Opinion

By Anna Gabriel Yarima

I write to and call and throw a challenge at all graduated health educators and the potential ones concerning the deadly diphtheria disease that annually claims the huge number of lives of infected Nigerians, which, according to reports, is more than 1,376 deaths being recorded in the high-burden states infected with the cases: Kano, Yobe, Katsina, Bauchi, Borno, and Kaduna states. And, from around 2022 to 2023, WHO reported that over 600 deaths were recorded with a case fatality ratio of 13% among confirmed cases in the past.

Instead of the cases significantly dropping annually, on 14th January 2024, according to the WHO African Region Health Emergency Situation Report, “A cumulative total of 27,991 suspected cases of diphtheria resulting in 828 fatalities have been reported across Nigeria, Guinea, Niger, Mauritania, and South Africa. Nigeria is the most severely affected, accounting for 80.1% of cases and 72% of deaths.” Even though the cases in Nigeria are underreported.

The deadly diphtheria that is caused by exotoxin-producing Corynebacterium diphtheriae is spread between people mainly by direct contact or through the air via viral respiratory droplets. The disease can affect all age groups; however, unimmunized children are particularly at risk.

Therefore, avenues for an awareness have to be created by the health educators in our communities so as to make parents ’fully informed of the signs and symptoms of the disease as well as the dangers of being infected and how easily uninfected children could be infected. Though vaccine-preventable it is!

The government at all levels has to be very cautious in attacking the deadly diphtheria that consumes lives annually. I therefore suggest the federal government collaborate with primary health care centres across the nation so as to have unimmunised children who are at risk immunised.

I hope the Coordinating Minister of Health and Social Welfare will put more effort into making sure that the number of cases and deaths that are recorded annually are reduced or totally diminished.

Anna Gabriel Yarima writes from the Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri.

By Sale Rusulana Yanguruza 

Thousands of lives, homes, government properties, and businesses in Nigeria and Africa are lost or submerged due to ongoing floods. The crucial questions are: what measures can end this crisis? Will we continue to watch houses and people suffer? What has the government done so far, and has it been effective? If not, citizens, residents, and the government must re-strategise their flood response plans to address the issue permanently.

The government needs to give special attention to addressing these flood-related matters, especially since the country has been facing this disaster since the beginning of the rainy season. The 2025 Annual Flood Outlook (AFO) indicates that 1,249 communities in 176 local government areas across 30 states and the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) fall within high flood risk areas.

The statement added that High-flood-risk states are Abia, Adamawa, Akwa Ibom, Anambra, Bauchi, Bayelsa, Benue, Borno, Cross-River, Delta, Ebonyi, Edo, Gombe, Imo, Jigawa, Kebbi, Kogi, Kwara, Lagos, Nasarawa, Niger, Ogun, Ondo, Osun, Oyo, Rivers, Sokoto, Taraba, Yobe, Zamfara and the FCT.

Unfortunately, some of the aforementioned areas have started experiencing floods this year; for instance, Oyo State, Kano State, Edo State, and Borno State. According to the State Emergency Management Agency’s assessment, after the flood hit some communities in two local governments in Borno State, comprising Chibok and Damboa, the Acting Manager, Ali Abdullahi Isa, of the Borno State Emergency Management Agency (BOSEMA), stated, as I quoted him.

 “As directed by His Excellency, the Executive Governor of Borno State, Prof. Babagana Umara Zulum, we have carried out an on-the-spot assessment of all the areas affected by the flash flood in the two local governments. A total of 1,103 houses in Gumsuri, Wovi, and Garjang in Damboa LGA have been severely affected, while 106 houses in Mboa, Whuntaku, and Yarchida villages of Chibok Local Government were also affected”.

Even though floods this year have become a global concern, with incidents reported in the USA, including Texas, where about 51 lives were lost, and some are still missing. The government in Nigeria must take precautions and measures to tackle them.

However, we all had the most painful and unforgettable experiences of the disaster in Nigeria, specifically the Maiduguri flood and Makwa flood, which have taught us lessons that the government, citizens, and stakeholders must learn from to avoid and prevent further occurrences. We must use these bad memories to avert the recurrence of such disasters, which claimed over 300 and 200 lives and affected many souls.

