningful reform requires collaboration. Policymakers, educators, researchers, industry leaders, and communities must work together to rethink the priorities of the education system. A curriculum designed with broad consultation will be better equipped to respond to national development goals and global realities.

Nigeria has one of the largest youth populations in the world. This demographic strength could become a powerful driver of development if the right investments are made in education. However, if the system continues to produce graduates who are not adequately prepared for the future, the country risks missing a critical opportunity.

Reforming the curriculum will not solve every challenge overnight, but it represents an important step toward building a more dynamic and productive society. Preparing young Nigerians for the demands of the modern world is not just an educational responsibility. It is a national imperative.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe and can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar Tahir

Across many communities in northern Nigeria, malnutrition remains a quiet but devastating reality. In rural homes and crowded settlements alike, countless children grow up without the essential nutrients required for healthy development.

The signs are often visible, including stunted growth, frequent illness, low energy levels, and poor cognitive development—but the deeper consequences are far more profound. Malnutrition weakens family foundations, strains healthcare systems, and ultimately undermines society’s long-term development.

Jigawa State is not immune to this silent crisis. Despite various public health interventions over the years, malnutrition continues to affect children and vulnerable populations across the state. Poverty, food insecurity, low dietary diversity, and limited public awareness about proper nutrition all contribute to the persistence of the problem.

At this critical moment, one practical and impactful step the Jigawa State Government can take is to urgently recruit and deploy professional nutritionists across the state’s healthcare system.

Nutrition is the cornerstone of human development. A balanced diet supports healthy physical growth, strengthens the immune system, enhances brain development, and improves overall well-being.

When nutrition is inadequate, the consequences can be severe and long-lasting. Conditions such as stunting, wasting, undernutrition, and micronutrient deficiencies continue to affect many children and women in Jigawa State, undermining not only their health but also the social and economic future of the state.

Health experts emphasise that the first 1,000 days of a child’s life—from conception to the age of two are the most critical for physical and cognitive development. Poor nutrition during this period can lead to irreversible damage, including impaired learning ability, weakened immunity, and increased vulnerability to disease throughout life. Ensuring proper nutrition during this early stage, therefore, requires professional guidance and sustained community engagement.

Unfortunately, Jigawa State is currently facing a growing shortage of professional nutritionists within its healthcare system. Many nutrition officers who previously served in hospitals and public health facilities have recently retired, leaving a significant gap that remains unfilled. As a result, several health facilities now operate without functional nutrition units, while in others, the departments have become largely inactive due to the absence of trained personnel.

This situation is both concerning and avoidable. Across Nigeria, universities and colleges continue to graduate qualified nutritionists every year. Yet many of these professionals remain unemployed or underutilised due to limited opportunities within the public health sector. Jigawa State, therefore, has an opportunity to strengthen its healthcare delivery system by recruiting these young professionals and deploying them to general hospitals, primary healthcare centres, and community health programmes.

Professional nutritionists play a critical role in disease prevention and health promotion. They guide families on proper dietary practices, support maternal and child nutrition, and educate communities on healthy eating habits using locally available foods. Their interventions can significantly reduce cases of malnutrition, improve patient recovery, and enhance the overall health profile of the population.

Beyond hospitals, nutritionists also play an essential role in schools. With the expansion of school feeding programmes in Nigeria, ensuring the nutritional quality of meals provided to pupils has become increasingly important. Qualified nutritionists can design balanced meal plans, monitor food preparation standards, and ensure that these programmes genuinely contribute to children’s physical and cognitive development.

Community-based nutrition education is another area where these professionals are urgently needed. Through outreach programmes, health campaigns, and grassroots engagement, nutritionists can educate rural families on the importance of balanced diets, food safety, proper infant feeding practices, and hygiene.

Crucially, they can also demonstrate how affordable, locally available foods—such as grains, legumes, vegetables, and animal products—can be combined to meet nutritional needs.

Given Jigawa State’s predominantly agrarian economy, nutritionists can also collaborate with agricultural extension services to promote nutrition-sensitive agriculture. Encouraging households to cultivate diverse crops, improve food storage, and adopt better food preparation practices can significantly improve household nutrition and reduce dependency on expensive food items.

Meanwhile, a couple of visits to several hospitals across Jigawa State reveal a worrying reality. Many facilities operate without nutrition officers, leaving nurses and other health workers to manage cases that require specialised dietary expertise. In some institutions, nutrition departments have virtually ceased to function due to staff shortages. This weakens the health system’s ability to effectively address malnutrition and diet-related illnesses.

