Abdalla Uba Adamu

The future of public relations in Nigeria: Adopting Artificial Intelligence (AI)

By Zainab Haruna Shittu

Nigeria’s public relations sector is on the cusp of a revolution driven by artificial intelligence (AI) integration. This technological advancement transforms how PR professionals work, interact with audiences, and craft compelling narratives.

Artificial intelligence enhances creativity, streamlines processes, and provides data-driven insights, revolutionising the PR landscape. Renowned experts Professor Abdallah Uba Adamu and Mr. Yusha’u Shuaibu emphasise AI’s potential to automate routine tasks, facilitate strategic decision-making, and foster personalised stakeholder communication.

Professor Adamu, a distinguished scholar at Bayero University’s Department of Information and Media Studies, notes that AI has transformative potential. He adds, “AI can automate routine tasks, facilitate strategic decision-making, and foster personalised stakeholder communication.” However, he cautions that AI’s impact on PR is still uncertain due to limited empirical evidence.

Integrating AI in public relations offers numerous benefits, including enhanced creativity and strategic thinking, improved stakeholder engagement and crisis management, targeted messaging and personalised storytelling, and increased productivity through automation.

Despite AI’s potential, challenges persist, including technical issues, infrastructure constraints, a lack of skilled manpower and training, high costs and budget constraints, potential biases, and ethical concerns.

Professor Adamu cautions, “AI can perpetuate biases if not critically evaluated. PR practitioners must develop expertise to recognise and mitigate these biases.” To maximise AI’s benefits, PR professionals should invest in AI training and capacity building, develop critical thinking to evaluate AI outputs, and balance AI-driven efficiency with human touch.

Mr. Issa Ali Musa, a leading media and IT expert, notes, “AI tools have increased productivity by automating tasks like media monitoring, sentiment analysis, and stakeholder segmentation.” However, he emphasises the need for human judgment and creativity.

Looking ahead, experts agree that AI will enhance PR practice in Nigeria. By embracing AI, Nigeria’s PR sector can improve efficiency, precision, and creativity, ultimately leading to better communication strategies.

PR professionals must build the capacity for expertise and criticality to recognise AI biases. As Nigeria’s PR sector evolves, embracing AI will be vital to staying ahead of the curve. By adapting to AI-driven changes, PR professionals can unlock new opportunities, enhance their skills, and drive business success.

 Zainab Haruna Shittu wrote from Bayero University, Kano, via harunazainabshittu7567@gmail.com.

Prodigal Daughter – Now, proudly my Boss: Dr Suwaiba Sa’idu Ahmad, Minister of State, Education

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

It is not often that one gets the rare opportunity to witness the birth of a star. I count myself to be privileged to have done so. 

In 1980, I started my employment as a Graduate Assistant in the Department of Education at Bayero University, Kano. As was the case at the time, I was allocated a housing apartment on Zoo Road. Two of my neighbors were Isma’ila Abubakar Tsiga and Sa’idu Ahmad Babura. I was a bachelor, and both had families who treated me with the utmost respect despite the age gap. Both were older than me, and both became my lifelong friends. So much so that they opened up the doors of their homes and minds to me and got me deeply involved in literature (they were both in the Department of English BUK). If you are looking for the precise moment the seeds of my literary tree were watered, it was on Zoo Road. 

In 1981, Sa’idu’s wife gave birth to a stunningly beautiful baby girl and was named Suwaiba. I remember holding her in my hands and saying the prayers I could for her long life and prosperity. We later went to the naming ceremony in Baɓura —it was the first time I was in the town, and the serenity of the place struck me.

That child soon bloomed into an undergraduate B.Sc. Ed Chemistry student. Incredibly brilliant and emerging at the top of her class. There were no surprises there – she and her other siblings were simply at the top of their class wherever they found themselves due to the incredibly liberal but supportive family atmosphere that pervades the house. Although there was firmness, for instance, she wanted to study medicine after high school, but her dad insisted on her studying education. She came to me crying to intervene. I tried, but he was adamant it has to be education. After going back and forth, we decided she should obey her father and study education. She agreed but vowed to return to school to study Medicine after she had finished her Education. 

I can easily sympathise in reverse. My father wanted me to study medicine, but I didn’t! So, I ended up in Science Education—just like Suwaiba. Look where she is—following parental counsel, she was blessed to be at the top of the game. Oh, she decided not to come back for Medicine after all—education was just too good. 

Employing her in 2005 after she graduated from the Department of Education under the able leadership of (now) Prof. Abdulrashid Garba, the current Vice-Chancellor of Khalifa Isyaku Rabi’u University (KHAIRUN), was a boon to the Department. She was quickly the hardest-working staff member, always eager to be part of a team and often taking leadership control if the ship seemed rudderless. 

In 2007, the University created the Science and Technical Education Department. I, together with Suwaiba, (now) Prof. Sagir Adamu Abbas (current Vice-Chancellor, Bayero University Kano), and a few others, were deployed to the new Department. She started her Master’s degree under my supervision. I could barely keep up with her ballistic enthusiasm, a trait she inherited from her father, Prof. Sa’id Ahmad Babura. 

As my “daughter” (her reference to me has always been “Baba Abdalla”, endearing me further to the family), she became my protégé. I became her Head of Department from 2010 to 2013, and we got heavily involved in NGO activities in teacher training, for she is highly dedicated to teacher education. She spent 15 years in international NGO activities in improving teacher education programs. 

She finished her Master’s degree in record time and almost immediately rolled over to a PhD, but this time at Ahmadu Bello University Zaria, finishing in 2014. She was the first female from Jigawa State to obtain a PhD in the rare field of Science Education. Her Google Scholar profile profiles her impressive research in Chemistry Education, Science Education, and Gender Studies. Her ResearchGate profile highlights one of the first experimental uses of AI ChatGPT in Organic Chemistry Classrooms, demonstrating her future-oriented focus on embracing AI in high school education. 

In every workshop setting, I would just sit down and watch her proudly as she explained the various teaching techniques to Kano and Jigawa States teachers. She developed a series of teacher training modules for international NGOs used in teacher training refresher programs. When she finished her doctoral studies in 2014, I had already migrated to the Department of Mass Communication in October 2012. She was visibly unhappy about my moving away because we taught a course on the Philosophy of Science together, which she really enjoyed. I assured her I would always be around the corner. 

Administratively, she also earned her laurels. From 2018 to 2020, she became the first female to become the Head of Science Education, then Sub-Dean Academics in the Faculty of Education, and eventually Associate Professor of Chemistry Education. Due to her brilliant performances, she was appointed Director of the Center for Gender Studies from 2020 to 2024, a position she impressively held, forming a womanist rather than feminist focus on gender issues, especially education, in a traditional society. She was mentored by Prof. Ruqayyah Ahmed Rufa’i, the former Honorable Minister of Education (2010-2013), also from Jigawa State. Bayero University remains proud of its women Education Ministers –all from the same State!

From there, she became the Provost of Jigawa State College of Islamic and Legal Studies, Ringim, in March 2024. In October 2024, she was nominated as the Minister of State for Education. 

At 43, she is young. That’s for sure. That is also her biggest advantage. She promises a fresh breath of future learning with her demonstrable competencies in field-tested qualitative research, Artificial Intelligence, and a focus on scientific learning among young people, particularly young girls. 

I am proud of Suwaiba as a daughter. Proud of her as a colleague. Proud of her as a protégé. As the recently appointed Minister of State, Education, I am proud of her as my boss. Allah Ya ƙara basira da albarka, amin.

Humility Personified: The exit of Malam Gausu Ahmad from Bayero University

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

Those with a deep knowledge of my biography will always remember me in the Faculty of Education’s Department of Education, which I joined in July 1980 at the relatively young age of 24. With a professorship in 1997, I felt I had enough of Education: I was talking loud and saying nothing. So, I shifted my research focus to media and cultural communication. 

