Opinion

By Abdullahi Yusuf

Nigerians’ incessant stir on social media about Nigeria’s economy and the current president’s leadership style has become common business across all the platforms available to citizens. On the other hand, there is a group of netizens employed by the government to serve as a shield from the masses’ uproar about the government’s incapacity. They vehemently respond to critics directly aimed at their paymasters.

Such people exist at all levels of government, and they are taken care of by the appointed social media aides of any administration.

My state, the liberal state or centre of learning, is currently in a situation that has turned into a noisy and confusing commotion, drawing significant attention from people everywhere. According to the masses, the state is striding in the opposite direction, unlike before, when it became a beacon of development that other states looked up to. The only development people are observing is exaggerated projects on social media.

The PR Boys, as they are called on X (formerly Twitter), or Data Boys, as they are called on Facebook, are recruited to counter any narrative against the administration. They properly utilise the “Agenda Setting Theory” concept by repeatedly posting about a single project over time to create an imaginary delusion that the administration is doing better. As directed by their paymasters, they are doing quite an impressive job.

The sad reality is that people doing such jobs are mostly educated young people who are unemployed or underemployed. If you are to have an honest conversation with them, they will lament that they are doing it for what they are being paid or because of the hollow promises made by their masters. When informed people try to talk sense into them, which they usually consider an attack directed at their masters, the masters give them morale by reminding them that they also began like them and now are in higher positions in the government. They keep enslaving their minds with promises, whereas only a few of them can be uplifted.

There was a concern regarding the state of the general hospital in Rigasa regarding human resources. The hospital, which caters for the health needs of over a million residents living in the community, is not equipped with the facilities, equipment, and staff needed by any standard health facility. Instead of these gullible propagandists considering it a call to action, as it affects them directly or indirectly, they began to call the agitators unpleasant names, all in the name of impressing their paymasters. The concern was directed to the state health ministry and addressed to the Commissioner. 

The ministry’s response on their page reiterated the governor’s effort to renovate the state’s existing health facilities. The said project was part of the Immunisation Plus and Malaria Progress by Accelerating Coverage and Transforming Services (IMPACT), which the World Bank is funding (I stand to be corrected). The project was started in 2020 and is set to end in 2030. We don’t need to mention the administration that began hosting the project in the state.

Ideally, during campaigns, everybody has their preferred candidate against their opponents. Waging support for your candidate and calling on others to support them is a right that no one should be denied. But for developmental purposes, after elections, it should be the elected leaders against the masses, not in a violent or degrading manner, but in keeping the leaders on their toes and reminding them of their primary responsibilities. These propagandists are making it look like anyone criticising the government is an enemy of the ruling class.

When concerned citizens bring up facts about the government’s inaction and lack of tangible evidence to counter them, they immediately stoop to emotional blackmail. Using words like “hypocrisy” or telling the world they are proud of being political puppets just annoys or silences those calling their paymasters to order. Many of them cannot stand an evidence-based argument due to insufficient facts. They receive orders from their superiors in their various groups to counter anything they consider mischievous about their masters online. They will flood your timeline or comment section with the duplicate content they copied from their groups as directed by their leaders.

I tweeted on X, “There is one state in Nigeria where you can only find out what the governor is doing on social media. But in reality, nothing has been on the ground since the last administration. Guess the state!” The tweet was viewed by over 12 thousand people within 10 hours and engaged by hundreds. To my greatest surprise, people kept mentioning my state in the comments and quotes. This is evidence that all the Data Boys and PR guys are doing is nothing short of mere propaganda.

Ultimately, I want to call on these propagandists to know that those they criticise for calling out the government are closer to them than those in the government. And the damage you’re covering for the ruling class will affect not only those criticising the government, but you may be the first to receive the consequences. Those sending you to criticise the former administration—most of them were part of it. They wined and dined with the then-ruling class, cleaned their mouths, and now eat with the current administration while spitting on the faces of their former masters.

May we be guided.

Abdullahi Yusuf writes from Rigasa, Kaduna. He can be reached via abdoolphd@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido, PhD 

It was after a wet Thursday Asr prayer in a quiet neighbourhood of Gombe that Mallam Isa stood up to speak. The small mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with humidity and the scent of earth. His voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the message he bore.

“Brothers and sisters,” he began, “let me ask you: what would happen if today, right now, your heart stopped, and your children became orphans?”

A hush fell. Even the children at the back stopped playing. That question pierced through the hearts like an arrow.

“You pray five times a day, you give Zakah and fast Ramadan, but have you made any plan for the ones you might leave behind?” he continued.

It was not just a rhetorical question. It was a wake-up call.

The Crisis of Orphans in Our Midst

In every corner of Nigeria—especially in the north—there are orphans. They are in the streets, in distant relatives’ homes, in understaffed orphanages, and in classrooms with torn uniforms and hungry eyes. Every funeral of a husband, a father, a provider, often produces not one or two, but sometimes 10, 15 or even 20 orphans. In a society with polygamy and a high birth rate, the multiplication may be frightening.

The silent cries of orphans echo through our communities, a poignant reminder of our collective responsibility. In societies like northern Nigeria, where large families are common and the spectre of loss ever-present, the number of children left without a guiding hand is staggering. 