It’s for these reasons that I’m calling on the federal government to declare a total national emergency on floods. This will enable the government to respond effectively to the crisis. Resources should be allocated for this disaster, allowing the government to support those displaced as a result of the flood. 

Undoubtedly, declaring a national emergency on flood would allow the government to focus on fixing the bridges and dams that have broken or collapsed in the past, which are capable of causing water to wash over communities and lead to flash floods across the country.

Furthermore, the number of victims affected by the flood is increasing, with no specific measures in place to mitigate the situation permanently; hence, declaring a state of emergency is necessary to address these flood-related issues. 

According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), over 1,000 people were killed and 740,000 displaced by floods affecting 5 million in Africa, as reported last year. 

While declaring a national emergency, a high-powered committee needs to be inaugurated by the federal government in collaboration with the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) and State Emergency Management Agencies in all 36 states to discuss ways to address the issue extensively. The committee should comprise the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMet), NiMet traditional rulers, community leaders, and government officials to deliberate on the problem permanently.

Additionally, the committee’s responsibilities should include providing a comprehensive list of all dams and bridges in the country that may cause flooding and reporting it to the federal government. After submitting the report, the government should expedite repairs to these structures within a short period to prevent further escalation of floods in the country.

If   global concerns like the coronavirus and the Ebola virus can be addressed within a short period, then flood concerns can also be tackled to protect citizens. While I’m fully aware that it’s not easy to address due to a lack of preparedness and in some states, houses have been built in waterways, the government shouldn’t fold its hands. Actions are necessary, and the government should ensure that no houses or markets are built in waterways going forward.

Sale Rusulana Yanguruza 

By Zekeri Idakwo Laruba 

‎In every thriving democracy, journalists are the soul of public accountability, the guardians of truth, and the voice of the voiceless. In Nigeria, the people won independence without a single bullet being fired. 

‎But decades later, the same pens have become symbols of struggle, silence, and survival. The Nigerian journalist today is overworked, underpaid, and largely forgotten.

‎From the courage of Dele Giwa to the frontline sacrifices made during military regimes, Nigerian journalists have risked, and even lost, their lives in service to the nation. But rather than being celebrated, many of them now live in poverty, working without insurance, health care, decent pay, or professional protection.

‎The profession that once produced national heroes is now filled with invisible men and women, reporters who go out daily with no transport allowance, editors who cannot afford basic medication, and photojournalists who cover events on empty stomachs. 

‎At some press events, journalists are reduced to scrambling for food or transport stipends. The humiliation is not just individual; it is institutional. In 2020, the nation witnessed the public verbal assault of Eyo Charles, a Daily Trust journalist, by a former minister, Femi Fani-Kayode. 

‎His only crime? Asking a legitimate question. That moment, broadcast across the country, exposed the vulnerability of journalists and how little value some political elites attach to press freedom. Many media professionals now survive on meagre and inconsistent pay. 

‎In some private media organisations, reporters work for months without a salary and still carry personal costs to cover assignments. Few private media organisations provide welfare and accommodation for their staff, despite struggling to maintain steady revenue streams. Government-owned outlets, while slightly better, still offer limited welfare support in the face of inflation and economic downturns.

‎The Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ), Nigerian Guild of Editors (NGE), and other professional bodies have become mainly toothless. While they occasionally issue press statements in moments of outrage, their long-term effectiveness remains questionable. 

‎Advocacy is weak, reforms are slow, and protection is minimal. Journalists are left to fend for themselves in a system that no longer honours them. What is even more tragic is that many journalists report every day on injustice and neglect, yet rarely report their own. 

‎The irony is cruel. And so is the silence. Yet, the survival of Nigeria’s democracy depends on the survival of journalism. If journalists are weak, the truth is endangered. If they are compromised, the nation drifts into ignorance. 

‎It is not enough to speak about press freedom; we must act to protect the people behind the stories. To restore dignity and professionalism in the Nigerian media space, urgent reforms must be pursued. First, the Federal Government, in collaboration with media owners and unions, must establish a National Media Welfare Fund. 

