Religion

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido, PhD

It was a warm afternoon in my office at the Zakah and Waqf Foundation in Gombe, and I had cleared my schedule for what was described as a “very important meeting.” A group of nine young professionals—doctors, nurses, and medical administrators—filed in with purposeful expressions. These were respected Muslim health workers in our community, competent and resourceful in their own rights, leading their Muslim body. 

They sat down, exchanged pleasantries, and after a few minutes, one of them cleared his throat and spoke. “We were hoping you could help us reach Qatar Charity. We want to build a mosque in our hospital.”

I paused. My mind raced not with criticism but with confusion. These were not poor villagers. These were professionals, all salaried, some likely earning above average. I asked gently, “How much will the mosque cost?”

“About ten million naira.”

“And how many Muslim staff do you have?”

“Roughly 500,” they responded.

I picked up a pen and scribbled something. “That’s twenty thousand naira each,” I said. “Divided over four months, that’s 5,000 naira per month.”

There was a short silence. “You don’t need Qatar Charity,” I told them. “You need yourselves; you need Gombe Charity.”

From my limited understanding, I explained that most international charities, like Qatar Charity, raise funds from within their own people first. They identify a problem in a country, develop a proposal, return to their citizens and say: “Donate to build a mosque in Nigeria.” If they can do that for us, why can’t we do it for ourselves? I then told them to put my name as the first donor of the twenty thousand naira to kickstart the project. 

That brief meeting offered a glimpse into a deeper issue—our chronic psychological dependence on external aid, even when we can act. The problem isn’t always material poverty; often, it’s a lack of belief in our collective strength—a poverty of the mind and will.

The Turkey Phenomenon: A Lesson Misunderstood

Take, for example, the popular trend in some Northern Nigerian states where applications pour into Turkish and other organisations for Qurbani (Udhiya) distributions. Turkish charities, may Allah reward them, buy cows and distribute meat during Eid.

But here’s a crucial question: Is this a model to emulate or one to reconsider? If every year, our people look outward to receive—and never inward to learn how to organise, fund, and distribute—we risk cultivating a culture of constant reception without reciprocity.

Islam is not a religion of passivity. It teaches us to act before asking, to solve before seeking, and to build with what is already in our hands. Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us that the upper hand is better than the lower one—the hand that gives is superior to the hand that receives.

The Al-Basar Example: From Vision to Visionary Impact

Now, let’s discuss a model worth following—Al-Basar International Foundation.

Al Basar International Foundation is a non-profit international NGO. Founded in 1989 by a group of concerned professionals. Al-Basar is a shining example of what happens when people come together to solve a problem themselves. Their focus? Combating preventable blindness across the Muslim world. No dependency. No grand donor campaigns. Just strategic self-mobilisation as well as waqf and collaborative mindset. 

It works in Yemen, Bangladesh, Sudan, Nigeria, Pakistan, etc. In Nigeria, for instance, a 2019 campaign funded by King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Centre in collaboration with Al Basar International Foundation saw medical volunteers from Saudi Arabia meet 8,000 eye patients and perform 800 eye surgeries to remove cataract and glaucoma in Ibadan, Nigeria, as well as in Lafia in Nasarawa State. 

The foundation manages the Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital in Kano state, Nigeria, where 4,000 free eye surgeries were carried out in 2021. The hospital treats eye conditions, including diabetic retinopathy. In 2022, Al Basar International Foundation, in collaboration with the King Salman Relief Center, sponsored 400 free cataract surgeries for residents of Kano, which took place at Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital. 

Over the years, Al Basar has conducted over 2,000 outreach programs worldwide, performed over 700,000 cataract surgeries, and dispensed nearly 2 million glasses. With 28 hospitals across six countries, the foundation has recorded 26 million outpatient visits. It also invests in education by establishing colleges to train eye care professionals, impacting Africa and Asia. Their school screening program has reached over 1 million children, providing immediate interventions and ensuring a comprehensive approach to their eye health.