Equally concerning is the situation in higher institutions offering nutrition and dietetics programmes, where departments sometimes struggle with limited staffing and resources to train future professionals. Strengthening the nutrition workforce will therefore require both recruitment into the healthcare system and sustained support for training institutions.

It is important to acknowledge that the Jigawa State Government has made commendable progress in improving healthcare infrastructure and expanding primary healthcare services across the state. Investments in health facilities, maternal healthcare programmes, and immunisation services have improved health outcomes in many communities.

However, strengthening the nutrition workforce must become an essential component of these broader health reforms. Without trained professionals to address nutrition-related challenges, efforts to combat maternal and child mortality, infectious diseases, and poor health outcomes will remain incomplete.

Recruiting and deploying professional nutritionists is not merely a staffing decision—it is a strategic investment in public health, human capital development, and the long-term prosperity of Jigawa State. A healthier and well-nourished population is more productive, better educated, and more capable of contributing meaningfully to economic and social development.

Jigawa State, therefore, stands at an important crossroads. By prioritising the employment of nutritionists in hospitals, primary healthcare centres, schools, and community health programmes, the government can take a decisive step toward reducing malnutrition and improving the well-being of its citizens.

The fight against malnutrition requires commitment, expertise, and timely action. The time to act is now.

Muhammad Abubakar Tahir, a concerned citizen, writes from Hadejia, Jigawa State.

By Aiman Fodio

As a concerned rank-and-file student at Abubakar Tafawa Balewa University (ATBU), let me say this. Look around this group. We are on different levels: some have been here for nearly a decade, some for five years, some for six. It is a whole spectrum of experience. But I want you to pause and ask yourself one question: What have you observed about student leadership over your time here?

Aren’t these complaints we are lodging day in, day out, the same old tunes we have grown familiar with? What tangible change have you witnessed across the number of administrations you have seen come and go? The script, sadly, never changes. The concerns are always the same: school fees increment, access to accommodations, and, just recently, the NELFUND refund joined the party. And let’s not forget the usual guest stars—water and light issues—making their regular appearance.

The most painful part? The approach to these problems remains the same every time, so much so that you could write the Students’ Union Government’s response in your sleep. “We are in dialogue with management.” “We implore students to remain calm.” “We are aware of your plight.” It is a tired liturgy. But let us be fair—exempt that issue of protest. The real tragedy is that the SUG is often not given proper regard by the management. An SUG President will struggle to secure a simple appointment with the VC. If a concession will not work out, then… wallahi, this daily complaint cycle will never work out. Nothing will change.

This is precisely why people like me, who once stood a chance, withdrew our interest from the beginning. I speak from the inside: from my time in Gamji Memorial Club to serving as a serial senator, Chief Whip, and even Deputy Senate President in the SUG Parliament. I’ve seen the engine room. I have been asked so many times by those who saw this trajectory. “Why not run for SUG President?” They ask. The answer is these limits and the remote control. They make you lose interest because you know, no matter your passion or plan, you will ultimately fail those who gave you their loyalty and support. The structure is designed to frustrate genuine agency.

Why do our student leaders fail? Or, rather, why does the system ensure they cannot succeed? Both questions are intertwined. Off the top of my head, I can identify at least three (out of one hundred) reasons. One, a leadership selection process based on popularity and empty promises, not pragmatic skill. Two, a university management structure that sees student leadership as a necessary nuisance to be managed, not a partner in welfare. Three, the domination of the SUG space by the politically ambitious, rather than the service-oriented.

In this matter, I will dwell on the first: our own role as students in choosing the wrong pilots. It could be emotional: we vote for the most charismatic orator, the one who throws the biggest parties, the one with the slickest posters. It could be tribal: we vote based on faculty, department, or state of origin. It could also be a result of a poor understanding of the depth of the challenges ahead. We set our leaders up for a verdict of failure from the campaign period onward. We want them to fix in one semester what has been broken for a decade, and when they cannot perform magic, we brand them as sell-outs.

I have been there before. In my first year, I was a staunch supporter of a particular SUG presidential candidate. He spoke like Fela, promised like Obama, and had a slogan that was on everyone’s lips. Upon visiting our hostel to campaign, he was wowed by our living conditions. He said if a student could live like this, then he had his work cut out for him. I started promoting him as the leader who would finally make management listen. At the time, I saw management’s deaf ear as our only problem. I did not take kindly to any criticism of my candidate. But less than three months into his administration, I had turned to his critic. It was a case of disappointed love.

