Islam

By Muhammad Isah Zng

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

The Ulama Forum in Nigeria has condemned what it describes as false and inflammatory allegations by some international media outlets, including Fox News, Radio Genoa and American talk show host Bill Maher, claiming that 500,000 Christians were killed in Nigeria last year.

In a statement signed by Convener Aminu Inuwa Muhammad and Secretary Engr. Basheer Adamu Aliyu, the Forum described the claims as “entirely unfounded, reckless, and designed to misinform the international community.” 

It added that Nigeria’s security challenges—terrorism, banditry, and farmer-herder clashes—affect both Muslims and Christians, not any single religious group.

The Forum noted that Muslim communities, particularly in the Northwest, have “suffered disproportionately,” with thousands killed in repeated attacks ignored by international coverage. It warned that spreading false genocide narratives could inflame tensions and undermine peace efforts.

Quoting the Qur’an, the Forum reaffirmed Islam’s prohibition of killing innocents and called for unity among Nigerians “to resist attempts by foreign actors to manipulate false narratives.” 

It also urged the government to intensify security measures and advised international media to report responsibly and respect Nigeria’s diversity.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

A new book examining the cultural and religious forces shaping the Hausa-language film industry, Kannywood, will be released on 5 December 2025 by Springer Nature.

Titled Kannywood: Film, Faith and Identity in Northern Nigeria, the work critically explores how filmmakers navigate religious expectations, cultural norms and language ideologies while appealing to a diverse audience.

The author, Dr Muhammad Muhsin Ibrahim, teaches Hausa Studies at the University of Cologne and is an expert in Hausa media and cultural production.

The study employs audience reception theory and a close analysis of selected films to reveal tensions within the industry, including the dominance of the Kano dialect, the marginalisation of others, such as Sokoto’s, and the commercialisation of “broken” Hausa.

The book also highlights the pressures of global influences and conservative religious forces, presenting Kannywood as a contested space of identity and representation in northern Nigeria.

By Aisha Musa Auyo

When you can be kind and helpful, do it immediately. Don’t procrastinate or wait for the “right time.” You may not live to see that time, or the person you want to help may not. The point of power is always now.

I’m inspired to share this because two recent incidents made me reflect deeply. One was the death of a close relative, the other, the passing of an acquaintance I only met once but stayed connected with through social media.

In the first incident, an aunt of mine came from another town for her monthly hospital appointment. She usually arrived a day before to avoid being late. That evening, after visiting some relatives, she spotted a shawarma shop and sighed: “Zan so na ci shawarma ko da sau ɗaya ne a rayuwata” (“I would love to taste shawarma at least once in my life”).

My cousin, who was driving, ignored her words and sped past. I pleaded with him to go back, but he insisted the shop was closed and wouldn’t open until 7 p.m., which is true. My aunt looked disappointed.

Later at home, I begged him again to get me shawarma bread so I could prepare it for her. He brushed it off, saying he was tired, and reminded me she’d be leaving early the next morning. “You can always make it for her next month,” he said. But my heart wouldn’t allow me to postpone it.

Eventually, he bought the bread, and I stayed up late preparing the fillings, finishing by midnight. I set my alarm for 4 a.m., woke up, rolled, and grilled the shawarma. By 5 a.m., it was ready. When I handed it to her, she was overjoyed. She couldn’t believe I went to such lengths to fulfil her simple wish. She prayed for me with a smile, and we said our goodbyes.

Later that day, she called to say she had arrived home safely and that my shawarma exceeded her expectations. She even saved some to take home. Though I joked, it must have been cold by then. She prayed again for me before hanging up the phone.

A few days later, she passed away.

I was in shock. Just last week, she was with us, longing for shawarma. I wept, but deep down, I thanked Allah that I didn’t delay. That shawarma became her first and last.

The lesson is clear: never delay an act of kindness. Tomorrow is not promised for you or for them.

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

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

Artificial Intelligence has arrived, and in many ways, it is already surpassing humankind in numerous tasks – frominformation retrieval and decision-making to writing essays, diagnosing illnesses, and simulating human conversations. 

The rapid advancement of AI over the past decade is no longer a marvel; it is a living reality. With its relentless progress, we are standing on the cusp of a new era, an age in which the human mind and artificial intelligence may become intimately intertwined, both physically and cognitively. 