‎This fund should provide emergency support, health insurance, and affordable housing for journalists. It will serve as a safety net for media workers in distress. Second, there must be legislative protection through the passage of a Journalist Protection and Welfare Bill, which will address workplace rights, ethical standards, job security, and compensation for risks undertaken in the line of duty.

‎Third, an independent Press Freedom and Redress Commission should be established to investigate harassment, unlawful detention, and abuse of journalists. This commission will serve as a watchdog against both state and private offenders.

‎Fourth, support for independent media startups and community-based journalism should be expanded. Through grants, training, and infrastructure, we can nurture new media platforms that prioritise public interest over politics or profit.

‎Lastly, the NUJ and NGE must reform themselves. They must earn back the trust of their members by becoming more transparent, democratic, and responsive. The time for docile leadership in journalism is over.

‎Of course, journalists must also hold themselves accountable. Ethical journalism is not optional. They must resist the temptation of brown envelopes, fact-check relentlessly, and report with clarity, compassion, and courage. The profession must regain its honour by defending the truth, not selling it.

‎The pen that once won our independence still holds the power to shape our future. But only if it is wielded with integrity, and supported with justice. Until we build a media system where journalists can live with dignity, we remain a country that praises democracy while neglecting those who protect it. 

‎A free press without empowered journalists is an illusion. And Nigeria deserves better.

‎‎Zekeri Idakwo Laruba is the Assistant Editor of PRNigeria and Economic Confidential. He can be reached via idakwozekeri93@gmail.com.

By Gambo Zilkifilu Mohammed

The turquoise waters off Yemen’s coast, often a beacon of hope for thousands fleeing despair, have once again become a graveyard. In a chilling echo of tragedies past, more than 140 African migrants are feared dead after their overcrowded boat capsized late Saturday night on one of the world’s most perilous journeys, the so-called “Eastern Route” to survival.

Imagine the desperation that drives you onto a fragile vessel, crammed shoulder to shoulder with strangers, knowing the journey could end beneath the waves. For at least 74 souls, that nightmare became reality. 

They are missing, vanished into the vastness of the sea. The cruel waves have already surrendered 68 bodies to the shores of Abyan province in southern Yemen, a grim testament to the disaster. Only 12 shattered survivors bear witness to the final, terrifying moments.

These weren’t just numbers

They were individuals, mostly young Ethiopians, carrying the crushing weight of poverty, conflict, or climate-driven devastation back home. 

They clung to the fragile dream of menial work in the glittering Gulf states—a chance to feed families, build a future, survive. Yemen, itself ravaged by a decade of brutal civil war, famine, and disease, was never their destination, merely a deadly transit point on a path paved with broken promises.

“Many of the bodies have been found scattered along various parts of the coastline,” authorities in Abyan posted somberly on Facebook, sharing images that revealed a haunting truth: most had no life vests.

 They were utterly defenceless against the indifferent sea. Abdusattor Esoev, head of the UN’s International Organisation for Migration (IOM) in Yemen, pointed the finger squarely at the ruthless calculus of human smuggling: “The underlying cause… is due to smugglers filling boats over capacity and not providing enough life vests on board.” Profit over people, yet again.

This latest catastrophe is not an isolated horror. It’s part of a relentless, bloody pattern. Just four months ago, in March, at least 188 migrants drowned in similar circumstances between Yemen and Djibouti. The Eastern Route consumes lives with terrifying regularity.

Why do they keep coming?

 Because the alternative, staying in communities gripped by violence, starved by drought, or hollowed out by poverty,  feels like a slower death. They gamble everything for a sliver of hope. Yet, reaching Yemen offers no sanctuary. The country, fractured by war between the Houthis and the internationally recognised government, is a lethal labyrinth. Migrants face not only the sea’s fury but also airstrikes, exploitation, trafficking, and detention. Remember April? When US-made bombs obliterated a migrant detention centre in Saada, killing at least 60 souls who had already survived the crossing?

