Lifestyle

By Abashi Rahab

Not too long ago, I found myself standing by a roadside food stall, just watching the world go by. It was evening, and the queue was steady. One after another, people placed their orders as if on autopilot. I watched a man buy a heap of fried yam and sauce, “wash it down” with a chilled soft drink, and disappear into the night.

To any onlooker, the scene was unremarkable. In fact, it felt deeply familiar, a routine millions of us perform daily without a second thought. And that is precisely the heart of the problem.

For many Nigerians, eating has become a mechanical act rather than a nutritional one. We reach for what is available, what is fast, and what provides that immediate satisfaction.

We rarely pause to interrogate what is in our “plastic” food or how those hidden ingredients might be rewriting our health story. To be fair, it is not always a case of intentional neglect; often, we are simply creatures of habit.

There is also a stubborn myth that eating right is a luxury reserved for the wealthy. This misconception leads many to throw in the towel before they have even tried. But the truth is, health is not always about the weight of your wallet; it is about the quality of your choices.

That daily soft drink that has become a mealtime staple, the cultural preference for food swimming in oil, and the habit of swapping real meals for processed snacks are decisions that cost us dearly in the long run.

The real danger lies in the silence of the damage. These choices don’t strike immediately; they erode our health slowly. Over the years, they manifest as high blood pressure, diabetes, and chronic fatigue, all conditions that build up quietly until they can no longer be ignored.

What makes this reality so tragic is that eating better is well within our reach. Many of our local staples, like beans, local rice, vegetables, and plantains, are nutritional powerhouses when we treat them with respect.

The secret is not in buying expensive or packaged food; it is in reducing the oil, cutting the sugar, and finding balance in what we already have on our plates. It is about the small, daily steps that move us away from digging our graves with our teeth.

Breaking these habits is no walk in the park, especially when they are woven into the fabric of our daily lives. However, awareness is a powerful catalyst. Choosing water over soda, being mindful of portion sizes, and thinking twice before defaulting to the usual oily foods are small steps that lead to a massive outcome.

In the end, our health is rarely determined by a single meal. It is shaped by the repeated, unthinking choices we make every day. We often complain that healthy food is expensive, and in a tough economy, that can be true. But we seldom talk about the true cost of eating carelessly.

One day, the bill comes due. It stops being about the price of a plate of food and starts being about hospital bills, lifelong medication, and a life forced to slow down long before its time. By then, the conversation is no longer about what we ate—it’s about what those choices have taken from us.

Abashi Rahab is a student of Strategic Communication at Yakubu Gowon University, Abuja. An intern with IMPR. She can be reached at: abashirahab@gmail.com.

By Emmanuel Daniel

Many university students are too busy in their day-to-day academic lives to get a good night’s sleep for several reasons, including meeting deadlines, studying for exams, and fulfilling social obligations. They will frequently resort to using caffeine-based products like energy drinks, coffee and tea to keep them awake and alert. They might not appear to be problematic behaviours, but there is growing evidence that they may have significant implications for cardiovascular health.

A recent study was conducted among students of the Faculty of Basic Medical Sciences, Bayero University Kano, on the Effect of Sleep Deprivation and Caffeine on Cardiovascular Parameters (Blood Pressure, Mean Arterial Pressure, and Pulse Rate). Results indicate significant physiological implications of these popular lifestyles.

The study involved comparing four groups of students: sleep-deprived Students, caffeine consumers with normal sleep, sleep-deprived + caffeine students, and normal sleep without caffeine. The systolic blood pressure, diastolic blood pressure, mean arterial pressure and pulse rate were measured and analysed.

Significant differences were found in several cardiovascular parameters. Students who consumed caffeine regularly but still had normal sleep had the highest mean arterial and diastolic blood pressures. This implies that caffeine can raise the strain on blood vessels, making the heart pump more to move blood around the body.

What is interesting is that the pupils who were sleep-deprived had more elevated pulse rates, as though in response to a lack of sleep, the body may be attempting to engage the “fight-or-flight” mechanism, also known as the sympathetic nervous system. Activating this system for prolonged periods can increase cardiovascular stress over time.

There were also significant differences found between the males and females in the study. The female students who consumed caffeine and were then sleep-deprived had significantly higher pulse rates than the males. The discovery suggests there may be gender differences in how men and women react to life changes that can lead to heart disease.

Physiologically, lack of sleep diminishes the body’s capacity to manage stress hormones properly. Meanwhile, caffeine antagonises the effects of adenosine, a naturally occurring compound that has a relaxing and vasodilatory (blood vessel-widening) effect. These mechanisms, combined, can alter normal cardiovascular function and may lead to health risks when they persist for extended periods.

The results are especially relevant in the time of energy drinks, which are becoming a favourite sidekick for students. Many study participants reported frequently using energy drinks to stay awake during schoolwork. Though some individuals say caffeine gives them a boost in concentration and helps fend off fatigue, overreliance on caffeinated drinks should not be a substitute for good sleep patterns.

The bottom line is that this study shows that sufficient sleep remains one of the major factors in a healthy lifestyle. It is then recommended physiologically that students get the 7-9 hours of sleep they need every night and limit caffeine consumption. Schools can also be places to raise awareness of sleep hygiene, stress management, and responsible caffeine use.

Late nights and caffeine may be part of a student’s life, but making them habits can have consequences. Keeping the heart healthy starts with the simple things you can do every day, and sometimes the best way to get your heart pumping is to get a good night’s sleep.

