Opinion

By Musa Kalim Gambo

The atmosphere at the Red Lecture Theatre in Ahmadu Bello University (ABU), Zaria, on Saturday, December 6, 2025, was a poignant mix of celebration and profound loss. It was the valedictory event for Professor Sadiq Muhammad, who has just concluded a distinguished 45-year-long career at the institution, teaching in the Language Arts section in the Department of Arts and Social Science Education. But this was more than a retirement party; it was a powerful, two-pronged call to action for the future of Nigerian education: celebrating the professor’s unparalleled commitment to mentorship while simultaneously articulating the country’s urgent need to institutionalise this practice.

A Legacy of Selfless Service

The proceedings, themed “Celebrating a Legacy of Scholarship, Mentoring, and Academic Leadership”, quickly established the magnitude of Professor Muhammad’s impact. Prof. Abdullahi Dalhatu, the Chairman of the occasion and Dean of the Faculty of Education, characterised the event as one of “mixed feelings”, acknowledging the joy of celebrating a career “without being found guilty in one thing or the other”, but lamenting the vacuum his departure creates.

The tributes that followed were the heart of the day, painting a vivid portrait of a man who transcended the role of an academic. Prof. Ramlat Jibir Daura, affectionately known as “the mother of language arts education”, captured the sense of loss, describing Prof. Muhammad as the section’s father figure, who supervised an extraordinary over 300 PhD students. His humility and generosity were recurring themes. Prof. Sani Adamu described him as “one of the poorest professors” because of his immense generosity in using his personal funds to aid students’ education. In a touching testament to his hands-on mentorship, Dr S. A. Abdulmumin recalled an anecdote from the 1990s where the professor, on his humble Yamaha 80 motorcycle, took junior colleagues to the market to buy provisions for their families.

His daughter, Fauziyya Sadiq Muhammad, spoke for the family, describing him as a “teacher, a guide, a protector”, acknowledging the quiet sacrifices he made to balance his professional commitments with his role as a dedicated father and a community pillar who adopted and educated many non-blood-related children.

The Academic Imperative: Institutionalizing Mentorship

Crucially, the honoree insisted that the event maintain a substantive academic core, thereby turning the celebration into a discussion of national educational policy. The formal lecture, delivered by Professor Abdullahi Dada on behalf of Prof. Hanna Onyi Yusuf, was titled “Institutionalising Mentoring in Teacher Education in Nigeria: Challenges, Prospects, and Implications for Curriculum Review”.

The paper, a qualitative, analytical study, proposed a reflective clinical mentorship framework and a national mentoring policy to bridge the gap between theoretical knowledge and classroom realities in teacher preparation. It highlighted significant barriers in the Nigerian context, including resource and funding constraints, the absence of a national framework, and cultural or institutional resistance. The recommendations were concrete: policy formulation, strategic capacity-building for mentors, and the formal integration of mentoring into university curricula.

Reinforcing this, Professor J.A. Gwani defined the ideal mentor’s role: “you as a mentor you are a facilitator… a facilitator does not know everything; he facilitates. He provides the environment democratic enough for people to be able to make contribution…”.

A Forward-Looking Valedictory

In his valedictory response, delivered by Professor Alti Kasim, Prof. Muhammad expressed profound gratitude and reflected on his students’ curiosity as his “compass”. More importantly, he used his final official platform to deliver a decisive call for strategic investment in the future of Language Arts: expanding teaching staff, procuring a dedicated language laboratory, and providing robust professional development for faculty.

The final remarks served as a capstone to the theme of mentorship. Dr Lawal Hamisu, a former director under the professor, credited Professor Muhammad’s direct intervention for facilitating his own appointment at the university. This final, firsthand testimonial powerfully reinforced the day’s central lesson.

Prof. Sadiq Muhammad’s retirement is not merely the end of a career but an architectural blueprint for the Nigerian educational system. His legacy demonstrates that transformative academic leadership is not solely about publishing papers or holding titles, but about the grassroots, personal investment in the next generation. As the country grapples with staffing shortages and quality control in tertiary education, the true challenge left behind is not simply replacing a professor, but answering his call to make selfless mentorship the institutionalised norm, ensuring that his 45-year compass continues to guide Nigeria’s future scholars.

–Gambo writes from Zaria.