I never thought the shift would lead to another professorship in 2012, giving an academically glamorous status of being ‘dambu mai hawa biyu’ (up till now, I don’t know exactly what this epithet means!), or double professor – in Science Education and Media and Cultural Communication. Three people were responsible for this, one from Edo State and another two from Zaria. How did it all start?

In 1992, I had just returned from a Fulbright African Senior Research Scholar residency at the University of California, Berkely, when I was visited in my office by the late Prof. Mike Egbon (from Benin), then the Head of the Department of Mass Communication, Bayero University Kano. It was our first meeting, and it instantly created a deep bond of friendship between us. He wants me to work with a student of his in supervising a PhD project on the Mass Communication curriculum in Nigerian universities. I was happy to oblige, especially when I learnt that the student is another highly respected colleague, now Prof. Umar Faruk Jibril, the Dean of Communication at BUK. 

Thus began my first footsteps in Mass Communication. Before long, I was drafted to teach Advanced Research Methods for PhD students (while still in the Department of Education). This put me in contact with virtually all the current staff of the Faculty of Communication. I felt so happy and so comfortable with them, as well as their tutors in other areas of the Department. One tutor stood out. He was Mal. Gausu Ahmad (from Zaria, if you are keeping track!).

My relationship with Mal. Gausu was incredible and often amusing. For some reason, we were both mesmerised by each other. I had followed his column in New Nigeria years earlier. I was fascinated by his incredible take on Bayero University in his essay “Looking Beyond the Badala”, a critique of the lack of synthesis between Bayero University and its host community. That article drew my attention to Mal. Gausu and I became an avid follower. So, when Mike drafted me into supervision duties in Mass Comm, I met Gausu Ahmad for the first time. 

I saw a neoclassical Hausa gentleman in Malam Gausu. His cheerful mien reminds one of an older Uncle or a grandfather but with contemporary perspectives—for instance, Mal. Gausu is the only person I know who has commissioned a traditional barber (wanzami) to come to his office and cut his hair in molo style. No barbing salons for him! We became instantly drawn to each other. 

In 2003, I was the Chairman of the defunct Center for Hausa Cultural Studies Kano, a think tank on interfaces between media and society. We organised an international conference on Hausa films—the first of its kind in the country. Virtually all the staff of Mass Communication, including Mal. Gausu, was wholly involved in the conference. Mal. Gausu was the HOD of Mass Communication then. It was at the conference that he consolidated his relationship with me. 

I was then also asked to teach a course on Online Communication in the Department, introducing new ideas that departed from the straight-up Mass Communication scholarship of the Department in print and broadcast media. By then, I had well-established online communities on the defunct Yahoo! Groups (since 2001), which became the first gathering places for future social media citizens. So, I was excited to be asked to teach Online Communication – even more excited were junior colleagues who wanted to be part of the course. 

This went on for a while, with me being an adjunct member of the Mass Communication Department, a position I relish far more than my education position at the university. In 2004, my break-out media year, I was a visiting professor at the University of Cologne, Germany. The paper was “Enter the Dragon: Shari’a, Popular Culture and Film Censorship in Northern Nigeria.” When I returned, Mal. Gausu expressed dismay that I presented a paper about events in Kano at a foreign university. He insisted that the paper must be represented in the Department of Mass Communication, which I did later in the year – thus opening up new vistas of media anthropology. To cement this position, I invited Brian Larkin to come to the Department and present his book “Signal and Noise” about media anthropology in July 2008. It is the first public presentation of this ground-breaking book.  

Unknown to me, Mal. Gausu has submitted my name to the Registrar of the University, then Mal. Sani Aminu (Zaria!) for appointment as Part-Time Lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication. This was instantly approved, and I was only aware of it when I got the letter in November 2005. From then on, I became part of the Mass Communication ecosystem. Not only did I have more classes, but I also had more students. The number of postgraduate students I supervised in a few years in Mass Comm was far more than the number of students in all the 25 years I had been in Education. 

Under his leadership of the department, a wonderful atmosphere of camaraderie and brotherhood was fostered. His elegant, calm demeanour does not brook any disagreement with any policy because policies and decisions in the Department were collectively arrived at and implemented together. 

His biggest trait, however, was his humility. He was indeed a knowledge seeker. He was never shy or hesitant in asking questions about what he did not know. Our offices were always close together, and in the evenings after Asr prayer, when the building was quieter, we spent moments exchanging ideas and concepts. He became a sort of student to me. He would ALWAYS insist on carrying my rucksack to my car. ALWAYS. He fiercely resists anyone attempting to take the rucksack from him, insisting it is his duty and honour. On the other hand, I always felt uncomfortable with an older person taking my rucksack to the car! But he always insisted. 

From January to March 2012, I was a European Union visiting professor at the University of Warsaw. When I returned in April, informed my Vice-Chancellor, and submitted my report, the next thing I knew was that I was caught up in the whirlwind of being appointed as professor of Media and Cultural Communication and already a professor of Science Education since 1997. I was surprised as I thought it was not done. However, the vice chancellor who did it, Prof. Abubakar Adamu Rasheed, was another bold and innovative person. And from Zaria! After all the due process, I was eventually announced as a Media and Cultural Communication professor in January 2013, effective October 2012. 

The icing on the cake was the clause that I was to move from the Department of Education to the Department of Mass Communication. After 32 years in Education and having served as HOD for nine years, I was delighted to leave. Thanks to Mal. Gausu Ahmad, I felt more comfortable, personally, emotionally and intellectually, in Mass Communication. I felt blessed. Imagine doing research in an area I am deeply interested in and making contributions to knowledge. Currently, in 2024, as a staff member of the Department of Information and Media Studies, I am under the administrative leadership of Prof. Nura Ibrahim. Do I need to say it? Ok. From Zaria!

The biggest lessons I learned from Malam Gausu were humility and patience. He faced many challenges during his time in Mass Comm, but he stoically endured them and eventually triumphed. 

Mal. Gausu retired at the age of 70 on 12 September 2024. He retired as a professor, but his humility and salute to scholarship will always root him in the superior ‘Malam’ category. Anyone can be a professor, but it takes a special kind of person to be appreciated and applauded as a Malam. Mal. Gausu Ahmad is genuinely a first-class Malam, embodying all the qualities of such a position. 

I congratulate him on his successful and honourable retirement from the University. He was one of the few academicians who brought real-life print journalism to academia and brought out the true application of the theory of Political Economy. His doctoral thesis, “The Rise and Fall of the New Nigerian Newspaper”, in 2014, followed by publication by ABU Press in 2016 under the same title, is an excellent slice of northern Nigerian media history, as only possible from an insider. If you really want to know print media history in northern Nigeria, get the book. 

I pray to Allah (SWT) to continue to endow him with humility, kindness, gentleness, health and prosperity as he charts the next course of his life. 

Oh, and my prayers and gratitude to Zage-zagi for being ‘iyanyen gidana’ in scholarship (but not iyayen gidan Kanawa)!

The towering intellectual inferno of Northern economic history: Philip Shea remembered

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

I was not a History student but a student of history. My interest originated in my father, Dr. Muhammad Uba Adamu, a historian who really believed in the discipline. Further, it was a real anomaly in my education—that turned out fine for me—that although I was a science student in high school, we studied history in our set due to the lack of a physics teacher, which was just as well. I tried a semester of physics after high school, but I could not hack it. 

To me, history was better than Physics, which was and still is excellently boring. With History, I understood myself and my culture and could safeguard my heritage. With Physics, I would be forced to cram useless formulas, which I was led to believe were the intellectual heritages of dead White scientists. 

Despite being housed in the Faculty of Education, Bayero University Kano, since July 22, 1980, as a Graduate Assistant, I found myself drawn to History. It helped that the late Prof. John Lavers, who taught my father, was there. His purchase of an Amstrad desktop computer in around 1989, and my being the only person on the campus who mastered it, created a Moebius strip where I was teaching Prof. Lavers how to use it! Eventually, I had to come in contact with Prof. Philip Shea, who also knew my father as an administrator. 