Over the next ten to twenty years, we can expect to witness the rise of brain-chip implants, neural devices capable of recording thoughts and memories, and integrating them with external data in real-time. This development, already underway in advanced laboratories, will redefine the limits of human cognition. Learning may no longer require years of study. Instead, information could be uploaded directly into the brain, rendering traditional education models obsolete or significantly transformed. 

The barriers to knowledge acquisition—once dependent on time, resources, and access—would essentially vanish. Everyone might stand on equal ground when it comes to information. In this sense, AI could appear to be the long-awaited solution to humanity’s historic struggle with ignorance. A world where information is no longer hoarded but instantly shared would mark a fundamental shift in human civilisation. 

Yet, in this possible future, one thing remains uniquely human: our conscience. The power of choice, the intention behind our actions, and the moral compass guiding our decisions stay beyond the reach of AI. The Islamic prophetic saying “Innamal a’malu binniyat”- “intentions judge actions” -takes on renewed weight. When knowledge becomes universally accessible, what will distinguish one person from another is no longer what they know, but how and why they use it. 

AI may provide the tools, but only our conscience can determine their application. In this new world, the essence of being human —the power to choose, to discern, and to act with purpose —becomes our most valuable trait. 

In writing and speech, large language models (LLMs) have dramatically reduced the burden of expression. AI tools can correct grammar, enhance clarity, and structure arguments. In this way, AI handles the “form,” allowing humans to focus more on “substance”: the meaning, purpose, and ethical significance of their message. 

Yet the human mind’s natural tendency to ask questions, to imagine, and to critique will not diminish. If anything, it will deepen. Humans are not passive recipients of knowledge; we are also its interpreters, critics, and re-creators. Far from becoming complacent in the presence of AI, people will begin to question it, reshape it, and rise above it. 

The reason is simple: the human mind cannot stagnate. It searches for meaning and thrives in ambiguity. Our ability to reflect, imagine, and dwell on abstract ideas remains unmatched. AI can mimic patterns and predict outcomes, but it cannot experience wonder, nor can it feel regret, nor grapple with moral ambiguity. 

Creativity itself arises from three essential human components: conscience, emotions, and environment. AI may support this triad; it may even challenge or stimulate it, but it cannot generate it. AI is a product of creativity, not its source. And it cannot be the source of what it did not create. 

By automating routine tasks, AI liberates the human mind to think more deeply and act more boldly. It frees us from mechanical repetition, allowing for higher-order thinking, innovation, and artistry. Writers, thinkers, inventors, and designers now have more time for exploration and imagination, which remain the core of human advancement. 

This evolving relationship mirrors humanity’s relationship with the Divine. Just as no human can rival the wisdom or creative force of God, AI can never match the core of our humanity. It cannot outfeel us. It cannot outdo us. It cannot outvalue us. It cannot possess conscience, consciousness, or emotion; the divine triad that defines who we are. 

When AI becomes fully integrated into daily life, at work, in education, healthcare, governance, and homes, we won’t become less human. In fact, we will become more human. We will have to let go of much of the mechanical and embrace the reflective. We will have more space to think, more time to connect, and more clarity to imagine. 

And in this space, we may at last pursue what has always eluded us, even in our most extraordinary scientific and industrial feats: wisdom. While AI may provide us with access to vast amounts of information, only the human soul, guided by conscience, can discern what is just, what is meaningful, and what is beautiful. 

AI does not represent the end of humanity. It is the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with tools of immense potential. But as with all tools, their value depends on the hands that use them. In the age of AI, the accurate measure of a person will no longer be what they know, but why they act and how they choose to use what they have. 

AI may become the great equaliser of knowledge, but it is only the human conscience that can give that knowledge direction, purpose, and value. And that is a gift no machine can replicate.

By Musa Kalim Gambo

In a rapidly evolving and increasingly secular world grappling with unprecedented challenges posed by science and technology, a groundbreaking symposium was convened at Kaduna State University (KASU) on August 28, 2025, to advocate for the integration of Islamic values into the academic content of tertiary institutions. Organised by the International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT), Central Nigeria Office, Abuja, in collaboration with KASU’s Department of Islamic Studies, the one-day event brought together leading scholars to explore the philosophical and theological foundations, pedagogical strategies, and practical pathways for embedding ethical and spiritual principles within conventional academic disciplines. The symposium was followed by the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding between Kaduna State University and the International Institute of Islamic Thought, Central Nigeria Office, on research, publication, and other areas aimed at integrating Islamic knowledge.