Now ask yourself: is Al-Basar a government-funded operation? No. Did it start with foreign aid? No. It was “from them, by them, for them.” And now it is for us, too—because they nurtured it to the point where it could grow beyond them.

We should not only admire such models. We should replicate them.

Historical Echoes: Islamic Proofs of Self-Driven Solutions

Uthman ibn Affan (RA) and the Well of Rumah

When water scarcity plagued Medina, and a private owner monopolised a well, the Prophet (SAW) called for someone to purchase it for the Muslims. Uthman (RA) stepped up, bought the well, and made it a public waqf. He didn’t write to Yemen. He didn’t petition the Romans. He simply used what Allah had given him to solve a problem for Allah’s sake.

So, What Can We Do? A Homegrown Waqf Blueprint

If we genuinely want to stop relying on donors and start building resilient communities, here are practical steps:

Think Within, Act Within: Begin every solution by asking what the community already has—not what it lacks. Do you have professionals? Land? Skills? Social networks? Then, start from there.

Group Economic Self-Waqfing: Encourage professional groups (doctors, teachers, engineers, traders, lawyers) to dedicate a portion of monthly income to a fund. Even a modest 5,000 naira monthly from 100 people can generate sustainable capital. At Zakah and Waqf Foundation, we enjoy that from some professionals, and it works. 

Community Challenge Waqf: Identify a local challenge—maternal health, education for orphans, access to clean water—and collectively endow a waqf around it. Let the yield solve that problem perpetually.

Transparent Management Structures: Set up trustworthy waqf boards to manage resources. Trust fuels contribution. Accountability sustains it.

Celebrate Independence: Create cultural pride around self-funded projects. Showcase schools, hospitals, orphanages, and mosques built without a single foreign dime.

It is Time to Change the Script

Imagine if each LGA in Nigeria had one waqf-funded primary health centre, one vocational training centre, and one scholarship fund—all funded by local contributions from professionals, retirees, and small traders.

We would not be beggars. We would be builders.

It’s time to write a new story. One not of helplessness and application letters to foreign NGOs but of resolve, unity, and strategic giving. One of From Us, By Us, For Us—in the truest, most impactful sense.

When that story is told to future generations, they will say: There was a people who stopped waiting and started building.

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

By Ibrahim Inusa

Over the years, the Almajiri system of education has served as a traditional form of Islamic education in northern Nigeria, where young boys, often aged between 7 and 14, are sent far from home to memorise the Qur’an by their parents under the supervision of a Malam (teacher). While the system’s intent was to instil religious knowledge, encourage direct engagement in Islamic activities, and provide practical moral learning, it has largely become disconnected from its original purpose.

At present, the system has turned millions of pupils into nuisances, leaving most of them without literacy or numeracy skills. Pupils divide their day between reading and wandering the streets to beg for food and money, intended to cover their living and schooling costs. This model places the pupils in highly vulnerable situations, exposing them to all forms of exploitation and manipulation, and even rendering them a threat to national security.

The Almajiri system of education has been a cornerstone of learning for many Nigerian children. However, its implementation has raised concerns about child welfare, education, and human rights. As Nigeria strives for progress, it is essential to address the challenges within the Almajiri system. One major issue is the lack of regulation and oversight, which leaves children vulnerable to all forms of abuse.

Another significant challenge is the limited access to quality education. Traditional Almajiri schools focus solely on Islamic studies, neglecting secular subjects such as mathematics, science, and English. This restricted curriculum can hinder students’ ability to compete in the modern world. By incorporating modern subjects, Almajiri schools can offer students a more comprehensive education.

The Almajiri system also raises concerns about radicalisation. Some Almajiri schools may promote extremist ideologies, which can have far-reaching consequences. To mitigate this risk, it is essential to encourage critical thinking, tolerance, and inclusivity within Almajiri schools.

To reform the Almajiri system, a decisive approach is necessary. Government agencies, NGOs, and communities must collaborate to provide support for Almajiri students, including access to healthcare, nutrition, and protection from abuse. Almajiri schools should be encouraged to adopt a modern curriculum and teaching methods.

