Opinion

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

As Nigeria edges closer to the peak of the 2026 rainy season, a familiar but troubling question resurfaces: will the country once again be caught between early warnings and late responses? With fresh projections indicating widespread vulnerability in thousands of communities nationwide, the stakes have never been higher. The challenge is no longer about the absence of forecasts, but about the nation’s readiness to translate those warnings into timely, coordinated action. In this unfolding reality, the role of the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) becomes not just important, but central to determining whether preparedness will finally take precedence over panic.

The 2026 Annual Flood Outlook has once again sounded a stark warning. Over 30,000 communities are at risk nationwide, with 14,118 classified as high-risk across 33 states and the Federal Capital Territory. A further 15,597 fall within moderate-risk zones, while 923 communities are considered low risk. These are not just statistics; they represent homes, livelihoods, and entire local economies that could be disrupted within days if proactive measures are not taken.

Flooding in Nigeria has evolved into a complex and recurring crisis, driven by a combination of climate variability and human factors. Increased rainfall intensity, rising water levels in major rivers, and the impact of climate change continue to heighten vulnerability. At the same time, rapid urbanisation, poor drainage systems, encroachment on waterways, and indiscriminate waste disposal worsen the situation. The result is a dangerous cycle where natural triggers meet human negligence, amplifying the scale of destruction.

Against this backdrop, the federal government has signalled a renewed commitment to strengthening emergency response systems. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, represented by the Minister of Environment, Balarabe Lawal, has acknowledged existing challenges while reaffirming efforts to improve coordination among relevant ministries and agencies. The emphasis on faster, more effective response mechanisms reflects a growing recognition that disaster management must evolve alongside emerging risks.

At the centre of this evolving response is the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA), which continues to play a pivotal role in coordinating preparedness and mitigation efforts. In recent years, the agency has shifted its focus from largely reactive interventions to a more proactive strategy anchored in early warning and early action. This approach recognises a critical reality: disasters may not always be prevented, but their impact can be significantly reduced with the right level of preparedness.

One of the most notable aspects of NEMA’s current strategy is the strengthening of early warning systems. Working closely with technical agencies such as the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMet) and the Nigerian Hydrological Services Agency (NIHSA), NEMA ensures that flood forecasts are disseminated well ahead of peak rainfall periods. However, the real challenge lies not just in issuing warnings, but in ensuring that they translate into timely and effective action at the community level.

To bridge this gap, the agency has intensified its grassroots sensitisation campaigns. Across flood-prone states, communities are being educated on evacuation procedures, the dangers of ignoring flood alerts, and the importance of maintaining clear drainage systems. These engagements, often carried out in collaboration with state emergency management agencies and local authorities, are gradually fostering a culture of preparedness that has long been lacking.

Equally significant is the increasing emphasis on simulation exercises and inter-agency coordination. Recent flood response drills conducted in vulnerable areas have brought together security agencies, emergency responders, and community volunteers to rehearse real-life scenarios. These exercises are not merely symbolic; they serve as practical tests of response capacity, helping to identify gaps and improve coordination before disaster strikes.

Yet, despite these efforts, persistent challenges remain. Early warning information does not always reach remote or underserved communities. In some cases, residents underestimate the risks or delay evacuation until it is too late. There is also the issue of uneven commitment at the sub-national level, where some state governments have yet to fully prioritise local preparedness measures. These gaps highlight the need for a more integrated approach that goes beyond federal interventions to include stronger state and community ownership.

Mitigation, in the broader sense, must also address structural and environmental factors. The desilting of drainage systems, enforcement of urban planning regulations, and prevention of construction on floodplains are critical steps that require sustained political will. Long-term solutions such as afforestation, improved land management, and climate-resilient infrastructure must also be prioritised if Nigeria is to reduce its vulnerability to recurring floods.

Technology is another area with significant potential. Real-time data monitoring, predictive analytics, and digital communication platforms can enhance both preparedness and response. When effectively deployed, these tools can ensure that warnings are not only timely but actionable, reaching people in formats they understand and trust.

Ultimately, the story of flooding in Nigeria is not just about rising water levels; it is about the intersection of environment, governance, and public behaviour. While agencies like NEMA continue to strengthen institutional response, the role of citizens cannot be overlooked. Simple actions such as proper waste disposal, adherence to building regulations, and responsiveness to evacuation directives can collectively make a significant difference.