The symposium underscored the urgent need for education to transcend mere knowledge transmission and embrace the holistic development of character, ethics, and purpose. Speaking at the event, Dr. Sa’idu Ahmad Dukawa, the national coordinator of IIIT Kano Office, thanked KASU for the opportunity to “interface” and highlighted the IIIT project’s aim to revive the early Muslims’ approach to acquiring knowledge, integrating acquired knowledge with revealed knowledge, and reclaiming a holistic knowledge heritage. On his part, Dr. Aliyu Tanko, Coordinator of the IIIT Central Nigeria Office in Abuja, highlighted the ongoing contributions of the IIIT towards reform in Islamic studies within the framework of contemporary global realities across the Muslim world.

The Philosophical Bedrock: Tawhid as the Unifying Principle

A central theme woven throughout the presentations was the concept of Tawhid, the Islamic principle of the oneness of God, as the fundamental basis for integrating revealed (theological) and rational (philosophical) knowledge. IIIT’s Secretary General, Professor Omar Hasan Kasule, whose virtual presentation from Riyadh in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia focused on the philosophical and theological foundations, explained that Islam itself is an integration of theology and philosophy. “All knowledge originates from one Creator,” Professor Kasule asserted, emphasising that revealed knowledge (Qur’an and Sunnah) and rational knowledge (human observation and experimentation) are inherently related and integratable.

Historically, Islamic intellectual discourse witnessed significant controversies between proponents of revealed and rational knowledge. Early Muslim thinkers, such as Al-Farabi and Ibn Sina, were heavily influenced by Greek philosophy, particularly Aristotelian thought. Al-Farabi was even known as “al mu’allim al thaani” (the second teacher) after Aristotle. However, this intellectual engagement also led to significant debates. Al-Ghazali, a towering figure in Islamic thought, famously authored “The Incoherence of the Philosophers” (Tahafut al-Falasifa), rejecting certain aspects of Plato and Aristotle’s philosophy and challenging the views of Muslim philosophers. Ibn Rushd later countered his critique in “Tahatuf al Tahatuf” (Incoherence of the Incoherent), arguing that reason and revelation cannot contradict each other because both seek truth.

Later, Ibn Taymiyah rejected Aristotelian philosophy and, in his seminal work “Removing Conflict between Reason and Revelation” (Darʾ taʿāruḍ al-ʿaql wa al-naql), proved that clear rational thought (sariih al ma’aquul) aligns with correctly transmitted revelation (sahih al manquul). This resolution to the perceived contradiction, rooted in the Tawhidi paradigm, underpins the modern movement for the integration of knowledge (IOK).

Professor Kasule further highlighted empirical observations supporting the unity of knowledge, citing discoveries such as:

• The synthesis of urea from inorganic materials breaks the barrier between organic and inorganic worlds.
• The atom is the common building block for all physical bodies.
• DNA serves as a common basis for the biological sciences, demonstrating a higher order.
• The interchangeability of mass and energy.
• Brain chemistry explaining mental phenomena.
• Universal phenomena of anticlockwise revolution, from celestial bodies to electrons and the tawaf around the Kaaba.

These scientific and natural phenomena serve as powerful evidence that the universe is integrated, implying that the disciplines studying it must also find integration.

Value-based Teaching and Research: A Holistic Approach

Professor Ahmad Bello Dogarawa, a seasoned scholar from Ahmadu Bello University, elaborated in his presentation on contextual approaches and pedagogical strategies, highlighting the value-based (VB) teaching and research methodology. From an Islamic perspective, this approach integrates ethical, spiritual, and moral values derived from Islamic teachings into the education and creation of knowledge. It seeks a “middle path,” preserving Islamic values without impeding scholarly progress.

Professor Dogarawa emphasised that VB teaching aims to nurture graduates with a strong foundation of faith, deep knowledge, competence, skills, and value-based creativity and innovation. The approach is founded on six essential elements:

• Tawhidic worldview
• Ethical considerations
• Islamic epistemology
• Contextualisation
• Integrative approach
• Maqasid al-Shari’ah (objectives of Islamic law)

He outlined practical pedagogical strategies, including infusing the Qur’anic worldview into content delivery (e.g., biology for the concept of life as a trust from Allah, economics for the prohibition of interest, and accounting for Islamic contributions to double-entry accounting). He also introduced case studies with ethical reflections.