Usman M Shehu

Do not wait until the conditions are perfect to begin. Beginning makes the conditions perfect.— Alan Cohen

It is unfortunate that Nigerian youths are preoccupied with PR and brown-nosing politicians on social media, mistaking sycophancy for loyalty or mentorship. Not only that, but we are comfortable scrolling TikTok, posting pictures on Instagram,and debating at what age we should start paying attention to the state of the nation, let alone running for office. Why are the youths indifferent to our sick polity that is rotten from the core? Why are they comfortable staying on the fence and serving as spectators instead of actors? Why do our youths somehow believe that they are the leaders of tomorrow and not of today?Though it is the norm that young people, while growing up, usually learn from the older generation, what is there to learn from our current crop of terrible politicians who hold our nation by the jugular? They hide under the guise of “politics is a dirty game.” The old guard have the money, the influence, and the networks; what is lacking or is in decline are vision, energy, and perhaps conscience and discipline—attributes that are essential for good leadership. Unfortunately, what they have will not be willingly given, and what the youths need often seems lacking or absent. The joy of the youths when the Not Too Young to Run Act was passed by the National Assembly and signed into law on 31 May 2018 by President Buhari quickly dissipated when they realised that reality is different from what is written on paper or in Senate resolutions. It does not surmount all the barriers. Money continues to dominate our polity. Only a few youths can afford party nomination forms; the cost of contesting is so enormous that even the smallest elective office is far beyond the reach of most young people. Political parties prefer candidates who can fund them. These challenges are reinforced by the illusion that youths are inexperienced, impatient, and unprepared for leadership.

But then I often ask myself: do we have what it takes to lead, especially now that we are bedevilled with so many crises? It is like a person afflicted with multiple diseases—these include an identity crisis, the collapse of leadership from top to bottom, and a sick civil society. Fixing these issues is daunting even for
experienced and seasoned leaders, let alone those still learning the ropes. It will only be possible through self-education, mentorship, and massive orientation and mobilisation. As Usman Sarki, Daily Trust columnist, rightly put it: “A new generation of rational leaders must arise from the ranks of men and women unafraid to confront entrenched interests, guided by data, driven by conscience and inspired by service.” A corrupt youth cannot be good for the health of our Federal Republic. Only youths of integrity can enhance the good health of our community.

Youths must acquire relevant skills such as adaptability and emotional intelligence, educate themselves, and build strong networks. For youths to be taken seriously, they must be sober, visionary, disciplined, and driven. Before we hold others accountable, we must start with ourselves. With the desire for change
and disillusionment with the status quo, youths can become actors, seize power, and replace some of the politicians who treat power as if it has no expiry date—which is why they often disappear from the spotlight without warning.

In a nation where political power is seen as conquest and humility as weakness rather than virtue, the youths must be brave and courageous in asking for power or running for office. We must sketch a realistic roadmap and hold a vision of rescuing our polity that is being dragged down the drain. With the election season only inches away, the time to act is now.

Usman M Shehu

By Usman M. Shehu

Do not wait until the conditions are perfect to begin. Beginning makes the conditions perfect.— Alan Cohen

It is unfortunate that Nigerian youths are preoccupied with PR and brown-nosing politicians on social media, mistaking sycophancy for loyalty or mentorship. Not only that, but we are comfortable scrolling TikTok, posting pictures on Instagram, and debating at what age we should start paying attention to the state of the nation, let alone running for office. Why are the youths indifferent to our sick polity that is rotten from the core? Why are they comfortable staying on the fence and serving as spectators instead of actors? Why do our youths somehow believe that they are the leaders of tomorrow and not of today?

Though it is the norm that young people, while growing up, usually learn from the older generation, what is there to learn from our current crop of terrible politicians who hold our nation by the jugular? They hide under the guise of “politics is a dirty game.” The old guard have the money, the influence, and the networks; what is lacking or in decline are vision, energy, and perhaps conscience and discipline—attributes that are essential for good leadership. Unfortunately, what they have will not be willingly given, and what the youths need often seems lacking or absent.

The joy of the youths when the Not Too Young to Run Act was passed by the National Assembly and signed into law on 31 May 2018 by President Buhari quickly dissipated when they realised that reality is different from what is written on paper or in Senate resolutions. It does not surmount all the barriers. Money continues to dominate our polity. Only a few youths can afford party nomination forms; the cost of contesting is so enormous that even the smallest elective office is far beyond the reach of most young people. Political parties prefer candidates who can fund them. These challenges are reinforced by the illusion that youths are inexperienced, impatient, and unprepared for leadership.

But then I often ask myself: do we have what it takes to lead, especially now that we are bedevilled with so many crises? It is like a person afflicted with multiple diseases—these include an identity crisis, the collapse of leadership from top to bottom, and a sick civil society. Fixing these issues is daunting even for experienced and seasoned leaders, let alone those still learning the ropes. It will only be possible through self-education, mentorship, and massive orientation and mobilisation. As Usman Sarki, Daily Trust columnist, rightly put it: “A new generation of rational leaders must arise from the ranks of men and women unafraid to confront entrenched interests, guided by data, driven by conscience and inspired by service.” A corrupt youth cannot be good for the health of our Federal Republic. Only youths of integrity can enhance the good health of our community.