My subsequent interactions with Prof. Lavers, Prof. Shea, and later Prof. Murray Last put me at an intersection of historical immersion. They further fuelled my interest in historical studies and anything related to Kano’s history. I started teasing Philip by calling him ‘Uncle Philip’, which he found irritating as he did not want to seem ‘old’. This was more so due to his closeness to my father. When in 2002 or thereabouts, my father publicly presented (I refuse to allow it to be ‘launched’) his book Confluences and Influences, Philip Shea wrote the review and read it during the presentation. 

With Philip Shea, life in Kano was not just economic history but also cultural history. His “Mallam Muhammad Bakatsine and the Jihad in Eastern Kano” (History in Africa 32 (2005), 371-383) is a brilliant appendix to the Kano Chronicle in the sense of filling in a lot of gaps not in the Chronicle. For one, it gave us a microscopic view of how a Joɓawa clan member, Malam Bakatsine from Takai town, mobilised the jihad forces fuelled by his understanding of Islam. 

Eventually, somehow or another, the British Council Kano engaged me as the Chairman of the Centre for Hausa Culture, which we established in 2003 to facilitate a series of Hausa traditional concerts on their behalf. I invited Philip to one of them on March 8, 2006, and had to drive him to the venue because he was virtually colour-blind at night and found it difficult to drive—too many full headlights, he told me.

I was, therefore, shocked when I learned of Philip Shea’s passing away barely a month later on April 5, 2006. I was in Saly, Senegal, for a Volkswagen Foundation activity then. It was a sad moment for me, for Philip was a truly wonderful person. I really doubted if he had any intentions of leaving Kano—so ingrained he was in the very social and economic fabric of Kano. He was involved in almost every activity of the Kano State Government, during which we always sat next to each other. 

For instance, he actively participated in the 2003 conference celebrating the 40th Anniversary of the late Emir of Kano, HRH Alhaji (Dr) Ado Bayero. A proceeding of the conference, which I edited and for which he let the Communique team, was later published. He was also a prominent participant at the National Conference on 200 Years Since the Uthman Dan Fodio Jihad in Kano held at the Kano State History and Culture Bureau, Kano, Nigeria, 27-29 July 2004.

Philip was also a familiar face in quite a few Kano markets; his speciality was economic history. For instance, I met him several times when I visited the Garu market in Kumbotso. He was not actually buying anything but moving from stall to stall, observing, listening, and noting. He used to be followed by a gaggle of kids, but they eventually became used to him and left him alone. I, on the other hand, visited the market because my better half dragged me against my will, wish and desire for her to buy Kayan miya (groceries) as they were cheaper in that market – and I had to drive through a slowly flowing river Panshekara to get to the market!

For me, observing Philip in that market was a front-row lesson on Ethnography: to truly understand the flow of events, you need to be there—on the ground—not from afar. His writings on the economic history of Kano and, indeed, Hausa land, therefore, had a solid base. 

He published several articles in Nigerian and international journals on, among other subjects, the development of the dyeing industry in precolonial Kano, rural production, indirect rule, and the central Sudanese silk trade. His unpublished doctoral dissertation, “The Development of an Export-Oriented Dyed Cloth Industry in Kano Emirate in the Nineteenth Century” (Wisconsin, 1975), has become one of the most cited works on dyeing and textiles in Africa and a reference text in discussions of indigenous African textile practices.

Philip had mentored many generations of Historians. It was only befitting, therefore, that the whole constellation of Philips students and associates gathered together to honour his intellectual contribution to the economic history of northern Nigeria. This was realised in Economic and Social History of Northern Nigeria: Revisiting Milestones and Exploring New Frontiers: Essays in Honour of the late Professor Phillip James Shea

The book was ‘launched’ on Sunday, July 21, 2024, at the Dangote Business School auditorium, Bayero University Kano New Campus. Despite it being a Sunday (and overcast), the hall was reasonably filled with many people—and not the ‘student fillers’ either, since although the university resumed classes on Monday, July 15, 2024, students have not fully resumed. 

The book, edited by his students led by Prof. Mohammed Sanni Abdulkadir, Samaila Suleman and Kabiru Haruna Isa and published by Aboki Publishers), is undoubtedly a heavy reading with 874 pages. Divided into six sections with 40 papers, it covers a massive ground, from Environment to Riots, Slavery, Reforms, Settlement, to Migration. 

I will not even presume to review this book – leaving it to voracious readers like Shamsuddeen Sani to do that when he gets his stethoscope on a copy! There were standout papers. Murray Last’s “Note on the Economy of 19th Century Warfare in Hausaland” reminds us of the links between social disruptions and economic growth – even over a hundred years ago. Or the one about the brown sugar industry in Maƙarfi by Shehu Tijjani Yusuf. Want to learn about donkey trade (yes, donkeys!)? Then Abubakar Tukur Mohammed will guide you. Salafism and Social services are treated by one of what I term the ‘Zafafa Goma’ intellectual cluster of BUK, Kabiru Haruna Isa. And so on. 

No one, no book, no writer is perfect. My grouse? In this constellation of economic coverage, not one single paper has dealt with media and popular culture. Music (traditional and Afropop), Books (in whatever form), Films (love, hate, but can’t ignore Kannywood), and Media (Radio, TV, Newspapers, Social Media) were all seemingly ignored, as if economic history is only rooted in the past and only on commodities. And yet, one of the attention-grabbing parts of the book was ‘New Frontiers’. It seems that such a frontier was not to look ‘back to the future’. Oh, there is a paper on multinational publishers (Sani Yakubu Adam), but it was on the English book trade!

Warts and all, this book is, in my view, the most comprehensive summary and, at the same time, introduction to the uninitiated of the subject matter so far in our history. It is also a befitting reminder of the legacies of one of our time’s most important economic historians. 

Northern Nollywood, Southern distorted mirrors: Nollywood and the rest of us

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

Recently, an extremely prestigious academic journal requested that I review a film made by a Nigerian. I was surprised, as that is Muhsin Ibrahim’s forte. Further, I really don’t watch Nigerian films, aka Nollywood, personally preferring African Francophone directors. Nevertheless, I agreed to do the review. 

However, the link they sent for the film was password-protected. I informed them, and they requested the filmmaker to send the password. Being a request from a highly prestigious journal, he sent the code, and I was able to get on the site and watch the film online. I was surprised at what I saw and decided to delve further into these issues. Before doing that, I wrote my review and sent it off. The film, however, set me thinking. 

Like a creeping malaise, Nollywood directors are rearing their cameras into the northern Nigerian cultural spaces. Again. The film I reviewed for the journal was “A Delivery Boy” (dir. Adekunle Adejuyigbe, 2018). It was in the Hausa language. None of the actors, however, was Hausa, although the lead actor seems to be a northerner (at least from his name since an online search failed to reveal any personal details about him). 

Nothing wrong with that. Some of the best films about a particular culture were made by those outside the culture. Being ‘outliers’, it often gave them an opportunity to provide a more or less balanced and objective ‘outsider’s perspective’ of the culture. Alfonso Cuarón, a Mexican, successfully directed “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” (2004), while Taiwanese director Ang Lee did the same with “ Brokeback Mountain” (2005), even earning him an Oscar. 

In 2006 Clint Eastwood, an American, directed “Letters From Iwo Jima.” The cast was almost entirely Japanese, and almost all of the dialogue was in Japanese. It was very well-received in Japan, and in fact, some critics in Japan wondered why a non-Japanese director was able to make one of the best war movies about World War II from the Japanese perspective. Abbas Kiarostami, an Iranian filmmaker, directed his film, “Certified Copy” (2020) in Italy, which contained French, Italian, and English dialogue starring French and British actors. 