For one, I couldn’t stand some of his executives. I said if this man really wanted to fight for us, as he staunchly promised in his manifesto, some persons should not have been in his cabinet. When he started talking about “understanding management’s constraints,” I was incensed. All my life as a student, I had argued that students, being the reason the university exists, should enjoy basic dignity. I refused to evaluate or accept any administrative arguments. I concluded he had been compromised, as I was more interested in the militant implications. Meanwhile, our water situation got worse. I held him liable for failing to lead a strong protest as he had promised during his campaign.

That was how our dear messiah began to unravel. Ahead of the next election, I had found another messiah in a final-year student known for his fearless critiques of management on social media. I said this was the fighter we needed! By then, I was already in the parliament, seeing the gap between fiery speeches on the floor and actual results from the executive. I remember arguing for him in a hostel lounge. My friend, who was in the School of Environmental Technology, called to ask me, jokingly: “So how much did he pay you for this?” With that candidate’s dream going nowhere, I gave up on my search for a student messiah. Instead, I started thinking: “Let’s make do with what we have.”

That was why, when the next candidate was being marketed as the “bridge-builder” and “technocrat,” I was calm. I had become a realist. My worldview had evolved. Even later, as Chairman of the Bauchi Axis for NAUS, I saw how student politics at every level face the same structural walls. I had looked deeply at ATBU’s power dynamics and its complications. I said this candidate, relatively connected, would only try, but not much would change. The water problem he inherited only worsened as more hostels were built. Rather than face this common threat, the SUG and management resorted to politicking and finger-pointing. Meanwhile, frustration grabbed us by the neck, but only the SUG President carried the blame.

As we later saw, all the politicking was geared towards securing a peaceful tenure and a good recommendation letter from management. The cycle continued. That is how overmarketing begins again every election. People who previously abused and rejected a candidate become pilots of their campaign, creating fables and fantasies. I am so worried for the next set that I will say this: God help the next SUG President if, by their second semester, hostels still lack water; if the electricity is more off than on; if the NELFUND issue is still unresolved; and if accommodation is still a blood sport. They won’t find it funny!

Let me be very clear: there is nothing wrong with having expectations. In fact, to expect nothing will be a tragedy. However, ATBU will not change overnight—no matter what any SUG candidate promises, or how their supporters sell them. The management structure is rigid. We can’t reduce fees or increase water supply within the twinkling of an eye. Many good things take time and persistent, intelligent pressure. We don’t need to be deceived, or to deceive ourselves, at election times.

What then? We need to temper our pre-election expectations and sharpen our post-election engagement. We need to vote for the gritty pragmatist with a three-point welfare plan (Water. Light. Health.) over the flamboyant orator with a 50-page manifesto. We must look out for signs of diligent pressure and creative advocacy to avoid concluding within a month that a leader has failed. A President who fails to secure a fee reduction but installs and maintains 10 new boreholes has not failed entirely. Selling every candidate as a messiah is the issue, but even if they were the messiah, could they succeed in this system? That is the question.

But we must also demand that management stop seeing the SUG as a kindergarten government. A student leader who must beg for three weeks to see the VC is set up for ridicule and failure. Until that relationship is recalibrated into one of respectful engagement, we will remain here, singing the same songs of lament. It is all politics—and, sadly, politics in which the most important voters, the students, often empower the very system that frustrates them.

AND FOUR OTHER THINGS…

THE CV CANDIDATE

We must be wary of the candidate whose entire campaign seems designed to add a glossy line to their CV. You can spot them by their focus on “organising flagship events” and “international partnerships” while being vague on hostel water pressure. Their tenure is often a series of photo-ops with management, culminating in a glowing reference letter while the student’s condition remains unchanged. Ambition.

THE QUIET LOBBYIST

Conversely, let us not discount the quiet lobbyist. The one who may not be great on Twitter but is always in the Dean’s office, presenting costed proposals for water tankers or negotiating small but real wins on exam deadlines. This approach lacks drama and doesn’t fuel the “activist” brand, but it sometimes yields the only tangible results we see. Pragmatism.

MANAGEMENT’S BLIND SPOT

The university management often forgets that a frustrated, disrespected student body is a tinderbox. By neutering the SUG and denying it genuine agency, they create an environment in which peaceful channels are seen as useless, making spontaneous, unmanageable unrest more likely. It is a profound failure of strategic thinking. Shortsighted.

OUR COLLECTIVE AMNESIA

Finally, we, the students, suffer from collective amnesia. Every new election cycle, we get swept up in new promises and forget the lessons of the past three administrations. We refuse to hold candidates to their predecessor’s failed promises. Until we develop an institutional memory and vote based on record and realistic plans, we will be forever disappointed. Cycle.

Aiman Fodio is the former Executive Chairman of the National Association of University Students (NAUS) Bauchi Axis and a serial legislator during his time in ATBU Unionism. He is currently a final year student of ATBU.