Many who do survive the voyage find themselves trapped in Yemen’s nightmare borders closed, opportunities vanished, preyed upon by smugglers demanding ransom, and subjected to abuse. The dream of the Gulf becomes a cruel mirage, replaced by a daily struggle for survival in a land consumed by its own suffering. 

The bodies washing ashore near Abyan are more than a statistic; they are a searing indictment. They represent the crushing weight of global inequality, the failure to protect the most vulnerable, and the deadly consequences of conflicts and climate crises they did not create. Each recovered body leaves a family across the Red Sea shrouded in agonising uncertainty, waiting for news that may never come. The waves took their lives, but the world’s indifference drowns their hopes.

 How many more mothers must mourn before this deadly exodus is met not with apathy, but with action?

By Abubakar Musa Idris

I will never forget the 2015 elections. The chants of “Sai Baba!” were everywhere. We had fallen in love with a man. To us, he wasn’t just Muhammadu Buhari—he was Baba, the man who had captured the imagination of a weary nation. 

In those moments, Nigerians didn’t just vote for a candidate; they believed in a symbol, a promise that something better was possible. As the election results came in, I sat glued to the television, pen and paper in hand. 

Each state collation felt like history unfolding. There was electricity in the air—a kind of national awakening. It wasn’t just that we were watching a man become president; it was the quiet miracle of a peaceful democratic transition. We believed we were witnessing the rebirth of our nation.

Baba had his flaws, like every human being. But I will never forget what he did for agriculture, for infrastructure, and most especially for security. As a son of Yobe, I saw firsthand the fear that once gripped our people—the empty markets, the shuttered schools, the silence that replaced the sound of daily life. 

But I also saw how things slowly began to change. Soldiers came. Communities began to breathe again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. It was hope. In agriculture, the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme lifted countless farmers. The vision of feeding ourselves, of restoring dignity to rural life, started to take root. 

In infrastructure, we saw roads, rails, and power projects long spoken about finally begin to materialise. You didn’t need a policy paper to understand it—you just had to look outside your window. But what stayed with me most was his integrity. In a land where power often corrupts, Baba remained astonishingly simple. No long convoys, no palatial estates. 

Just his home in Daura, another in Kaduna, and a reputation built not on wealth, but on character. He reminded us that leadership doesn’t have to be loud or luxurious to be meaningful. Now that he’s gone, we mourn not just a man, but an era. Baba showed us that leadership could be humble, disciplined, and deeply patriotic. 

He may have left Aso Rock, but his footprints remain in our fields, our roads, our memory. May Allah forgive his shortcomings and grant him al-jannah firdaus. Nigeria will never forget Sai Baba.

By Salisu Uba Kofar-Wambai 

There is no doubt that football remains one of the strongest unifying forces for Nigerians, especially during major tournaments when our national teams fly the green-white-green flag at continental or global competitions. The story was no different recently.

The nation erupted in joy when the Super Falcons delivered a stellar performance at the recently concluded African Women’s Championship, coming out victorious in style. For their success, the players were rewarded with ₦160 million, luxury apartments in Abuja, and national honours of Officer of the Order of the Niger (OON).

Before the cheers died down, another shock arrived from the basketball court. Nigeria’s women’s basketball team, D’Tigress, achieved victory in Africa for the fifth time — an unprecedented milestone in the continent’s history. They also received ₦160 million, national honours, and additional perks from the Tinubu administration as recognition for making the country proud.

These are well-deserved accolades, and we congratulate them wholeheartedly. But in the backdrop of Nigeria’s biting economic hardship — worsened by currency devaluation and the removal of fuel subsidy — one cannot ignore that the families of these women are now among the lucky few.

It is also not lost on observers that all these celebrated athletes hail from southern Nigeria, where culture and religion give more room for women to thrive in such sports. For northern women, however, social norms and religious considerations largely shut the door on similar opportunities.

The resentment deepens when we recall another recent achievement — this time not on the field, but in the arena of intellect. A group of Nigerian students from the North travelled to London and conquered the world, emerging champions at the prestigious English-Speaking and Debate Competition. Unlike the Falcons and D’Tigress, these young women did not just defeat African teams; they beat the entire world.