Furthermore, teachers and caregivers in Almajiri schools require training and support to provide a quality education. Community engagement is also important, and parents, guardians, and community leaders involved in decision-making processes are encouraged to prioritise children’s welfare and education.

The current Nigerian government can play a crucial role in reforming the Almajiri system through policy initiatives, such as the Almajiri Education Programme. However, more needs to be done to ensure effective implementation and sustainability. Long-term commitment to reform requires a sustained effort to improve the lives of Nigerian children. By working together, we can create a more inclusive, equitable, and prosperous society for all.

In conclusion, monitoring and evaluation mechanisms are essential for tracking progress, identifying challenges, and making adjustments to reform initiatives. Reforming the Almajiri system is a complex task that requires collaboration, commitment, and creativity. By working together, we can create a more just and equitable education system that benefits all Nigerian children.

Ibrahim Inusa writes from the Department of Mass Communication at Abubakar Tatari Ali Polytechnic Bauchi and can be reached via Ibrahiminusa216@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 Isah Dahiru

There’s a Hausa proverb that says, “Wanda ya saci akuya, ya saci itacenta”—he who steals a goat has already stolen the rope tied to it. But who would have imagined that the sacred grounds of a mosque, a space where hearts are purified and souls are recharged, could become fertile ground for what I now call “holy heists”?

Last Friday, I attended Jumu’ah prayers like any regular seeker of divine mercy, looking forward to the serenity of the sermon and perhaps a gentle breeze under the neem tree afterwards. You know, that kind of spiritual therapy that reboots your inner battery. 

The Imam began passionately, with what I can only describe as a verbal balm for troubled marriages. He waxed poetic about marital life, reminding us brothers that a man’s greatness is not measured by how many goats he owns, but how gently he treats the mother of his children.

He quoted the Prophet (SAW), emphasising kindness, loyalty, and romance—even after ten years of eating her over-salted tuwo. He reminded us that he who denies affection at home may end up seeking counsel from side mirrors—and by side mirrors, I mean side chicks. It was a sermon of gold, and I had already drafted a mental apology letter to my wife (with a footnote asking for fried fish for dinner).

Then came the second khutbah—and brothers and sisters, the tone changed like NEPA light.

What followed was no longer spiritual nourishment—it was a full-blown security bulletin. The Imam, now resembling a mosque-based CNN anchor, solemnly announced the spike in theft within the mosque premises. Shoes, phones, even umbrellas—yes, umbrellas in dry season—had become an endangered species in the hands of holy day hustlers.

I blinked twice. “Wallahi, this must be fiction.”

Apparently not. The Imam cited examples. Men who had arrived barefoot left in polished Clarks. Samsung devices evaporated during sujud. One man reportedly came out of the toilet to find that not only had his shoes vanished, but so had his ablution kettle. “An saci butar alwala!” someone muttered beside me.

My friend Musa Kalim, ever the idea machine, leaned in and whispered, “Wallahi Isah, the mosque should invest in designer shoes with trackers inside. Give them out before prayer. Anyone who deviates from coming to mosque without shoes to going home with a shoe—bing! The alarm goes off. ‘Thou shalt not misstep.’”

Another friend, Engr. After I narrated the ordeal and my frustration to him, Aminu offered another way to tackle the situation. Honestly, I laughed so hard I almost missed the supplication after the prayer had ended. But knowing that Aminu wasn’t joking made me return to my senses. This is the same man who once suggested using goats to deliver medicine in rural villages, and almost got a grant for it from Melinda and Gates Foundation.

I imagined it immediately:
“Mosque Sole Security (MSS): Track Your Blessings from Sole to Soul.”
A startup powered by shame and GPS.

But there’s a deeper sadness here. When the masallaci, the house of Allah, becomes the hunting ground for pickpockets, it signals a spiritual recession. It’s no longer just a pair of stolen shoes—it’s a metaphor for the theft of morals, the robbery of conscience, and the hijacking of trust.

There’s a popular Yoruba saying, “Ti ile ba n bajẹ, a fi ti ile ni nko,” meaning, “When a home begins to decay, it starts from the inside.” And truly, if criminals now comfortably perform ablution before proceeding to commit theft, then we must urgently recalibrate our moral compass.

