Religion

By Tijjani Muhammad Musa

Many atheists, agnostics, freethinkers and others like them, their biggest tool of argument is to demand real, empirical evidence to show them of Allah’s Existence. Challenging any who believes in Allah as the Creator of the universe to give them something they can see, possibly touch, as a vital criterion or condition, not just for them to acknowledge God’s Existence, but also for them to accept Islam or any other religion, for that matter.

Many scholars would engage them in deep scholarly discussions, citing all kinds of examples and pointing to various creations and phenomena, both physical and abstract, to depict Allah SWT’s presence. Still, the atheists would bring up counter-submissions to keep themselves on their side of the argument. And on several occasions would reject all efforts to prove to them, through logic and reasoning, the existence of a Supreme Creator and Being as the architect of man’s existence.

One of such encounters had the atheist explaining away the Quran as nothing ingenious or miraculous beyond the Arabs’ known prowess for poetry, memorisation and oral transfer of information from generation to generation. Thereby negating and dismissing a fundamental point to note about the man through which the contents of the book were revealed. 

Prophet Muhammad SAWS in himself is the ultimate, undeniable, physical evidence of Allah’s existence to any who doubts that. For the duration of his life in Arabia, in the 6th century and beyond, his prophethood stands to show any denier of God’s existence (atheists, etc) that he was not on his own, but had someone behind his doings. And who is that? Muhammad SAWS gave all the answers; Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala (SWT)

Actually, I’m not pointing at the poetic eloquence, memorisation capacity or storytelling prowess of the Arabs, because the Rasool SAWS was not a poet, nor the Quran a story book and his mission was not just for the Arabs, but drawing our attention to the inability of the Prophet SAWS to read or write. He was al-ummiy. That singular fact is enough to prove to anybody that the source of all his information in the Quran must be someone or something or from somewhere beyond all human dimensional existence.

And, being truthful, he did put forward the claim that he is a messenger from God (Allah) Almighty. Sent with a divine creed, a book, which he kept track of its revealed verses, in bits and pieces, verses by verses, paragraphs by paragraphs, chapters by chapters (114 of them) for 23 whole years. An ILLITERATE! That in itself is way beyond comprehension, even for a genius who was engaged in all facets of daily human activities

And again the CONTENTS of the Quran, in various fields of knowledge from within and outside of man, from within and outside the earth, from our atmosphere into outer space, from how the earth formed to its sustainance, from atoms to fingerprints, to insects, to animals, their anatomy and much more.

On the scientific knowledge front in biology, embryology, geography, medicine, physics, mathematics, aviation, space travel, oceanography, agriculture, sociology, drone war, moral ethics, future predictions, relativity of time, communication, etc. A person, uneducated or taught or discipled by any human, cannot produce such a vast amount or array of knowledge in an era when research and documentation were virtually non-existent amongst his people. It’s simply IMPOSSIBLE!

Again, consider his predictions about the advent of Ad-Dajjal, the computer, the internet, AI, the digitalisation of life, and much more. Information science knows next to nothing about. Only through trial and error does science stumble upon one small piece of knowledge after another, confessing to not knowing anything about virtually everything. A case of the blind walking in the dark, searching for something he knows not of. Even with light, only what he stumbles upon will he show.

There’s even a security code woven into the structure of the book’s contents, using the odd number 19 to mathematically safeguard the revelation from ever being corrupted, from the time of the Messenger till the end of time. Again, the book presents a challenge for anyone to bring a chapter like one in the book; if there’s any doubt about its source being from Allah! No one has yet met up. Yet, atheists will keep hyping science this, science that. What does science know? Almost nothing compared to what’s contained in the Quran, wAllahi.

How can all that knowledge across various aspects of human endeavours come from someone who was unlettered, only to be proven correct by science over the past 1400+ years and to this day? Who dares to claim such a feat, such a possibility? A man who could not differentiate A from Z or 1 to 10? Yet Muhammad SAWS attributed it all to whom? Not to himself, but to Allah SWT alone. Now, ask yourself, why would he do that? Still, some people will come and say that because they cannot see God, then He AWJ does not exist.