Losing a parent can mean losing everything: food, shelter, education, and the loving embrace of family. While various efforts exist to care for these vulnerable souls – from individual families to community and religious organisations, and a few dedicated orphanages – a critical challenge remains: the lack of sustainable, reliable funding. This is where the profound and enduring institution of Waqf emerges as a beacon of hope, offering a pathway to a robust and self-sustaining future for orphans.

What do we do with this growing population?

Islam doesn’t leave this to chance. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said:

“I and the one who looks after an orphan will be like this in Paradise,” and he held his two fingers together. (Bukhari)

This Hadith should not be a mere quote for charity posters—it is a divine incentive for action.

The Legacy of Layth b. Sa‘d: A Model for Us

Let us take a lesson from the noble jurist and philanthropist Layth b. Sa‘d, a contemporary of the great Imam Malik. He was not only a scholar of high standing (who was often described as more grounded in fiqh than Malik -Afqah min Malik), but also a man of immense wealth. One of his investment —earning over 70,000 dinars annually (The current Naira equivalent of 70,000 Dinars, based on the pure gold content of those Dinars and today’s market price of gold, is approximately ₦51,188,742,500, ie Fifty-one billion, one hundred and eighty-eight million, seven hundred and forty-two thousand, five hundred Naira). Yet he gave away so much that he didn’t even have zakātable savings. One day, he bought a house, only to discover it had been used as a shelter for orphans. Without hesitation, he declared:

“This house is now a waqf for them. Let it remain a refuge. And I shall endow another waqf whose profits will feed and clothe them.”

Today, we admire his foresight. But more importantly, we must emulate it.

The Missing Link: Waqf as Sustainable Support

Most of our current models for orphan care, although well-meaning, are unsustainable. We rely on inconsistent donations or goodwill that may not last.

But waqf is not a charity of the moment. It is a charity of the generations.

“When a person dies, all their deeds end except three: a continuing charity (Sadaqah Jariyah), beneficial knowledge, or a righteous child who prays for them.” (Muslim)

Waqf is Sadaqah Jariyah. And every orphan fed, educated, healed, or empowered through it continues your reward in the grave.

How Do We Build a Waqf for Orphans?

1. Family-Level Waqf

Families should dedicate one house, piece of farmland, or business as a waqf for orphans. It could be residential housing, a school, or a rental property whose income supports orphan welfare.

Imagine if, in every city block, one family donated one apartment to serve as orphan housing or as an investment asset to support orphans.

2. Community-Level Waqf

Mosques, Islamic centres, and community associations should establish orphan waqf portfolios. These can include:

Schools with waqf-run canteens and hostels

Hospitals or clinics with orphan wards funded through waqf

Skills acquisition centres that train orphans for real livelihoods

3. Organisational Waqf

Existing orphanages should stop relying solely on donations. Let them build waqf farms, shops, or event halls. The Prophet (peace be upon him) said:

“The best of people are those who are most beneficial to others.” 

Let’s be beneficial in a lasting way.

You Could Be Next

One chilling truth binds us all: no one knows who will become an orphan next. We plan our lives, but we often forget how fragile life is.

A car crash, a silent heart attack, a violent raid—your child could be orphaned tomorrow. So, build the system you would want them to find.

Would you want your child to sleep under a bridge?

Would you want them to beg for school fees?

Would you want them to eat once every two days?

“None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.” (Bukhari and Muslim)

Then love orphans as you would love your child.

Every Little Bit Counts: What YOU Can Do

Contribute to a waqf share initiative. You don’t have to give millions. Start with ₦1,000. Drops make oceans.

Educate others about the orphan waqf. Deliver a Friday khutbah, launch a WhatsApp and Facebook campaign, and distribute flyers.

Talk to local Imams, community leaders, and philanthropists. Propose orphan waqf projects.

Use your wasiyyah (will) to declare a portion of your estate as waqf for orphans.

Empower your children to understand this legacy so they can continue the chain.

Let us build an ummah where no orphan is neglected, where no child grows up feeling discarded, where our waqf institutions become sanctuaries of dignity.

Let Gombe, Kano, Lagos, Borno, Zamfara, Sokoto, Osun and every Nigerian state become shining examples of Waqf-Orphan Integration. Let Nigeria offer the world a new orphan care model—rooted in Islam, powered by community, and sustained by waqf.

And let each of us rise, in our small way, to be counted among those who build for the forgotten, the voiceless, the orphaned.

For on the Day of Judgment, it might just be that orphan’s dua that grants you the mercy you seek.

“They ask you what they should spend. Say: Whatever of good you spend must be for parents and kindred and orphans…”

— Qur’an 2:215

Amir Lamido wrote from Gombe via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Nura Jibo, MRICS

When John C. Maxwell wrote “The Power of Thinking Big,” it took me a few minutes to read most of it. In his book, Maxwell encourages human beings to think big and pursue their dreams.

Today, the world of science and technology has been corrupted by the global artificial intelligence (AI) euphoria orchestrated by so-called computer enthusiasts who are eager to sell something called AI in a manner that is far less, and implicitly below, the power of human imagination.

Whenever I see Americans, Japanese, Chinese, Germans, Asians, Arabs, and even my fellow Africans promoting AI beyond the banal and its quibbling superficiality, I genuinely sympathise with the world of science and technology “thinking” and what it holds for humanity.