As the 2026 flood season unfolds, Nigeria stands at a critical crossroads. The warnings are clear, the risks are well documented, and the institutional frameworks led by NEMA are steadily improving. Yet, the real test lies beyond projections and policy statements; it rests on collective action. Preparedness must move from paper to practice, from government desks to vulnerable communities. If the lessons of previous floods are taken seriously and early actions are sustained, this year could mark a turning point in Nigeria’s disaster management story. But if complacency prevails, the consequences will once again be measured in avoidable losses. The choice, ultimately, is not in the hands of nature, but in the resolve of a nation determined to act before the waters rise.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja.

By Khadijat Abdulrasheed

Not every pain is loud. Some are hidden behind smiles, silent prayers, and eyes that have cried when no one was watching.

The book Tears They Never Saw is a deeply emotional and faith-driven story that explores the unseen struggles people endure in silence. It reflects heartbreak, emotional wounds, family trials, and the kind of suffering that the world often ignores but Allah never does.

At the heart of this story is a powerful message: the strength of dua (prayer) and its life-changing power. It shows that even when situations seem impossible and when hope feels lost, sincere prayer can rewrite destinies. Tears that fall in secret are never wasted when they are poured out before Allah.

Through compelling storytelling and relatable characters, this work reveals how faith becomes a lifeline in the darkest moments. It reminds readers that healing, mercy, and change can come in ways that human understanding cannot explain.

Tears They Never Saw is not just a story; it is a reflection of real-life struggles, silent battles, and the unseen strength of those who keep going despite pain. It carries a message of patience, hope, and divine intervention.

This book is for readers interested in a full emotional and spiritual journey that blends reality with faith. Anyone interested in reading the complete work can reach out directly for access.

Because sometimes, the tears no one sees… are the ones Allah answers most.

Khadijat can be reached via abdulrasheedkhadijatkuburah@gmail.com.

By Ukasha Kofarnassarawa 

Like almost everyone, I saw that Sheikh Ali Isa Ibrahim Pantami is now PDP’s gubernatorial flag bearer for Gombe State. Congratulations to him. Pantami is now everything he once criticised. But that’s not my focus here; the internet has receipts for anyone interested in digging.

The real calculation:

Amid all the “consensus-coronation” drama unfolding nationwide, many observers expected Sheikh to defect to either ADC or the NDC, which are seen as the strongest opposition blocs. But Abuja is playing a different game. This looks calculated.

Right now, the entire core North — both North-West and North-East — is held by APC governors, except Bauchi, which lately switched to APM. The party’s structure and acceptability are widely seen as weak, and the state is likely to return to APC in the next election, given its current flag bearer, the former governor of the state.

For the President’s party, having zero opposition across the whole core north would be a dangerous optics problem. It would look like a monopoly. To avoid that, Abuja needs to “sacrifice” 2  core northern states to the opposition, just to create balance. One in the northwest and the other in the northeast.

And among all opposition parties, PDP is the “lesser evil” from Abuja’s view because one of its sons controls a major faction there. So Pantami decamped to the PDP, which functions as an extension of the APC. The plan: he gets “appointed” governor to create the illusion of balance, then switches to the main APC immediately after winning.

Abuja’s handwriting is not hard to understand.

Ukasha Kofarnassarawa wrote via Ukasha_sani@yahoo.com.

By Haroon Aremu 

I remembered an article I once wrote, titled “After NYSC, A call for National job Creation and Youth Empowerment”. It was a piece born not from research papers or policy documents, but from lived experience. I wrote it at a time close to the completion of my service to the nation, armed with certificates, skills, energy, and hope, yet utterly directionless. 

No roadmap. No safety net. No assurance that the years spent in classrooms, lecture halls, and service camps would translate into something as basic as dignity through work. That article was a lament, yes, but more importantly, it was a warning. Today, that warning has become reality for millions.

In Nigeria, the idea of job security, especially for young people, has become almost mythical. It is spoken of like folklore: something people claim once existed, but which no one can quite prove anymore. Every year, universities, polytechnics, and colleges release fresh graduates into the labour market, and every year the market responds with silence. 

The government is often the first to be blamed, and rightly so. A state that cannot productively absorb its youth is sowing the seeds of long-term instability. But even when we turn to the private sector, supposedly the saviour, the door is only slightly ajar, and guarded by impossible conditions like “Five years’ experience,” “Six years’ experience”, and even “Prior industry exposure required.”

