Abdalla Uba Adamu

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Nigerian scholar Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu has officially announced the publication of his new book, Hausa Cinema of Northern Nigeria: Cultural Imperialism and Censorship, a landmark work that explores the development, politics, and aesthetics of Hausa-language film across West Africa.

Published by Bloomsbury, the book is the product of over twenty years of research spanning multiple countries and academic disciplines. Rather than focusing solely on the popular commercial industry known as “Kannywood,” Adamu takes a broader approach, examining Hausa cinema in its many forms—including diaspora productions, documentaries, art films, and digital series.

“This is not just about Kannywood,” Adamu explained. “It’s about Hausa cultural expression wherever it exists, rooted in Islamicate values and media flows across the Global South.”

Completed in 2010, the manuscript faced delays and was almost shelved. However, a 2023 conference presentation and a meal hosted by Dr. Muhsin Ibrahim, where Adamu jokingly called the large waina “one terabyte,” in Cologne, Germany, reignited interest, leading to its acceptance and revision. 

The final version, praised by scholars such as Graham Furniss and Brian Larkin, will be released in July 2025.

Though priced at $130, Adamu plans to publish a locally accessible companion book titled Kannywood: A Brief Introduction later this year in Kano. It will be tailored for readers interested in a concise, less theoretical overview.

With this announcement, Hausa cinema gains its most comprehensive and scholarly treatment, firmly placing it in the global conversation about media and culture.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

As we celebrate the World Book and Copyright Day (the UNESCO, not UK version) on 23rd April 2025, and even though it is targeted at children and youth, let’s reflect; after all, we were once children and youth. A historical excavation of our reading habits shows how lucky we were.

Hausa folks over 50 have always lamented the death of reading culture among contemporary Hausa youth. Such old fogies always hark back to the days of reading, mainly English language authors: James Hadley Chase, Denise Robins, Jacqueline Susann, Frederick Forsyth, Nick Carter, Stephen King, Robert Ludlum, Harold Robbins, Ayn Rand, Wilbur Smith, etc. Almost always English. Always British or American. The novels written by these authors, I would argue, laid solid foundations for their knowledge, command and mastery of the English language. 

And the comics. Tintin (actually, Tan-Tan), Asterix, Mad Magazine, Marvel comics (Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Thor, X-Men, etc). The entire comics of London’s Fleet Street. Evoking memories of Valiant, Thunder, Eagle, Commando, Cor!!, Buster, Tiger, Battle. Even football comics (even though I don’t particularly like football at all), such as Roy of the Rovers. The novels, the comics and the TV shows (Star Trek, Space 1999, Man from U.N.C.L.E., Man from Atlantis, Perry Mason, etc.), to be frank, laid the foundation of what I am today. Not much from Africa, though. But the little we had was superb as well. These included Lance Spearman’s African Film, Fearless Fang’s Boom, and a romantic tear-jerker, Joy.  

All were readily available at the Post Office in Kano and major supermarkets of Leventis and Kingsway. The latter in particular became a must-visit place for me in the 1970s. Nothing, absolutely nothing, beats the wonderful smell of fresh books being stacked on their shelves. And it wasn’t just books. I scrimped and saved pennies and shillings until I had enough to purchase my first vinyl record album – Rare Earth’s Get Ready in 1972, three years after it was released in 1969, when I first heard a single version on the radio. 

This was what defined reading culture, at least for those of us in the urban centres who grew up with it. And even if one can’t afford fresh new books and comics from Leventis and Kingsway stores, there are many places in Kano centred around Plaza in Fage, Coca Cola Roundabout, and even the main Post Office frontage itself, where hundreds of second-hand books are sold, even up to now. 

Exchanging books and discussing their plots, characters, and titles set the tone of conversations with friends. The most popular pulp fiction writer, of course, was René Lodge Brabazon Raymond, most popularly known as James Hadley Chase. Interestingly, his novels were written in the 1930s and later, painting an often-depressing picture of his setting (mainly the United States, even though he was British). Titles like Tiger By the Tail, Tell It to the Birds, Just a Matter of Time, Knock, Knock! Who’s There? There is a Hippy on the Highway that evokes our hastily copied Americanism. The garish covers, almost always graced by a long-legged sultry female model, made many truly judge the book by its cover. 