Yet, to the disappointment of many, the president’s response was a mere congratulatory statement issued through his media aides. No grand reception, no cash reward, no national honours. To some in the North, this is another example of what they perceive as a lopsided and selective reward system — a reflection of the same imbalance they accuse the administration of in project allocations. This, despite the North delivering 64.5% of the votes that secured the president’s 2023 electoral victory.

Thankfully, there was a silver lining. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar stepped in, awarding the victorious students scholarships to pursue their education to any level they desire. This gesture is commendable and serves as a reminder that recognition and reward should not depend on geography or political convenience.

By Malam Aminu Wase

As 2027 approaches, political activities are beginning to intensify, and the ruling party appears to be doubling down on a familiar strategy, leveraging religious platforms to soften public perception and garner support. Prominent scholars, respected within their communities and beyond, have begun to echo the call for the re-election of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu (PBAT). However, no matter how persuasive or well-intentioned their sermons may be, they are unlikely to succeed. The real barriers to re-election lie not in public misunderstanding, but in harsh realities, widespread economic hardship and perceived religious marginalisation.

For millions of Nigerians, the daily struggle for survival has reached unbearable levels. The cost of living has skyrocketed, inflation is biting, and essential commodities have become luxuries. Unemployment, insecurity, and a declining naira have added to the misery. No sermon can explain away the pain of a father who cannot feed his family or a mother who must choose between school fees and food.

These issues are not simply the result of global economic trends; they are widely seen as the direct consequence of poor policy decisions and failed leadership. The fuel subsidy removal, naira redesign, and other policies implemented under the administration of PBAT have plunged the nation into deeper poverty. The promises made have not matched the lived experiences of ordinary Nigerians.

But the issue runs deeper than economic pain. From the outset, the PBAT ticket was mired in controversy due to its Muslim-Muslim composition, a bold and, to many, insensitive political gamble in a nation as religiously diverse as Nigeria. While religion should not define leadership capability, the symbolic message of that choice alienated a significant portion of the population, particularly Christians in the North and across the north central, who felt unrepresented and sidelined.

Now, as sermons and appeals emerge urging the faithful to give PBAT another chance, they appear tone-deaf to these deeper grievances. Nigerians are not voting out of loyalty to religious leaders; they are voting out of lived reality, one marked by pain, exclusion, and hopelessness. Religious endorsements may have once carried weight, but today, the electorate is more discerning and less forgiving.

The nation is yearning not for sermons, but for solutions. Not for promises, but for results. Not for symbolic gestures, but for genuine leadership that reflects the diversity and aspirations of its people. Trying to wrap political desperation in religious robes will only deepen the resentment.

In 2027, the real campaign message will not be on posters or pulpits; it will be in the stomachs of the hungry, the frustration of the jobless, and the prayers of those seeking justice and inclusion. If the ruling party fails to address these concerns directly, no endorsement, religious or otherwise, can rescue what is already a sinking ship.

Malam Aminu Wase is a political analyst and advocate for good governance and Youth inclusion. He can be reached at aminusaniusman3@gmail.com.

By Khairat Sulaiman

Globally, across different cultures, parents, especially mothers, are known for their unconditional strength, love, and countless sacrifices. From conception to childbirth to raising a child, mothers make innumerable sacrifices, and while some of these choices may not always be in the best interest of the child, they often stem from a place of love and concern. Yet as time passes, a subtle shift unfolds. The caregiver becomes the one who needs care, particularly in Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, where elderly homes are uncommon.

This partial role reversal is particularly complex when dealing with African mothers, whose identities have long been shaped by cultural values, religious beliefs, and deeply rooted notions of motherhood. To correct, guide, or suggest new ways of thinking often feels like a violation of cultural norms and everything they’ve ever believed in. But the truth is, just as we evolve into different stages of adulthood, our mothers are evolving too. One major transition is menopause.

Many women begin their journey into womanhood with fears, myths and half-truths. Until recently, parents and guardians often shied away from conversations around reproductive health and menstruation. 