Critiquing the scientific approach often prevalent in modern research, Professor Dogarawa pointed out its weaknesses, such as:

• Disconnection from ethics and values
• Knowledge dichotomisation
• Secularist worldview
• Neglect of context and over-reliance on statistical significance
• Vague claim of objectivity

He presented the Islamic approach as an alternative, combining spiritual, philosophical, and empirical perspectives to foster a more holistic understanding, encouraging purposeful investigation, contemplation, reflection, and verification of truth.

Challenges and Opportunities in Conventional Academia

Professor Khalid Aliyu Abubakar, the Secretary-General of Jama’atu Nasril Islam (JNI), addressed the challenges, opportunities, and strategic pathways for promoting the Islamic worldview in conventional academic environments. He acknowledged the “epistemological tensions” present in modern academia, which are often rooted in secular, materialist, and positivist frameworks that may dismiss metaphysical or revelation-based perspectives as “non-scientific”.

“Universities in the West and increasingly in Muslim majority contexts tend to separate faith from scholarship,” Professor Abubakar lamented, highlighting the resulting erosion of character and learning. He also pointed to internal fragmentation among Muslim scholars themselves, who may “lack consensus on how to integrate Islamic principles with modern disciplines”. Dr. Dukawa also used the analogy of Imam Al-Ghazali, likening acquired knowledge to “eyes” and revealed knowledge to “light” – both are essential, and neglecting either leads to blindness or inability to see. He further elaborated on Ibn Taymiyah’s work, which deconstructed Aristotelian philosophy regarding the relationships between “essence and existence” and “body and soul,” demonstrating how an Islamic perspective provides a more comprehensive understanding of reality and the afterlife.

Despite these challenges, Professor Abubakar identified significant opportunities:

• Enhancing ethical discourse: Islamic values can enrich debates on bioethics and other fields.
• Offering holistic paradigms: Integrating material and spiritual aspects of human existence (body, mind, and soul) can broaden understanding in psychology, education, and health sciences.
• Interfaith and cross-cultural dialogue.
• Revival of intellectual tradition: Promoting classical Islamic thought (e.g., Ibn Khaldun in sociology, Al-Ghazali in philosophy) and demonstrating its relevance to modern challenges.

Practical strategies include curriculum development that incorporates Islamic perspectives into the social sciences, economics, and psychology, as well as framing research questions informed by the Qur’an, Sunnah, and Islamic intellectual history.

A Call to Action and KASU’s Commitment

Professor Kasule also highlighted several societal problems arising from the lack of integrated values in the modern technological era, including:

• Lack of purposiveness (غائية): Technology advancements occur without a clear vision or purpose, leading to mere “play” or “pastime” (عبث).
• Blind following (تقليد): People blindly adopt new gadgets and trends without questioning their necessity, echoing historical instances of following forefathers without intellect.
• Over-reliance on concrete thinking over conceptual thinking: Modern life, with its abundance of imagery, discourages abstract thought, thereby impacting reflection on divine signs.
• Loss of balance (توازن) and equilibrium (اعتدال): An immersion in virtual reality and a culture of extremes can lead to a loss of natural balance in various aspects of life, contrasting with Islam’s emphasis on moderation.

To counter these issues and advance the integration of knowledge, Professor Kasule strongly advocated for professors and lecturers to write their own textbooks, integrating Islamic values rather than merely consuming knowledge from others. He outlined a detailed process for textbook writing, from general epistemology seminars to specific discipline working groups, curriculum outlines, and structured chapter development, including Islamic input, case studies, and texts from Islamic sources. IIIT offers grants to support authors in this endeavour.

The main achievement of the IOK movement, Professor Kasule noted, has been the establishment of integrated schools and universities globally, alongside integrated curricula and teaching materials, particularly in finance and food technology. However, the remaining challenge is to move beyond merely “adding Islamic values to existing knowledge or subtracting non-Islamic ones” towards creating new integrated or Islamised knowledge, making Muslims “creators and innovators and not consumers of knowledge by others”.

Concluding the symposium, Professor Abdullahi Musa Ashafa, the Vice-Chancellor of Kaduna State University, lauded the organisers and expressed KASU’s deep commitment to the integration agenda. Emphasising that “Islam is knowledge, knowledge is Islam,” he stated that KASU would analyse the presentations, implement the ideas, and organise a follow-up workshop on value-based teaching and research. Significantly, the Vice-Chancellor announced that KASU’s governing council had recently approved a brand-new Centre for Quranic Science, which will serve as a hub for discussions on knowledge, Islamic perspectives, and the relationship with Quranic insights. He also indicated a strong desire to formalise the partnership with IIIT through a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU).