What more? The proof of his prophethood, THE HOLY QURAN, is here for all to see, touch, read, challenge, debunk and more for its authenticity. The Rasool didn’t say it was his making, but that it was Allah SWT’s revealed verses. And just because you want to be what… You choose to dismiss such living proof that its author is non-existent!? Aren’t atheists amazing? They have always wanted physical proof and evidence of Allah AWJ’s existence. Well, then, Prophet Muhammad SAWS is it, for one. Even if they have never seen him, at least they have heard of him. 

And if that’s not good enough for any, the Holy QURAN didn’t just fall from the sky, right? How did it come into existence, out of the blue or from an abracadabra spell?

Tijjani M. M. wrote from Kano, Nigeria.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The 207th monthly seminar of the International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT), Nigeria Office, Kano, was held on Sunday, October 26, 2025, featuring a thought-provoking paper titled “Belief and Doubt: Understanding the Rise of Atheism among Muslim Youth in Northern Nigeria.” The paper was presented by Dr Aliyu Alhaji Rabiu of Gombe State University.

Although attendance at the seminar was modest, the session drew keen interest from both onsite participants and others who joined virtually via Zoom. 

The presentation examined the growing trend of atheism among Muslim youth in Northern Nigeria, exploring its historical roots, contemporary drivers, and the challenges it poses to Islamic identity.

The paper generated lively engagement during the question-and-answer session, where participants raised critical theological and social questions. The session chairman, Dr Ibrahim Ilyasu Adam, and other discussants commended the presenter for addressing a sensitive yet timely subject with intellectual depth and clarity.

The IIIT monthly seminar series continues to provide an important forum for reflective discussion and scholarly exchange on issues shaping Muslim thought and society.

By Uzair Adam 

The Kano State Hisbah Board has apprehended at least 25 persons for allegedly organising a same-sex marriage in the Hotoro area of Kano metropolis.

Deputy Commander of the Board, Dr Mujahedeen Aminudeen, confirmed the arrest in a statement made available to The Daily Reality on Sunday.

He said the suspects—18 males and seven females—were arrested at the Fatima Event Centre along Hotoro Bypass on Saturday.

“Today, Saturday, 25th October 2025, we received a report that some individuals were allegedly organising a same-sex marriage. 

“Our personnel immediately stormed the Fatima Event Centre, the venue of the illegal gathering, and successfully arrested 25 persons,” Aminudeen stated.

He added that the suspects, including the alleged groom, were from different parts of the state, such as Sheka, Yar Gaya, and Kofar Nassarawa.

Aminudeen cautioned that the Board would not tolerate any act capable of undermining the moral values of Kano State.

“We are calling on members of the public to support the Hisbah Board by reporting immoral activities across the state. 

“The Board will continue to clamp down on such gatherings that promote immorality,” he said.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

The Swiss Federal Council has ruled out introducing a nationwide ban on schoolgirls wearing the hijab in public schools, stating that existing laws sufficiently regulate issues of participation and equality in education.

In a statement issued this week, the Council emphasized that current legal frameworks already ensure that all students, regardless of religion or cultural background, take part fully in lessons, sports, and swimming classes. It added that individual cantons retain authority over education policies, including dress codes in schools.

The decision follows ongoing debates in several European countries over the wearing of religious symbols in public institutions. Swiss authorities reaffirmed their commitment to freedom of religion and expression while maintaining that integration and participation remain key priorities in the education system.

By Kamal Alkasim

As I embark on writing about the history of our community, I am compelled to share the remarkable story of Sheikh Lawan Makama. His life’s work has had a profound impact on thousands of students, including myself, through his tireless dedication to teaching the Qur’an and founding a prestigious Islamic college.

We affectionately called him ‘Baban Makaranta’ (Father of the School) because of his unwavering presence and guidance. He would often be seen at the school, writing on the Allo (wooden slate) for students, mentoring teachers, and caring for us like a father.