The question that screams but is never answered is simple: where does a young graduate get five years of experience without first being given an opportunity? How does one prove competence without access? How does potential survive when every door demands proof that can only come from another locked door?

Government jobs, which should ideally serve as a stabilising force, offer no refuge either. Age limits of 25, 30, and sometimes 35 are rigidly enforced, as though unemployment itself does not age people. What happens to the graduate who has been searching for work for six, seven, or eight years? By the time opportunity finally knocks, they are too old. They are now “too old” to be hired, yet too young to retire. Suspended in limbo.

The harsh truth is this: Nigeria’s population has outgrown its job opportunities. The numbers no longer lie. And in that imbalance, hope is often the first casualty.

Ironically, this is happening in a country that once celebrated progress with the signing of the Not Too Young to Run Bill by the late former President Muhammadu Buhari. That legislation symbolised inclusion, youth participation, and generational renewal. 

And to some extent, it has worked; young people are more visible in politics today than ever before. But visibility is not the same as empowerment. Representation without economic opportunity is cosmetic. 

Youth may now sit at tables of power, but they are largely absent from the tables of employment. Jobs are still distributed through networks, connections, patronage, or, as many whisper, through outright payments. Merit, in too many cases, has been demoted.

Today, employment in Nigeria often feels like a lottery where knowing someone matters more than knowing something. Or worse, like a spiritual pursuit, where success is attributed to “divine intervention” rather than transparent systems. 

Exams are written. Portals are filled. Interviews are attended. Then silence. No feedback. No closure. Just another unanswered email and another year added to one’s age.

Yes, vocational skills are important. Yes, entrepreneurship is valuable. But we must ask difficult questions: what structures has the government put in place to make vocational pathways truly viable? 

Our polytechnics, once designed to be hubs of technical and practical excellence, are themselves struggling for relevance, funding, and modernisation. The Ministry of Education must answer why vocational education has been reduced to rhetoric rather than strategy.

Even within the civil service, recent extensions of retirement age, while beneficial to those currently employed, have inadvertently shut the door further on younger Nigerians. If those inside cannot exit, those outside cannot enter. The system becomes a closed loop, recycling the same faces while millions wait endlessly at the gate.

Add to this the persistent rumours sometimes whispered about federal agencies where jobs allegedly come with price tags, and one must ask: what hope is there for the common Nigerian without money, without godfathers, without connections?

Unemployment does not exist in isolation. It feeds insecurity. It fuels crime. This is not abstract advocacy. This is not borrowed outrage. This is me speaking for myself and for countless others like me who are willing, able, and eager to work. 

Not all Nigerian youths are lazy. Many want to serve. Many want to build. Many want nothing more than a fair chance to contribute to the nation they call home.

So, Mr President, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, this conversation must reach you. Yes, we acknowledge the complexities of governance. Yes, we recognise the economic challenges you inherited. But youth unemployment cannot remain a footnote in national policy. It is an emergency.

What is the future of NYSC if service only becomes a transition into joblessness? Are we merely increasing the pool of unemployed graduates every year? What systems exist to absorb them? What hope do we offer those who cannot immediately pivot to vocational work, even as we encourage skills acquisition?

The youth are not just important to your government—they are its foundation. Without deliberate, transparent, and inclusive employment policies, frustration will continue to grow. And a nation where its youth feel abandoned is a nation sitting on a ticking clock.

We are not asking for favours. We are asking for an opportunity. We are asking for fairness. We are asking to be seen, heard, and included.

After NYSC, what’s next? Until Nigeria answers that question convincingly, the silence will remain louder than any promise.

Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a Nigerian Writer and can be reached via exponentumera@gmail.com.

 By Leah Nickaf 

Across Africa, women are increasingly taking centre stage in driving social change, community development, and humanitarian action. From education and healthcare to poverty alleviation and youth empowerment, female leaders are reshaping the continent’s development landscape through compassion-driven initiatives that address some of society’s most pressing challenges. Among these emerging voices is Amb. Dr Omanibe Ameh-Sanusi, founder of Oma Life Rescue Foundation, whose recent recognition as African Iconic Person of the Year highlights the growing influence of women-led humanitarian movements across Africa.