Youths must acquire relevant skills such as adaptability and emotional intelligence, educate themselves, and build strong networks. For youths to be taken seriously, they must be sober, visionary, disciplined, and driven. Before we hold others accountable, we must start with ourselves. With the desire for change and disillusionment with the status quo, youths can become actors, seize power, and replace some of the politicians who treat power as if it has no expiry date—which is why they often disappear from the spotlight without warning.

In a nation where political power is seen as conquest and humility as weakness rather than virtue, the youths must be brave and courageous in asking for power or running for office. We must sketch a realistic roadmap and hold a vision of rescuing our polity that is being dragged down the drain. With the election season only inches away, the time to act is now.

Usman M. Shehu wrote in from Bauchi State and he can be reached via usmanmujtabashehu@gmail.com.

By Engr. Khalilah Yahya Aliyu 

September was the month dedicated to raising awareness of various medical conditions, among them hydrocephalus, which is commemorated in the United States on the 20th. This article was meant to have been published as my contribution to this course, but you will have to forgive me. The pen became too heavy for me to write as it required revisiting emotional wounds and acknowledging future fears.

I am a mum to a vibrant two-year-old blessed with this little-known condition–Hydrocephalus. Or so I thought, until I had him and realised hydrocephalus has quietly existed around us all along. During my final ultrasound before delivery, I curiously read the note from my OB-GYN: “mild ventricular dilatation.” At the time, “dilatation” only meant one thing to me, which was that my body was preparing to bring my baby into the world. What caught my attention, though, was how different this report was from the one I received during my first pregnancy.

As soon as I got home, I turned to Google: “What is mild ventricular dilatation in a foetus?” I learned it’s also called ventriculomegaly. It is a condition characterised by enlarged ventricles (fluid-filled spaces in the brain). The diagnosis was mild, and I read that it might normalise. I was still advised to watch for signs like visible veins on the scalp, projectile vomiting, and a rapid increase in head size.

Let me take you back a bit. Hydrocephalus, in direct translation from Greek, means ‘hydro’ (water) and ‘cephalus’ (head). Literally speaking, “water in the head”. But it’s not just any water. It’s cerebrospinal fluid (CSF). While CSF is essential, an excess of it leads to hydrocephalus.

Although some cases are congenital, it is critical to note that hydrocephalus can be acquired either due to old age or blunt trauma to the head. The case that scared me to my bones was when we were researching for a registered Medtronic vendor to purchase Ja’far’s shunt. We heard about a ten-year-old whose head accidentally hit a wall. The trauma distorted the flow of CSF, and he was not diagnosed on time till he nearly lost his mobility and sight. The shunt surgery restored his health.

I gave birth via emergency C-section after a prolonged labour. The first thing I checked when I held my baby was his head. It looked normal, covered in a full mass of hair. I couldn’t even see his scalp. Due to the labour complications, we stayed in the hospital longer. On the second day, neonatal jaundice set in, and my baby was admitted to the Intensive Care Baby Unit (ICBU). By the third day, I noticed something unusual. He vomited after every feed, and not just regular spit-up. It was forceful, the typical definition of projectile vomiting. I informed the paediatrician, who advised smaller, more frequent feeds. I followed the advice, but the vomiting persisted. Luckily for us, he had a voracious appetite, and after each episode, he’d eagerly refill his tummy.

We were discharged after 10 days. Grandma gave him his first haircut, and that’s when we noticed the intricate network of veins on his scalp. Visitors had all sorts of suggestions, from saffron oil to headache “ciwon kai” remedies. But deep down, I knew what it was. I anxiously waited for the final symptom to appear. Within days, his head began to enlarge, and his fontanelle (Madiga) wasn’t pulsating as it should. The vomiting continued. I turned to my husband and said solemnly, “Baby Ja’far needs urgent medical attention.” Grandma agreed. I trusted my instincts, and kudos to my husband, family, and friends for providing me with the strength to keep hope alive. They left no stone unturned to make this trial bearable.

At precisely one month old, we took him to Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital. We first saw a paediatrician at the GOPD, who ordered a scan, and my fears were confirmed. He has Dandy Walker Syndrome (DWS), which has led to excess fluid buildup in his head. I cried. Yes, I did. But I was also hopeful because I had read that early intervention could improve his chances of living an everyday life. We were given a medicine, Acetazolamide, that must be compounded to suit a child’s dosage. The medication is to reduce cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) production and help manage intracranial pressure. We were then transferred to the Neurosurgical Department, where we met the neurosurgeons on their clinic day, a Wednesday. A strike by resident doctors worked in our favour, allowing Ja’far to be seen directly by a consultant neurosurgeon. 