When I spoke to one of my teachers and his son, Shehu Lawan Makama, about his father’s legacy, he shared a profound insight: ‘In our family tradition, every child is expected to teach in school before pursuing any business venture.’ This legacy lives on through the Ma’ahad Sheikh Lawan Makama, a renowned college for Qur’anic studies in our community, Kofar-Ruwa.

The college offers a comprehensive curriculum, with morning and afternoon sessions focused on Qur’anic studies, followed by evening classes on Hadith and Islamic theology. The quality of education in our community is a testament to the excellence of his school. Sheikh Lawan Makama’s impact extends beyond the classroom, as his commitment to community service has left an indelible mark on our society.

Sheikh Lawan Makama’s contributions to community services were multifaceted. His children would often lead Islamic events, including Ramadan prayers in various mosques. As students, we would attend school during the day and participate in community services in the evenings.

Growing up in a family that values the Qur’an, I had the privilege of attending many of these events. Sheikh Lawan Makama instilled in us strong moral values and good habits, emphasizing the importance of integrity and character. His reputation was such that if someone from his school misbehaved, the community would say, “This isn’t the habit of Sheikh Lawan Makama’s students.” His legacy is built on the principles of good character, and those who know him can attest to this.

Sheikh Lawan Makama’s family reflects his commitment to the Qur’an. All 16 of his children are Qur’an reciters, and thousands of students have memorized the Qur’an through his school. The students who lived in his house were treated like family members, receiving food, clothing, and care. One of my classmates shared that they felt no difference between themselves and Sheikh Lawan Makama’s biological children.

As someone who values documenting history, I aim to preserve Sheikh Lawan Makama’s legacy accurately, ensuring that future generations can learn from his remarkable life and contributions. May God bless him with knowledge, wisdom, and eternal peace.

Kamal Alkasim wrote from Kano, via kamalalkasim17@gmail.com.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

(My other essay, Against The Hadith Problem, discussed how Muslim empires in the past lived on a quartet of paradigms produced through the synthesis between the Qur’an, the body of Hadith, and reason. That provoked questions regarding the future of Muslim societies and states, hence these reflections and projections into 2075.)

It is 2075, and the world I walk through feels at once strange and familiar. The glass towers still gleam, drones still hum, algorithms still rule, yet beneath the circuitry there is a slower pulse: the rhythm of old fiqh and older faith.

For all our talk half a century ago of a secular age, the present belongs to hybridity. Constitutions speak the language of the Qur’an without calling it revelation. Western democracies borrow the moral grammar of Medina without feeling conquered. The four old schools of law (Mālikī, Shāfiʿī, Ḥanafī and Ḥanbalī) and the three great theologies (Ashʿarī, Māturīdī and Atharī) are no longer museum exhibits. They are living systems quietly moderating the noise of modernity.

West Africa: The Mālikī Republics

I began this journey in Abuja. The city has doubled in size, but its heart beats in rhythm with the Mālikī canon. In the courthouse, digital panels display sections from Mukhtaṣar Khalīl beside constitutional clauses. When a judge calculates inheritance shares, the algorithm he uses is Mālikī too: transparent, fair and incorruptible.

Even non-Muslim states around the Sahel now use these formulas. Ghana’s civil code borrows Mālikī inheritance rules, while Benin’s marriage registry follows the Islamic ʿaqd nikāḥ (marital contract) model because it ensures equity and consent better than the older colonial templates.

Banking has gone moral. Nigeria’s hybrid finance sector runs on maṣlaḥa-based smart contracts, while interest systems survive only in history syllabi. The ulama sit on the Council of Moral Economies, auditing state budgets for ethical imbalance. “Sharia,” an elderly economist told me, “is not our government; it is our conscience.”

Arabia: The Neo-Atharī Technocracy

From the Sahel, I flew east to Riyadh. The skyline looks like circuitry: solar glass towers, sky bridges humming with data. The Atharī–Hanbalī paradigm still shapes law, but it is encoded now in a literal sense. Hanbalī jurists work with AI engineers who have trained “Hadith logic engines” to map rulings from canonical texts.

