Hausa people

By Muhammad Sulaiman

The Arewa Community Germany has formally disassociated itself from a video circulating online about a so-called “Hausa International Protest” organised by Hausa Tsantsa Development Association, staged in Berlin.

In a letter addressed to Nigeria’s Consul General in Frankfurt, Ambassador Yakubu A. Dadu, the group said it had no role in organising or endorsing the demonstration and warned that the protest’s message conflicts with its core values.

The association, represented by Alhaji Tijani Garba, Dr. Ummah Aliyu Musa and Buhari Abubakar, stressed that it was founded on the principle of unity among all northern Nigerian peoples. It noted that Hausa, Fulani, Kanuri, Tiv, Nupe and other groups share a common heritage, adding that the organisation “does not draw lines” between northerners and will not support any activity that promotes ethnic profiling or elevates one group above another.

According to the statement, the Berlin protest risks fueling division and misunderstanding among Arewa communities in the diaspora, where the group says cohesion is especially important. The association reaffirmed its focus on cooperation, peaceful engagement and presenting a positive image of Northerners living in Germany.

The Arewa Community Germany also cautioned the public against linking its name to the protest, emphasising that any event involving the association will be announced through its official channels.

The group concluded by reaffirming its stance on harmony, mutual respect and a united Arewa identity.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Umar Aboki

The traditional Hausa cap, also known as “Hula,” is recognised for its intricate embroidery and is often worn with traditional Hausa attire. It has a long history in Hausa land, originating as a common and traditional male garment and later evolving into a symbol of cultural, religious, social, and even political status.

Many people associate any man they see wearing a Hula with being a Muslim or Hausa or both. Yusuf Ahmad, a traditional Hausa cap seller, believes that wearing a Hausa cap is a sign that indicates someone is a Hausa man and a Muslim, and that wearing a Hausa cap is what completes a man’s decency. 

Yusuf added that the older generation of Hausa men like to wear tall Hausa caps, while the new generation prefersshorter ones. And when people come to buy caps, they mostly ask for the cheaper and lighter ones; it is the rich men who usually ask for the Zanna-Bukar and other heavier ones.

There are various types of traditional Hausa caps, including “Zanna-Bukar”, “Damanga”, “Zita”, “Maropiyya”, “Zulum” and “mu-haɗu-a-banki”. They are distinguished by factors such as the materials used to make them, their place of origin, the wearers, and their purposes, among other considerations. However, the most popular and widely worn is the “Zanna-Bukar”. Overall, the hula has evolved from being merely a piece of headwear to a symbol of cultural identity and belonging within the Hausa community and beyond. 

Malam Khamilu, a resident of Yahaya Gusau Road, Kano, claims that he wears Hausa caps frequently, especially the Zanna-Bukar. He says it is very special to him and he got his own tailor-made, specially for himself. He also considers his cap a part of his identity as a Hausa-Fulani man and a Muslim.

The Hula is not limited to being worn only within Hausa communities. It is worn by men in many populations in North Africa, East Africa, West Africa, South Asia, and the Middle East.

Zulyadaini Abdullahi Adamu, a Hausa cap knitter and seller, says he wears his Zanna-Bukar or Damanga daily, and he knits the Zanna-Bukar, Damanga and PTF, then sells them at prices ranging from eight thousand to thirty thousand Naira, and that people come to buy them from Jigawa, Maiduguri and other states and places.

Men throughout the African diaspora also wear it. Within the United States and other foreign countries, it has become primarily identified with persons of West African heritage, who wear it to show pride in their culture, history, and religion. Dauda Ibrahim Dachia, a Northern Nigerian staying in Tirana, Albania, claims to wear his traditional Hausa cap overseas, but not all the time. He usually wears it on Fridays, during Eid celebrations, or during cultural events.

It was written in an article by the Centre de l’ldentité et de la culture Africanes titled ‘The Khada Habar: A traditional hat in a Hausa environment’ that “wearing a hat is a mark of respect for oneself, above all, according to Mr. Adéyèmi “when you don’t wear a hat, traditional dress is not complete”, he insists, “it reflects a disconnect between man and his own culture”.