The symposium at KASU marks a crucial step in re-establishing the holistic and value-driven pursuit of knowledge that characterised early Islamic scholarship, paving the way for a future where academic excellence is inextricably linked with ethical grounding and spiritual purpose.

Musa Kalim Gambo writes from Kaduna, Nigeria

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

About three decades ago, at the beginning of my youthful years, around Bakinruwa, Sabongari, Kaduna, I first encountered the idea of “Qur’an-only” Islam. Shaykh Uthman Dangungu, who had passed through the Izala movement, began to promote it in our neighbourhood mosque near Kasuwan Gwari. He was not the first—Muhammadu Marwa Maitatsine had pushed something similar in Kano State in the 1980s, though in a harsher, less workable form. Since then, my philosophical self has wrestled with such currents—Wahhabism, Shi‘ism, Sufism, Boko Haramism, and more. Each encounter has been a struggle for clarity and stability, for faith, and for cultural continuity in our fragile postcolonial Nigerian modernity.

Now, with Shaykh Yahya Ibrahim Masussuka—my generational peer—reviving the Qur’an-only argument, it seems fitting to reflect again. This time, however, I do not begin from theology alone. I lean on the wear and tear of intellectual toil, and on the reflective gifts of experience—what philosophy, logic, and science have taught me about human beings and the trustworthiness of transmission.

Philosophy has long asked: Can knowledge survive without tradition? Plato, in The Republic, warned that truth severed from the teacher–student chain becomes mere opinion. Aristotle, more grounded, argued that reason itself grows from custom, habit, and inherited practice. If Plato guarded against instability, Aristotle reminded us that even rationality needs a body —a living community —to give it shape.

Modern science adds its own perspective. Research in psychology shows that while humans are prone to bias or fatigue, under structures of accountability and community, they are remarkably capable of fairness and truth-telling. Integrity, in fact, often comes naturally. In other words, people can be trusted, though they must be guided.

The Qur’an itself affirms this. It does not portray humanity as unfit to bear the truth. Instead, it honours our moral agency while calling for systems of verification. “And thus We have made you a just community that you may be witnesses over mankind, and the Messenger a witness over you” (2:143). To be a witness requires the ability to observe, remember, and transmit faithfully. Surah Al-Tawbah (9:122) goes further, encouraging some believers to remain behind, study religion deeply, and teach others. That is nothing less than a Qur’anic endorsement of scholarship—the very task Hadith scholars later undertook.

The Qur’an also acknowledges our dual moral compass— “By the soul and He who proportioned it, and inspired it with its wickedness and righteousness” (91:7–10). Hence, the command in Surah Al-Hujurat (49:6) to verify reports before acting. That balance between trust and scrutiny is the same principle that shaped the science of Hadith.

Even in worldly matters, the Qur’an demonstrates confidence in structured testimony. The long verse of debts in Surah Al-Baqarah (2:282) lays out detailed rules for recording contracts with witnesses. If humans can be entrusted with preserving financial records, surely they can also be tasked with documenting the Prophet’s words—so long as there is a system of accuracy and verification.

This brings us to the heart of the matter. The Qur’an-only stance insists that Hadith is unnecessary. Yet the Qur’an itself says otherwise: “We revealed to you the Reminder so that you may explain to people what was sent down to them” (16:44). The Prophet’s explanatory role is not contained in the Qur’an’s text—it lives in his sayings, actions, and approvals. Surah Al-Ahzab (33:21) refers to him as “an excellent example” for believers. But how would later generations know his example without the Hadith?

Other verses go further: “Whoever obeys the Messenger has obeyed Allah” (4:80); “Whatever the Messenger gives you, take it; and whatever he forbids you, abstain from it” (59:7). These are not time-bound commands. They apply to all Muslims across generations. And they assume access to the Prophet’s guidance—something only Hadith provides.

Seen this way, Hadith is not an intrusion upon the Qur’an but its necessary partner. The Prophet was sent not only to recite but to teach and model. His companions and the generations after them, through discipline and painstaking verification, preserved that model. The Hadith tradition is not perfect—no human endeavour is—but it was forged as a check from within Islamic culture, not imposed from outside. It is part of the Qur’an’s own vision of a community of witnesses.