The body undergoes a host of changes, from an increase in the size of particular body parts to hormonal fluctuations and emotional rollercoasters. She begins to adapt to this new normal, each month bringing a different experience, all of which she’s expected to bear gracefully and quietly. And as with all things that begin, there must also be an end. The end of menstruation is menopause.

Menopause isn’t just the quiet departure of menstruation. It marks the biological full stop to a woman’s fertility, typically arriving in her late 40s or 50s. Menopause brings hot flashes, mood swings, weight gain, sleep disturbances, hair thinning, memory fog, and a decline in oestrogen levels, which impacts everything from skin elasticity and bone density to a sense of identity. 

In many African societies, where motherhood defines a woman’s value, the end of fertility can feel like “the end of usefulness” or “an expiration date”. It’s an intensely physical, emotional, and psychological shift. Many mothers enter this phase in silence. 

Studies have shown that only a minority of women explicitly discuss menopause with their children, so it remains largely unspoken and unacknowledged, especially in conservative African settings. As a result, few children know how to help their mothers navigate this transition, and understanding these sudden personality changes can be both confusing and painful. It’s also difficult for mothers to acknowledge that they, too, need support.

As the first daughter, my mother’s menopause affected my life as profoundly as it did hers. The mood swings, the tears over seemingly trivial things, the constant irritation, I didn’t know how to manage. So, I misread it as hostility and dislike, and I withdrew. When it was time to choose where I would study, I picked somewhere far away, hoping distance would shield me from what I was too young to understand, but looking back now, I realise how much she must’ve been going through physically, emotionally, and mentally. 

Menopause wasn’t just a phase for my mother; it was a transformation, one that demanded compassion, not avoidance. I wish I had been able to see that then. I wish I had asked more questions, offered more hugs, and stayed present instead of pulling away.

As our parents age and evolve, it is crucial to create a relationship of mutual growth and understanding. It’s essential to lead with empathy rather than confrontation. Her reactions are often shaped by unspoken trauma, generational expectations, and physical changes beyond her control. So, meet her emotions with calm curiosity instead of matching frustration. Preserve her dignity using language that empowers rather than instructs. 

Gently introduce new ideas like therapy, rest, or lifestyle adjustments by sharing relatable stories or easing her in with familiar examples. Bear in mind that these suggestions might not sit well with her, but patience, consistency, and a little diplomacy could work magic. Normalise open conversations about menopause and ageing, just as we would with menstruation, to help her feel less isolated. Above all, women love compliments and support, so continue to affirm her worth beyond her role as a mother; remind her she is still loved, beautiful, needed, and valuable, just as she is.

Khairat can be reached via khairatsuleh@gmail.com.

By Garba Sidi.

It is with deep concern and growing anxiety that we observe the unfortunate political manipulation of development projects initiated by the former Chairman of Hadejia Local Government, Hon. Abdulƙadir Umar Bala, popularly known as T.O. Instead of initiating new projects of his own, the current Chairman, Honourable Yaro Abba Ari, has resorted to politicizing the legacy of his predecessor by either repainting existing infrastructure or dismantling projects completed under T.O.’s administration.

One glaring example is his unnecessary repainting of the town’s main gate — a project that had already been fully executed and completed before T.O.’s exit from office. Rather than embarking on a new initiative, the current chairman chose to repaint the already beautified gate just to claim credit, an act which many see as wasteful and driven by political jealousy.

Even more disturbing is his decision to demolish the small market built by the former chairman at Kofar Mandara within the town of Hadejia. That market had provided a much-needed business environment for local traders and also brought ease to residents in the neighbourhood who could access daily essentials without travelling far. This demolition represents not only a disregard for community welfare but also an irresponsible squandering of public funds invested in the project — an act that is completely unjust and alarming.

As it stands today, Honourable Yaro Abba Ari has spent a whole year in office as the new Chairman of Hadejia Local Government. Yet, there are no visible new projects or initiatives that have directly benefited the people of Hadejia. All we witness are his constant movements and public appearances with little or no tangible impact. The people of Hadejia continue to ask what exactly his administration is focused on, but we have yet to find a convincing answer.