British director Richard Attenborough successfully directed Ben Kingsley in the Indian biopic Gandhi (1982). The film was praised for providing a historically accurate portrayal of the life of Gandhi, the Indian independence movement and the deleterious results of British colonization of India. It took away eight Oscars. American director Steven Spielberg’s “Schindler’s List” (1993) on a German, Oskar Schindler, was equally a powerful portrayal of an auteur genius by a “non-native”. The film won seven Oscars. 

In each of these examples, the directors approached their subject matter with a clean, fresh and open mind that acknowledges the cultural sensitivities of the subject matter. My point is that a person, outside of a particular cultural context, can make sensitive films that portray the culture to his own culture as well as other cultures. That is not, however, how Nollywood plays when it focuses its cameras on northern Nigerian social culture. Specifically Muslims. 

I just can’t understand why they are so fixated on Muslims and the North. If the purpose of the ‘crossover’ films (as they are labelled) they make is to create an understanding of the North for their predominantly Southern audiences, they need not bother. Social media alone is awash with all the information one needs about Nigeria—the good, the bad and the ugly. You don’t need a big-budget film for that. Or actors trying and failing to convey ‘Aboki’ accents in stilted dialogues that lack grammatical context. 

Yet, they insist on producing films about Muslim northern Nigeria from a jaundiced, bigoted perspective, often couched with pseudo-intellectual veneer. To sweeten the bad taste of such distasteful films, they pick up one or two northern actors (who genuinely speak the Hausa language, even if not mainstream ethnic Hausa) and add them to the mix, believing that this will buy them salvation. For southern Nigerians, anyone above the River Niger is ‘Hausa’. 

They started in the early 2000s, and people just ignored them. The directors then included Oskar Baker (Ɗan Adamu Butulu, Abdulmalik), Yemi Laniyan (Makiyi, Uwar Gida), Tunji Agesin (Halin Kishiya), Matt Dadzie (Zuwaira), I. Nwankwo (Macijiya) and many others. These came on the heels of the massive success of “Sangaya” (dir. Aminu Muhammad Sabo, 1999) when this particular film opened up the northern Nigerian film market. 

Those Nollywood producers jumped into cash on the popularity of Hausa films and made their own for northern markets. For the most part, these early ‘crossover’ films that I refer to as ‘Northern Nollywood’ were fairly mild and evoked no reaction. They were still rejected, as the Hausa can be the most discriminatory people you can come across. If you are outside their cultural universe, you remain there. Forever. 

The few Kannywood actors eager to be seen on the ‘national stage’ allowed themselves to be used to deconstruct Islam and Muslims on the altar of filmmaking in subsequent Northern Nollywood films. Let’s not even talk about character misrepresentation, which Muhsin Ibrahim has written extensively about. In these scenarios, the usual tropes for northerners in Nollywood films is that of ‘Aboki’ (a term southern Nigerians believe is an insult to northerners, without knowing what it means), ‘maigad’ (security), generally a beggar. If they value an actor, they assign them an instantly forgettable role rather than a lead. Granted, this might be more astute and realistic marketing than ethnicity because it would be risky to give an unknown Hausa actor a significant role in a film aimed at southern Nigerians. 

A few of these types of portrayals in Nollywood included Hausa-speaking actors in films such as The Senator, The Stubborn Grasshopper, The World is Mine, Osama Bin La, Across the Border and The Police Officer. 

When Shari’a was relaunched from 1999 in many northern Nigerian States, it became an instant filmic focus for Nollywood. A film, “Holy Law: Shari’a” (dir. Ejike Asiegbu, 2001) drew such a barrage of criticism among Hausa Muslims due to its portrayal of Shari’a laws then being implemented in northern Nigeria that it caused credibility problems for the few Hausa actors that appeared in it. With neither understanding of Islam nor its context, the director ploughed on in his own distorted interpretation of the Shari’a as only a punitive justice system of chopping hands, floggings, and killings through foul-mouthed dialogue. As Nasiru Wada Khalil noted in his brilliant essay on the film (“Perception and Reaction: The Representation of the Shari’a in Nollywood and Kanywood Films”, SSRN, 2016) “the whole story of Holy Law is in itself flogged, amputated and killed right from the storyline.”

“Osama bin La” (dir. MacCollins Chidebe, 2001) was supposed to be a comedy. No one found it funny in Kano. Despite not featuring any northern actor, it was banned in Kano due to its portrayal of Osama bn Ladan, then considered a folk hero. The film was banned to avoid a reaction against Igbo merchants marketing the film. I was actually present in the congregation at a Friday sermon at Kundila Friday mosque in Kano when a ‘fatwa’ was issued on the film. Even a similar comedy, “Ibro Usama” (dir. Auwalu Dare, 2002), a chamama genre Hausa film, was banned in Kano, showing sensitivity to the subject matter. 

The reactions against crossover films seemed to have discouraged Nollywood producers from forging ahead. They returned in the 2010s. By then, northern Nigeria had entered a new phase of social disruption, and Nollywood took every opportunity to film its understanding of the issues—sometimes couched in simpering distorted narrative masquerading as social commentary—on society and culture it has absolutely no understanding of. 

In “Dry” (dir. Stephanie Linus, 2014), the director developed a sudden concern about ‘child marriage’ and its consequences. Naturally, the culprits of such marriage, as depicted in the film, are sixty-year-old men who marry girls young enough to be their granddaughters. The director’s qualification to talk about the issue (which was already being framed by child marriage controversy in the north) was that she has ‘visited the north’ a couple of times. With the film, if she could get at least “one girl free and open the minds of the people, and also instruct different bodies and individuals to take action, then the movie would have served its purpose.” The ‘north’ was living in darkness, and it required Stephanie Linus to shed light on ‘civilization’. 

 “A Delivery Boy” (dir. Adekunle Adejuyigbe, 2018) that I reviewed was about an ‘almajiri’ in an Islamic school who was kidnapped from the school, to begin with and repeatedly raped by his ‘Alamaramma’ (teacher). The almajiri somehow acquired sticks of dynamite to create a suicide vest and vowed to blow himself up—together with the teacher. The Alaramma in the film lives in an opulent mansion, far away from the ‘almajirai’. In this narrative universe, the ‘almajiri’ do not learn anything and are unwilling rape victims of their teaches who actually kidnapped them and forced them into the schools. 

“The Milkmaid” (dir. Desmond Ovbiagele, 2020) evokes the idealistic picture of a Fulani milkmaid and became a basis for a Nollywood film. Instead of focusing on the political economy of the Fulani milk trade, the film focused on the trope of terrorism. “The Black Book” (dir. Editi Effiong, 2023), touted as ‘Nigeria’s John Wick’ shoots a significant portion in ‘the north’ – with ‘Islamist’ hijab-wearing females touting assault rifles hidden underneath their hijab. “Jalil” (dir. Leslie Dapwatda, 2020) visits the recurrent theme of kidnapping for ransom. In the north, of course. 

Then came the latest, “Almajiri” (dir. Toka McBaror, 2022). Claimed to be a true-life story (although it is not clear whether it happened to specific people or based on what the director believed to be a common event), it featured muscle-bound badass types of thugs with guns and dreadlocks as Almajirai. The film reinforces the southern Nigerian trope of any beggar in the north being an Almajiri. Such ‘almajiris’ are kidnapped and sold into virtual slavery and horribly abused. The idea is to blame the parental irresponsibility of northerners. 

For southern Nigerians, especially the Nollywood crowd, an ‘Almajiri’ is a beggar, a product of a failed education system, a terrorist, a bandit, and an ‘aboki’. They use concocted figures bandied about by alphabet soup agencies to proclaim ‘over 10 million almajiri are out of school’ and, therefore, twigs of the terrorism inferno. How can someone who has been part of a system of education for over half a century be considered out of school? But for Nollywood, if it is not ABCD, then it is not education. 