At its core, then, the debate is not only about scripture but also about how we see human beings. If we assume people are too weak or biased to preserve truth, the Hadith collapses. But if we recognise—as both the Qur’an and science do—that humans, when guided and structured, can be reliable witnesses, Hadith stands on solid ground. The Qur’an-only position misses this deeper point. It mistrusts human agency in a way the Qur’an itself never does.

In Nigeria, where cultural streams converge and clash—Sahelian traditions meeting global influences—the Qur’an-only approach risks severing us from the rich heritage that has sustained Muslim communities through colonialism, civil strife, and modern pressures. My own journey—from that mosque in Kaduna to today—has taught me that certainty lies not in subtraction but in integration: the Qur’an as foundation, illuminated by the Prophet’s Hadith, upheld by our God-given moral agency.

As this debate resurfaces in our time, we would do well to remember: the Qur’an trusts us, commands us, and makes our testimony central to its unfolding. To follow the Qur’an, then, is to follow the Prophet. And to follow the Prophet is impossible without Hadith.

Ultimately, as Surah Al-Baqarah reminds us, we are called to be witnesses. Let us honour that calling by trusting the mechanisms Allah has provided—including Hadith, which brings the Prophet’s example to life for every generation 

By Ibrahim Suleiman Ibrahim 

It is part of my dreams to one day establish a female-only sports & gymnastics centre that would be managed and run by females, where taking pictures and videos during training sessions would be strictly prohibited.

This is to disprove the ill-conceived notion promoted by mischief makers that northern Nigerian women, particularly the Muslim ones, are deprived of the freedom to engage in sports and fitness activities. 

I’m honestly sick and tired of all the backlash Islam and Muslims are receiving, portraying us as people who do not give women freedom, as though the so-called freedom some other women are enjoying has earned them the needed value and respect from society. 

Unfortunately, these critics don’t consider the position of Islam about free-mixing between opposite sexes, and also the kind of outfit that is morally due for a woman to be seen in by men who are not her ‘Mahrams'(Muslims will understand this).  

It is worthy of note that what makes us religious people is the fact that we are neither freethinkers nor atheists. We have codes of conduct and laws enshrined in our religious scriptures, which we are obligated to abide by.

I don’t like how even some Muslims consider it absurd and barbaric that Muslim ladies are discouraged from participating in some of these secular-oriented sporting activities where women are mandated to appear in skimpy dresses, and intermingle with men indiscriminately. 

At the slightest provocation, they make references to Arabian countries where secularism has almost eaten up the religious aura there.

I understand that situations might sometimes warrant us to compromise and adopt some secular practices (Darooraat), but giving full acceptance to those practices, despite their contradiction with our religious laws, while considering our religious laws as barbaric and extreme, is quite unbecoming of a Muslim. 

Meanwhile, I implore religious organisations to begin investing in some of these necessary but non-Shariah-compliant things, such that we can have a halal version, and save ourselves this noise about us not depriving women of their rights. 

It’s about time we began to think outside the box and come up with solutions to some of these problems. 

Sports and gymnastics are necessary, and establishing a shari’ah-compliant atmosphere isn’t a bad thing. 

Ibrahim Suleiman Ibrahim wrote via suleimibrahim00@gmail.com.

By Abdulrahman Sani

I went to Sudan to study Arabic. That was the beginning, simple and deliberate. But in truth, Arabic was only the surface. Sudan offered more than language. It stirred old questions I had carried with me since adolescence. Questions about memory, exile, and what remains after collapse.

My first encounter with the Sokoto Caliphate’s legacy wasn’t through archives or oral traditions. It was through theatre. I was in secondary school when I read Attahiru by Ahmad Yerima. The image of the Caliph fleeing colonial forces, defiant to the end, burned itself into my mind. I didn’t fully understand the politics then, but I felt the tragedy. That single text became a spark.

Later, I found the writings of Dr. Usman Bugaje, measured and searching. And then came Muhammad Shareef, the African American founder of Jamaa’at Danfodio in the United States, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing [here: https://youtu.be/_5Uj1S0lXQM?si=1BpJ9vusnW2HqWf4]. His writings were rich, wide-ranging, and full of overlooked geographies. It was through him that I first read about Maiurno, a small village in Sudan that held the echoes of Sokoto’s fall.

The very idea of it intrigued me. Remnants of the Caliphate had not only survived but also resettled, rebuilt, and renamed. I wanted to know what happened after Burmi. I wanted to know what exile looked like, generations later.