These foreign novels existed alongside African novels, particularly those published by Heinemann since 1969. The Heinemann African Writers Series produced a massive variety of novels, almost 225, many by people from the eastern part of Nigeria. For most of us, though, their postcolonial themes seemed too intellectual. Further, they were made part of the set reading for those offering literature, so again, many who want to read a novel just for pleasure rather than pan-African political philosophy simply avoided them. 

The struggle for the souls—and pockets—of school children in the 1970s continued in efforts to dislodge James Hadley Chase. In 1977, Macmillan Publishers decided to publish a low-cost paperback series under what they called the Pacesetters Series. These were published from 1979 to 1988 and became massively popular. I remember seeing one of the earliest, The Undesirable Element by Mohammad Sule from Kano, published in 1977, while we were students at ABU. 

When Sule finished the novel (which he wrote while a student at the now Rumfa College Kano), he initially took the manuscript to the Northern Nigeria Publishing Company (NNPC) in Zaria, which rejected it because it was in English. Luckily, Macmillan was in partnership with NNPC and the MD, a Briton, asked his wife to evaluate it. She did it positively and recommended it to Macmillan London, who were just about to start their Pacesetter series. See providence. If NNPC had accepted it, they would have created a large pool of English language novelists in northern Nigeria

For Baby Boomers (1946-1964) and Generation X (1965 to 1979), the Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) of 1986 severely affected their reading culture in one way: the books just dried up, whether foreign or local. Foreign became too expensive, local became too repetitive and static. We simply went back to the old classics and read them again and again. It was Robert Ludlum re-read (especially The Parsifal Mosaic) for me. 

All this was for ƴan boko. What about Hausa novels or reading materials? There are very few. By the 1980s, all the classics had been read, and no new ones were coming out. These included Magana Jari Ce, Ilya Ɗan Maiƙarfi, Gogan Naka, Nagari Na Kowa, Sihirtaccen Gari, Dau Fataken Dare, and a whole bunch of plays. Writing and publishing was very strenuous. Publishers could only publish if the books were to be made part of the set reading for WAEC, which limits the writer’s imagination and creativity. 

Then Hafsat AbdulWaheed came along with So, Aljannar Duniya in 1980. The first published Hausa language novel. The first by a woman from northern Nigeria. Plotting the classic Hausa marriage situation. A revolution was ignited in Hausa language fiction, leading to Mills and Boons style romantic fiction or Littattafan Soyayya. In less than five years, both male and female writers had emerged with stories to tell. Writers’ collectives were formed. The printing presses of party politics made it easier to self-publish. So, the writers ignored the snotty hoity-toity “big” publishers, especially NNPC (although NNPC can PRINT your book for payment, as they did with Balaraba Ramat’s early novels).  

In less than five years, the emergent authors have published more volumes than Heinemann (225) and Pacesetters (130). This made Hausa the most voracious reading public in Nigeria. Prof. Graham Furniss of the SOAS London even published a bibliography of the genre, including a whole website based at SOAS. When they became too much for the Kano State public culture, for that was where they flourished, a censorship board was created in 2001 to curb them. When that did not work, the Kano State government burned them in 2007 to cleanse the youth of the books. A harsher censorship regime debilitated them even more, throwing them out of business. The Hausa reading culture died. 

Then the Smartphone came in 2007—the then-Kano state Governor publicly burned Hausa books the same year. The same year, a harsher censorship regime was instituted in Kano that made life hell for the creative industries (Maryam Hiyana, anyone?). The iPhone, while not the first smartphone (Blackberry, anyone?), nevertheless revolutionised communication in its innovative approach to design. Clone copies with Android operating systems cemented the mass appeal of the smartphone. Eventually, it became commodified. 

Then, in 2013, Hausa novelists had their epiphany. They realised that with Facebook bubbling away, they could write their novels and escape censorship. Sure, no money, but they would be sharing their ideas. Things then blossomed from there. They created hundreds of Facebook pages for Hausa novels. When they became technologically proficient or engaged those who were, they created blogs sharing Hausa novels and creating massive readership throughout the Hausaphone world. For instance, Hafsat Hausa Novels (H²) had 471,000 members last time I checked. 