Under the leadership of the former Chairman, Hon. Abdulƙadir Umar Bala (T.O), every ward or neighbourhood facing electricity challenges was provided with solar-powered streetlights. This significantly reduced crime and improved safety at night in those areas.

Moreover, the former Chairman supported the initiative of His Excellency Governor Malam Umar Namadi (Ɗanmoɗi), who had trained young people in borehole repairs. T.O. ensured that these skilled youths were employed by the local government to repair all faulty boreholes within Hadejia, thereby empowering them and improving access to clean water.

Recognising the water challenges faced by communities that rely on electric-powered boreholes, T.O. made it a point to distribute petroleum to every ward whenever there was a power outage. This allowed residents to run generators and continue to access water without interruption.

During his time in office, when Hon. Bala (T.O) noticed an increasing number of beggars — including women, young girls, and children — which was becoming a social problem, he initiated a reintegration program. He sent them back to their hometowns and provided them with startup capital to help them become self-reliant.

He also took decisive action against the growing problem of prostitution, especially among independent sex workers residing in the Gandun Sarki area. He ensured their relocation to their families and provided support to improve their lives, thereby contributing to the moral and social well-being of the entire Hadejia community.

In addition, the former Chairman did not forget the prisoners. He routinely visited the correctional facility in Modaci, Hadejia, to provide food and welfare materials to inmates, showing that his concern extended even to those behind bars.

He constructed numerous shops, aiming to stimulate the local economy and provide employment opportunities for the youth, paving the way for economic self-dependence.

Given all these progressive and people-centred efforts made by Hon. Abdulƙadir Umar Bala (T.O.) during his tenure, it is truly disheartening and alarming to witness the destruction and politicisation of his legacy. This act is motivated by political rivalry and not the public interest.

I am calling on the people of Hadejia to rise and take action — to rescue our town from the regressive direction it is being pushed into. We must unite to defend and preserve the progress that has been made, and ensure that our leaders are held accountable, not driven by political envy but by the duty to serve.

By Malam Aminu Wase

The Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), once Nigeria’s foremost opposition force, is currently grappling with a profound internal crisis that threatens to undermine its political relevance ahead of the 2027 general elections. At the heart of this turmoil is the controversial role of the Acting National Chairman, Umar Damagun, whose leadership has come under intense scrutiny amid allegations of collusion with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration.

Sources within the party allege that Damagun has entered into a clandestine, financially motivated agreement reportedly worth billions of naira, prioritising personal enrichment over the party’s integrity and survival. Such accusations, if substantiated, confirm long-standing suspicions of internal sabotage that have contributed to the erosion of the PDP’s foundational structures and cohesion.

Compounding the party’s woes is the recent defection of two of its most influential stalwarts, former Jigawa State Governor Sule Lamido and former Kaduna State Governor Ahmed Mohammed Makarfi, who have openly declared their support for an emerging opposition coalition. Their departure signals not only a significant loss of political capital but also highlights growing dissatisfaction with the current leadership’s direction and strategy.

Within the PDP, a palpable divide has emerged. While some factions advocate for strategic alliances with other opposition groups to challenge the ruling party effectively, others insist on reinforcing the PDP’s internal mechanisms and rejecting any coalition that could dilute the party’s identity. Calls have also intensified for Damagun’s removal, citing constitutional provisions that mandate the national chairmanship be zoned to the North Central region, a directive the current leadership has been accused of flouting.

Despite these fractures, Damagun has publicly dismissed claims of disloyalty and sabotage, reaffirming the party’s commitment to reclaiming power in the upcoming elections. However, the growing unrest among party loyalists and the departure of key figures underscore the urgent need for the PDP to address its internal challenges decisively.

As Nigeria approaches the 2027 elections, the PDP faces a critical juncture. The party must navigate this internal upheaval with transparency, unity, and strategic foresight to restore confidence among its supporters and maintain its position as a viable opposition force. Failure to do so risks not only political marginalisation but also the erosion of a legacy built over decades as a pillar of Nigeria’s democratic landscape.

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