The special honour is more than a personal achievement; it is a recognition of the impact that dedicated women leaders are making within their communities. Through Oma Life Rescue Foundation, Dr Ameh-Sanusi has championed initiatives focused on education, empowerment, and humanitarian support for vulnerable populations. Her commitment to improving lives, particularly through projects such as the A Million Dream Educational Scholarship, reflects a leadership style centred on service, inclusion, and sustainable development. The award serves as a testament to the lives transformed through her vision and the foundation’s outreach efforts.

Women-led organisations are increasingly demonstrating that effective humanitarian work goes beyond providing immediate relief.

They are creating long-term solutions that empower individuals and strengthen communities. Under Dr Ameh-Sanusi’s leadership, Oma Life Rescue Foundation has embraced this approach by investing in education, supporting underserved communities, and creating opportunities for young people to build better futures. These efforts align with a broader movement across Africa, in which women are leading innovative responses to social challenges and advancing community-driven development.

The recognition of Dr Ameh-Sanusi also highlights the importance of supporting female leadership in the humanitarian sector. Across the continent, women continue to break barriers and redefine leadership by combining empathy with action. Their ability to understand community needs and mobilise resources for positive change has become a powerful force in addressing inequality, expanding access to opportunities, and fostering social progress.

As Oma Life Rescue Foundation continues to expand its reach, the award represents both a celebration of past achievements and a call to greater impact. It reinforces the foundation’s mission to transform lives while inspiring other women to pursue leadership roles in humanitarian work. In an era when Africa’s development increasingly depends on collaborative and inclusive leadership, Dr Omanibe Ameh-Sanusi stands as an example of how one woman’s vision can grow into a movement that uplifts communities and creates lasting change.

The rise of women-led humanitarian movements across Africa is not merely a trend; it is a transformative force. Through leaders like Dr Omanibe Ameh-Sanusi, the continent is witnessing the power of compassion, resilience, and purposeful leadership to build a more equitable and hopeful future for generations to come.

By Nasir Yusuf Jibril, Ibrahim Aliyu Gurin and Bilyaminu Gambo Abubakar

Eid al-Adha, also known as the Eid of Sacrifice, is the second festival celebrated each year by Muslims worldwide after Eid al-Fitr. The festival is being celebrated on the 10th of Zhul Hajj, the last month of the Islamic calendar. Muslims on this day are expected to sacrifice a sheep, a goat, a cow or a camel. The meat of the sacrificial animal is expected to be divided into three portions. The first portion is for the family, the second for friends and relatives, and the last for the needy.

The festival is celebrated to commemorate the spirit of obedience and the sincerity of Prophet Abraham (A.S). It was reported that Prophet Abraham (A.S) had repeatedly dreamt that Allah (SWT) ordered him to slaughter his only beloved son, named Ishmael, as a sacrifice. He informed his wife and, later, his son as well of the development, and they all agreed to obey the order from their Creator.

“And when he reached with him [the age of] exertion, he said, ‘O my son, indeed I have seen in a dream that I must sacrifice you, so see what you think.’ He said, ‘O my father, do as you are commanded. You will find me, if Allah wills, of the steadfast.’” (Qur’an 37:102).

While trying to slaughter his son, Iblis (The Devil) appeared and asked him, how dare he slaughter his son? Abraham (A.S) pelted the devil seven times and then moved to another place to slaughter the son. Here, too, Iblis followed him; he again pelted him with seven stones and moved to the third place. As he was about to put a knife to the neck of his beloved son, Allah (SWT) sent a sheep to replace Ishmael.

“And We ransomed him with a great sacrifice.” (Qur’an 37:107).

What transpired above was one of the numerous tests and challenges Prophet Abraham (A.S) underwent during his lifetime. Recall that Prophet Abraham (A.S) was the son of Aazar, the idol worshipper and seller. At about seven years old, little Abraham started questioning idol worship. He was once reported to have asked his father, “How could you worship what could not help or harm you?”

“O my father, why do you worship that which neither hears nor sees and will not benefit you at all?” (Qur’an 19:42).

He then advised Aazar, in a respectful way, to stop worshipping Iblis and to follow him, and that he would show him guidance.

“O my father, indeed there has come to me of knowledge that which has not come to you, so follow me; I will guide you to an even path.” (Qur’an 19:43).