Let’s consider the ridiculousness: someone prays beside you, says “Ameen” with gusto, maybe even sheds a tear during supplication—and minutes later, he’s making off with your Bata sandals like a post-prayer souvenir. What kind of shame is that?

The Prophet (SAW) warned us of a time when people would pray like angels and live like devils. Perhaps this is what he meant.

Maybe the solution isn’t just CCTV or Musa’s high-tech slippers (although I’d donate to that GoFundMe). Perhaps we need something more profound—a revival of taqwa, of God-consciousness, in our lives. Because let’s be honest, even if we padlock the ablution area, thieves without fear of God will find a way to sin in style.

Perhaps we need to return to the basics—teaching our children that a stolen shoe, even if it fits, carries the burden of its last prayer. Reminding our youth that every crime committed under the minaret echoes louder in the heavens than those committed in the market square. And as elders, we must not be afraid to call out wrongdoing—even if the culprit looks like a saint in a turban.

Until then, dear reader, as you go for prayers, carry your faith boldly—but your shoes discreetly. I suggest you start wearing bathroom slippers, the type no thief would proudly wear. And if, by misfortune, you find yourself shoeless at the end of the prayer, don’t wail. Just smile and say: “May the thief walk straight into the path of repentance—and a pothole.”

And should you ever catch one red-handed, don’t beat him. Sit him down, offer him zobo and a hard chair, and give him a khutbah so fiery, even his ancestors would consider refunding your shoes.

Isah Dahiru is a pharmacist and can be reached via easerdahiru@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar

In a historic development, the Catholic Church has elected Robert Francis Prevost as the new pope, marking the first time an American has ascended to the papacy. The decision was announced from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica following the traditional white smoke signal from the Sistine Chapel on Thursday.

Pope Robert I, as he will now be known, hails from Chicago, Illinois, and previously served as the Prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops. Known for his pastoral sensitivity and administrative skill, the 69-year-old cleric has long been regarded as a bridge between tradition and reform within the Church.

Thousands of pilgrims gathered in St. Peter’s Square to witness the historic moment, many expressing surprise and hope over the unprecedented choice.

The new pontiff addressed the faithful in multiple languages, asking for prayers and unity in a world “deeply in need of peace, compassion, and truth.”

Analysts see his election as a signal of the Church’s growing global inclusivity and a recognition of the American Church’s rising influence.

More details about his vision and forthcoming priorities are expected in the coming days as he officially begins his pontificate.

By Muhammad Abubakar 

President Donald Trump has stirred controversy once again after publishing a digitally altered portrait of himself dressed as the Pope on his social media platform, Truth Social. The image, which depicts Trump in papal robes and regalia, quickly drew widespread attention and sparked debate online.

This unusual post follows Trump’s previous tongue-in-cheek remark in which he joked about becoming the next head of the Roman Catholic Church after Pope Francis. While many of his supporters saw the post as humorous and bold, critics accused the former president of disrespecting religious traditions.

The Vatican has not officially commented on the image or Trump’s earlier remarks.

Trump, known for his provocative and unconventional use of social media, continues to dominate headlines since his return to the White House for the second time.

By Aisha M Auyo

Marriage is a huge opportunity to earn good deeds. By adjusting your intention, everything you do for your spouse can be an act of worship. It is that simple.

Seek to please Allah and be intentional. Every single thing you do with and for your spouse can be a form of worship when Ihsan is your motivation, and your heart is engaged in the remembrance of Allah in some way.

And by default, when good things become a habit, your good deeds are habitually earned too, insha’Allah.

From time to time, make a specific intention and say, “Oh Allah, I am doing this for my spouse only for Your sake and to earn Your pleasure.” You’ll feel the difference. A mundane task gets supercharged!