Muhammadu Sa’idu, another resident of Kano, claims to wear the Zanna-Bukar frequently, usually to events. He says that anytime he wears it, people respect him a lot. He also has a ‘Damanga’ but prefers wearing the Zanna-Bukar. In his case, he doesn’t usually associate Hula with the Hausa tradition or Islam.

 Sa’id Salisu Muhammad, a Hausa cap washer at Gaɗon ƙaya, says he wears traditional Hausa caps a lot, especially the Zanna-Bukar. He says that a typical Hausa man always wears the Hula to work, events and other places, so they have to always bring them in for washing. He also notes that people bring in Zanna-Bukar the most, followed by the lighter ones such as the “Maropiyya” and “Zita”.

The Hula also serves as a means for people to fit into Hausa communities, as they are seen as a symbol of identity, and provide a sense of belonging. Musa Abdulrazaq, a young man from Kaduna who studies in Kano, says anytime he is in Kano, a place where the Hausa culture is evident and vibrant, wearing the traditional Hausa cap is very important to him. Although he doesn’t wear it much back at home, he understands that it is a vital part of the culture in Kano, so he regularly wears his Hula to fit in with the people of Kano and feel at home.

However, not everyone from outside the Hausa community feels the need to identify with the Hausa people. Umar Ahmad, a Fulani man who visits Kano but has been staying here for about two years, says he doesn’t wear the traditional Hausa caps. Instead, he maintains his Fulani cap. And when asked, he said he does indeed associate the Hula with Islam and Hausa tradition.

Umar Aboki wrote via umaraboki97@gmail.com.

By Salisu Uba Kofar Wambai

The safety and dignity of Hausa people in Nigeria are increasingly under threat. The recent spate of brutal killings targeting innocent Hausa travellers across various regions of the country is both alarming and unacceptable. 

Disturbingly, the North Central and Southern parts of Nigeria, in particular, are turning into graveyards for members of the Hausa community, despite the hospitality and freedom non-indigenes continue to enjoy in Hausa land—where people from across the country have settled peacefully, enjoying all rights guaranteed under the Nigerian Constitution, including freedom of movement and residence.

The recent killing of two Hausa tanker drivers in the South-East came as a shock. They were attacked and butchered while trying to repair their broken-down vehicle. Similarly, the horrific massacre of Hausa hunters in an incident that sent shockwaves across Nigeria and beyond speaks volumes about the rising hostility against the Hausa community.

Equally tragic was the killing of Hausa travellers in Plateau State who were on their way to honour a wedding invitation. Their brutal slaughter reflects the growing dehumanisation of Hausa people, treated like cockroaches in a country they call home. In Benue State, two sons of renowned Islamic scholar, Malam Ibrahim Khalil, were also gruesomely murdered, as though their lives meant nothing.

These atrocities raise serious questions: Are we to fold our arms while our people are slaughtered day after day? Where are our political leaders? Where are the Hausa individuals within the security and intelligence networks? Is silence the best they can offer? Or is the Hausa community being pushed to a point where it might be forced to retaliate?

This alarming trend must not be ignored. The examples highlighted are only a fraction of the broader pattern of persecution being endured by Hausa people across the country. Despite being one of the most accommodating and detribalized ethnic groups in Nigeria, the Hausa are being pushed to the wall—and if this continues, the unity of the Nigerian federation could be at serious risk.

Urgent action is required. These barbaric attacks must stop, and those responsible must be brought to justice. The time to act is now.

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 Salihi Adamu Takai

Farida Musa Kalla(FMK) should be the exact definition of the Hausa woman in Kano, not as some of themmischievously intend to misrepresent to the world, being a hope of a lavish and luxurious life without a purpose in their matrimonial home. 

FMK, a woman who married her husband in her early years during her university days, uses her courage and ambition to define how women should be. She has steadfastly retained her femininity, contrasting with how others view them. 

Women are not a liability and shouldn’t be seen as such, neither by how “feminists” position them nor through the extremism of “masculinists.”