I mentioned how warm his head felt, and the consultant reassured me it wasn’t related to hydrocephalus. “He’s like any other baby,” he said. “He can have a fever”. That was the beginning of our journey. I was frantic. I just wanted him treated quickly to relieve the cranial pressure. He needed brain surgery to insert a shunt that would regulate the CSF flow. Delays could cause irreversible damage. The medical team was dedicated and compassionate, particularly the doctors. He had the surgery successfully at two months old, and we watched him ace his developmental milestones. We celebrated his second shunt anniversary on June 19, 2025.

After Ja’far’s diagnosis, my curiosity deepened. I consumed every piece of literature I could find related to hydrocephalus. Wednesdays became my learning days, not just from the doctors but from fellow patients and caregivers. I remember overhearing a professor of neurosurgery advising a mother of another shunted warrior: “You and your partner should properly plan subsequent pregnancies. Gone are the days of ‘just taking in'”. He emphasised starting folic acid six months before conception, staying healthy, and avoiding harmful practices. And of course, make prayer your closest ally as you follow the healthiest regimen possible. Take your child to the hospital because even with limited resources, our healthcare workers continue to perform wonders, saving lives every day. They are our true heroes. 

It is pertinent to add, though solemn, that a shunt is a foreign body and can be prone to infection, blockage or malfunction. You must be alert; should you observe the slightest recurrence of any of the pre-surgery symptoms, hasten to the hospital for proper diagnosis. The doctors often reassure us that milestones might be delayed for our warriors. Still, with the appropriate care, they accomplish them over time. Seeing the scars where the shunt is placed, be it the catheter or the pump, and knowing that it is going to be there for life, can be heartbreaking. But I have learned to overcome this feeling by viewing it as a lifesaver because without it, you might not even be able to hold your bundle of joy. Brace up, not everyone’s journey is the same, but be ready for bumps. They can come in the form of incessant headaches, seizures or double incontinence.

I cannot conclude without a strong plea to the government. Congenital diseases are rare. Ja’far’s DWS, for example, ranges from 1 in 10,000 to 35,000 live births. Setting aside funds that low-income parents can access to cover medical expenses will go a long way toward improving our warriors’ quality of life. Make the health sector more robust. Map out a lasting plan to eradicate strikes. It might have worked in our favour, but it has also stalled the needed intervention for some of our warriors, leading to irreversible brain damage. Mandatory, accessible antenatal care, overseen by qualified medical practitioners, will help preserve the rarity of these conditions.

To all my fellow hydro mums, be grateful to the Almighty for the gift and celebrate your little warriors. Whether it’s an inch or a milestone, every step is worth celebrating. Also, you are not alone. We have a community, and we’re here to support one another, always. To everyone who stood by us throughout this journey, I want to say thank you. Where could we have found the strength to carry on without you?

Engr. Khalilah Yahya Aliyu wrote via khalilah20@gmail.com.

By Isyaka Laminu Badamasi

It is becoming glaring that the Federal Government is taking Nigerians for granted. A few months back, we were all here condemning the new tax reform introduced by the APC administration led by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, a reform whose implications will be deeply felt by Nigerians, especially the downtrodden.

Though some analysts and experts argue that the new tax reform is the right step, particularly for an economy whose revenue depends almost 70% on crude oil, my little contribution to the debate is not to analyse the reform or weigh its positive and negative impacts on our well-being. Rather, it is to raise a few critical questions arising from my thoughts on the matter at hand.

My concern is specifically about content creators who were engaged to sensitise Nigerians on the new bill—a development that sparked another debate, one that again exposed our disunity as a people and our lack of seriousness about matters of national importance and those inimical to our well-being. Nigerians, especially Northerners, instead of examining the bill and preparing for constructive criticism, began complaining that none of the selected content creators was from the core North. As if having a core Northern content creator in the sensitisation team would somehow change or reduce the taxes that will eventually be imposed on core Northerners.

With or without any sensitisation or awareness campaign, the new tax reform has come to stay. Regardless of how people accept or reject it, it will be implemented as planned. The content creators engaged by the government may not even understand the policy themselves, let alone be able to sensitise the public properly.

For me, therefore, this entire conversation about the “selection of content creators” is unnecessary. To my understanding, it was technically designed to divert Nigerians’ attention. Instead of focusing on constructive criticism of this inhumane policy, we have been pushed into arguing over who should be involved, when, and how—a distraction that does not help an already fragmented country.