Umar ibn Al-Khattab reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said:

“Verily, deeds are only with intentions. Verily, every person will have only what they intended. Whoever emigrated to Allah and His Messenger, then his emigration is for Allah and His Messenger. Whoever emigrated to get something in the world or to marry a woman, then his emigration is for whatever he emigrated for.” (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 54, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 1907).

This hadith and post are especially important for my fellow women… wives… If all the good and extra things you do for your man are just so he wouldn’t marry another woman, know that your reward stops there. And he may marry other wives if that’s in his Qadr.

It might work if you’re being obedient, respectful, kind, and many other good things, just so you’d be his favourite among his wives, but know that the reward may stop there.

Let’s always remember that this world is only temporary… Our permanent abode is the aakhira. I am not in any way saying you should stop whatever you’re doing. In fact, I suggest we always try to improve, increase, and upgrade… 

Just be conscious of your intentions and be deliberate in whatever you do. Doing so, we will have double reward… here and in the hereafter, in sha Allah.

Aisha Musa Auyo is a doctoral researcher in Educational Psychology. A wife, a mother, a homemaker, a caterer, a parenting, and relationship coach. She can be reached via aishamuauyo@live.co.uk.

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido

The dusty path to Al-Ma’arif Islamiyyah School was unusually quiet that Wednesday afternoon, except for the gentle crunch of sandals on gravel and the animated voices of two young girls wrapped in flowing white hijabs.

Unknown to many passersby, the conversation between these two girls wasn’t just about school or homework. It was about something deeper—something that could transform communities: the power of Waqf. As they walked, they debated a topic that many adults still struggle with: Should we prioritise spending on annual Umrah trips or invest in sustainable Waqf projects that empower girls through education and skill-building?

“Ameena, wait for me!” called out Hafsah, adjusting the corner of her veil.

Ameena slowed down and turned with a grin. “Wallahi, you’re always dragging your legs like an old lady.”

They both laughed.

But as they turned the bend, Hafsah lowered her voice and leaned in. “By the way, my aunt and her entire family are travelling for Umrah again this Ramadan. That’s like the fifth time in a row! Imagine the reward, subhanallah!”

Ameena nodded with a smile, but her eyes said more. “Masha Allah. No doubt, Umrah is virtuous. The Prophet SAW said in Sahih al-Bukhari, ‘Umrah to Umrah is expiation for the sins committed between them.’ And in another Hadith, ‘The performance of Hajj and Umrah removes poverty and sins just as a furnace removes the impurities from iron.’ So yes, it is beautiful.”

Hafsah beamed. “Exactly! That’s why they go every year. My aunt says you can never get enough of Makkah. The barakah there is like no other.”

Ameena stopped, picked a tiny stone, and tossed it thoughtfully. “I agree. But I can’t help thinking… what if, just what if, they did something different this year? Take the entire amount they usually spend—tickets, hotel, feeding, shopping—and invest it in a Waqf. A sustainable, income-generating waqf specifically for girls’ education and skills development.”

Hafsah blinked. “A waqf? Instead of Umrah?”

“Not instead of,” Ameena corrected gently, “but perhaps before another one. Let’s say they make a solid waqf just once. From then on, the proceeds can fund multiple Umrahs and sponsor tens—maybe hundreds—of girls like us. Wouldn’t that multiply the rewards?”

Hafsah frowned slightly. “Hmm. But that’s not the same spiritual feeling as being in Makkah.”

“True. But listen to this Hadith,” Ameena said, eyes lighting up. “The Prophet SAW said: ‘Whoever goes out to seek knowledge is in the path of Allah until he returns.’ That’s in Sunan al-Tirmidhi. And in Sahih Muslim, the Prophet said that feeding the hungry, helping the poor, or removing a harm from the road are all Sadaqah. These actions have also been likened in reward to Umrah.”

She continued, “In fact, Imam Ibn Rajab said some charitable actions—because of their benefit to society—can surpass voluntary Hajj and Umrah in reward!”

Hafsah looked unconvinced. “But those are small things. Can they compare to walking between Safa and Marwa?”