“Northern Nollywood” films are the precise reasons why there will ALWAYS be different film cultures in Nigeria. Kannywood talks to its publics, happily churning out now TV shows that address issues it deems relevant—in its own way. Both the northern and southern parts of the country (covering the three major languages) were actively engaged. However, they were mutually non-legible to each other. This was essential because they operate on virtually opposing cultural mindsets – making the emergence of a truly “Nigerian cultural film” impossible. 

Quite a few writers seem to suggest that Kannywood is a ‘subset of Nollywood’, and indeed, many would prefer for the term Kannywood (created in 1999 by a Hausa writer) to be dispensed with and replaced with Nollywood (created in 2002 by a Japanese Canadian writer). It is to protect our cultural representation in films that I stand as a lone voice in advocating for a ‘Hausa Cinema’ to reflect the cultural universe of the Hausa.

Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu can be reached via auadamu@yahoo.com.

Salute to a Woman of Substance: Hajiya (Dr) Hafsatu AbdulWaheed, D.Litt., Honoris causa

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

She has done it again. She first did it in 1974/80. In 2024, she repeated it. The feat that no female northern Nigerian has ever performed. Hajiya Hafsatu Abdul Waheed (b. 1952, Kano, northern Nigeria) was the first woman creative fiction writer from northern Nigeria to be published in any language, although hers was in Hausa.

On 13th April 2024, she became the first female Muslim northern Nigerian to be honoured with D.Litt. (Honoris Causa “for the sake of the honour”) doctorate degree from a no less institution than the biggest online university in Africa, the National Open University of Nigeria (NOUN). This was at the 13th Convocation Ceremony of the university held on 13th April 2024 in Abuja, the main headquarters of the university.

In a way, Ms. AbdulWaheed represents a paradox. She is not Hausa or Hausa-Fulani. She is Fulani, pure and simple. She learnt Hausa only outside her family home, in school, but at home, it was Fulfulde all the way. Yet her creative writing has always been in Hausa, with the exception of one book of poetry in English and the recently published collection of short stories titled Sharo. Nothing in Fulfulde, though.

The common historical narrative on literary development in northern Nigeria was that a literary competition to encourage the reading culture among Hausa youth was organized by the Northern Nigerian Publishing Corporation (NNPC) in 1978. One of the entries, which was also one of the winners, was “So Aljannar Duniya” by Hafsatu Abdul Waheed. It was in the Hausa language. However, it would appear, according to Hafsatu herself, that she wrote the novel in 1972, and it was published in 1974.

It was, quite simply, the most radical novel in Hausa literary history. Even “Ƙarshen Alewa Ƙasa” by Bature Gagare (who died in 2002), an unconventional novel, , published in 1982 (as a result of a literary competition organized by the then Federal Department of Culture, Ministry of Social Welfare and Culture) did not come close. Curiously, they contrasted each other. Gagare’s novel is about the lost glory of the ‘original’ Hausa people—the Maguzawa. Hafsatu’s novel is about breaking the Pulaaku—the Fulani code of behaviour. Both Hafsatu and Gagare became spokespersons of their ethnicities.

So Aljannar Duniya is brash, bold, audacious, trenchant, and unapologetic. It is a declaration of war against Pulaaku. It was unarguably the first Fulani feminist tract written in Hausa. Hafsatu’s style and critique of tradition might be compared with those of Bilkisu Salisu Ahmed Funtuwa and Balaraba Ramat Yakubu. However, there are quite a few differences.

Despite its pioneering boldness, So Aljannar Duniya is difficult to read. Perhaps that was because the author started writing it while still in secondary school! Its narrative is often jumbled and non-linear. Understandable. It was written in anger, so words tend to wobble, but the message is clear. This is more so because it is ethnographic. Hafsatu wove a story around her sister, of course, a Fulani, who had every intention of marrying an ‘alien’—an Arab from Libya. So Aljannar Duniya is, therefore, a true story, spiced up by fictional elements to convey a message. As I said before, it is a feminist tract.

Balaraba Rama Yakubu, however, writes in a deeply engaging mature and absorptive style with plenty of hooks. For instance, “Wa Zai Auri Jahila?”, which I consider her best novel, is dark and deeply disturbing narrative of what in contemporary feminist Woke world would be considered an injustice to women, especially young girls in a traditional African society.

Although Novian Whitsitt, who did his PhD on Balaraba’s novels, referred to it as ‘feminist’ I disagreed with him. I labelled her works ‘womanist’, after Alice Walker’s short story, ‘Coming Apart’ (1979). As explained elsewhere, “a womanist is committed to the survival of both males and females and desires a world where men and women can coexist while maintaining their cultural distinctiveness.” This inclusion of men provides women with an opportunity to address gender oppression without directly attacking men (Adamu 2003). Balaraba reflects this in her novels, especially “Alhaki Kwikuyo” (translated by Aliyu Kamal and published by Blaft Books in India). Can’t say much about Bilkisu Funtuwa’s books, though, as I have never read any.

But Hafsatu AbdulWaheed is a feminist—at least as portrayed in So Aljannar Duniya. The plot revolves around a young Fulani lady who wants to marry an ‘alien’ (Arab) from Libya. In real life, Hafsatu’s elder sister. Their parents rejected the idea. The plot of the novel does away with the Fulani Pulaaku and introduces a brash, assertive, loud and anti-establishment heroine, Boɗaɗo, who, armed with a degree in Pharmaceutical Sciences, comes back to her village to set up a drug store (called Chemists in Nigeria, a bit like Walgreens) and introduces her fiancé—all un-lady like behaviours in the Fulani mindset.

Thus, she discards the Fulani munyal (self-control), semteende (modesty) and hakkillo (wisdom)—central components of Pulaaku—and declares, openly, her love for an “alien” in her auntie’s presence! The opening dialogue from the novel sets the pace in which Boɗaɗo, speaking, informs her aunt:

(Hau) Aure! Inna ni fa na gaya muku ba zan auri kowa ba sai wanda nake so. Kun san zamani ya sake.

(trans) Marriage! Aunty, I have told you that I will only marry the man I love. You know times have changed.

Such direct confrontation in a Fulani village was uncommon and reflects the author’s autobiographical rebellion against tradition. Her aunt—delegated to mediate in these matters on behalf of the protagonist’s mother—is shocked. As she lamented:

(Hau) Mhm! Wannan zamani, Allah Ya saukaka. Yarinya ki zauna kina zancen auren ki, sai ka ce hirar nono da mai. Don haka fa ba ma son sa ɗiyar mu makarantar boko. In kun yi karatu sai ku ce kun fi kowa. Me kuka ɗauke mu ne?

(trans) Mhm. These are difficult times. May Allah save us. Listen to you talk about your marriage as if you are talking about milk and butter. That is why we don’t want to send our daughters to school. After you finish, you feel superior to everyone. What do you take us for?

A battleground and the rules of engagement have been established—female empowerment through education—and Hafsatu chose the most conservative arena: a Fulani settlement, considered generally more trenchant about Pulaaku than urban Fulani. Additionally, the novel’s subtext of rebellion against arranged and forced marriage underscores Hafsatu’s acerbic demand for personal choice in marital affairs by women. It was a template for rebellion.

Another contrast between Hafsatu’s So Aljannar Duniya and Balaraba’s Wai Zai Auri Jahila? is in the choice of careers. Hafsatu chose Pharmacy for her protagonist, while Balaraba made her own a nurse. Pharmacy was a profession in the period, and by making her character a pharmacist, she thrusts Boɗaɗo into a man’s world to compete equally with men. Balaraba, on the other hand, by making her character a nurse instead of a doctor, maintains the womanist ethos of an achieving woman in a male-dominated society, fitting in with career stereotypes of women in caring professions.