The constitution speaks of dual sovereignty: divine law for the moral order, human law for function. A court clerk showed me how every regulatory draft is first run through an algorithm trained on Ibn Ḥanbal and Ibn Taymiyyah, then reviewed by human jurists.

Even cinema has turned pious. Historical dramas about early scholars play in multiplexes. Young Saudis quote Ibn Ḥanbal as easily as they quote quantum code. The result is not rigidity but confidence. They see tradition not as a wall but as a coordinate system for the future.

Southeast Asia: The Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī Democracy

Jakarta feels like the world’s conscience. The call to prayer threads through a metropolis of electric trams and vertical gardens. The parliament convenes only after the Majlis al-Maqāṣid, the Council of Objectives, certifies that each bill meets four of Sharia’s six ethical aims: life, intellect, property, faith, lineage and justice.

This “maqāṣid democracy” has become the envy of the developing world. Corruption is rare because legislation itself is filtered through moral metrics. University students still memorise al-Nawawī and al-Ghazālī, but they also code in Python and quote maqāṣid theory in debates on climate law.

Shāfiʿī jurisprudence has not stifled freedom; it has disciplined it. A new civic pride glows here. Islam and democracy are no longer hyphenated; they are married.

Ankara: The Ḥanafī–Māturīdī Continuum

And then there is Turkey, the quiet custodian of the Ottoman inheritance. Its universities still teach Māturīdī theology as the bridge between revelation and rationalism. The state calls itself secular, yet its courts and social policy breathe Ḥanafī air.

In 2075, the High Directorate of Moral Logic, a successor to the old Diyanet, reviews every national reform for philosophical balance: does it protect reason (aql) and faith (īmān) equally? The framework is pure Māturīdī.

Turkey’s digital constitution, ratified in 2060, encodes “Ḥanafī modularity,” a principle allowing law to flex with circumstance. The same logic shapes its AI governance, its family law, and even its diplomacy.

From Istanbul outward, this Ḥanafī–Māturīdī ethos has spilt into Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent. Uzbekistan’s civic schools teach both Avicenna and al-Māturīdī. Pakistani fintech startups run on ḥiyal-based smart contracts. The Ottoman blend of faith and rational statecraft has found its second life in circuitry and policy code.

Europe: The Mālikī Renaissance

In Paris, I walked past a law office advertising “Islamic Equity Contracts.” Mālikī inheritance rules, once exotic, are now embedded in the French civil code for their mathematical clarity. Every December, the city hosts La Nuit des Saints, honouring figures from both faiths such as ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jazāʾirī, Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyya and Francis of Assisi. The night ends with poetry readings under the Louvre’s glass dome.

Across the Channel, the United Kingdom has normalised Sharia arbitration. The Hanafi–Maturidi tradition, brought long ago by South Asian immigrants, is now part of national legal pluralism. Judges quote Abū Ḥanīfa in footnotes. Friday sermons mingle Qur’an with Shakespeare, and the term Anglo-Muslim has lost its hyphen; it has become a cultural fact.

The Global Drift Towards Muslim Norms

What surprises me most in 2075 is not conversion, though that too has surged, but imitation. The world has adopted Muslim social standards almost unconsciously.

The ʿaqd nikāḥ, once seen as a religious marriage, is now the global model for civil unions, prized for its symmetry and consent clauses. UN inheritance reforms draw on Mālikī logic for equitable estate division. Even secular citizens in Europe and East Asia now choose contracts modelled after fiqh because they feel fairer, cleaner and more human.

Reverence for saintly figures, long dismissed as superstition, has made a comeback. Shrines to al-Ghazālī, Rūmī, Ibn ʿArabī and even non-Muslim sages now form a new “pilgrim’s circuit of wisdom.” Modern psychology calls it “ancestral grounding.” We simply call it barakah.