AI, as it is, is a product of human imagination. It is always created using computer permutations and combinations of algorithmic packets and sets of calculated data encoded in computer microprocessors and central processing units. The computer system and its processes, which are subjected to the so-called futuristic determinations of events and activities, are again a product of human imagination embedded in what computer programmers prefer to call designed programs.

When I was in university, I was a poor student of computer programming because I didn’t take my computer teacher seriously. He failed to convince me about the processes, systems, and their creator. I spent my time playing with my classmates in the computer lab because I already understood that systems and processes are entirely products of human imagination. Indeed, the very day we decided to play in science by playing it to the gallery, it would automatically prevent us from asking more profound scientific questions beyond the basics. That would be the time when humanity would begin to lose its relevance and submit to the Elon Musks and Bill Gates of this cosmopolitan planet.  

In high school, my mathematics teacher, Malam Ali, taught me the fundamentals of working with a four-figure table from memory! Mallam Ali had committed the entire four-figure table to memory. He used to write the Cosines, Sines, and Tangents of 90, 180, and 45 degrees, as well as their reciprocals, even before we opened our four-figure tables. That was Mallam Ali’s stellar display of the power of human imagination at its best. As a novice in mathematics, I sincerely respect Mallam Ali to this day because I never had a mathematics teacher like him who taught me the power of original thinking using human imagination beyond artificial intelligence (AI).

There was also Malam Rabiu, a Chemistry teacher par excellence! Throughout my senior high school classes, I never saw him fail to teach us from his brain about REDOX reactions and the chemical reactions/compositions between an acid and a base, which to this day yield only salt and water! The “basicity” in my classmates and me created a bonding pair as opposed to finding a lone pair of electrons in every subatomic molecule.

Indeed, Malam Rabiu eventually left us to become the managing director of a Mentholatum Company in old Kano State, Nigeria. The last time I spoke with him was a week ago. He is there, being wasted away by Nigeria after having an excellent time as a hired teacher for the Kenyan government in the 1980s.

Indeed, it was the physics and chemistry teachings I received from my extraordinary teachers, such as Malam Rabiu, the late Malam Babale, Mudashiru Kolawole, and Mr. Isiaih, that led my friend, Ahmadu Saidu (now Lieutenant Colonel Saidu), and me to commit an organic chemistry textbook to memory. We crammed the entire textbook into our brains to the extent that we were not afraid of any organic chemistry examination that would ask questions on saponification or polymerisation processes in which small molecules (monomers) combine chemically to produce a giant chain-like molecule called a polymer. 

Science performed excellently for me! At that time, my thoughts and imagination aimed toward becoming an earth scientist who could change the entire geographical narrative of regional and global climate viewpoints forever. I never thought I would one day become a quantity surveyor – chartered, for that matter – because costing and construction estimates never seemed worthwhile to me as a course of study. 

As an aspiring global scientist of high standing, at the age of 15, I had already memorised the diameter of the Earth to be 12,756 kilometres! Therefore, I regarded courses like quantity surveying and accounting as suited for small minds that could not think big! But as history would have it, I find myself now “dining” and “sleeping” in quantities and what it takes to estimate the entire cost of buildings and infrastructure. Still, I never let my background in quantity surveying prevent me from pursuing geography as the mother of history. 

I eventually decided to blend quantity surveying with my passion for addressing climate change issues in Africa and globally. The two can be practised together with the time I have on earth. Hence, I developed the idea of establishing something that would ensure humanity remembers me even if I were to pass away. I founded an international NGO focused on climate change and registered it with the UNFCCC Secretariat in Bonn, Germany, as its climate observer organisation for 16 years now. The NGO has grown from a figment of my imagination, salvaging numerous communities by restoring their biodiversity in Nigeria, Africa, Niger Republic, Morocco, Ghana, and beyond.

I now register people from across the globe every year as UNFCCC climate change observer delegates. The UNFCCC Secretariat in Bonn, Germany, has designated me as its Designated Contact Point on climate change for 16 years now. The power of human imagination has enabled me to request and issue visas to my UNFCCC climate delegates, allowing them to attend our UNFCCC COP meetings free of charge.

Indeed, my dream project of constructing the Asayaya Regenerative City (ARC) generates interest among professionals and technocrats nowadays. The curiosity it ignites is just like a lady’s skirt, short enough to create attention but lean enough to cover the subject matter. My goal is to design a city with zero carbon emissions. The ARC will be energised by a hydrogen power plant using water electrolysis.

In the field of space science, the Wright brothers succeeded in presenting to the world the first aeroplane they manufactured and flew successfully on December 17, 1903.

Of course, the two right honourable gentlemen, Wilbur and Orville Wright, often fascinate me with their contributions to science and what I believe I can achieve with it to help humanity. Indeed, Orville and his brother would not have succeeded in flying what they called the “Wright Flyer” without the power of human imagination, which they trained their minds to develop beyond the ordinary.