Let us not forget that we are in 2025, in the 21st century—111 years as an amalgamated entity and 65 years as an independent nation, with more than two and a half decades of an uninterrupted democratic dispensation. It is high time we appreciate our togetherness despite the odds and chart a path toward unity. This is especially crucial at this moment, when we are facing serious and multidimensional security challenges, particularly here in the North, ravaged by bandits, insurgents, and kidnappers, with pockets of ethnic and religious conflicts here and there. Do we so easily forget that Nigeria was once declared a “country of particular concern” by the US President, Donald Trump?

It is important for policymakers and implementers to avoid introducing issues that, instead of fostering peaceful coexistence, end up dividing us. Meanwhile, those in positions of authority continue siphoning our meagre resources—resources that have failed to address our critical challenges in health, education, security, and other essential sectors.

On the issue of not engaging or selecting content creators from the core North for this “all-important” sensitisation campaign, the situation is both baffling and questionable. It is strange that the PR unit of the FIRS/FGN did not consider the three major languages—Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba—alongside English, our official language, as part of their information-dissemination strategy. However, it is still not too late to make corrections.

Whatever the reasons may be, Nigerians—regardless of region or religion—should prepare themselves, as the policy will take effect come January 2026.

Isyaka Laminu Badamasi wrote via makwalla82@gmail.com.

By Maryam Shehu

Electricity remains one of the most essential public utilities in Nigeria–central to daily life, small-scale enterprises, and family survival. Yet for residents of Tudun Jukun, Madaci and other communities in Zaria, power has become a source of deepening hardship rather than progress.

For nearly three weeks, Tudun Jukun and several neighbouring communities have been plunged into a persistent blackout, with no meaningful announcement from the Kaduna Electricity Distribution Company (KEDCO) or any government authority. The outage comes on the heels of a controversial and devastating spike in electricity bills that many residents say they were never consulted about and cannot afford.

In October, KEDCO reportedly reclassified the community into Band A, one of the highest electricity tariff categories, despite Tudun Jukun’s socio-economic reality. The community, home to more than 2,000 households, has less than 40 per cent of residents considered middle class, while the majority struggle daily with food insecurity, unstable income, and rising costs of living. Many parents rely on public schools, yet still struggle to provide basic learning materials for their children.

Residents say KEDCO claimed to have engaged community elites before implementing the Band A classification. Shortly after, households were issued bills of ₦10,000—already burdensome for a community where many live below the poverty line.

The situation worsened dramatically in early November, and households received bills as high as ₦115,000, and in some houses, even higher. With residents unable to pay, the community was soon thrown into darkness. Since November 20, 2025, Tudun Jukun has remained without electricity, despite petitions and repeated attempts by concerned people to seek redress.

The power cut has devastated small and micro-businesses that rely on electricity to function. Welders, tailors, food vendors, shop owners, and artisans have seen their livelihoods crumble.

“My father is old and serves as a Ladan at a nearby mosque, so my family depends on me for everything,” said Ibrahim, a local welder. “I tried carrying my machines to Hayin Usama, where they had light, but now they also haven’t had power for two days. My clients are collecting their materials without waiting, and things are completely ruined for me.”

Women-led household businesses are also affected. “I used to make ₦3,000 to ₦5,000 daily from soyamilk and zobo,” said Hadiza, a mother and small-scale producer. “That money supported my household, but since the first week of this outage, I’ve had to learn how to survive without income.”

Across the community, youths, artisans, and family breadwinners now face worsening poverty, prolonged idleness, and rising frustration as no tangible explanation or action has been offered by authorities.

Residents are calling on KEDCO, the local government, and all responsible bodies to urgently address the issue. They argue that the prolonged outage and unexplained tariff hikes undermine their rights to dignity and economic participation as protected under Sections 14(2)(b) and 17(3)(a) of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, which obligate the government to ensure the welfare of citizens and provide adequate facilities for their livelihood. They also reference the regulatory duties of electricity distribution companies under the Nigerian Electricity Act and NERC guidelines, which require fair billing, transparency, and continuous service except in cases of officially communicated faults or approved maintenance.

Residents are demanding a transparent review of the billing process, a resolution to the petitions already submitted, and direct engagement with the community’s leaders. They insist that electricity must be restored immediately, alongside compensation or remedial measures for what they describe as an unjust disruption of their rights and livelihoods.

Until then, Tudun Jukun remains in darkness, both literally and economically.

Maryam Shehu writes from Zaria and can be reached at maryamshehu6354@gmail.com.

By Kasim Isa Muhammad

I wish to bring to the attention of the Nigerian public, press freedom advocates, and all relevant authorities the deeply troubling situation that has unfolded since the publication of my recent article. What began as a civic-driven inquiry into the visibility and constituency engagement of an elected representative has now escalated into an issue touching on personal safety, democratic accountability, and the worrying misuse of influence. The unfolding events have created an atmosphere of fear within my family and have underscored the increasing challenges journalists and citizens face when attempting to demand transparency from public officeholders.