By Bilyamin Abdulmumin, PhD

The politics of the Jega/Gwandu/Aleiro federal constituency fascinate me for several reasons: All three major contenders hail from Jega, and for three consecutive election cycles, they have contested in tightly fought primaries and elections.

Now, another cavalry, a former Comptroller-General of the Nigerian Correctional Service, threw his hat into the foray. The addition of Alhaji Jafar Jega to the list has dramatically changed the calculations and trajectory of the constituency politics. Because Ahmad Jafar enjoys the massive goodwill of the people in Kebbi State. Unlike some politicians who claimed that people called on them to contest, Ahmad Jafar genuinely enjoys that goodwill. 

By virtue of the high office he held, the former CG secured a number of jobs, especially in this contingency. Community leaders, clerics, and politicians drove to his house to pay their respects and to appreciate his gesture. Therefore, such a person joining the race must add dynamics to the game. 

The incumbency of officials can either be a tool for success or a vehicle for their downfall. Honourable Mansur Musa (Dan Jamiah), the current House representative, unarguably used this opportunity to his advantage. He used his position and oversight function as deputy chairman of the Federal Road Safety Commission in the lower chamber to bring infrastructure development never seen in this constituency. The citizens left in awe, reduced to asking this burning question: Can an NA member carry out such development? 

It should never be forgotten in a hurry that Dan Jamiah overcame all odds against him, coming from the PDP to defeat the then-incumbent and ruling party, the APC. Now, after getting into office, he consolidated the people’s goodwill even further.

Ahaji Kabiru Labbo Ajiya delves into the current battle as energetically as always. He is a populist, which is why he commands significant goodwill among voters. The part that particularly sets Ajiya apart is his initiatives in business and job creation. It’s without a doubt that Ajiya will hustle through the NA position to bring the developmental projects in this constituency to equal levels. The hurdle that had been standing before Ajiya was the primary elections. The political scheming and calculation were previously against him.

Alhaji Umar Danbuga’s political trajectory is seen as elite-driven. So, in this region where candidates’ emergence highly depends on elite goodwill, this is to the face of Alhaji Umar. In addition, the job opportunities and sponsorships through his office, as well as his personality, are part of his legacy. However, the odds against Alhaji Danbuga, Secretary, are that he has no benefit of doubt. He was the longest-serving member for this constituency. This makes different voters express different views about his candidacy.

I think Dan Jami’ah and Ajiya belong to the Senator Aleiro camp within the APC, while Jafar Ahmed and Danbuga Secretary belong to the Dr Nasir Idris/ Senator Atiku Bagudu camp. This factor may ultimately play a crucial role in deciding who emerges as the ticket-bearer come 2027.

By Engr. Kabir Bashir Shariff, PhD

For decades, residents of Kano have lived with a persistent and worsening water crisis. What should have been treated as a state emergency has instead become a normalised hardship. In a city of over 10 million people, access to clean and reliable water remains uncertain for millions.

Water is the most basic requirement for life. Yet in Kano, households, businesses and institutions struggle daily to secure it. This is not due to a lack of infrastructure alone, but a combination of systemic neglect, poor planning and weak execution.

The state’s municipal water supply depends largely on two major treatment plants—Chalawa and Tamburawa. The Tamburawa Water Treatment Plant, built during the administration of former Governor Shekarau, was designed to produce 150 million litres of water per day. However, it has never reached that capacity.

Having worked at the plant as an intern in 2013, I saw its potential. Unfortunately, that potential has remained unrealised due to multiple challenges.

One of the major problems is the inadequate supply of raw water. The Kano River, which feeds the Tamburawa plant, has been affected by both climate variability and upstream water diversion. The Tiga Hydropower facility, for instance, significantly reduces the volume of water reaching the treatment plant.

Infrastructure decay is another critical issue. Key components of the water system—from intake pumps to filtration units—are either poorly maintained or no longer functional. Clarifiers, sedimentation tanks and filter beds have deteriorated over time, while high-lift pumps are frequently out of service.

Electricity supply further complicates the situation. Water treatment and distribution require stable power, yet the plants operate under erratic electricity conditions. This limits their ability to function effectively and consistently.

Perhaps the most fundamental flaw lies in the distribution system itself. The Tamburawa plant water supply model relies heavily on direct pumping from treatment plants to households. There are few, if any, functional elevated storage reservoirs to support gravity-based distribution. As a result, water flows only when pumps are running—an inefficient system that drives up energy costs and leaves many areas without water for long periods.