They believed that any object obeying the laws of aerodynamics would automatically defy gravity and fly! That’s their rule of engagement! Thus, the entire world must always salute and doff its hat to the well-documented, extraordinary success stories of the duo, Wilbur and Orville. I see no reason why the world’s successful airline manufacturers, such as Boeing, Airbus, and Bombardier, along with their customers and clients like British Airways, Lufthansa, Delta Air, Qatar Airways, Emirates, etc., cannot establish a “Wright Brothers’ Day” in honour of Wilbur, Orville, and America! Thanks to the Qatari government and the royal family for taking the bold step to gift the American president, Donald, their royal luxury jet as a sign of respect and profound camaraderie towards America, a nation that produced extraordinary individuals like the Wright brothers!

Hence, the influence of mentorship and counselling in nurturing the power of human imagination above artificial intelligence or artificial science and technology is paramount.

The Wright brothers would not have achieved global success in aviation without reading the book by Octave Chanute, which succinctly explained almost all the technical knowledge they had in the field of aviation. Orville and Wilbur devoted ample time to studying their “Progress in Flying Machines” from 1894! The relationship between Chanute and the Wright brothers blossomed to the extent that he would often provide commentary on their technical expertise.

It is this same mentoring strategy that we witness today in the remarkable case of Barcelona’s wonder kid, Lamine Yamal. Lamine diligently followed Messi’s football doctrine at La Masia Football Academy in Barcelona. Whenever he is on the pitch, Lamine IMAGINES (emphasis mine) himself as Messi, dodging and dribbling past players with a dazzling performance that effortlessly bewilders opponents and excites spectators. Today, both Messi and Lamine could be likened to the world’s greatest footballer of all time, the legendary Pelé of Brazil.

That’s what the power of human imagination can accomplish!

At an early stage in my formative years, I was genuinely inspired by the works of the great Nigerian physicist, PN Okeke, who is regarded as the father of astronomy in Nigeria. Prof. Okeke was the brain behind unravelling the mysteries in physics by making them as simple as ABC. He helped me clearly understand the positive impact of Newton’s third law of motion in aviation and engineering. According to Newton, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This explains why aeroplanes must gather momentum and run at high speed until their engines produce a substantial force against gravity, enabling them to reach escape velocity.

For some of us who are still students of science, as soon as we witnessed the very sympathetic OceanGate Titanic submersible saga, we understood perfectly that one of Archimedes’ principles was grossly violated in that ill-fated and catastrophic implosion.

In the field of religion, two prominent Islamic scholars stood out globally in terms of Quranic recitation. Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi and Sheikh Sudais of Saudi Arabia are indeed global Islamic colossi whose oral Quranic recitations are second to none. I travelled throughout the Arab world and the Arabic-speaking countries, but I had not heard or seen the power of oratory Quranic recitation, such as the one I heard from the duo, as I had imagined. 

The way Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi recites Allah’s verses leaves most people in Arabia agog because his style of Warsh Quranic recitation far surpasses and is utterly different from Hafs, which is prevalent in the modern Islamic world. It would take Muslims who are unfamiliar with Warsh a considerable amount of time to grasp the mastery of the Quranic language and its verses as recited by Alaramma Yahuza Bauchi. With his oratory power and human imagination in understanding Islam, he convinced some of us to adopt the Sunni Islamic school of thought.

Sheikh Sudais, with his rare oratory Quranic recitation in Makkah, is today one of the living Quranic miracles; whenever he leads prayers in Masjid Al Haram, the entire Muslim world shivers in total submission to Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala. The very day I queued up behind Sudais during a lesser hajj, I felt fulfilled entirely by listening to his eloquent and convincing voice live and direct in Allah’s house, Ka’aba.

In the field of Christian respect for humanity and fair judgment within the Christian religion, the power of thinking beyond the margins emerged in King Najashi of the old Habasha dynasty. King Najashi was an epitome of hope, fairness, and equal treatment, ruling his dynasty in Ethiopia with genuine, not artificial, intelligence. One day, the Prophet of Islam sent his emissaries to King Najashi to seek refuge due to his profound compassion amidst religious discord in Mecca and Madina.

Nura Jibo, MRICS, wrote in from Ezdan Oasis, Al-Wakra, Qatar.

By Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari

Across Nigeria today, the earth is wet with the blood of innocents. Villages are raided without warning, highways have become death traps and communities live in a cloud of constant fear.

Yet, even as the nation bleeds, much of the political class appears more fixated on the 2027 elections than on saving lives in 2025.
Insecurity has become a cruel backdrop to political ambition—a painful reminder that, for many leaders, the pursuit of power still matters more than the safety and survival of the people.

The current administration, led by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, was elected on a promise to restore security and revive the nation’s economy. But less than two years into his tenure, insurgency, banditry, and economic instability have remained stubbornly persistent.

What was supposed to be an era of renewed hope has turned into a daily struggle for survival for millions of Nigerians. Despite interventions by security agencies, no significant improvement has been recorded.

Families are displaced from their homes. Schools are shut down. Markets are abandoned. Mass graves are dug with horrifying regularity.
States such as Zamfara, Benue, Plateau, and Borno have become synonymous with unending violence.

Our beloved Nigeria—once full of hope and promise—is fast becoming a theatre of tragedy. Critics argue that government efforts have been largely reactive instead of proactive. Intelligence failures are frequent.