I was on Facebook, browsing my timelines when I came across a video on the DCL Hausa Page featuring an interview with Farida Musa Kalla, the CEO of FMK Nigerian Ltd. The program is titled “Sirrin Ɗaukaka,” and it invitesindividuals whose names trend in the media. 

In the interview, FMK disclosed how she started the business with a bit of capital of 30k in her matrimonial home. She used the market tactics she’s known for to advertise her business, recording videos for the materials she sells. This was the first time her name started coming to the media—Facebook, X, and YouTube.

As she improved the business, her husband advised her to put 600k in the business, given to her by her mother, to buy a car. According to her, this 600k expanded the business and blessed it in every second. And today she runs the business with hundreds of millions. 

As FMK’s business improves and gains recognition in the market, she poses a threat to prominent marketers in Kano, such as Mudassir & Brothers. They have started to adopt her market strategies — using videos to unveil their faces as the CEOS of their company, as she has been doing.

Interestingly, FMK has not been using immoral activities just to advertise her business, but rather strategies that are not questionable for a married woman. 

FMK should be a challenge to all the women in Hausa land who think that they’re a liability to their husbands, as they “belong to the kitchen,” as propagated by the immediate former President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, Muhammadu Buhari.

Salihi Adamu Takai wrote via salihiadamu5555@gmail.com.

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 Salisu Uba Kofarwambai

“Daba” comes from the Hausa term for a gathering place where people would sit and converse during their leisure time. Over time, the term took on a different connotation, referring to a spot where idle individuals would congregate, discuss, and plan their criminal activities, often fueled by drug addiction.

Historically, Hausa society had warriors known as Yan Tauri. These brave adventurers possessed magical powers and charms that made them nearly invincible in battle. They were also skilled hunters, often engaging in fierce competition over their prey. However, the Maitatsine crisis in the late 1970s to early 1980s marked a turning point for Yan Tauri. The crisis erupted when the followers of the heretic preacher Maitatsine clashed with the Nigerian government. 

Maitatsine, a Quranic teacher from Cameroon, had attracted a large following in Kano before beginning to preach against orthodox Islamic teachings. He started labelling people as infidels for merely watching TV or drinking tea with milk. When his son was killed at the street fight in Sabon Gari, Maitatsune started attacking people and killed many Kano residents.

The federal government refused to intervene, mainly due to party rivalry and Governor Abubakar Rimi’s criticism of the ruling party, NPN, and President Shehu Shagari. Thus, the Kano state government was left to handle the crisis on its own. The state government enlisted Yan Tauri’s help to combat the Maitatsine followers. Yan Tauri fought bravely, killing many followers, but this exposure to violence and bloodshed had a profound impact on them.

Following the Maitatsine crisis, Yan Tauri began to metamorphose into Yan Daba, a group notorious for their thuggery and violence. Politicians exploited Yan Daba for their gain, employing them as enforcers and thugs. During Governor Rimi’s tenure, the divide within the People’s Redemption Party (PRP) in Kano State further exacerbated the situation. The party split into two factions: the Santsi group, led by Governor Rimi, and the Tabo group, led by Malam Aminu Kano. Both factions employed Yan Daba thugs, leading to a deadly fight between the two groups.

Notorious Yan Daba members during this period included Gogarma, Mal Hadi, Gambo Cooperation, Sarki Change, Sabo Wakilin Tauri Mai Adashin Sara, Uba Dala Bala Turu, and many others. These thugs were known for their brutality and willingness to do whatever it took to achieve their objectives.

The reign of terror by Yan Daba continued until Major General Muhammadu Buhari came to power in 1983. Buhari’s administration cracked down on Yan Daba, arresting, killing, or forcing many of its members to flee Kano.

Then, in 1989, during General Ibrahim Babangida’s effort to transition Nigeria back to civilian governance, the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the National Republican Convention (NRC) were established. These parties significantly influenced Nigeria’s move towards democracy. However, they also, perhaps unintentionally, aided the revival of Yan Daba in Kano as politicians continued to manipulate them for personal gains.