Regulatory lapses have also contributed to the problem. Damaged pipelines caused by construction activities are often left unrepaired, while leakages and illegal connections go unchecked. This further weakens an already fragile system.

In response to these challenges, many residents and commercial centres have turned to boreholes. While this offers temporary relief, it poses a long-term threat. Excessive groundwater extraction is already leading to declining water tables, dried wells and environmental stress.

The Kano State Government’s recent allocation of N21 billion for water infrastructure upgrades is a step in the right direction. However, funding alone will not solve the problem unless it is backed by sound planning and accountability.

There is an urgent need to invest in elevated water storage systems across the city. By pumping treated water into strategically located reservoirs, distribution can be sustained through gravity. This will reduce energy costs, improve efficiency and ensure a more reliable supply.

Equally important is the rehabilitation of existing infrastructure and the adoption of modern technologies. Power supply to water facilities must also be prioritised, possibly through dedicated or alternative energy sources.

Looking ahead, Kano must plan for its future. As the fastest-growing urban centres in northern Nigeria, these cities will see increasing demand for water. The state should begin developing new water treatment plants using available irrigation dams and other water sources.

Kano’s water crisis is no longer just an infrastructure issue—it is a public health and economic concern. Access to clean water should not be a privilege. It is a basic right.

The time has come to move beyond promises and take decisive action.

Engr. Kabir Bashir Shariff, PhD, can be contacted via kabir-bashir.shariff@unicaen.fr.

By Maji MB

Like a traveler who set out at dawn with hope carefully folded into his resolve and a quiet determination that refused to fade with distance or difficulty, Governor Mai Mala Buni embarked on what would become a wide-reaching and sustained reform of the healthcare system in Yobe State, approaching it not as a set of isolated projects but as a deeply interconnected mission to rebuild trust, restore access, and reimagine how care could be delivered across both urban centers and remote settlements. From the outset, the focus was not on surface-level improvements but on laying down enduring foundations that could support growth for years to come, even in places where infrastructure had long been weak or unevenly distributed.

He began by returning to the roots of the system, prioritizing primary healthcare as the entry point for most citizens and the backbone of any sustainable medical structure. Across communities, 140 Primary Healthcare Centres were revived or newly established, each one functioning not merely as a building with equipment but as a functioning access point for families who previously had to travel long distances for even basic medical attention. These centers became essential spaces where preventive care, maternal support, child health services, and first-response treatment could be accessed closer to home, gradually reshaping how communities interacted with the healthcare system and reducing delays that often turned treatable conditions into emergencies.

From that foundation, the reforms expanded outward into secondary and tertiary levels of care, with local government areas strengthened through secondary facilities and more specialized services distributed across zones to reduce pressure on central hospitals. At the highest level, tertiary institutions were reinforced to handle more complex cases, creating a more coherent referral structure that allowed patients to move through the system in a more organized and efficient way. This layered approach helped reduce bottlenecks while also ensuring that care was not concentrated in one location but spread in a way that matched population needs.

Recognizing that geography and terrain often determine survival in emergencies, the administration introduced 88 customized tricycle ambulances designed specifically for hard-to-reach areas where conventional vehicles struggled. These ambulances became more than transport solutions; they functioned as critical links between vulnerable households and formal medical care, navigating narrow paths and rural roads to retrieve patients in urgent need. In many cases, they shortened the time between crisis and treatment, reinforcing the idea that healthcare accessibility is not only about facilities but also about mobility and reach.

Alongside infrastructure expansion, attention was given to financial protection and inclusion through the Yobe State Contributory Healthcare Management Agency, which expanded coverage to over 300,000 residents. This initiative reduced the immediate financial burden on households by allowing citizens to access services without bearing the full cost of treatment upfront, with government support covering the majority of expenses and patients contributing a small portion. In practice, this helped shift healthcare from being a sudden financial shock to a more predictable and manageable system of shared responsibility.

To address the persistent challenge of drug availability, the establishment of the Drugs and Medical Consumable Management Agency became a central intervention point, supported by over ₦2.3 billion worth of medical supplies. This ensured that hospitals and clinics were no longer frequently hindered by stock shortages or treatment interruptions. Medicines, consumables, and essential supplies became more consistently available, strengthening confidence in public health facilities and improving continuity of care for patients who previously faced delays or had to seek alternatives outside the state.

Emergency response systems were also strengthened through improved ambulance services and inspection mechanisms designed to ensure accountability and readiness across facilities. This meant that response times in critical situations improved, coordination between facilities became more structured, and oversight mechanisms helped maintain operational standards. In practical terms, this created a more responsive system where emergencies could be handled with greater speed and fewer procedural delays, particularly in situations involving accidents or sudden medical complications.