Security operations often come late. Many see a dangerous lack of political will to tackle the root causes of insecurity: endemic poverty, chronic youth unemployment, and deep ethnic divisions.
Without addressing these underlying issues, peace will remain a distant dream.

Yet, even as insecurity deepens, political calculations for 2027 are already underway. Massive defections are occurring across political parties as politicians jostle for advantage and consolidation of power.

Instead of emergency summits on security, we see strategic meetings on how to win elections.
The people, who ought to be the priority, are pushed to the margins of political discourse. Their cries are drowned by the noisy drumbeats of political ambition.

Nigerians deserve better. They deserve leaders who value their lives more than the pursuit of office. They deserve leaders who recognize that every life lost is a national tragedy, not just a statistic.

If current trends continue unchecked, by the time the 2027 elections arrive, Nigeria may have paid a price in blood too heavy to bear—and whatever victory is achieved will be a hollow, shameful one.

Nigeria stands today at a crossroads. The choices made in security, governance, and leadership over the next year will determine whether the country finds its way back to the path of stability and progress—or slips even deeper into violence and despair.

As the blood of innocent Nigerians continues to soak the ground, one question cries out louder than any campaign slogan: Who will listen? Who will act? And when?

The time to choose between survival and ambition is now. Nigeria cannot afford to wait until 2027 to find out what path we chose.

By Oladoja M.O

 There is a sickness far graver than malaria, deeper than cancer, and deadlier than an undiagnosed pandemic: it is the sickness of perception. A tragic, self-inflicted malaise where men and women, intoxicated by their bitterness, misread the vital signs of a nation and call it death. 

Nigeria, that African giant, that phoenix that has refused to be buried by dust or drowned by storms, stands misdiagnosed not by its enemies, but by its sons and daughters. They call for good governance, a sacred right, yet in the same breath, they auction the dignity of their fatherland for applause from foreign balconies. Climbing the stages of international conferences not as ambassadors of hope, but as broadcasters of decay, believing that to light their ambitions, the whole house must first be burned.

Yes, there are wounds, visible scars of leadership missteps and bureaucratic fatigue. Yes, the body occasionally limps, gasping for cleaner governance, for a fresher breath of accountability. But to declare her terminally ill? To parade her on global platforms like a festering corpse before she has even sneezed her last? This is malpractice of the highest order.

And yet, even as they wail, Nigeria births victories so luminous they should blind the eyes of every doubter.

In 2024, while cynics sharpened their tongues, Nigeria quietly pulled off the Dangote Refinery miracle. The largest single-train refinery in human history roared into operation. Built on African soil, by African hands, it shattered the historic curse of crude export dependency. Now, Nigeria refines for itself, and soon, for much of Africa. That is not a dying breath. That is the heartbeat of an empire in rebirth.

Even as global markets shook and economies shrank, Nigeria executed one of the most daring economic surgeries in modern African history: unifying its foreign exchange market in 2023, consolidating multiple exchange rates into a single one. The International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and even the Wall Street Journal stood still in reluctant applause. The Nigerian naira, which was once battered by artificial valuations, finally had its freedom to fight fair. It stumbled at first, as all warriors do. However, today, stabilisation is becoming a new reality, not a distant hope.

In health, the same nation that armchair critics mock has scored historic breakthroughs. Under the leadership of Professor Muhammad Ali Pate, Nigeria has launched one of the world’s first national rollouts of the Oxford R21 malaria vaccine, a game-changing move in a country that accounts for the highest malaria deaths globally. 

Again, Nigeria has turned pain into policy. The federal government, under this administration, declared a Health Sector Renewal Compact in late 2023 (PVAC), marshalling partnerships with global giants like the World Bank and Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, channelling billions into revamping healthcare delivery, local vaccine production, and training health workers at an unprecedented scale. No more is health an afterthought; it is now a frontline battle Nigeria is visibly winning. While others talk, Nigeria saves lives. While others point fingers, Nigeria vaccinates its future. 

Infrastructure? While “first-world” cities debate electric railways, Nigeria’s megacity, Lagos, launched its Blue Line Rail in late 2023, the country’s first electric-powered intra-city rail system. A steel artery now pulsing through a once-choked metropolis, easing congestion, breathing new possibilities. In Kano, Rivers, Abuja, and Ebonyi States, massive roads, bridges, airports, and industrial parks rose from the dust — monuments to silent nation-building.

Policy? Courageous policies thundered through governance corridors: the subsidy removal in 2023, ending decades-old economic black hole that bled over $10 billion annually. In its place: strategic investments in health insurance for the vulnerable, transport subsidies for the poorest, and agricultural revolution initiatives. The world’s harshest critics acknowledged it, but the nation’s sons spat on it, too drunk on their self-righteous venom.

In education? Nigeria has ripped the old rulebook. In 2023, the Student Loan Act was signed into law—an audacious leap toward democratising education. For the first time, children of farmers, traders, and artisans now have a gateway into universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education without fear of crushing tuition fees. 

As of 2024, the first batch of beneficiaries has received their loans under the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND), breathing hope into homes where education once felt like a broken dream. Now, a total of 525,936 students have registered on the loan platform, with 445,015 applicants successfully applying for financial assistance, representing an 84% success rate for student loan applications under the scheme.