The father, Aazar, got angry at one point and threatened to stone his little son, Abraham, if he continued asking silly questions.

“He said, ‘If you do not desist, I will surely stone you, so leave me for a long time.’” (Qur’an 19:46)

Furthermore, his community too decided to burn him to ashes as a punishment for destroying their deaf and dumb gods – idols. After setting one of the hottest fires on Earth, the idol-worshippers catapulted Prophet Abraham (A.S) from a far distance into the fire. His prayer was ” HasbunAllahu Wa Ni’imal Wakeel meaning “Allah is enough for me.”

“And whoever relies upon Allah – then He is sufficient for him.” (Qur’an 65:3)

Allah then asked the fire to become cold and peaceful to Abraham (A.S).

“We said, ‘O fire, be coolness and safety upon Abraham.’” (Qur’an 21:69)

The fire had answered the order from its Creator and untied him from the ropes and made him feel comfortable in it. Abraham (A.S) later walked out of the fire majestically without being hurt. The idol-worshippers were shocked and realised that the real Lord was with him, but unfortunately, none of them agreed to follow Abraham (A.S.), only his little nephew, Lot (A.S.). They (Abraham and Lot) decided to migrate (the first migration in the world for freedom of worship) from Iraq, where they were born, to another part of the Middle East.

“Indeed, I will go to my Lord; He will guide me.” (Qur’an 37:99).

When Prophet Abraham (A.S) married his beautiful wife, Sarah and left for Egypt, the King of Egypt, Nimrod, attempted to sleep with Prophet Abraham’s wife, but with supplication and absolute trust in Allah, Sarah was protected, and the arrogant King was paralysed. Allah then gave Prophet Abraham (A.S) Hagar, and then revealed the whole set of laws when Prophet Abraham (A.S) was 80. In the laws, he was ordered by Allah to circumcise himself, which he did without questioning. Prophet Abraham (A.S) prayed to his Lord to grant him a child, and his prayer was answered; he had his first son, Ishmael, through Hagar.

“My Lord, grant me [a child] from among the righteous. So We gave him good tidings of a forbearing boy.” (Qur’an 37:100–101)

They were happy and joyous, but his wife, Sarah, was jealous and wanted Hagar and her child to leave. Allah then ordered Prophet Abraham (A.S) to go and abandon the duo in a desert, the present-day Mecca, when Ishmael was barely a year old.

“Our Lord, indeed I have settled some of my descendants in an uncultivated valley near Your Sacred House, our Lord, that they may establish prayer.” (Qur’an 14:37)

Hagar asked Abraham (A.S) if he was commanded by Allah (SWT) to keep them there? Then Prophet Abraham answered Yes and had his way. Hagar and her son exhausted the bottle of water that Abraham (A.S) gave them. She, therefore, moved back and forth seven times between the mountains of Safa and Marwa to search for help. She later returned to her son, who was starving and dehydrated, to give him shelter. Allah SWT sent angel Gabriel to dig a well known as Zam-Zam at the exact place where little Ishmael was kicking his legs.

The aforementioned were some of the tests and challenges Prophet Abraham (A.S) went through, and he successfully passed them. What are the lessons to be learnt from this Man of Honour? Prophet Abraham (A.S) was a symbol of bravery, as he challenged his father, his community, and the most powerful King of his time – King Nimrod- to abandon their idols and worship Allah, the Creator. Prophet Abraham (A.S) also symbolised sacrifice, patience, perseverance, patriotism, respect, determination, commitment, dedication, trust, truth, justice, sincerity and obedience to Allah at the expense of his happiness.

“Indeed, Abraham was a nation [in himself], devoutly obedient to Allah, inclining toward truth, and he was not of those who associated others with Allah.” (Qur’an 16:120)

The question is: what, then, did he get in return for demonstrating these unique qualities? Allah has declared in the Holy Qur’an, the book in which Prophet Abraham’s name was mentioned 73 times in 25 different chapters, one of which was named after him, that “I shall make you the leader amongst men.”

“Indeed, I will make you a leader for the people.” (Qur’an 2:124)

Thereafter, all the prophets who came after him were from his two sons, Isaac and Ishmael. All the children of Israel, the Jews, Christians and Muslims look up to their father, Prophet Abraham (A.S). He was the only Prophet that Allah (SWT) asked Prophet Muhammad (SAW) to emulate his exemplary lifestyle.