A major humanitarian component of the reforms was the introduction and expansion of free healthcare services for vulnerable groups, including pregnant women, young children, accident victims, and patients requiring dialysis for kidney-related conditions. By removing financial barriers in these high-risk categories, the system provided direct relief to families facing some of the most expensive and emotionally taxing medical situations. This intervention not only reduced mortality risks but also reinforced the principle that certain categories of care should remain accessible regardless of income level.

In parallel, immunization and disease prevention efforts were significantly strengthened through collaboration with development partners, leading to a notable increase in immunization coverage from 16% to 65%. Programs targeting polio and other childhood diseases were intensified, resulting in improved public health indicators and positioning the state as one of the most improved in the country. At the same time, investment in medical infrastructure continued at the teaching hospital level, including the construction of a 300-bed Maternal, Newborn, and Child Health complex and the expansion of overall capacity to over 700 beds, alongside the introduction of advanced diagnostic equipment such as MRI, CT scan, mammography, digital X-ray, and ultrasound systems.

Finally, attention turned toward sustainability and human capital development, with upgrades to institutions such as Shehu Sule College of Nursing and Midwifery and Galtima Mai Kyari College of Health Sciences, including improved facilities, expanded learning environments, and enhanced living conditions for students. In a notable workforce intervention, automatic employment opportunities were provided to graduates to strengthen staffing levels across the health system. Over time, these combined efforts contributed to improved national recognition, culminating in the state’s emergence as the best-performing state in the National Primary Healthcare Competition of December 2025, reflecting a system that had evolved from fragmented services into a more coordinated and steadily improving healthcare framework.

Maji MB wrote from Potiskum, Yobe State.

By Ibrahim Aliyu Gurin

There are lectures you attend and forget, and there are those that stay with you and encourage you to rethink familiar ideas. The 59th Inaugural Lecture at Bayero University Kano belonged firmly to the latter.

The BUK’s 59th Inaugural lecture delivered by Adamu Idris Tanko, FRGS, FANG, a Professor of Geography at Bayero University Kano, titled: “One World, Different Nations… and the Many Lessons to Learn,” offered a simple but powerful message: development is more than economic growth.

From the beginning, Professor Tanko explained that development is not a fixed goal. Instead, it is a continuous process that changes over time and across places. What progress looks like in one country may be very different from what it looks like in another.

In the past, development was mostly about economic growth, meaning how much a country produced and earned. However, over time, this idea expanded. Attention shifted to education, healthcare, housing, and later to environmental sustainability and quality of life.

Today, we can agree that growth alone is not enough. This is clearly shown in global tools such as the Human Development Index (HDI), developed by the United Nations Development Programme, which assesses health, education, and living standards. In the same way, economist Amartya Sen argues that development should be about improving people’s freedom and opportunities.

However, the lecture also showed that even these measures do not always tell the full story. A country can grow economically while many people remain poor. In other words, growth does not always improve everyday life.

This is why geography matters. Development is not the same everywhere. In richer countries, people may focus on better living conditions and environmental quality. But in poorer regions, the main concerns are still basic needs like food, shelter, and healthcare.

While the difference is visible in Sub-Saharan Africa, the region, including Nigeria, has great potential, especially because of its young population. At the same time, it faces serious challenges, including weak infrastructure, inequality, and climate-related problems.

Additionally, even where progress is visible, it does not reach everyone equally. Improvements in health or education can easily be affected by economic problems or conflict. As a result, development is often slow and uncertain.

One of the most important parts of the lecture focused on youth. As the lecturer noted, “our estimates suggest that over 60 per cent of the population in Nigeria is youth and under the age of 35.” This, in itself, should be a major advantage. However, many young people still struggle to find jobs after school, and their skills and energy are often underutilised. This creates a bigger problem because they must eat, and when legitimate means are unavailable, they find their own ways. In most cases, their formal and non-formal ways may not be legitimate and often lead to criminality, and this is not just about unemployment—it is about wasted potential.

To address this, the lecture called for new approaches. These include improving technical education, supporting entrepreneurship, and expanding digital skills. It also stressed the importance of the service sector in creating opportunities.

Interestingly, Professor Tanko also spoke about the role of sports. At first, it may sound a bit unusual, but when you think about it, it actually makes sense. In places like Kano, you see young people every day on open fields and street corners, playing football and other games. They show real passion and raw talent. The problem is that this energy often goes unnoticed and unsupported, leaving so much potential untapped.

If properly developed, sports can create jobs and opportunities. It can involve many areas such as coaching, healthcare, media, and event management. It also helps build discipline, teamwork, and confidence. In this way, sports can become part of a broader development strategy.