On the 4th of December 2025, I authored a piece in the Daily Chronicles newspaper in which I raised questions regarding the whereabouts and activities of the member representing Nangere and Potiskum Federal Constituency, Hon. Fatima Talba. The article responded to concerns from many constituents who felt disconnected from their representative and uncertain about the progress of projects and engagements promised during the last election. My intention was simply to give voice to those concerns in a constructive and democratic manner, drawing attention to matters that are clearly in the public interest.

The article itself did not contain inflammatory language, personal attacks, or unverified allegations. It was essentially a call for dialogue, transparency, and responsiveness, qualities that any functioning democracy expects of its elected officials. I anticipated a clarification or a factual correction or perhaps a simple acknowledgement from her office. I did not expect the irresponsible reaction that followed and which has now placed undue emotional pressure on my family.

According to my parents, shortly after the publication of the article, they began receiving calls and visits from individuals whom they believed to be linked to the Honourable Member. These individuals reportedly expressed displeasure over the content of the piece. My parents informed me that Hon. Fatima Talba was extremely upset and that she allegedly made threatening remarks suggesting she would deal with me in whatever manner she considered appropriate. Hearing this from my parents was both painful and disturbing since they have no connection whatsoever to my professional work.

For two elderly people who have lived quiet and peaceful lives and who have never been involved in political matters, these alleged threats came as a frightening experience. They were confused about why they were being dragged into an issue that concerned my work alone. No parent should be placed in a position where they feel fear simply because their child has chosen to engage in responsible journalism or has raised questions that are fully within the bounds of democratic rights. Their anxiety has been overwhelming and their sense of security has been shaken.

As a journalist, I am fully aware that my work may sometimes provoke disagreement or criticism. Scrutiny is part of the job and public officials have every right to respond to any publication in ways that are lawful, transparent, and civil. What cannot be tolerated is the intimidation or harassment of family members who have no involvement in the matter being discussed. Such behaviour, if confirmed, would suggest an unacceptable misuse of influence and would undermine the principles of free expression that support a democratic society.

It is particularly baffling that instead of addressing the substance of the concerns raised in the article, the alleged reaction appears to have been directed at silencing me through fear. This development raises questions about how some public officials perceive their accountability to the citizens and the press. When a simple inquiry is met with intimidation rather than engagement, it signals a serious departure from democratic norms and creates the risk of authoritarian tendencies taking root in our political culture.

I want to emphasize that my article was never intended to harm Hon. Fatima Talba or misrepresent her actions. My aim was to seek clarity regarding her stewardship and visibility as a representative of her constituency. The publication was meant to open a path for conversation and not to close it. The reaction that my parents described has only made the concerns raised in the article more relevant because it suggests a reluctance to engage openly with the issues that matter to the electorate.

Given the seriousness of the situation, I call on civil society organizations, press freedom advocates, human rights groups, and relevant government agencies to pay attention to what has occurred. Any form of intimidation directed at journalists or their families threatens not just individuals but the integrity of public institutions. A society where journalists fear asking questions is a society at risk of silencing truth and discouraging civic participation. The safety of my parents and the preservation of my constitutional rights must be taken seriously.

To Hon. Fatima Talba, I respectfully reiterate that criticism and inquiry are unavoidable parts of public service. If there were concerns about the accuracy or tone of my article, the appropriate response would have been a formal statement, a rebuttal, an interview, or any open engagement that provides clarification. Alleged threats, if they did occur, cannot be considered an acceptable response. They create fear, deepen mistrust, and widen the distance between public officials and the people they represent.

Furthermore, I urge the appropriate security agencies to investigate this matter carefully and impartially. Public office should never become a shield that protects individuals from scrutiny or a tool used to intimidate citizens. The safety of my family and the protection of my right to engage in journalism must not be compromised. If the allegations made by my parents are proven to be accurate, steps must be taken to prevent any recurrence of such conduct by anyone in a position of authority.

In closing, I reaffirm my dedication to the pursuit of truth, public accountability, and responsible journalism. I will not allow fear or intimidation to deter me from raising issues that matter to the public. I believe that democracy grows stronger when difficult questions are asked and weaker when those questions are answered with threats instead of explanations. My commitment remains firm, and my hope is that this incident becomes a reminder that Nigeria must continue to stand against intimidation and for the protection of democratic expression.

Kasim Isa Muhammad wrote in from Yobe State, Nigeria.

By Aliyu Ya’u

His Excellency, Dikko Umar Radda’s position on rural banditry has provoked considerable reactions, with some questioning his resolve to confront bandits rather than seek a peace agreement.