Meanwhile, the accreditation of degrees has also been digitised, with Nigeria becoming the first in Africa to automate this critical gatekeeping process fully. New private universities have sprouted like fresh shoots, expanding access and excellence, whilst Nigerian universities are climbing global ranks. 

They call for “change” yet campaign on the ruins of hope itself. They drape themselves in victimhood, seeking pity instead of respect. The so-called “obedient” torch-bearers, the tribe of Peter Obi, shout of patriotism while waltzing through global forums, slandering their homeland, reducing Nigeria, a giant stirring from slumber to the caricature of a failed state, just to score a few cheap political points.

Calling out leadership is democracy; Denigrating your nation is betrayal.

One builds; the other burns.

Nigeria does not need saviours who love her only when she shines. She needs sons and daughters who hold the line when the storms rage, who sing her greatness even when she falters, who plant seeds of hope, not thorns of despair, into her soil.

To those who mistake criticism for patriotism, remember:

The world does not respect nations that cannot respect themselves.

Call out your leaders.

Demand reform.

March for justice.

But never sell your mother for the price of your pride.

Because when the dust of time settles, and history opens her immortal ledger, it will not be your complaints she remembers, it will be your loyalty.

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

By Abdulrahman Sani  

It started like any other routine assignment. A simple task in a place that, on paper, seemed no different from the others. I was sent to a remote village in the heart of the North West, tasked with completing an enumeration in a region that was increasingly known for its volatile security situation. But what I didn’t realise then was that this seemingly innocuous assignment would lead me straight into the heart of danger.

The village, Rugar Yashi, sat on the fringes of the wilderness, far from the usual path of most travellers. The journey had been long, but I arrived early enough to begin work without delay. The protocol for entering any enumeration area was clear. 

Before stepping foot into the village, I was to call my security contact to get a briefing, obtain clearance, and receive a pass that would ensure my safety. I dialled his number repeatedly, but there was no answer. I tried once more, but the line remained dead. Frustration rose within me, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realisation that I had no choice but to proceed.

I wasn’t new to the idea of security checks. Over time, I had come to view the process as a mere formality, a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. Security clearance was just another uncomfortable routine, a small hurdle before getting to the heart of the work. The reality of how precarious the situation honestly was hadn’t fully sunk in. In my mind, it was just another remote village, no different from the countless others I had visited. Little did I know, I was about to step into the lion’s den.

The Village on the Edge of a Whisper

Rugar Yashi wasn’t on any tourist map. You wouldn’t stumble upon it unless you were sent there or running from something.

The place looked serene, almost cinematic. It was tucked neatly between rustling trees and the distant hum of wilderness. I walked in alone, unseen by the world, accompanied only by a curious blend of optimism and unawareness.

I didn’t meet him in the village.

I met him at a farm by accident.

He was tending to something near a stand of goruba trees. I greeted him and mentioned I needed a cutlass to slice through one of the fruits. Without hesitation, he handed me his.

It was only after I introduced myself, explaining why I had come and what I was doing, that he nodded and said simply,

“I’ll guide you.”

That was it.

No suspicion. No resistance. Just a quiet offer that, in hindsight, held far more weight than I realised.

And so we began.

He led. I followed.

At first, he was nothing more than a helpful local. His voice was calm, measured. He spoke sparingly, and when he did, it was often with a faint, unreadable smile. The villagers treated him with a mixture of casual reverence and respect. Nothing overt. Just the kind of nods, glances, and silences that said more than words ever could.

Of Questions and Rifles

As we walked through Rugar Yashi, I quickly noticed something odd. The men around us were armed. Their rifles glinted in the sun as they moved with deliberate ease. Their eyes darted around, scanning the horizon as if waiting for something—anything—out of the ordinary. Some of them offered brief nods of acknowledgement to my guide, a quiet understanding passing between them that I couldn’t quite place.

At first, I dismissed it. I assumed they were simply vigilantes, locals tasked with protecting their community. The village seemed peaceful. The people were humble. And my task was simple. What could go wrong?

We continued through the village, and I conducted my enumeration with the usual questions—family members, occupations, and living conditions. He knew exactly where to take me. At one point, I inquired about his family, which was part of the enumeration form. He smiled and said that his brother, Aliyu, was studying at ABU Zaria. I nodded and moved on.

It sounded plausible enough.

After the work was done, he walked me to the edge of the village where a group of armed men stood, exchanging hushed words and scanning the trees. As we passed, they gave us more than a passing glance. He shook my hand, gave me his contact information, and said casually,

“Call me next time before you come. It’s safer that way.”

I smiled, nodded, and walked away. The road back to the main track was quiet. Just a few goats, wind in the trees, and my own footsteps.

The Call

Then my phone rang.

It was the security contact I had been trying to reach all morning. His voice came through tense and unfiltered.

“Where are you?”

“Done. Just leaving Rugar Yashi.”

There was a pause, and then his voice dropped.

“Who did you work with?”

I gave a brief description. His voice turned sharp.

“That man you were with, Labbo Jauro? He’s one of the most notorious bandit leaders in the region. His brother isn’t at Zaria. He was killed months ago. Deep in the forests of Niger.”

Silence.

The kind that makes your spine go cold.

I had shared a blade with him and walked through the village under his protection. Sat beside him in quiet moments. All while unknowingly under the watchful eyes of armed men who could have changed the course of my story in an instant.