Overall, the lecture reminds us that development must reflect real life. It must focus on people, not just numbers. It must also take into account local realities and provide practical solutions. For Nigeria, this message is important. The country’s future depends on how well it supports its people, especially its youth, and, most importantly, on how it turns ideas into action.

It is a clear reminder to policymakers, scholars, and society that progress should be measured by how much it improves the lives of ordinary people. The real challenge is not just to grow, but to ensure that growth is meaningful, inclusive, and sustainable.

Ibrahim Aliyu writes from Baba Ahmed University, Kano. He can be reached via ibrahimaliyu5023@gmail.com.

By Usman Muhammad Salihu

In Nigerian politics, defections are no longer surprising. What is surprising now is how quickly they happen and how easily political actors move from one platform to another.

The recent defection of Peter Obi and Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso from the African Democratic Congress (ADC) to the Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC) is not just another political adjustment. It is a bold move. But bold does not always mean safe.

At first glance, the decision appears strategic. Internal crises within the ADC, legal uncertainties, and the pressure of electoral timelines make stability a priority. From that angle, shifting to a new platform may seem like a necessary step, an attempt to secure political ground ahead of a highly competitive 2027.

There is also strength in the alliance itself. The coming together of Obi and Kwankwaso brings national attention, regional balance, and an existing base of supporters. On paper, that is not just movement; it is potential consolidation.

But politics is not played on paper. It is played among the people. And this is where the real challenge begins.

The Nigeria Democratic Congress is still largely unfamiliar to many Nigerians. Beyond political circles and elite discussions, its presence at the grassroots remains limited. For a significant number of voters, especially at the lower levels, NDC is not yet a known political identity.

And in Nigerian elections, familiarity matters. Voters do not just choose candidates. They choose what they recognise. They choose what they trust. They choose what they understand. That is the gap this move must overcome.

Beyond visibility, there are emerging concerns about the platform’s stability. Reports suggest that the Nigerian Democratic Congress may be grappling with internal legal disputes. If proven true, this introduces an even more delicate risk. Moving from one troubled platform to another does not resolve instability; it simply transfers it. And in politics, uncertainty is a cost few can afford at this level.

Because this is no longer just about transferring political influence, it is about building voter awareness from the ground up within a limited time frame. That is not a small task. It is one thing to move with loyalists. It is another thing to move with the electorate. And history has shown that the two do not always align.

There is also a deeper concern. Frequent political movement, no matter how strategic, raises questions of consistency. When platforms change too often, voters begin to look beyond the movement itself and ask a more difficult question: What exactly is constant? Is it ideology? Is it vision? Or is it simply positioning?

These questions matter because today’s voter is less passive than before. There is growing awareness, scrutiny, and an expectation for clarity. So while this move may be necessary from a political standpoint, it is also risky from a public perception angle.

Because speed in politics can be a double-edged sword. Move too slowly, and you lose relevance. Move too quickly, and you lose trust. And right now, this move feels fast. Perhaps calculated. Perhaps unavoidable. But still fast.

So, is this a strategy or a survival tactic? It is arguably both. Strategy, because the timing aligns with political realities. Survival, because unstable platforms leave little room for hesitation.

From another angle, this move is not just a strategy or a matter of survival; it is a gamble. A calculated one, no doubt, but a gamble, nonetheless. It rests on the assumption that political influence can be transferred faster than voter trust can be built. And in a system where recognition often shapes voting decisions, that assumption may prove too optimistic.

But beyond both lies a more uncomfortable possibility: That this could be a leap into a platform that has yet to fully exist in the minds of the people. Because, in the end, political strength is not measured by alliances alone, but by acceptance. And acceptance cannot be transferred overnight.

So, while the move may look bold in Abuja, its real test will come far away from strategy rooms, in markets, in villages, and at the polling units. Where names are remembered, where symbols are recognised, and where unfamiliar platforms are often rejected.

And if that gap is not closed in time, what appears today as a strategy may tomorrow be seen as a miscalculation. Because in Nigerian politics, you can move ahead of the system, but you cannot move ahead of the people. And when that gap exists, even the most calculated move can quickly turn into a costly gamble.

Ultimately, this move will be judged by one metric: conversion rate. How many Obidients and Kwankwasiyya become NDC members, not just in spirit but on the ballot? If the answer is “most,” then history will call it strategy. If the answer is “some,” then it was survival. If the answer is “few,” then it was a miscalculation dressed as ambition. The voters are watching, and their silence right now is louder than any endorsement. For Obi and Kwankwaso, the real campaign did not start in Abuja. It starts the day a trader in Aba and a farmer in Gaya can point to the NDC logo and say, “That is us.”