Given that he lacks control over the paramilitary and armed forces present in the state, it is fair to say that he has taken commendable steps by establishing the state’s community policing group and encouraging the civilian population to engage in self-defence. 

I fully empathise with his frustration, especially in light of the constant criticisms and pleas from victims suffering due to the terror of rural banditry. Understandably, his excellency may feel disheartened and powerless to prevent these criminals from continuing their activities. 

Further, everyone, especially the civilian population, would welcome a peace accord in a real conflict situation. In such situations, all parties’ demands are tabled and deliberated, and sustainable solutions are found and implemented. 

However, in the case of an unorganised and unregulated group like rural bandits of the North-western and North-central Nigeria, who wreak havoc daily without reasonable justification. 

The question lies not in the society respecting the peace accord, but in the modalities employed to guide the peace settlement. Another question is whether the peace accord is sustainable, using historical parameters to assess the credibility and reliability of the commitment of the violent party involved. 

Any peace accord between a government, society, and an armed group should be based on disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR). 

According to the United Nations Peacekeeping operation unit, DDR is “a process of removing weapons from the hands of members of armed groups, taking these combatants out of their groups and helping them to reintegrate as civilians into society.”

The question is whether the militias or bandits are ready to surrender all their weapons, demobilise from their dens, and reintegrate into the larger society. Unless the government can confirm these terms with the bandits’ leaders, mediators, and sureties, it will not be obligated to build a wall of ash blocks. 

Other questions include, How strong and convincing are the commitments laid down or presented by the militias? How committed is the leadership to the pact? What are the demands? How cogent and soluble are they? Do they have a unified command structure? Is the command structure capable of issuing an effective directive that will be respected by various dens and groups committing heinous bandit crimes? 

These armed groups are often small; in most cases, a group comprises 10 or fewer bandits who act autonomously, unless they need to cooperate against a sedentary enemy community. The absence of a centralised governing body makes it difficult to build an effective peace agreement with the groups. How could a peace accord with hundreds of bandit groups roaming the regions’ thick and interconnected forests that span hundreds of kilometres and access many states be possible? 

Another aspect deserving the government’s focus is the scope of Katsina state’s peace accord. What areas will it encompass? Will the armed bandits responsible for heinous crimes in Katsina state prevent others from neighbouring states from crossing into the area to commit banditry? It’s crucial to recognise that we are not dealing with an insurgent group, a separatist movement, or an ideological terror organisation; rather, the state is confronting multiple disorganised criminal entities. 

The focus should be on the following: The state’s primary concern is achieving lasting peace, not a temporary ceasefire. The bandits should establish a reliable leadership structure that is known and accessible, and willing to take full responsibility if they breach the agreement. They should clearly specify what sets their current commitments apart from those made with previous governments. Additionally, they should submit their complaints for the state’s review and assessment. The sureties must first confiscate or disarm the bandits before any peace accord is signed.

Aliyu Yau holds an M.Sc. in Defence and Strategic Studies and is a public policy and conflict analyst based in Kaduna.

Dr Ebenezer Obadare, a Senior Fellow for Africa Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), recently testified before a joint briefing of the United States Congress on the security crisis in Nigeria. Given CFR’s extraordinary influence on U.S. foreign policy, as its analysts brief the Congress, the State Department, and the White House, the accuracy and balance of Dr Obadare’s testimony matter significantly.

At the briefing, U.S. lawmakers and witnesses made one demand that every responsible Nigerian, Muslim or Christian, would be happy with: that Nigeria must disarm armed militias and prosecute attackers. The renewed commitment we are now seeing from the Nigerian government, including airstrikes against armed militias, the planned police and military recruitment, and the declaration of a national security emergency are all a response to the mounting U.S. pressure. On this point, American engagement has been productive.

However, Dr Obadare went far beyond the reasonable. After acknowledging the recent steps taken by President Tinubu, he nevertheless insisted that “Washington must keep up the pressure.” To him, U.S. leverage should not only be used to combat Boko Haram but to pressure the Nigerian president to abolish Sharia criminal law in twelve northern states and disband Hisbah commissions across the northern region. This framing is problematic on several counts.

First, it portrays Nigeria not as a sovereign state but as a dependent client whose legal and cultural system must be restructured via external coercion. This is not only intellectually careless; it is politically reckless. Nigeria’s constitutional debates, including the place of Sharia within a federal arrangement, cannot be resolved through directives from Washington. These are matters rooted in decades of negotiation, legal precedent, historical realities, and democratic choice. Such complexity cannot be wished away by foreign pressure or reduced to simplistic talking points about religious persecution. Sharia was introduced between 1999 and 2001 through public consultation and mass popular demand by the local citizens in northern Nigeria, who are Muslims. Subsequently, it was formalised and enacted into law by the various State Houses of Assembly.