“Then We revealed to you, [O Muhammad], to follow the religion of Abraham, inclining toward truth.” (Qur’an 16:123).

Moreover, the desert Abraham (A.S) abandoned his beloved wife, and his son became the city in which the last and final messenger, Muhammad (SAW), was born. The Masjid built by Abraham (A.S.) and his son, Ishmael, continues to be the direction that millions of Muslims face when performing their prayers. The well of Zam-Zam, dug for his abandoned family, still pumps water which is being drunk by millions of people. The seven-times movement between the mountains of Safa and Marwa, performed by Hagar, is part of the Hajj rites. 

Additionally, the three different places he relocated while trying to slaughter his only son, then, Ismael became a place of Ibada known as Jamrats, where every Pilgrim goes and stones the devil seven times as Prophet Abraham (A.S) did thousands of years ago.

Indeed, Prophet Abraham (A.S) was a true leader who, despite the tests, challenges, and calamities that befell him, never turned away from his Lord but rather became more committed and dedicated to his religion, leading by example for us to follow. 

The writers can be reached via Ibrahim Aliyu Gurin (ibrahimaliyu5023@gmail.com), Nasir Yusuf Jibril (nasirjibril2018@gmail.com), and Bilyaminu Gambo Abubakar bilyaminugambokonkol01@gmail.com).

By Ismail Bello Darazo 

The technological landscape is rapidly evolving, changing how we live and work. The advent of artificial intelligence (AI) presents numerous opportunities, particularly when it is fully explored and effectively utilised. 

AI can simplify complex concepts and deliver more concise, efficient solutions. Its growing application across various aspects of life continues to enhance convenience and productivity in everyday activities.

However, the core objective of AI development is to support and simplify human efforts, not to replace human intelligence. In practice, the way AI is used is gradually shifting from collaboration to dependence.

AI is now deeply embedded in our daily routines, often substituting rather than complementing our cognitive abilities. It is increasingly common to observe individuals who struggle to articulate even simple communications, such as WhatsApp group messages, without relying on AI tools. Likewise, some managers no longer trust their own analytical capabilities for basic business decision-making, preferring instead to depend on AI-generated outputs.

One of the most significant consequences of this overreliance is the gradual erosion of human cognitive capacity. When individuals consistently delegate thinking and decision-making to AI systems, they risk weakening their natural abilities to reason, analyse, and make sound judgments. Over time, this dependency can reduce confidence in independent thinking and limit the development of critical problem-solving skills.

Hybrid intelligence systems, which integrate human expertise with artificial intelligence, are increasingly recognized as essential for addressing complex and multifaceted challenges. By combining human intuition, ethical reasoning, and contextual awareness with the computational strength of AI, more balanced and effective outcomes can be achieved.

However, placing AI at the forefront without adequate human oversight may lead to inhuman or ethically flawed decisions, as AI systems remain limited in their ability to fully replicate human judgment, values, and nuanced understanding.

In conclusion, AI, as a defining technology of the Fourth Industrial Revolution, is here to stay. The responsibility lies with us to utilise and fully explore its potential without undermining our natural cognitive abilities. 

Rather than allowing AI to dominate human processes, it should be positioned as a centre of collaboration where human intelligence and machine capabilities complement each other to produce more balanced and effective outcomes. In this context, AI is not a replacement for human thinking, but a strategic partner that enhances our capacity to reason, make informed decisions, and drive innovation.

Ismail Bello Darazo wrote from Bauchi State via Ismailbello054@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Masud Yerima



From 2005 to 2025, the global electricity access story changed dramatically. Countries like India and Bangladesh moved from being among the countries with the highest populations without electricity access to largely exiting the list. Meanwhile, Nigeria moved in the opposite direction from third place in 2005 to leading the world in the number of people without access to electricity by 2025.

That should concern every policymaker, investor, planner, and citizen.

In 2005, India had over 360 million people without electricity access. Today, India is no longer on the list. Nigeria, on the other hand, increased from roughly 77 million people without access in 2005 to over 88 million in 2025. This is despite Nigeria being one of Africa’s largest economies and one of the world’s biggest oil and gas producers.

The question is simple:
What did India do right, and what is Nigeria still getting wrong?