Then they discovered Wattpad, which had been in existence since 2006. They moved on the site with massive gusto, creating novels in three presentation modes – Hausa, English and Enghausa. Mainly by women. The migration online redefines “reading culture” if it is seen as engagement with text. Wattpad’s metrics alone convincingly show that the Hausa reading culture has been revived. For instance, Jewel by Maymunatu Bukar had 1.1 million reads. Thus, E-books and online literary content became increasingly popular, and social media can be used to share and discuss these resources

And let’s not ignore social networks and social media posts and COMMENTS. Agreements, disagreements (including insults typical of Arewa Social Media), expanded explanations – all are READING, and far livelier than just reading a book on your own. But again, social media gives us the opportunity to discuss – have a debate – about the books we like/hate (Goodreads, anyone?). 

“Reading culture” is a dynamic and evolving concept that encompasses more than the mere act of reading. It is an intricate web of practices, values, and institutional structures that defines how individuals and communities interact with texts. Whether viewed through a sociological, historical, or digital lens, understanding reading culture involves recognising the interplay between technology, policy, and the deeply personal ways that texts influence and reflect who we are.

I therefore argue that reading social media is very much part of today’s reading culture. It is a re-invention of reading culture. It may differ from traditional literary reading in depth, tone, and purpose, but it still involves interpretation, meaning-making, and cultural exchange. In any event, all the books, comics, and TV shows you so favoured are now digitally available (I have sourced all of these that defined my youth).

As reading culture adapts to the digital age, social media becomes an important arena for literacy and engagement in all spheres. Hey, you might even find the rest of the James Hadley Chase books you missed (you know he published 98, right?). 

Happy World Book and Acibilisian Day to y’all.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

In a striking example of how far young people are willing to go for online fame, a TikTok content creator known as Kabeer 2Pack has taken social media by storm with bizarre, often repulsive stunts—drawing the attention not only of millions of followers but also of serious academic inquiry.

Kabeer, dubbed the “April 2025 sensation,” has garnered over 5.2 million likes and 618,300 followers on TikTok by performing antics such as bathing himself in filthy gutter water and covering himself in dust and charcoal. His goal, he insists, is not madness but “glory”: “Ba hauka ba ne, ɗaukaka na ke nema,” he says—“I’m not mad, I seek glory.”

While his popularity soars—one of his videos reached 30.3 million views—critics question why such extreme behaviour overshadows respected Islamic scholars like Sheikh Aminu Daurawa, whose most viewed video stands at 2.4 million. In comparison, controversial influencer Murja Ibrahim Kunya boasts 3.1 million followers and 59.4 million likes.

Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu of Bayero University, Kano, argues that these influencers, despite their antics, are crucial subjects for academic study. “Influencers, trenders, even sickos and weirdos are all part of the data to harvest in order to fully understand contemporary society,” he wrote in a recent commentary.

According to Adamu, the phenomenon reflects what scholars now term the “Attention Economy,” where digital content, no matter how outrageous, is exchanged for social capital, influence, and often money. He compares this with global TikTok stars like Khaby Lame, who silently mocks life hacks and has amassed over 162 million followers—earning $20 million in 2024 alone.

“Even the most ridiculous trends can be read as resistance, escapism, or social commentary,” Adamu notes, urging researchers to see past the surface and explore the deeper meanings behind online behaviour.

In a digital age where clout is currency, young people like Kabeer 2Pack are not just chasing fame—they’re reshaping the culture, one like at a time.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

A postgraduate class at Bayero University faced an unexpected turnout issue during a recent lecture on social media’s role in popular culture. 

Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu, from the Faculty of Communication, scheduled his M.Sc. Popular Culture lecture for 2:00 p.m. on Monday, March 24, 2025. However, when he arrived, he was met with an empty classroom.

In a candid post on his Facebook page, Professor Adamu described the situation, expressing disappointment at the absence of his students, many of whom are mature individuals committed to their education. 

“I will wait one more hour, all by myself,” he wrote, revealing the gravity of the situation as he sat alone in the lecture hall.

The incident raises concerns about student engagement and commitment in higher education, particularly among postgraduate students who are expected to take their studies seriously. 

Professor Adamu’s experience reflects a growing trend of attendance issues in classrooms, prompting discussions among his social media followers about students’ attitudes to learning in Nigerian universities.

As the academic community reacts to this situation, it remains to be seen how institutions will address these challenges in the future.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

For some weeks, I had been involved in judging a photo competition themed “Spirit of Kano”. One way or another, I was made the “Chief Judge” by the Curator, Dr. Shuaib Sani Shuaib, Executive Director, Makuba Center for Arts and Culture, Kano. He is also the Curator for Global Shapers Community, Kano Hub. Overall financial support was also provided by Engr. Anas Yazid Balarabe, who is also the founder of the cooperative. 