As for conversions, some call them reversions; they grow yearly. Not by the sword of argument, but by exhaustion. People wanted meaning, proportion and discipline. They found it in Islam’s cadence: prayer as pause, zakat as fairness, fasting as freedom from appetite. In Europe, nearly one in five now identifies as Muslim or Muslim-shaped; in North America, one in ten. Many of them began not with belief but with admiration for the order that belief produced.

The Entangled Civilisation

By 2075, no state is purely Islamic or Western. The categories have dissolved.

The UN’s Council on Civilisational Ethics opens its sessions with verses from the Qur’an alongside Kantian aphorisms. Global digital charters cite ʿadl, justice, as their guiding principle. Algorithms that allocate water or distribute vaccines carry lines of fiqh-based code to ensure fairness.

The old paradigms have not conquered the world; they have simply proven indispensable. Mālikī–Ashʿarī, Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī, Ḥanafī–Māturīdī and Ḥanbalī–Atharī each remain alive, shaping ethics, finance, law and art. Their jurists now sit on international boards beside secular philosophers, arguing about AI morality and interplanetary law. The conversation is no longer between faith and reason, but between kinds of reason.

A Closing Reflection

As I write this letter from a café in Fez, the call to prayer blends with the hum of an electric tram. A group of students nearby, Muslim, Christian and atheist, argue over a verse from the Qur’an, not as a theological claim but as a piece of political philosophy. The verse speaks of balance: “We made you a middle community.”

Perhaps that is what we have become by 2075: a middle community for a weary planet. The Western world brought machinery; Islam preserved measure. Together they built a civilisation that still argues, still hopes and still prays. The paradigms the world once thought ancient turned out to be the most modern of all.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

In the Hausa Islamic civilisation, or what one might call the moral order and cultural refinement that grew from Islam’s deep roots in Hausaland, the word mutuwa (death) is a curious thing. It is harmless, ordinary, and adaptable. One can say mutum ya mutu – “the man has died” – regardless of who the man is. The same word can apply to an animal, a tree, or even an inanimate thing whose usefulness has come to an end. It can carry tones of mockery, pity, or finality. We say ya mutu mushe when some living thing has worthlessly ended, ya mutu murus when silence or defeat takes over.

Yet, our language is not without tenderness. When someone beloved passes away, whether out of affection or courtesy, we soften the word. We say ya rasu. Rasuwa is a form of loss tinged with grief and respect. It refuses the bluntness of mutuwa. It gives the heart its due.

When it comes to the Prophet Muhammad (SAW), the most noble of all creation whose departure shook the heavens and all generations after, our forebears chose words such as wafati (a peaceful return to Allah), fakuwa (withdrawal or disappearance), and rasuwa (loss imbued with yearning). These were not accidental choices; they were marks of reverence. The Prophet’s message, after all, did not die with him. His presence lingers, like fragrance after rain. Thus, Hausa Muslims avoided the word mutuwa not because it was wrong, but because it was too plain for such a sacred absence. Language itself became a form of prayer and praise, salati towards the Prophet of Islam, as the Qur’an commands the faithful to always offer.

This sensibility reflects a civilisation shaped by Islam yet polished by Hausa thought. It has endured for over a millennium, blending revelation and reason, piety and poetry, into a coherent moral fabric. Scholars such as Professor Mahdi Adamu have rightly argued that Islam is now part of the defining essence of being Hausa. Indeed, no serious student of culture can separate the two.

When Professor Samuel Huntington, in his 1993 popular thesis The Clash of Civilisations, classified the great Islamic civilisations as Arab, Turkic, and Malay, I once protested, mildly but firmly, in my column of 22 July 2013 in LEADERSHIP Newspaper, “Egypt: Western World, Egypt, Political Islam and Lessons.” For he omitted the fourth: the African, which includes the Hausa Muslim civilisation. Perhaps he did so because we in West Africa have not been diligent in documenting our own intellectual heritage. Our scholars mostly built souls rather than libraries. Their wisdom lived largely in hearts, not in manuscripts. Yet civilisation is not measured by ink alone.