India treated electricity not just as infrastructure, but as a national development priority. The country invested aggressively in grid expansion, rural electrification, generation capacity, transmission infrastructure, and policy reforms. Programs like village electrification schemes, renewable energy deployment, and public-private sector collaboration accelerated access across both urban and rural communities. More importantly, India planned long-term and executed at scale.

Nigeria’s challenge is more complex than simply “not enough power generation.” The issue is systemic.

First, population growth has outpaced infrastructure development. Nigeria’s population has expanded rapidly, but transmission networks, distribution systems, and generation capacity have not grown at the same pace. Even where generation exists, the grid often cannot evacuate or distribute the power efficiently.

Second, infrastructure investment has been inconsistent. Transmission bottlenecks, aging equipment, weak distribution networks, vandalism, and underinvestment continue to limit reliability and access. In many parts of the country, being connected to the grid does not even guarantee stable electricity.

Third, planning and execution remain fragmented. Energy policy changes frequently, projects are abandoned, and long-term continuity is weak. Electrification requires coordinated planning across generation, transmission, distribution, regulation, financing, and industrial development not isolated projects.

What makes this more worrying is the timing.

The world is entering a new economic era driven by artificial intelligence, cloud computing, automation, robotics, and digital infrastructure. Data centers are becoming the factories of the digital economy, and none of them can function without reliable electricity.

From the Agricultural Revolution to the Industrial Revolution, then the Information Age, and now the AI-driven digital economy, every major leap in civilization has been powered by energy.

Without reliable electricity:

* industries cannot scale,
* manufacturing becomes expensive,
* innovation slows,
* startups struggle,
* and Nigeria risks falling behind in the global digital economy.

The next global race will not only be about oil or population size. It will be about computational power, digital infrastructure, and energy resilience.

Beyond politics, this is a conversation Nigerian youths and every citizen must begin to take seriously. The future of Nigeria cannot depend only on election cycles and political debates. We need long-term systemic thinking about infrastructure, industrialization, energy security, education, and technology.

Nigeria is our country.

And if we truly want to compete globally in the modern economy, then stable and accessible electricity can no longer be treated as a secondary issue. It is the foundation upon which modern nations are built.

Muhammad Masud Yerima Mohayerima@gmail.com

By Rabi Ummi Umar

Lately, I have found myself unlearning and relearning everything about being a woman. Having been groomed to be nice, kind, and responsive to all situations with a smile, tolerant, and to “be the bigger person”, new knowledge suggests there is more to being a woman, especially for young ones like myself.

While I am utterly grateful for the virtues of kindness learned over the course of my life, I have realised there is a thin line between character-building and the restrictive way women are often conditioned.

There is a persistent narrative, a “myth of silence”, that suggests a woman who is quiet, who tolerates everything, and who refuses to stand up for herself or others is the “good” woman. Conversely, the woman who knows her worth, identifies wrongs, and refuses to stay silent is labelled “bad” or “difficult.”

Many cultures across the globe have deemed it normal for women to be silent spectators: unproblematic, quiet, and devoid of independent values. But what does “unproblematic” actually mean in this context? Too often, it refers to a woman who remains silent in the face of injustice, one who endures whatever is thrown at her without a word of complaint.

On the flip side, a “problematic” woman is simply one who refuses to tolerate disrespect. She is the woman who sees a wrong and calls it out; the woman who speaks the truth regardless of who she might offend. We must confront the fact that this pressure to stay silent stems from societal expectations rather than religious teachings.

As a Muslim woman from Northern Nigeria, a region that prides itself on religiosity, I have seen this play out more times than fingers could count. A woman is expected to undergo so much and wear a mask of contentment just to be loved by everyone else, even if it means she stops loving herself.

If a husband is abusive, she is told to endure. And we must ask: who taught these men that abuse is acceptable? If her in-laws treat her poorly, she is expected to stay calm and patient until they “magically” change. If she shares her opinions or strives for self-improvement, she is suddenly seen as having “gone wild” or having too much knowledge.

Taking a microscopic look reveals why a plethora of women struggle to find themselves. They have spent so long pretending to blend in, trying to be “chosen,” and performing to fit a mould that they have forgotten who they actually are.

The truth is, there is beauty in simply being yourself. As long as you respect your boundaries and act within the framework of your faith and the law, it is okay to exist as a whole person. Since society demands “perfection” or silence, many women have perfected the art of pretence just to maintain the appearance of being “good.”