As an amateur photographer with a deep and intense interest in art and the aesthetics of the environment, coupled with a fanatical advocacy for the best State on this side of the Milky Way Galaxy, I was honored to be appointed the Chief Judge. However, since it was an open competition and open voting, I designed the judgement criteria for the photos,which were used to judge the 100 or so entries by other judges. Photographers were urged to send pictures that, in their view, capture the “Spirit of Kano”. Many people participated, and many photos were sent. 

These entries were beautifully shot and captured the Spirit of Kanawa and Kananci. They were all beautiful. However, I judged them based on what the images conveyed about Kano in various visual ways—history, architecture, food, clothing, urban life, historiography, etc. For me, choosing the best three was really difficult because there was so much beauty and talent in each photograph—faces, places, spaces. The entire collection was a riot of colorful visual poetry that describes Kano. 

Each picture in the entries has unique features and communicates the dynamism of both urban and rural Kano. Thousands of words could be woven around each picture that communicate the vibrancy of Kano. My selection cuts across history, trade and lived-in experiences. I would have loved to see some architectural shots – the ones I saw were mainly Emir of Palace pictures (Ƙofar Kudu or thereof). A few shots of ‘mansions’ and ‘haciendas’ would have given an evolutionary trajectory of the Spirit of Kano, in addition to the alleyways and gidan kara.

Four judges trudged through the 100 or so entries and made their choices. These were then further pooled by common choice from each judge to pare down the selection to six, on which the final judgment of three was made. To ensure a fair and transparent selection process, the top three winners were chosen based on a combination of judges’ evaluations and public voting. The final ranking was determined by taking an average of the judges’ scores and the public vote ranking in which the winners emerged. Very transparent. Further, everything was done online. 

The final judgment of the top three (shown here) truly deserves it. The winners, based on the highest scores, along with their prizes, were:

1- Muhamad Sani Abbas (₦250,000)

2- Alamin Mohammed (₦150,000)

3- Aisha Suleiman Halili (₦100,000)

Muhammad Sani Abbas’s best picture was of a young greengrocer measuring a customer’s order in a local market. The intensity of his face captured everyone’s imagination and admiration. The photo of the boy is a bookmark on Kano and its commerce—never too young to start. It was indeed a beautiful shot. 

Alamin Mohammed took second place. Interestingly, the picture also shows another young lad galloping on a horse in full ‘royal’ regalia. Frozen in time, the horse rider captures Kano’s ancient tradition and royal heritage. 

Third place went to a composite study of the Kano Emir’s palace guards (Dogarai) from a truly sensitive POV. The winner, Aisha Halilu’s portrait of a shadowed Dogari, makes the maximum use of light and shadows to accentuate the beauty of the setting. The Dogari, with his back to the camera, clearly was not the focus of the shot but the far houses he was gazing at—a contrast between the traditional Hausa architecture of the palace and the post-modern bungalows he was gazing at. 

A picture by Ahmad Sufi, which I voted for, did not win, but that’s alright; after all, it was aggregate scores that mattered. I didn’t place it number one, but I had expected it to be at least number three. The outcome only highlights the high quality of the visual appeal of the photos entered in the competition. 

The one that did not make it on my list was a market scene with an Arab (at least the guy looks like an Arab but dressed in Babbar Riga) holding on to a camel. Far in the distance is a communication tower. To me, the pictures talk volumes about migration, cultural adaptation, trans-Saharan road networks and contemporary communication – all visually encapsulating what Kano has been for centuries and those to come. 

I think it is wonderful that an NGO of young, committed individuals could come up with this. It should be the purview of the Kano State History and Culture Bureau. A letter was sent to the Kano State Government requesting partnership/sponsorship, but there was no response at all. Even the prize money was sourced by Dr. Shuaibu, showing a commitment to Kano far greater than many of us. 

What could the next steps be? Perhaps an annual event? Or a regionalisation of the competition? For instance, it would be fantastic to see the “Spirit of Zazzau”, followed by Rano, Daura, Katsina, Gobir, and so on, all the way to Niamey. This way, we could have an annual Spirit of Hausa Kingdoms as visual poetry, encouraging young people to appreciate the historical, cultural, and aesthetic qualities of their environment. 

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.

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.

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)!

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. 

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.