The success of So Aljannar Duniya sent a message to the budding Hausa literati to pick up their pens and set to work—thus spawning a genre which t revolutionized the Hausa literary landscape in contemporary times.. Furthermore, the combined effects of the harsh economic realities of the 1980s (the decade of military coups and counter-coups in Nigeria) ensured reduced parental responsibility in the martial affairs of their children. Therefore, fantasy, media parenting, especially Hindi films, anti-authority and a loud, persistent message from bursting testosterones in a conservative society that sees strict gender separation combined to present Hausa youth with soyayya (romance) as the central template for creative fiction. It was a safety valve to repressed sexuality.

Hafsatu’s radicalism, however, did not end at rebellion against arranged or forced marriage for women. At one stage she declared to run for the office of the Governor of Zamfara State. This was provoked by a statement by the sitting governor that there were no educated women in the state. To prove him wrong, she decided to campaign for his chair! She even made posters, but was asked by her father to stop. At least, she had made a statement. Furthermore, her real-life echoes Boɗaɗo’s—she was also married to an ‘alien’ from the Middle East (a Syrian). Incidentally, it was a marriage that took her to Gusau, the Zamfara State capital, and I had the pleasure of meeting her late husband, Malam Ahmad Abdul Waheed, during a British Council “Intensities in Ten Cities” Islamophobia tour on 9th July 2003. Both Hafsatu and her husband were born and raised in Kano. It was his career that took them to Gusau.

In literary circles, she also has a voice. For one, she used to assiduously attend every single literary convention anywhere it was held. As part of ANA Kano activities, we were together in Niamey and Maraɗi in Niger Republic at various times to attend international conventions of Hausa writers. She never tired of attending and actively participating. Wonderful enough, she often went with her children and grandchildren, showing them the way. It is little wonder that some of these children became well-celebrated in their chosen professions—for they had a strong role model at home. A good example is her eldest daughter, Kadaria Ahmad, the award-winning journalist who owns and runs the NOW FM radio station in Lagos.

Thus, the recognition of the pioneering efforts of Hafsatu AbdulWaheed by the National Open University of Nigeria (NOUN) on 13th April 2024 during the university’s 13th Convocation was a salute not only to the resilience of feminist women but also to all Hausa language writers of both genders. As far as I know, she was the first female Muslim Fulani (or Hausa) writer to be so honoured by any university in Nigeria. She has, therefore, entered the history books. She is truly a woman of substance.

References.

Adamu, Abdalla Uba. “Parallel Worlds: Reflective Womanism in Balaraba Ramat Yakubu’s Ina Son Sa Haka.” JENDA: A Journal of Culture and African Women Studies, no. 4 (2003). https://bit.ly/3Q2gNlY.

Whitsitt, Novian. Kano Market Literature and the Construction of Hausa-Islamic Feminism A Contrast in Feminist Perspectives of Balaraba Ramat Yakubu and Bilkisu Ahmed Funtuwa. PhD dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 2000.

From Ruga to Artificial Intelligence: A mother’s lexicon of love

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

You might have remembered the post. March 8, 2023, to be precise. It was on International Women’s Day in 2023. It was about Sadiq, the fura hawker, and his wonderful mother, the fura seller at Bayero University, Kano. It was about love, faith, and sacrifice.

A simple Fulani woman sells fura so nourishing, fresh, and delicious that she could be given a slot in any restaurant at Harvard University—not the tree shade she occupies—and is often harassed at Bayero University. She does not sell fura because she needs the money. She sells it because she does not want to be idle. She is wealthy. Very wealthy. No mansions with a sea of workers at her beck and call. No fancy cars. No holiday retreats to the Seychelles. Simple meals. No crabs, oysters, lobsters, or caviar. No shopping in Paris and Dubai. Just cows. Many cows. Her lifeblood. She was willing to sell some of the cows to pay for her son’s education because, as a mother, she believed in him. She loves him and was willing to sacrifice her heritage—the cows—to ensure a sustainable future for him.

The son, Sadiq, has his head in the sky. He wants to fly, to be a pilot. The cost of the training at the Nigerian College of Aviation Technology, Zaria, in northern Nigeria, was more than ₦7 million. “No problem,” says the woman who lives in a hut with no electricity and draws her water from a well in a land that is not hers. “I can sell my cows for you to become a pilot.”

Unfortunately, Sadiq could not make the student pilot selection tests. Undeterred, she paid for his next choice—Computer Science at Al-Qalam University, Katsina, also in northern Nigeria. What made her a heroine was her sheer determination to see that he was educated. Human resource development at its most anthropological best—more sophisticated than the theories of Robert Owen, Charles Babbage, and Frederick Winslow Taylor, the credited proponents of the discipline. In this single but simple act of sacrifice, we see the power of love and the power of a woman who is not educated in any fancy school but the massive school of life. Yet, she knows, as a mother, the value of human capital development and is willing to sacrifice what she has to actualize it for her child.

At Al-Qalam, Sadiq was no slouch. His mother had sold a few cows to pay for his school fees for four years and also gave him spending money. He invested it in a fura business in Katsina—no doubt bringing Katsinawa the best fura they would ever taste from Kano! He did so to sustain himself throughout his college years without burdening his mother for upkeep money. He even employed some fellow students as his distributors. Extremely outspoken, he was the perfect candidate for the presidency of the Computer Science Students Association of the college, to which he ascended after being the Vice-President II of the association.

Back in Kano, he became a youth activist. He encouraged the formation of the Kano State Nomadic Fulɓe Youth Association in 2018. This was a coalition of all Fulani youth who had some form of education, especially higher education, and could therefore demand integration into society and better attention from politicians for their kraals. Ironically, considering that the power, hegemony, and control are actually in the hands of the Fulani—and have been so since 1807. This created a linguistic anomaly for the Fulɓe youth: those in power claim to be Fulɓe and although they have voices, they care less about Fulani causes. Those who speak Fulfulde and care more about Fulani causes are voiceless in the larger scheme of things.

Sadiq’s Fulɓe Youth felt the only way to gain attention to the plight of the Fulani was to align themselves with a political party. They chose a party not in power, the New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP), because they felt they would be listened to. Ironically, the All Progressives Congress (APC), which was in power, would have worked for them because of the “ability to speak Fulfulde” factor, since the then Governor of Kano, Dr. Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, is a genuine “I can speak Fulfulde” Fulɓe. But they chose the NNPP and its gubernatorial candidate, Eng. Abba Kabir Yusuf. They believed in him and devoted themselves to his cause.

During Engineer Abba Yusuf’s campaigns in 2019, a lyricist named Tijjani Gandu composed a political song for him titled, “Abba Gida Gida Abba”/Abba in every home. This actually became more or less Abba Kabir Yusuf’s nickname. With a catchy chorus and hook, it was perhaps the most iconic political song in Kano’s popular culture, even eclipsing “Kwankwaso Dawo Dawo”/ (Kwankwaso re-contest). Someone even had White kids somewhere in the US or Europe dancing to the chorus on social media!

Sadiq and Fulɓe Youth came up with a brilliant plan: map out all the Fulani kraals (Ruga) in Kano using their GPS coordinates in Google Maps to obtain data for easy access to the Fulani kraals (which he pluralizes as ‘Rugage’). Using satellite mapping, it would be relatively easy to determine access, population, and the level of development in each Ruga, which would be effective for campaigning, as well as for other uses—health and vaccination campaigns, schooling drives, etc. Next, the Fulɓe Youth under Sadiq came up with a slogan to campaign for Abba Kabir Yusuf: “Abba Ruga Ruga Abba,” deliberately rhyming with Abba Gida Gida Abba. They were even able to negotiate access to the man himself, i.e., Abba Kabir Yusuf. But it all came to naught.

Sadiq continued his studies, finishing in the autumn of 2023. Everyone knew he was excellent, and when Al-Qalam held a convocation ceremony last year for only First Class students, everyone who knew Sadiq expected him to be among those honored. Alas, it was not to be. However, Sadiq scored a Second Class Upper in Computer Science—perhaps a first for a fura hawker who lives in a kraal.