Ameena smiled knowingly. “Let me share a story about our Islamic heritage, as reported by Ibn Kathir—one of the great scholars and righteous predecessors, Abdullah ibn al-Mubarak, once set out for Hajj. Along the way, he passed through a town where a young girl was seen taking a dead bird from a garbage heap. 

Curious, he followed her and learned that she and her brother had nothing to eat, surviving off scraps and carrion due to poverty and oppression. Ibn al-Mubarak was so moved that he cancelled his pilgrimage, gave her all the money he had set aside for Hajj—except a small portion for their return—and said: ‘This is better than our Hajj this year!’

Can you imagine? A scholar of his stature suspended the journey of a lifetime because he saw a greater reward in feeding the poor.”

Hafsah bit her lip, thoughtful.

“And what of the Hadith in Sahih al-Bukhari,” Ameena continued, “where the Prophet SAW said: ‘He is not a believer whose stomach is filled while his neighbour goes hungry.’ Don’t you think our people—who travel yearly for Umrah with their entire household—should ask themselves if their neighbors are fed, educated, and safe first?”

There was silence for a while. Then Hafsah asked, “But maybe they feel their own worship is more important.”

Ameena didn’t flinch. “Worship is important. But Islam is both ‘ibadah and mu’amalat—personal devotion and social responsibility. A society where girls are unskilled, uneducated, and poor is a society in crisis. Allah says in Surah Al-Balad, ‘But he has not attempted the Ascent. And what will make you know what the Ascent is? It is freeing a slave. Or feeding on a day of severe hunger, an orphan of near relationship, or a needy person in misery.’ That’s the real struggle.”

She paused, then added, “And here’s a shocking stat: According to UNICEF, more than 50% of girls in Northern Nigeria are out of school. Many of them end up as child housemaids or hawkers. Imagine if we had waqfs in every state—centres for literacy, vocational skills, business mentorship. Wouldn’t that be more pleasing to Allah than redundant luxuries?”

Hafsah exhaled slowly. “You’re making too much sense. But some people say they don’t have the time or knowledge to create a waqf.”

“They can partner with existing foundations,” said Ameena. “Or even just dedicate a part of their wealth to it. Start with a shop, a farm, or a borehole project. Let it generate income. Let it teach a girl to write, to code, to recite Qur’an beautifully, to become a teacher, to stand tall.”

By now, they were at the gate of the Islamiyyah school.

Hafsah turned and looked at her friend. “You know, Ameena, if your words were a waqf, they’d be multiplying rewards already.”

Ameena chuckled. “Then let’s start the first one—with our pens, our voices, and our footsteps.”

They both stepped in, side by side, into a class that taught not just religion, but purpose.

Inside the classroom, the discussion continued to swirl in Hafsah’s mind. That evening, as they sat under the neem tree during Qur’an revision, she whispered to Ameena, “You know what? I’m going to talk to my parents tonight. I’ll share everything you said—every Hadith, every idea. Maybe they can be the first to try this new way: build a waqf before the next Umrah.”

Ameena smiled, eyes glowing. “And I’ll talk to mine too. If they see how serious we are, and how much it could benefit the Ummah, I believe they’ll listen.”

The next day, during break time, the girls called a mini gathering under the school’s mango tree. A handful of curious classmates sat cross-legged in the dust, munching on groundnuts and zobo. Hafsah stood up and declared, “We want to tell you about something that can reward you even after you die. Something more powerful than a yearly trip to Makkah…”

She spoke. Ameena backed her up. Together, they planted a seed.

Later that afternoon, they approached their teacher, Ustaz Sani, known for his stern look but soft heart. A little nervously, they explained their idea.

To their surprise, Ustaz Sani leaned back, eyes shining. “Ameen! This is the spirit of Islam! The Prophet SAW once said, ‘The most beloved of deeds to Allah are the most consistent, even if they are small.’ 

But let me add more,” he said, reaching for a worn book on his desk. “Imam Al-Ghazali wrote that a waqf is a shield for society, a way to preserve faith, knowledge, and dignity. Some waqfs in history lasted over 700 years, sponsoring scholars, doctors, and imams! Even the famous Al-Azhar University in Egypt started as a waqf.”