By the eleventh century, Islam had already entered Hausaland through kings, scholars, and merchants. It mingled with the social elite, who naturally became custodians of what was right and proper. Over centuries, Islamic principles and Hausa customs intermarried. Law, governance, poetry, and etiquette became fused with faith. The result was not confusion but coherence. Nothing central to Hausa civilisation contradicted Islam at its core, unless one judged too quickly or too superficially.

That is why scholars such as Murray Last, in his work The Book in the Sokoto Caliphate, observed that even the nineteenth-century jihad led by Shehu Usman Ɗanfodio did not reinvent Hausa Islamic learning; it merely revived and restructured it. The civilisation was already mature, only in need of renewal and discipline.

After colonial rule and the birth of Nigeria, this historical balance was tested. Contact with global Islamic thought from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iran, and beyond brought new currents of theology and reform. Many who studied abroad returned believing they had discovered a purer Islam, one untainted by “local innovation.” Movements such as Jama’atu Izalatul Bid’ah Wa Iqamatissunnah (founded in 1978) sought to purify faith and democratise knowledge. Their zeal achieved much good, spreading Islamic learning to wider circles.

The unintended cost, however, was subtle: a growing suspicion towards the inherited Hausa sense of decorum, the gentle courtesies and expressions through which Islam had long been lived here. Many young preachers, both from Izala and other traditions, began to attack words, proverbs, and customs without studying their origins or meanings. They mistook refinement for deviation. They forgot that ladabi—good manners—is itself part of faith.

In the curricula of the Arab world, where some of them studied, there was no course on “Islam and Hausa civilisation.” Thus, they returned unaware that many Hausa forms of reverence, formal linguistic expressions, and proverbs had already been filtered through the sieve of Islamic thought over centuries. They saw impurity where there was actually depth. And when a people are cut off from the noble patterns that dignify their past, they begin to doubt themselves. This self-doubt, or inferiority complex, becomes more dangerous than ignorance itself.

Still, there is light in the dusk. From the 1990s onwards, a new generation of researchers began delving into precolonial manuscripts and oral traditions, recovering the intellectual dignity of old Hausaland. They showed how Islamic education, Sufi scholarship, and Hausa ethical thought intertwined long before the arrival of Europeans or the rise of the Sokoto Caliphate. Yet this work has mostly been carried out by Western-trained scholars, the so-called yan boko. Our purely religious scholars have been slower to engage, preferring imported frameworks to indigenous memory.

The road ahead, however, must bring both together. The Hausa Muslim future—steady, confident, and intelligent—will depend on producing scholars grounded in both the Islamic sciences and the lived wisdom of Hausa culture. Not a nostalgic culture, but one aware of its thousand-year conversation with faith.

If the Turks, Arabs, and Malays take pride in their civilisational imprint upon Islam, why should the Hausa not do the same? Our civilisation too has carried the Prophet’s light for centuries, shaping it into our language, our etiquette, and even our choice of words.

So, when we say Rasuwar Manzon Tsira or Wafatin Manzon Tsira, it is not mere politeness. It is theology—lived, spoken, and refined in our own tongue. To call it otherwise is to forget who we are.

Ibraheem A. Waziri wrote from Zaria, Kaduna State, Nigeria.

By Uzair Adam 

Bayero University, Kano (BUK), on Tuesday hosted a landmark conference organised by the Faculty of History and Development Studies, exploring the historical and contemporary roles of ulama in Nigerian politics. 

The event, themed “Ulama and Politics in Nigeria: Historical Perspectives,” attracted scholars, politicians, and religious leaders from across the country.

Professor Muhammad Wada, Dean of the Faculty of History and Development Studies at the university, explained that the central mission of the conference is to highlight the pivotal role of ulama—Islamic scholars—in societal development. 

He stated that, “Over the years, through our research, we realised that ulama have played and continue to play an important role in various spheres of life, including politics and economics. 

“This conference seeks to address widespread misconceptions about whether it is legitimate for ulama to be involved in politics,” Professor Wada added.

He further stated that the conference has received hundreds of abstracts from scholars of various fields, demonstrating the broad relevance of the topic. 