With such brilliant results in computer science and a committed social philosophy of uniting all Fulani youth in all kraals on a peace mission, it remains to be seen whether his mother’s sacrifice has been in vain. Being the son of a nobody, he lacks access to ‘big people’ who will give him a job. But Sadiq is not one to give up easily. His mind is too sharp, too restless to trudge from one office to another with a large brown envelope carrying his CV and looking for a job in futility.

I won’t be surprised if he uses these attributes to design an Artificial Intelligence routine that would perfect milk production—thus giving us better fura. Who knows? Harvard University might even invite him to open the first AI Restaurant in the world. Before then, as he faces his NYSC in May 2024, it would be a shame to waste his organizational skills. SA on Fulbe Youth? Why not? After all, the kraals also need development and attention—and not only during elections either.

Sadiq is what he is now—a unique, proud, hardworking, and brilliant Fulɓe youth advocate—because of his mother’s love and dedication. An ordinary mother, not the daughter of a “big man” or “important people,” just ordinary, but with an extraordinary commitment to love and sacrifice—and without being a social parasite.

Allah’s blessings for eternity to all mothers of the world on this day of re-embrace of Sadiq’s mother and her lexicon of love.

Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu can be contacted via auadamu@yahoo.com.

“Mine is bigger than yours”, professorial count, that is!

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

The recent Facebook ribbing about the number of professors from states and localities in various northern cities with universities reminds me of the male adolescent macho posturing of “mine is bigger/thicker than yours” game played behind classrooms! I am even mentioned as a trophy — “yes but WE are the ones with a double professor!” referring to my being from Bayero University, Kano (BUK), in Kano State (Daneji in Kano Municipal).

The whole thing was ignited by an infographic with its origin in ₦airaland Forum where one Zafsy75 posted the graphic. Right away a fierce debate ensured on the forum with many commentors disputing the figure. Zafsy75 themselves did not provide additional scientific methodology on how they arrived at the figures. Nevertheless, they infographic became viral — and started the prideful ‘mine is bigger than yours’ ribbing.

The infographic was from Statisense which uses Generative Artificial Intelligence to generate its data! A search on its site revealed another graphic of “most professors” in Nigerian universities, in September 2023, with the University of Jos leading with 530 professors. BUK had 434 professors which included 10 women. I can personally count more than 20 women professors in BUK in 2021, not 2023! No methodology was provided as to how the figures for the universities were arrived at.

People should be aware that AI generated data is based on what the engine can find — it does not create the data. Thus, it is actually not possible to accurately determine the number of professors per state or local government even based on the much-quoted NUC Directory of Full Professors, 2021 (link to the publication attached below).

This is because the directory lists professors by DISCIPLINE in order to promote research collaboration and networking amongst Nigerian academics. Also, the Directory was not based on official submissions by various universities, but voluntarily by INDIVIDUALS which was synthesized and summarized by NUC. Additional source for the AI was personal websites where a professor proclaims to come from a particular university.

Thus, not EVERY professor agreed to submit their details to be captured. With this, it therefore becomes very difficult to accurately determine the number of professors from each state, as that was not the focus of the Director (or NUC’s intentions).

You can only get the official number of professors from individual universities. As of October 2023, BUK had 381 professors with the largest category being in Medical Sciences. All the professors were, however, not listed by their States or Local Governments, but their DEPARTMENTS or specializations.

So, I can’t see how the game of ‘mine is bigger than yours’ started. I believe; however, it was started by the infographic floating around showing the number of professors per UNIVERSITIES in the various states. The graphic was not providing the number of professors per state of origin, but per the universities IN the state. It made it clear by stating it is “by state where the school is located.”

Thus, if you are from Anambra and are a professor in BUK, this infographic will capture you as being from a university in Kano, but you will not be captured in any university in Anambra. In this way, it does not tell you the number of professors from indigenous to Anambra.

Right away, it is faulty (or fake). As of October 2023, BUK had 381 professors. Last week another 11 were announced bring the total to 392 as of February 2024. So how can Kano have 428 professors in 2022? Granted there are many universities in Kano, but the main prominent ones — Aliko Dangote University of Science and Technology, Yusuf Maitama Sule University — are basically tributaries of BUK. Indeed, most of the others rely on BUK professors as ‘visiting’ to their faculties.

Kaduna State where Ahmadu Bello University is located has at least eight universities — and you want me to believe the entire universities in the State have 62 professors? I am sure Kaduna State University (KASU) alone had either more than or close to that.

While the ribbing was fun while it lasted, at least it wakes us up to the idea of fake data and weaknesses of Generative Artificial intelligence.

As promised, below is the link to the authentic number of professors voluntarily submitted to NUC as of 2021. BTW, yours truly is listed TWICE on page 836. They still pay me single salary, though!

Directory of Full Professors in the Nigerian University System, 2021: https://shorturl.at/yKV34

#2: Kannywood Chronicles – Aminu Hassan Yakasai and Turmin Danya

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

An industry is a system made up of interconnecting parts that synchronise together to create a perfect dynamic and functional entity. However, there is a central creative focus. Thus, while no one can claim to have been the actual originator of commercial Kannywood since many people – and processes contributed to its development – nevertheless, the creative spark that lit the fire of Kannywood was the late novelist Aminu Hassan Yakasai. If one person can be credited with creating the industry, it was him and only him. 

In the late 1970s, the Nigerian film director Ola Balogun directed two successful Yoruba films. The first, “Ajani Ogun”, was co-produced with the actor Ade Love. The second, “Ija Ominira”, starred Ade Love. Hubert Ogunde, a famous Yoruba travelling theatre showman, decided to join the trend. He invited Ola Balogun to direct Aiye, which was hugely successful and led to a follow-up, Jaiyesinmi. 

These Yoruba films found their way to Kano’s bustling “stranger” (or, more appropriately, “guest settlers”) communities of Sabon Gari in the 1980s, where they were shown in cinemas and hotel bars. This attracted the attention of Hausa amateur TV soap opera stars and crew, such as Bashir Mudi Yakasai (cinematographer), Aminu Hassan Yakasai (scriptwriter) and Tijjani Ibrahim (director). Surprisingly, despite the massive popularity of Hausa drama in television houses and government financial muscle, the idea of full-scale commercial production of Hausa drama episodes by the television houses was never considered. Individuals wishing to own certain episodes simply go to the television station and pay the cost of the tape and a duplication fee, and that was it. There was no attempt to commercialise the process on a full scale. 

In the same period, the northern cities of Kano, Kaduna, and Jos benefitted immensely from the massive transfusion of modern media influences caused by not only a liberal society but also the tolerant interaction of diverse cultures and religions in the same public spaces. They were, undoubtedly, the creative hubs of northern Nigerian popular culture. Jos was famous for its vibrant nightclub and music scene. Kaduna also had a rich musical heritage, coupled with a TV culture. Kano was more muted and relied on music and club life inflows to Sabon Gari from other regions. 

However, one aspect of popular culture Kano had that was absent in Kaduna and Jos was prose fiction. While other cities were grooving the night away, residents of Kano were burning the midnight oil. The first published modern Hausa fiction was “So Aljannar Duniya” by Hafsat AbdulWaheed from Kano in 1980`. It opened the floodgates and led to hundreds of novelists creating a whole genre of African indigenous fiction referred to informally as Kano Market Literature. 