Usman Muhammad Salihu was among the pioneer fellows of PRNigeria and writes from Jos.

muhammadu5363@gmail.com.

By Ahmed Usman

In the years following independence, Northern Nigeria stood at the forefront of the country’s economic progress. The region’s agricultural output, symbolised by the famous groundnut pyramids of Kano and by thriving cotton production across the savannah belt, powered employment, export earnings, and real-sector development. For a time, Northern Nigeria was not only a major driver of Nigeria’s economy but also one of the most economically vibrant regions on the African continent. Today, however, the region finds itself at a critical crossroads.

Over the past two decades, Northern Nigeria has faced a combination of security, economic, and structural challenges that have slowed its development trajectory. The rise of insurgency in the North-East, banditry and cattle rustling in parts of the North-West, and persistent farmers–herders conflicts have disrupted livelihoods, weakened agricultural production, and discouraged investment. These crises have inflicted enormous human and economic costs not only on the region but also on the Nigerian economy as a whole.

Yet security challenges alone do not explain the region’s economic difficulties. The deeper problem lies in the failure to convert the region’s extraordinary demographic and natural advantages into sustained economic growth.

Northern Nigeria possesses some of the most significant development assets in the country. The region accounts for more than 60 per cent of Nigeria’s population and contains over 80 per cent of the country’s arable land. It also receives abundant sunlight, suitable for solar power generation, and hosts numerous dams capable of supporting large-scale irrigation and energy production.

Despite these advantages, the region continues to record some of Nigeria’s most troubling development indicators. Poverty levels remain among the highest in the country. Youth unemployment is widespread. The region also accounts for about 20 million out-of-school children, one of the highest figures worldwide. Internally generated revenue in many northern states remains low, limiting the fiscal capacity needed to finance development.

This paradox of abundant resources alongside persistent poverty highlights the urgency of a new development strategy to transform its demographic advantages into a true demographic dividend.

At the heart of the solution lies the revival of the real sector. For too long, Nigeria’s growth model has leaned heavily on the service sector and oil revenues, sectors that generate limited employment relative to the country’s rapidly expanding workforce. Each year, millions of young Nigerians enter the labour market, yet the economy struggles to create sufficient productive jobs. Sustainable and inclusive growth will require renewed investment in sectors capable of generating large-scale employment. Agriculture, agro-processing, manufacturing, and renewable energy stand out as areas where Northern Nigeria holds a natural comparative advantage.

Agriculture in particular offers a powerful pathway for economic transformation. With vast fertile land and favourable climatic conditions, the region has the potential to become Nigeria’s primary agricultural hub once again. Expanding irrigation farming, adopting modern agricultural technologies, improving access to inputs, and strengthening agricultural value chains could dramatically increase productivity while generating millions of rural jobs. But agriculture alone will not be enough. The next stage of development must focus on building strong agro-industrial linkages. Processing agricultural products locally rather than exporting raw commodities can significantly increase value addition, stimulate rural industries, and expand export opportunities.

Infrastructure will be critical to unlocking these opportunities. Reliable electricity, modern road networks, efficient storage systems, and improved logistics are essential for connecting farmers, manufacturers, and entrepreneurs to national and global markets. The region’s extensive dam infrastructure already provides enormous potential for irrigation agriculture and renewable energy if properly utilised.

Equally important is the need to invest in human capital. Northern Nigeria’s youthful population represents one of the region’s greatest assets, but only if young people are equipped with the education, skills, and opportunities needed to participate in a modern economy. Expanding access to quality education, strengthening vocational training, and promoting the development of technical skills must become central pillars of the region’s development strategy.

Yet economic progress ultimately depends on the strength of institutions. Transparent governance, accountable public institutions, and a regulatory environment that encourages private investment are essential for sustainable development. Reducing bureaucratic barriers, strengthening property rights, and improving the ease of doing business will be critical for attracting both domestic and foreign investment.

History shows that development trajectories can change when policy direction aligns with economic potential. Northern Nigeria once played a central role in powering Nigeria’s economic progress. There is no reason it cannot do so again.

The challenges facing the region are significant, but they are not insurmountable. With strategic investments, stronger institutions, and a renewed focus on the real sector, Northern Nigeria can unlock the immense potential of its land, its resources, and most importantly, its people. The region’s future should not be determined by the weight of its challenges but by the boldness of its choices. If those choices are made wisely, Northern Nigeria could once again emerge as one of the most powerful engines of economic growth in the country and perhaps on the continent.