The glances. The nods. The stillness in the air. It all made sense now.

But at the time, I thought I was just doing my job.

Reflection on the Edge

Looking back, I wonder whether he knew what I didn’t. Whether he had already decided for me before I’d even finished cutting that goruba fruit. Or whether, by some strange twist of fate, I had walked straight into danger and was spared not by wisdom or caution, but by simple, Divine grace.

That day in Rugar, Yashi changed how I saw the work. It blurred the line between routine and risk. It reminded me that, sometimes, the man offering help in the fields may be more than just a friendly farmer.

Sometimes, he’s the one everyone else fears.

And sometimes, he’s the reason you make it back home alive.

Postscript: This story is based on a true account. The subject’s name has been omitted, and the narrative is told in the first person by the author. Specific details have been altered or excluded to protect privacy and ensure safety.

Abdulrahman Sani can be contacted via Twitter @philosopeace.

By Muhsin Ibrahim

Talk about Kannywood and, often, some people who are scarcely literate or have little knowledge of film will dismiss the entire industry as a sanctuary for good-for-nothing folks. But that is not always true.

I first met the late Malam Umar Maikudi (also known as Cashman) at the 2019 Kano Indigenous Languages of Africa Film Market and Festival (KILAF) conference. We connected immediately, discussed various issues, and ultimately exchanged phone numbers.

Although Malam was old enough to be my father, we maintained a relatively cordial relationship. He would send me some of his writings, and I would send him mine in return. We also met a few more times during subsequent editions of the KILAF conference. I am sure Alhaji Abdulkarim, the CEO of Moving Image and the organiser of KILAF, will dearly miss Cashman.

He was among the few brilliant individuals blessed with the talent to blend theory and practice seamlessly, and he excelled in both. 

Malam was a lecturer at Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, Zaria, and President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN). 

Malam was a bridge between Kannywood and Nollywood, as he featured in films from both industries. Many Kannywood viewers may not be very familiar with him, though.

Cashman only recently started featuring in more mainstream Kannywood productions, such as Gidan Badamasi and Labarina. As a lawyer in the latter (Labarina), who is expected to code-switch and code-mix, you can tell this actor is definitely educated. He was.

His death is a significant loss to his family, of course, and to the Nigerian entertainment industry. May Allah forgive his shortcomings and grant his loved ones the fortitude to bear the loss, amin.

Muhsin Ibrahim, PhD, is an academic and writes about Nigerian films. He can be contacted via muhsin2008@gmail.com.

By Sani Surajo Abubakar

At the commencement of the 28th Kano State Executive Council on Monday 19th of May, 2025, held at Kwankwasiyya City, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf presided over the swearing-in of Air Vice Marshal (AVM) Ibrahim Umaru (rtd.) as the new commissioner of Internal Security and Special Services.

His nomination, screening and confirmation by the Kano State House of Assembly and subsequent swearing-in followed the resignation of the pioneer Commissioner of the Ministry some few weeks back.

The new commissioner was the immediate past Director-General of the Special Service Directorate, Kano Government House, responsible for coordinating the operations of security agencies and other engagements critical to safer living in the state.

Before his debut in the government business of Kano State, he was a retired Airforce Officer with vast experience in peacekeeping operations and national assignments both locally and internationally.

He is passionate and committed to youth empowerment and entrepreneurship skills development, with a firm belief that empowering youth will help improve the living standard of the state’s residents and boost rapid socioeconomic development and prosperity.

As a retired Air Vice Marshal, his new position as commissioner will bring a wealth of experience from his illustrious military career in curbing security challenges in the state.

 Indeed, his sojourn as Director-General of the Special Service Directorate and subsequently as commissioner underscores the state government’s commitment to harnessing expertise from various fields to drive progress.

The appointment of Air Vice Marshal (AVM) Ibrahim Umaru as Commissioner in Kano State Government has sparked widespread interest and debate. As a seasoned security expert, AVM Umaru’s induction into the state executive council is seen by many as a strategic move to leverage his expertise in bolstering security and development initiatives in the state.

Many observers view AVM Umaru’s appointment as fitting, given his background and the current security challenges facing Kano State. His experience in security matters is expected to significantly contribute to the state’s efforts in maintaining peace and stability.

The appointment seems to align perfectly with the needs of the state, making it a case of a “square peg in a square hole.”

With AVM Umaru on board, the Kano State Government will likely benefit from his strategic insight and operational expertise. His role could be pivotal in enhancing Security Measures.

He will also utilize his military background to strengthen security frameworks and responses, advise on policy matters, provide informed counsel on security and development policies, and Facilitate dialogue and cooperation between security agencies and local communities.

AVM Ibrahim Umaru’s appointment appears well-considered, aligning his skills with the state’s needs. As he takes on this new role, expectations are high for meaningful contributions to Kano State’s security and development landscape. Only time will tell how effectively he navigates the complexities of his new position, but the outlook seems promising.

Congratulations, AVM, and may your appointment yield positive results for our dear state, Kano.

Sani is the Deputy Director of Public Enlightenment at the Kano Government House.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu 

To many Nigerians, the security allocations in national budgets often appear inflated. Year after year, billions are allocated to the military, defence procurement, intelligence operations, and internal security initiatives.