Yan Daba’s activities plagued Kano, with members engaging in robbery, assault, and other forms of violence. The emergence of notorious gangsters marked their reign of terror.

With the return of democratic rule in 1999, Yan Daba continued to pose a significant problem in Kano. Politicians continue to exploit them for their own gain, and their activities remain a major challenge for law enforcement agencies. Over time, Yan Daba has evolved, with many members now engaging in phone robbery and other forms of cybercrime.

Today, Yan Daba remains a challenge, with members engaging in various forms of criminal activity. Their history should be a cautionary tale about the dangers of exploiting violence and thuggery for political gain.

Salisu Uba Kofarwambai wrote from Kano via salisunews@gmail.com.

By Garba Sidi 

It’s truly disheartening how some parents neglect their responsibilities in shaping their children’s behaviour. This lack of care can leave their biological sons and daughters feeling unloved. Love is crucial for a child’s healthy development.

On my way out of the city this morning, I overheard a conversation between two young men, no older than 24, who were smoking cigarettes. One said, ‘We have no value in people’s eyes because we messed up our lives.’ The other responded, ‘I swear, Nasiru, when I look at my friend Aminu, his life seems so good. Everyone likes him; he studied hard, has a good job, and looks at us, sitting in this dirty place. We ruined our lives, and we’re ashamed of ourselves.’

Nasiru’s friend spoke in a low voice, gathering his thoughts before narrating his story. He explained that his father was a car driver and his mother was from Bauchi State. When his father married his mother and brought her to Jigawa, she told him about his father’s recklessness in providing for their needs (his and his younger sister’s). After some years, his father married another woman, and whatever resources he brought came to her, leaving them with nothing but what their neighbours offered.

His mother sadly passed away, plunging him into deep sorrow. From that point on, their life became a struggle. He started going to the fish market to earn money for food and other necessities, as his stepmother used everything his father brought, even food, leaving them barely enough to eat. His stepmother, who didn’t have children herself, would sometimes even tell him his father wasn’t a man because he couldn’t give her a child.

He had friends who smoked cigarettes, and being around them constantly led him to become a drug addict. He blames two things for his current situation: the love he lost from his father and the death of his mother.

His friend, Nazy, then began his story about joining this group of drug addicts. He attributed the core reason for his situation to his mother’s neglect in shaping him in his youth. He explained that his mother sold food at home, and his father was a mechanic engineer. Many people came to their house to eat, and as the only male child, both parents showered him with love and didn’t punish him when he did wrong.

He started working as a shopboy for one of their regular customers. Things went well initially until he met the daughter of a wealthy businessman. They began a relationship, and she introduced him to a world of excessive entertainment, including smoking cigarettes, drinking syrup, injecting drugs, and inappropriate physical contact. Tragically, her father caught them drinking syrup in his apartment and handed Nazy over to the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) while his daughter continued to enjoy a comfortable life without consequences.

Nazy’s parents tried to get him out of jail but were too late. The wealthy man paid money to have Nazy imprisoned, blaming him for ruining his daughter’s life. Nazy spent five months in prison before being released. He heard the wealthy man’s daughter is now in Uganda. This is how he ended up in this cycle of addiction.

By Salim Yunusa

The formal inscription of the annual Kano Durbar by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) on its Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity is a welcome development to not just Kano but Nigeria as a whole. The nomination, adopted on the 6th of December, 2024, in Paraguay, at the 19th session of UNESCO’s Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, makes it the 8th element to be inscribed from Nigeria. UNESCO is a specialised agency of the United Nations that promotes peace and security through international cooperation in education, science, culture, and communication.

According to many sources, the Kano durbar is the world’s largest procession of colourful horses. It has evolved with the history, religion, culture, and tradition of the Kano people over time. It is usually done to mark the Islamic holidays of Eid-el-Fitr and Eid-el-Adha, among other special celebrations. While other similar durbars are carried across almost all Northern Nigerian cities such as Zaria, Katsina, Bauchi, Gombe, Hadejia, Maiduguri and Sokoto, the Kano durbar stands out due to the sheer number of participants, tourists, spectators and days of celebrations.