Second, Obadare’s argument misdiagnoses the root causes of violence in the north. Boko Haram and ISWAP do not derive their ideology from the Sharia systems implemented by northern states since 1999. In fact, Boko Haram explicitly rejects these systems as insufficient, impure, and corrupted by democracy. They consider northern governors apostates precisely because they operate within a secular constitution. The group’s origins lie in violent extremism, socio-economic marginalisation, and the 2009 extrajudicial killing of the group’s founder, Mohammed Yusuf. It has nothing to do with the Sharia framework implemented by the twelve northern states. In fact, Boko Haram rejects and condemns these state Sharia systems as illegitimate, and this is why the majority of their victims are Muslims themselves. 

It is therefore analytically false to imply that Sharia criminal law fuels this insurgency. This narrative does not withstand even a basic historical timeline. The Maitatsine insurgency of the 1970s, whose ideology and violence closely resemble Boko Haram, predated the introduction of Sharia in the early 2000s by decades. To frame Sharia as the catalyst of terrorism is therefore a misreading of history and to locate causality where it does not exist.

Third, the call to disband Hisbah groups ignores their actual function and constitution. Hisbah institutions are state-established moral enforcement agencies regulated by local laws. They are not terrorist actors, militias, or insurgent organisations. They are contrary to Dr Obadare’s claims that they “impose extremist ideology, enforce forced conversions, and operate with near-total impunity.” These assertions either misrepresent the facts to unfairly tarnish their reputation or reflect intellectual laziness that risks misleading American policymakers. In doing so, they also demonise millions of peaceful Nigerian Muslims who regard Sharia as a legitimate component of their cultural and moral identity.

Finally, Dr Obadare’s testimony, intentionally or not, reinforces a narrative in Washington that sees Nigeria’s crisis primarily through the lens of religious conflict rather than the multi-dimensional reality it is, that is, a mixture of terrorism, banditry, state failure, local grievances, arms proliferation, and climate-driven resource conflicts in the form of farmer-herder crisis. Oversimplification of this serious problem does not aid victims. It distorts U.S. policy and encourages punitive measures that could destabilise fragile communities further and restrict the fundamental rights of millions of Muslims to exercise their faith and adhere to the guidance of Shari’a in their personal and communal lives. 

Nigeria faces serious security challenges amid years of leadership neglect. We genuinely need pressure to put the leaders on their toes, but not the kind rooted in calculated distortion. There is a need for leadership accountability, but not at the expense of Nigeria’s sovereignty. And we need a partnership with the United States in the areas of intelligence gathering, military capabilities and a mutually beneficial partnership. 

The United States should not base its engagement on flawed analyses made by experts such as Dr Ebenezer Obadare, which risk misrepresenting Nigeria’s realities, undermining local institutions, and prescribing solutions that could exacerbate rather than resolve the country’s complex security challenges. Partnering with the Nigerian government enables a tailor-made approach to effectively address these challenges, rather than relying on experts who have long been out of touch with Nigerian realities beyond what they read in media reports.

The Nigerian state must do more, no doubt. But analysts like Dr Obadare must also do better. Nigeria deserves policy analysis grounded in accuracy, proportionality, and respect for the complexities of a plural society; not sweeping prescriptions that collapse constitutional debate into counterterrorism and treat millions of northern Muslims as collateral in the process.

Ibrahiym A. El-Caleel writes from Nigeria and can be reached at caleel2009@gmail.com.

By Abdulsalam Alkali

Claim: 

Opay, a fintech microfinance bank, is deducting money from customer accounts to service COVID-19 Survival Fund loans. This claim has been circulating on social media since the beginning of the week.

Verification Process:

A rough search using the Tor browser and DuckDuckGo search engine found no evidence to support the claim. A deeper search traced the origin of the story to a social media page named “Ibadan Crush TV”, which appears to have been the first to publish it. Furthermore, Opay has used its verified official channels to refute the story, describing it as false, malicious, and fabricated. The company insists all customer accounts and deposits remain safe, intact, and fully accessible.

Findings:

Available data confirms that the circulating news is entirely misleading and false. No deductions for loan servicing have been made from Opay accounts. Opay insists that anyone with a genuine claim should come forward to register a complaint. The story originated from a non-credible source, a page focused on entertainment and lifestyle, not a legitimate news medium.

Verdict:

The claim that it is “fake and misleading” is consistent with the available evidence. There is no public traceable evidence that OPay deducts user funds for servicing any “COVID-19 Survival Fund” loan, and strong official statements from OPay denying both loan services and unauthorised withdrawals.