Yet, the level of insecurity across the country continues to raise eyebrows. The common question remains: “Where is all this money going?” It is a valid concern.

However, beyond the budget lines and official pronouncements lies a more complex reality—one that is often overlooked by the average citizen. The actual cost of warfare and intelligence operations is not just steep—it is staggering.

Take air operations as an example. Military insiders have long noted that flying an Alpha Jet for a single mission can gulp up to a million naira in aviation fuel alone.

This figure excludes routine maintenance, spare parts, logistics, or crew allowances. Multiply these flights across days and theatres of operation, and it becomes easier to understand why security efforts are financially demanding.

On the ground, the story is similar. Armoured vehicles, patrol vans, and tanks require constant fuelling, often idling for hours during missions. Soldiers deployed to remote areas require food, clothing, and equipment.

Medical support must be on standby, and when fatalities occur, families of the fallen deserve compensation. These are not occasional expenses—they are daily operational necessities.

Yet, beyond the financial weight of military engagement lies an even more fragile dimension: intelligence gathering. In parts of the country, particularly the North East, North Central, and North West, attacks by insurgents and bandits continue with frightening regularity.

People often ask: Why aren’t these attacks being preempted? Where is the intelligence? These questions are justified. Comparisons are frequently drawn to agencies like the FBI or Israel’s Mossad, known for preemptive actions.

But intelligence is no miracle tool. It relies on actionable information—gathered, processed, and relayed with accuracy. In many of Nigeria’s conflict zones, such information is scarce.

Locals often fear reprisals and refuse to share what they know. Rural and forested areas remain difficult to monitor due to the absence of surveillance infrastructure.

Moreover, intelligence work is not the sole burden of the military. It requires seamless coordination among the police, DSS, NSCDC, and even vigilante groups. Where this collaboration falters, intelligence fails.

That is not to absolve our agencies of their failings. Reports of negligence, delayed responses, and poor communication abound. However, these shortcomings, while real, are not insurmountable.

Nigeria urgently needs to rethink its approach to intelligence. There must be fresh investment in surveillance tools, inter-agency communication systems, and the training of personnel in modern techniques.

Citizens, too, must become active partners by volunteering timely and truthful information. This war cannot be won solely by the military. It requires collaboration, from the government to the grassroots.

Technology, including drone surveillance and satellite imagery, must be embraced. But more than anything else, there must be political will to treat intelligence not as a side note, but as the beating heart of our national security strategy.

Balanced expectations are also important. While it is tempting to measure Nigeria’s intelligence systems against those of global powers, such comparisons can be misleading.

Nations like the US and Israel have built theirs over decades with enormous financial commitment. Nigeria, by contrast, is still building its base. Still, quiet victories exist—many of them deliberately kept from the public domain for strategic reasons.

Terror plots have been foiled, camps dismantled, and lives saved through intelligence-led operations. These successes rarely make headlines. What are the failures, the losses, and the anguish they leave behind?

That is why we must keep asking questions—but with an understanding of the context. Accountability, yes. But also support, reform, and renewed trust. National security is not a spectator sport. It is a shared duty.

And if Nigeria is to triumph over its many threats, it must first accept that intelligence, not just guns, is its most potent weapon.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu writes from the Centre for Crisis Communication (CCC) in Abuja.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

Across many regions, there are wells that dry up once the rainy season ends. These seasonal wells, which only refill with water during the rainy period, often become active again when the rains return, prompting local residents to fetch water from them for daily use.

However, consuming water from such wells poses serious health risks and should be avoided.When a well dries up after the rainy season and refills again only when the rains return, it is often a sign that the water source is unstable and potentially unsafe.

The stagnant or intermittently replenished water in these wells can harbor various harmful contaminants. Here are some key reasons why drinking from such wells is dangerous:Seasonal wells can harbor dangerous pathogens like E. coli, Salmonella, and Campylobacter.

These bacteria are commonly associated with severe illnesses such as diarrhea, vomiting, and other life-threatening gastrointestinal infections.Wells that dry up and refill can also become breeding grounds for parasites like Giardia, Cryptosporidium, and bacteria such as Vibrio cholerae.

These organisms are known to cause waterborne diseases like cholera, typhoid fever, and dysentery, which can spread rapidly in communities and cause widespread illness.These wells may also be contaminated by industrial runoff or agricultural chemicals, including pesticides, heavy metals, and solvents.

Consuming water tainted with these substances can lead to long-term health effects, such as cancer, bone diseases, and reproductive issues.Seasonal wells can also serve as a source of contamination for nearby permanent wells.

If water from these unsafe sources mixes with groundwater or nearby clean sources, it could compromise the quality of otherwise safe drinking water.

Given the serious health hazards associated with using water from seasonal wells, it is strongly advised to avoid drinking or using water from such sources. Even if the water appears clean, it may contain invisible contaminants that can cause serious illness.

Public awareness, community education, and regular testing of water sources are essential steps to ensure safe drinking water. Communities should invest in safer, more sustainable water sources and prioritize water treatment practices to protect public health.

Remember: Prevention is better than cure. Protect yourself and your family—say no to unsafe seasonal well water.

Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini wrote in from Gombe.