This global recognition is a significant milestone, celebrating one of Nigeria’s most vibrant cultural festivals. Renowned for its majestic horse parades, traditional regalia, and music, the Kano Durbar reflects Northern Nigeria’s cultural pride and rich heritage. While the jubilations over this achievement are justified, it is essential to explore the opportunities and responsibilities that come with the UNESCO inscription.

 Beyond the celebrations, stakeholders must now prioritise preservation, promotion, and leveraging this global acknowledgement to foster tourism, break down stereotypes, and drive cultural and economic development in Kano and Northern Nigeria as a whole.

Kano—and Northern Nigeria as a whole—is a goldmine of culture and tradition preserved for ages, although these are currently under threat of extinction. The Dye Pits of Kofar Mata, founded in 1498 and spanning five centuries, are at risk of becoming extinct due to disrepair and unsustainable practices in recent times. The walled city of Kano is gradually disappearing to give way to commercial structures along the busy roads of Kano. There is a growing threat of climate change eroding sites like Dala Hills, Gidan Makama and others due to neglect. Sustainable protection and preservation of sites like this must be done for future generations.

This particular UNESCO inscription underscores the need to preserve the Kano Durbar for future generations through strategic documentation and archiving of the festival’s history, rites, and performances. High-quality visual content and written materials can help maintain its essence while creating accessible records for global audiences. This will effectively engage the youth, which is vital to ensure the tradition remains dynamic.

In addition, effective and efficient collaboration between the Kano Emirate council, non-governmental organisations (such as MACOBA, UNESCO, Global Shapers, etc.) and government agencies (NICO, Ministry of Arts and Culture, Tourism Development, etc.) is necessary to provide funding, technical support, and regulations that safeguard the festival’s cultural integrity.

In a state like Kano, boasting the highest population in the country and being the most populous in Northern Nigeria, the Kano Durbar has the potential to become a cornerstone of Nigeria’s cultural tourism, becoming a blueprint for other durbars across the region. To achieve this, a well-coordinated tourism strategy is essential. This could include partnering with airlines, hotels, and tour operators to create attractive travel packages for domestic and international tourists. Marketing campaigns highlighting the Durbar as a unique travel experience should be launched across social media platforms and international media outlets. Collaborations with influencers and travel bloggers can also amplify its appeal.

Furthermore, enhancing the visitor experience is key. Infrastructure around festival venues should be improved, with better roads, accommodations, and festival-specific amenities. Creating dedicated viewing platforms and cultural villages can also enrich the experience for attendees, making the Durbar more accessible and enjoyable.

Beyond cultural pride, the inscription opens doors for economic development. Investments in Durbar-themed merchandise, souvenirs, and artisanal crafts can generate revenue for local communities. E-commerce platforms can facilitate the sale of these items to a global audience.

Additionally, recognising the festival as an international heritage can attract global partnerships and funding for sustainable development initiatives in the region. Furthermore, technology offers endless possibilities to promote the Kano Durbar. Virtual reality (VR) and augmented reality (AR) experiences can bring the Durbar to audiences unable to attend physically. Comprehensive online platforms can offer ticket sales, merchandise, and interactive content, ensuring year-round engagement with the festival. These digital initiatives can transform the Durbar from a localised event into a global cultural phenomenon.

Finally, the festival could serve as a hub for cultural exchange, inviting participants from other regions and countries to share their traditions and learn about the Durbar, fostering mutual respect and understanding. It could be so much more, with proper organisation and intention by the stakeholders involved.

The UNESCO inscription of the Kano Durbar is a momentous achievement that places the festival on the global stage. However, this recognition comes with responsibilities. By preserving its legacy, harnessing its tourism potential, and leveraging technology and cultural exchange, stakeholders can transform the Durbar into a beacon of Nigeria’s cultural excellence. Beyond the jubilations lies an opportunity to turn this acknowledgement into a catalyst for cultural pride, unity, and economic development. The time to act is now.

Salim Yunusa writes from Abuja, Nigeria and can be reached at syunusa@gmail.com.