The girls’ faces lit up.

“Keep spreading the message,” he urged. “You are not too young. Let your classmates know. Let your family hear. Let the whole Ummah remember:

Before your next Umrah… build a Waqf.”

Amir Lamido wrote from Gombe and can be contacted via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Maimuna Aliyu Katuka

Easter is a season of joy, reflection, and renewal. While it is often associated with festive meals, it is also an opportunity to embrace healthier habits without taking away from the fun and spirit of the celebration.

As the world becomes increasingly health-conscious, we can find creative ways to enjoy Easter while taking care of our physical and mental well-being.

By making thoughtful choices, we can turn this season into a meaningful and health-positive experience for ourselves, our families, and our communities.

Easter, which marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ, according to the Christians, is one of the most significant holidays in Christianity. For many, it symbolizes the triumph of life over death—a powerful reminder of hope, rebirth, and new beginnings.

Even non-Christians often take advantage of the holiday to travel or spend time with loved ones, making it a perfect occasion to reflect on personal wellness and communal values.

Whether you are planning a large family gathering or a quiet weekend retreat, here are some practical tips to help you celebrate Easter in a healthy and fulfilling way:

Healthy Eating and Drinking Habits

1. Balance indulgence with healthy choices:
Enjoy traditional Easter treats in moderation. Complement your meals with fruits, vegetables, and whole grains to maintain a balanced diet.

2. Stay hydrated:
Drink plenty of water throughout the day, especially if you are consuming rich or salty foods.

3. Choose healthier alternatives:
Opt for baked or grilled meats instead of fried ones. Dark chocolate or fruit-based desserts can also be tasty and nutritious options.

Staying Physically Active

1. Take a walk or hike:
Incorporate light physical activities like walking, hiking, or biking into your day to stay energized and connected with nature.

2. Plan outdoor games:
Organize family games or community sports that encourage movement and bonding while having fun.

Supporting Mental Well-being

1. Practice mindfulness:
Take time to relax, meditate, or simply enjoy the presence of family and friends. Mindfulness can help ease stress and promote gratitude.

2. Set boundaries:
Prioritize self-care by setting healthy limits on social and work commitments. Maintain a balance that supports your mental peace.

Additional Smart Tips

1. Plan meals ahead:
Prepare healthy dishes and snacks in advance to reduce the temptation of unhealthy choices.

2. Be mindful of portion sizes:
Enjoy your favorite dishes without overindulging by keeping portions in check.

3. Educate the next generation:
Teach children the importance of healthy living. Turn Easter traditions into learning moments about good nutrition and staying active.

Last Line:
As we prepare to celebrate Easter, let us take this opportunity to embrace a lifestyle that reflects the true spirit of the season—renewal, joy, and wellness.

By making simple, conscious changes, we can foster healthier habits that last beyond the holiday.

So, gather your loved ones, get creative with your traditions, and make this Easter not just memorable—but meaningfully healthy.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Operatives of the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) have intercepted a consignment of cocaine ingeniously hidden inside 20 sets of religious books intended for export to Saudi Arabia.

The discovery was made on Tuesday, April 15, at a courier company in Lagos by the Directorate of Operations and General Investigation (DOGI) officers. During a routine search of outbound cargo, the officers uncovered 20 parcels of cocaine, weighing a total of 500 grams, carefully buried within the pages of the books.

The NDLEA described the concealment method as a “desperate and deceptive tactic,” aimed at evading detection. The books were among items listed for shipment to Saudi Arabia, raising concerns over the potential abuse of religious materials to traffic illicit substances.

This interception is part of a broader crackdown by the agency, which has recorded several major seizures across the country in recent days. However, the religious bookcase has drawn particular attention due to its audacious nature and the sensitive destination.

NDLEA Chairman, Brig. Gen. Mohamed Buba Marwa (Rtd) commended the Lagos command for its vigilance and professionalism. He emphasised the agency’s resolve to disrupt drug trafficking networks using any means, no matter how disguised.

Investigations into the identity of those behind the shipment are ongoing.