I mentioned this to my friend Malam Hassan, and soon after, we were on our way — me, him, and our guide. Before Maiurno, I spent some time in a Hausa village in Sudan. The familiarity was immediate. I saw areas named after Illela, heard idioms that sounded like home. It was as though Sokoto had sent a whisper into the desert, and it had echoed back in Sudanese tones.

Maiurno came into view quietly, without ceremony—a flat, sun-beaten village, carrying itself without fanfare. But history rarely announces itself. You feel it in the silences.

We made our way to the Sultan’s palace early in the morning. As we approached, an elderly man greeted me in Fulfulde. I hesitated, then responded in Arabic, admitting I didn’t understand. It was one of those quiet humiliations. A Fulani, abroad, unable to answer in the language of his own people. He smiled politely and said nothing.

We waited. There were others before us, people from another town in Sudan who had come to report a case. In the meantime, I noticed the crocodiles. Yes, crocodiles. They lay in their enclosure like royal guards, unmoving. It felt surreal but somehow fitting. The Sultan was no mere figurehead. He was the acknowledged leader of Hausa and Fulani communities in Sudan, a man of both presence and authority.

When he finally emerged, he received the guests before us. He listened without interruption or impatience. Then he settled their matter with a wisdom that didn’t need to explain itself. That kind of clarity is rare.

Then he turned to me.

I told him why I had come. I said I was interested in the Fodiyawa manuscripts said to be preserved in Sudan. He nodded with understanding, but explained that the key lay with the Sardauna of Maiurno, a scholar of great standing who, ironically, had travelled to Nigeria, my own country.

The Sultan was fluent in Hausa, Arabic, and Fulfulde. He spoke with the calm rhythm of someone used to being listened to. He smiled and said, “I know in Sokoto your Fulfulde doesn’t go beyond Balinjam.” It was said lightly, but it landed with accuracy.

He spoke of his relative, Professor Mukoshay, the author of the Fulani-Hausa dictionary. Then, briefly about Hayat ibn Sa‘id, a name that deserves more telling than time allowed. Before long, I realised I should be recording this. I asked his permission. He agreed with grace.

He began narrating how their ancestors had come to Maiurno after the fall of the Caliphate, how they had built their homes, mosques, and memory on Sudanese soil, and how they still kept contact with their families in Nigeria. He spoke too of the Jamaa’at Danfodio in America with quiet admiration, amused by how history had found new shapes and tongues.

After the conversation, he did something unexpected. He asked, gently, for my contact. I gave it. We shook hands, and I took my leave.

What struck me wasn’t just the story. It was the clarity with which he carried it. My visit to Maiurno took place in 2019. At the time, the country was in a fragile transitional moment, unsure of what lay ahead. But even then, the Sultan stood out–quiet, composed, and principled. In later years, during the war with the RSF militia, I would hear that he remained steadfast and stood with the state when others hesitated. The president himself visited to thank him.

Maiurno wasn’t just a trip. It was a quiet, necessary crossing, from curiosity to memory, from story to place. The Sokoto Caliphate may have fallen in Burmi, but it lives on. In names. In speech. In places like Maiurno, where its sons still remember.

Abdulrahman Sani can be reached via X: @philosopeace.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Renowned U.S.-based Islamic scholar Dr. Yasir Qadhi has paid a heartfelt tribute to Nigerian business mogul and philanthropist Alhaji Aminu Alhassan Dantata, who passed away at the age of 94.

In a message shared via his social media platforms, Dr. Qadhi described Dantata as “a shining star and a legendary icon” in Nigeria, praising his humility, honesty, and lifelong commitment to philanthropy.

“He was one of the most successful entrepreneurs and business tycoons in Africa,” Dr. Qadhi wrote. “Yet everyone knew him to be a humble and honest man… ever-ready to help others less fortunate, never greedy for more.”

Recalling a recent meeting with Dantata in Nigeria, Qadhi shared the late businessman’s parting words of wisdom: “Honesty! Always, be truthful and sincere, and leave the rest to Allah.”

Alhaji Dantata, who declined a political appointment, was never involved in a scandal and was laid to rest in the revered Baqi al-Gharqad cemetery in Madinah, Saudi Arabia.

“Such men are very rare indeed,” Qadhi noted, praying for Allah’s mercy upon him and for his legacy to continue through his progeny.