Also, at the same time, Kano had many drama groups that enjoyed stage plays that were often improvisational and not based on any script but with a general focus on social responsibility. These drama groups became spawning grounds for those who established the Kannywood film industry. These included Tumbin Giwa Drama Group (Auwalu Isma’ila Marshall, Shu’aibu Yawale, Ibrahim Mandawari, Adamu Muhammad, Ado Abubakar, Jamila Adamu. (Gimbiya Fatima), Hajara Usman, Ɗanlami Alhassan, etc.), Jigon Hausa Drama Club (Khalid Musa, Kamilu Muhammad, Fati Suleiman, Bala Anas Babinlata), Tauraruwa Drama & Modern Film Production (Abdullahi Zakari Fagge, Shehu Hassan Kano, Iliyasu Muhammad, Hajiya Rabi Sufi, Auwalu Ɗangata, Ado Ahmad G/Dabino, Asama’u Jama’are), and Hamdala Drama Wudil ( Its members include Rabilu Musa Ɗanlasan (lbro), Mallam Auwalu Dare, Ishaq Sidi Ishaq, Bappah Yautai, Bappah Ahmad Cinnaka, Haj. Hussaina Gombe (Tsigai), Shua’ibu Ɗanwamzam, Umar Katakore etc.) There were many more, of course, but these were foundational to Kannywood. 

The TV shows from then Radio Television Kaduna were gripping and inspiring to these drama groups. TV show stars that became role models to these Kano drama groups included Ƙasimu Yero, Usman Baba Pategi Samanja, Haruna Ɗanjuma, Harira Kachia, Hajara Ibrahim, Ashiru Bazanga (Sawun Keke) and others. 

Thus, it was that at the time of producing Bakan Gizo in Bagauda Lake Hotel 1983 to 1984 Aminu Hassan Yakasai, Ali “Kallamu” Muhammad Yakasai, Bashir Mudi Yakasai started strategising creating a drama for cinema settings (thus Kannywood was often seen as the creation of a ‘Yakasai Mafia’ as those from Yakasai dominated its creative direction!).

The tentative title of the film they were thinking of shooting was to be called Shigifa. It was a story of four unemployed graduates thinking about setting up a company – a departure from the romantic or comedic focus of then-then-popular TV shows. A script idea was floated, and Aminu Hassan Yakasai was to be the scriptwriter. However, before the idea matured, the group started getting contracts for video coverage of social events, etc. Actually, part of the coverage was also stored as footage, although the film was not eventually made. 

The precise decision to commercialise the Hausa video film, and thus create an industry, was made by Aminu Hassan Yakasai in 1986, with technical support of Bashir Mudi Yakasai, the leading cinematographer in Kano, and Tijjani Ibrahim, a producer with CTV 67. 

Aminu Hassan Yakasai was a member of the Tumbin Giwa Drama Group. He was also a writer and a member of the Raina Kama Writers Association, which spearheaded the development of what became known as Kano Market Literature in the 1980s. Thus, the idea of putting Hausa drama—and extending the concept later—on video films and selling it was a revolutionary insight, simply because no one had thought of it in the northern part of Nigeria. The project was initiated in 1986, and by 1989, a film, Turmin Danya, had been completed. It was released to the market in March 1990—giving birth to the Hausa video film industry. Salisu Galadanci was the producer, director, and cinematographer, while Bashir Mudi Yakasai provided technical advice. 

The moderate acceptance of Turmin Danya in Kano encouraged the Tumbin Giwa drama group to produce another video, Rikicin Duniya in 1991 and Gimbiya Fatima in 1992 — all with resounding success. By now, it was becoming clear to the pioneers that there seemed to be a viable Hausa video film market, and this viability laid the foundation of the fragmented nature of the Hausa video film industry. While organised groups formed to create the drama and film production units, individual members decided to stake out their territories and chart their future. Thus, Adamu Muhammad, the star of Gimbiya Fatima, decided to produce his own video film, independent of the Tumbin Giwa group in 1994. The video film was Kwabon Masoyi, based on his novel of the same name, and outlined the roadmap for the future of the Hausa video film. At the same time, it sounded the death knell of the drama groups. This was because Aminu Hassan Yakasai, who created the very concept of marketing Hausa video films—and thus created an industry—broke away from Tumbin Giwa and formed Nagarta Motion Pictures. Others followed suit.

Other organised drama groups in Kano did not fare too well either. For instance, Jigon Hausa, which released a genre-forming Munkar in 1995, broke up with the star of the video film, Bala Anas Babinlata, forming an independent Mazari Film Mirage production company (Salma Salma Duduf). Similarly, Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino broke away from Tauraruwa Drama and Modern Films Production (which produced In Da So Da Ƙauna) and formed Gidan Dabino Video Production (Cinnaka, Mukhtar, Kowa Da Ranarsa). While Garun Malam Video Club produced Bakandamiyar Rikicin Duniya, written by Ɗan Azumi Baba, after the video film was released, Baba left the group and established RK Studios (Badaƙala). 

From field studies and interviews with the producers in Kano, most of these break-ups were not based on creative differences but on financial disagreements or personality clashes within the groups. The number of officially registered “film production” companies in Kano alone between 1995 and 2000 was more than 120. There were many others whose “studio heads” did not submit themselves to any form of registration and simply sprang into action whenever a contract to make a film was made available. 

Interestingly, Adamu Muhammad of Kwabon Masoyi Productions produced the first Hausa video film entirely in English. It was “House Boy”. Although it was an innovative experiment by a Hausa video filmmaker to enter into the English language video genre, it was a commercial disaster. Hausa audience refused to buy it because it seemed too much like a “Nigerian film”, associating it with southern Nigerian video films. When the producer took it to Onitsha—the main marketing centre for Nigerian films in the south-east part of the country—to sell to the Igbo marketers, they rebuffed him, indicating their surprise that a Hausa video producer could command enough English even to produce a video film in the language. Further, the video had no known “Nigerian film” actors and, therefore, was unacceptable to them. Thus, the Hausa audience rejected it because it looked too much like a “Nigerian film”, while non-Hausa left it because it used “unknown” Hausa actors, so it must be a Hausa film, even though the dialogue was in English!

Tragically, Aminu Hassan Yakasai died in an automobile accident on Saturday, June 16, 2001, on his way to Katsina to participate in a film, “Arziki da Tashin Hankali”.

The Three Musketeers and the Last of the Mohicans

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

It is not every day that a series of coincidental events converge. Like the passage of Haley’s Comet, these events happen only once in one’s lifetime. I am eternally grateful to Allah (SWT) for enabling me to witness one of these coincidental events. 

While still in active service in the university, where I have been for the last 43 years, I feel fulfilled that three of my students who became my colleagues and friends in the Department of Education have now become Vice-Chancellors in the same period within three years of each other. These are Prof. Sagir Adamu Abbas (VC Bayero University Kano, 2020), Prof. Abdulrashid Garba (VC, Khalifa Isyaku Rabi’u University Kano, 2023) and the most recent, Prof. Muhammad Ibrahim Yakasai (VC Sule Lamido University, Kafin Hausa, Jigawa State, 2023). 

During their career development, I nicknamed them “The Three Musketeers” because of their closeness to each other, coupled with the almost military approach they adopted to their career. They started their doctoral studies at the same time, finished at the same time, rose and became professors at the same time! Each was highly focused with a target in mind. Each has proven his mettle scholastically – with each spending extended periods as a Visiting Professor in foreign universities. The research area of each of them was truly a contribution to knowledge in the discipline. 

The term I chose to describe them is based on characters in a novel by Alexandre Dumas in 1844 called “The Three Musketeers”, which describes the adventures of three-foot soldiers who were close pals. I consider myself part of them because they are individually my friends. And these three Vice-Chancellors are really close, not just as professional colleagues but their families are also close. 

Of course, besides myself, they had other tutors in the Faculty of Education (Bayero University Kano). Still, I am the only one remaining out of all those who tutored them since all the others have retired. I am, therefore, the Last of the Mohicans (another literary reference, this time to James F. Cooper, 1826) and had the unique opportunity of seeing his career convergence in December 2023 when Prof. Muhammad Ibrahim Yakasai was appointed the Vice-Chancellor of the Sule Lamido University, Kafin Hausa, Jigawa State. 

It is a rare opportunity to see a celebration of such success, humility and friendship in each of them. Allah Ya taya su riƙo, amin.