“Historically, ulama have contributed to societal development, and they remain capable of doing so today. 

“Their role goes beyond leading prayers or teaching religion; it extends to guiding the public in political and civic matters,” Professor Wada emphasised.

Professor Sani Umar, one of the keynote speakers, described the conference as “highly enriching and a model that should be held regularly to sensitise ulama and the public alike.” 

He stressed that the discussions are not only relevant to Muslims but also to followers of other faiths, promoting mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence. 

Umar further explained that the widespread perception that ulama should avoid politics is misguided, noting that true politics involves leadership, compassion, and care for the vulnerable—qualities inherent in the work of scholars.

Speaking on the occasion, Sheikh Ibrahim Khalil, Chairman of the Council of Ulama, urged the public to recognise that politics is for everyone and that ulama, given their knowledge and moral grounding, are particularly well-suited to political engagement. 

He called for more frequent conferences of this kind, at least twice or three times a year, and appealed to media professionals to disseminate these messages widely, including via social media.

The conference drew participation from ulama representing various Islamic sects, academics, and politicians, including Sule Lamido, the former Governor of Jigawa State. 

Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, represented by Professor Tijjani Muhammad, also attended, highlighting the significance of the event for both scholarship and governance.

The two-day conference will continue tomorrow with plenary sessions, providing a platform for rigorous discussion on the contributions of ulama to Nigerian society and politics.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) has denied claims of a Christian genocide in Nigeria, calling such reports misleading and lacking a consistent pattern, as reported by The Guardian (Nigeria).

The claims gained attention after U.S. comedian Bill Maher and Senator Ted Cruz accused Islamist groups and Nigerian officials of persecuting Christians. Cruz even proposed sanctions through the Nigeria Religious Freedom Accountability Act. 

At the same time, U.S. lawmaker Riley Moore urged the U.S. government to halt arms sales and label Nigeria a “Country of Particular Concern.”

In response, Nigeria’s Presidency denied any religious war, stressing that the violence affects all citizens regardless of faith.

CAN’s Director of National Issues and Social Welfare, Abimbola Ayuba, acknowledged widespread killings but said they were not targeted solely at Christians. He noted that both Christians and Muslims have fallen victim to terrorist attacks, adding that bullets “don’t look for a Christian or spare a Muslim.”

Ayuba cautioned against foreign interference and urged Nigerians to work collectively to end the insurgency through local institutions rather than seeking sympathy abroad.

By Muhammad Isah Zng

Marriage in Islam is not just to bind together; it is an institution that preserves faith, protects men and women from immoralities, and creates harmony between men and women. It’s also a way of raising and nurturing children on the right path.  

Allah (S.W.T) describes marriage as one of His most significant signs, saying: “And among His signs is that He created for you spouses from among yourselves, so that you may find tranquillity in them; and He placed between you affection and mercy. Surely in that are signs for a people who reflect.”
(Qur’an 30:21)

In the above verse, Allah (S.W.T.) highlights the true purpose of marriage, emphasises peace, love, and mercy between husband and wife. 

Similarly, Imam Al-Ghazali, a prominent Islamic scholar, said: “Marriage is companionship, not domination. It is a place of comfort, where both husband and wife share love, trust, and cooperation.”

We can also notice that marriage is also built on trust from both husband and wife, because trust brings comfort and increases love between the spouses. Without it, marriage won’t be last in any relationship. 

Therefore, apart from being a way of sharing love, peace, and trust between husband and wife, it is also a means of having children who would be beneficial to society.

That’s why Allah called the attention of both husband and wife in this verse: “O you who believe, protect yourselves and your families from a fire whose fuel is people and stones…”
(Qur’an 66:6)

This verse emphasises the responsibility of couples towards the good upbringing of their children by ensuring that they provide them with proper guidance and support throughout their lives. 

Marriage in Islam is an avenue where both husband and wife share love, mercy, peace, and trust; it’s also a way of raising children that benefits themselves and their society. 

Muhammad Isah Zng is a student of Mass Communication, Bayero University, Kano (BUK).