However, I recently watched a video where someone said, “The world doesn’t profit from women who are at peace; it profits from women who are constantly trying to be something else.” That resonated deeply with me. There is so much pressure on women to be more successful, prettier, or bolder. This pressure has turned life into a competition for visibility; women want to be seen, liked, and admired so badly that they lose their way.

Most women are no longer just living; they are performing. They are developing confidence, independence, and identity because the world rewards the show. A woman who is still searching for herself is easier to influence, sell to, and control. So, the societal noise gets louder, fueling more comparisons and more pressure.

In this scramble to be “seen,” many are quietly losing their spirituality. Again, this is not what Islam teaches. Women, like all human beings, should be allowed to live, to be included, and to breathe. Throughout Islamic history, women have actively participated in social, political, and economic life. They were never meant to be silent followers; multiple examples abound. 

A Muslim woman’s voice, when guided by faith, wisdom, and character, is not a threat to anyone. It is a strength, and when tapped in, the world could be a better place.

Rabi Ummi Umar is a corps member in Abuja. She can be reached via rabiumar058@gmail.com.

By Ibrahim Aliyu

Over the past few decades, Kannywood has grown into one of the most influential cultural industries in Northern Nigeria. Rooted in the Hausa language, Islamic values, and local traditions, it has shaped entertainment, storytelling, and public discourse across millions of homes. For many families, Kannywood was never merely cinema; it became a reflection of identity, morality, family structure, and social values.

Yet despite its cultural importance, Kannywood continues to attract criticism from various sections of society. Some believe the industry has drifted from the moral and religious principles it once claimed to uphold. Others argue that society itself has become increasingly harsh, suspicious, and contradictory in its judgments of public morality.

Perhaps the deeper issue is not merely “bad behaviour” in the industry, but the growing tension among public morality, private intentions, and shifting social perceptions.

In Islam, unnecessary physical intimacy between non-Mahram men and women is generally discouraged, and Hausa society has historically taken such boundaries seriously and with respect. However, there was also a period in Northern Nigeria when families could sit together and watch classic Kannywood comedy scenes featuring actors such as Ibro and Tsigai without automatically interpreting every interaction through a sexual lens.

Parents watched alongside their children. Grandparents watched with their grandchildren. Communities laughed together. At the time, many viewers saw those scenes primarily as comedy, storytelling, and harmless entertainment within a familiar cultural context.

This raises an important question: What changed?

Part of the answer may lie in how modern society increasingly interprets many human interactions through suspicion and moral anxiety. The rapid expansion of social media, unrestricted internet access, celebrity culture, and exposure to explicit online content have reshaped how people perceive entertainment, gender interactions, and morality itself.

As a result, public discussions about morality sometimes become less about intentions, discipline, and character, and more about appearances and public performance. In such an environment, accusations of immorality can spread quickly, even when the cultural context or the intention is more complex.

Hausa society contains longstanding cultural traditions that show how social interaction has historically been understood within context and boundaries. Practices such as “wasan kanin miji” and “wasan kaka da jika” reflect playful social interactions that coexisted with strong family values and respect for marriage institutions. These interactions were not automatically deemed immoral because society recognised the importance of trust, intention, and communal understanding.

This does not mean boundaries should disappear, nor does it suggest that moral principles are unimportant. Rather, it highlights the need for balance, sincerity, and self-awareness when discussing morality in public life.

The danger arises when society becomes more concerned with appearing morally superior than with cultivating genuine ethical discipline. Excessive suspicion, constant public outrage, and the tendency to sexualise ordinary human behaviour can deepen social tension rather than achieve genuine moral reform.

In this sense, Kannywood is more than a film industry. It has become a mirror reflecting the wider struggles within Northern society — the struggle between tradition and modernity, religious values and entertainment culture, public expectations and private realities.

The debate surrounding Kannywood is therefore not only about actors, actresses, or films. It is also about how society defines morality, how communities respond to cultural change, and whether public conversations about ethics are guided by wisdom, balance, and sincerity rather than by fear, projection, or moral performance.

As Northern Nigeria continues to evolve socially and culturally, perhaps the challenge is not to destroy cultural institutions out of anxiety, but to engage them thoughtfully, critically, and honestly — while preserving the values that truly strengthen society.

Ibrahim Aliyu wrote via khalilnuradeen@gmail.com.