Extracted from Emmanuel Miracle Daniel’s thesis titled ‘The Effect of Sleep Deprivation and Caffeine on Cardiovascular Parameters Among Bayero University Students,’ supervised by Professor Nafisatu Yusuf Wali.

By Rabi Ummi Umar

Lately, I have found myself unlearning and relearning everything about being a woman. Having been groomed to be nice, kind, and responsive to all situations with a smile, tolerant, and to “be the bigger person”, new knowledge suggests there is more to being a woman, especially for young ones like myself.

While I am utterly grateful for the virtues of kindness learned over the course of my life, I have realised there is a thin line between character-building and the restrictive way women are often conditioned.

There is a persistent narrative, a “myth of silence”, that suggests a woman who is quiet, who tolerates everything, and who refuses to stand up for herself or others is the “good” woman. Conversely, the woman who knows her worth, identifies wrongs, and refuses to stay silent is labelled “bad” or “difficult.”

Many cultures across the globe have deemed it normal for women to be silent spectators: unproblematic, quiet, and devoid of independent values. But what does “unproblematic” actually mean in this context? Too often, it refers to a woman who remains silent in the face of injustice, one who endures whatever is thrown at her without a word of complaint.

On the flip side, a “problematic” woman is simply one who refuses to tolerate disrespect. She is the woman who sees a wrong and calls it out; the woman who speaks the truth regardless of who she might offend. We must confront the fact that this pressure to stay silent stems from societal expectations rather than religious teachings.

As a Muslim woman from Northern Nigeria, a region that prides itself on religiosity, I have seen this play out more times than fingers could count. A woman is expected to undergo so much and wear a mask of contentment just to be loved by everyone else, even if it means she stops loving herself.

If a husband is abusive, she is told to endure. And we must ask: who taught these men that abuse is acceptable? If her in-laws treat her poorly, she is expected to stay calm and patient until they “magically” change. If she shares her opinions or strives for self-improvement, she is suddenly seen as having “gone wild” or having too much knowledge.

Taking a microscopic look reveals why a plethora of women struggle to find themselves. They have spent so long pretending to blend in, trying to be “chosen,” and performing to fit a mould that they have forgotten who they actually are.

The truth is, there is beauty in simply being yourself. As long as you respect your boundaries and act within the framework of your faith and the law, it is okay to exist as a whole person. Since society demands “perfection” or silence, many women have perfected the art of pretence just to maintain the appearance of being “good.”

However, I recently watched a video where someone said, “The world doesn’t profit from women who are at peace; it profits from women who are constantly trying to be something else.” That resonated deeply with me. There is so much pressure on women to be more successful, prettier, or bolder. This pressure has turned life into a competition for visibility; women want to be seen, liked, and admired so badly that they lose their way.

Most women are no longer just living; they are performing. They are developing confidence, independence, and identity because the world rewards the show. A woman who is still searching for herself is easier to influence, sell to, and control. So, the societal noise gets louder, fueling more comparisons and more pressure.

In this scramble to be “seen,” many are quietly losing their spirituality. Again, this is not what Islam teaches. Women, like all human beings, should be allowed to live, to be included, and to breathe. Throughout Islamic history, women have actively participated in social, political, and economic life. They were never meant to be silent followers; multiple examples abound. 

A Muslim woman’s voice, when guided by faith, wisdom, and character, is not a threat to anyone. It is a strength, and when tapped in, the world could be a better place.

Rabi Ummi Umar is a corps member in Abuja. She can be reached via rabiumar058@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar

Nigerian social media sensation and traditional herbal vendor Eniola Fagbemi, widely known as Sisi Alagbo, has issued a public apology after an explicit video involving her, her husband, and another woman was leaked to the public.

The video, which initially circulated via private messaging apps before reaching broader social media platforms and gossip blogs, sparked intense debate and immediate backlash. Many expressed shock at the footage, given Fagbemi’s prominent digital presence as a wellness and traditional medicine entrepreneur based in Ibadan.

Breaking her silence on her official Facebook page, Fagbemi admitted to her mistakes and pleaded with her massive following not to castigate her or destroy the brand she has built. In her statement, she revealed that the fallout from the leak has triggered severe emotional distress, leaving her unable to properly eat or sleep.

Fagbemi emphasised that her social media platform is her primary source of livelihood and asked the public to separate her private choices from her commercial enterprise.

Her husband, Adesola Akeem, also stepped forward to address the scandal in a separate public statement. He accepted full responsibility for the file leak and expressed deep regret.

Despite the wave of criticism, a section of her fanbase has actively called for empathy, urging the public to show kindness given the heavy mental health strain the influencer is currently experiencing.

By Aisha Musa Auyo, PhD 

I first learned about a tongue-tie when my third son, Anwar, was admitted to the hospital due to a high fever. I was to share a room with another patient, and I was furious. I told the nurses I would prefer to stay in the corridor rather than share a room. I hate sharing rooms, especially in a hospital.

“The amenity room is fully booked. A patient will soon leave, and you’ll be transferred there,” a nurse told me.

I kept whining and complaining. My husband kept saying I should be patient…..“it’s just for a few days.” In my mind, I was like, you’ll never understand what it means to share a hospital room, because you’ve never experienced it. It’s easier said than done.

I accepted defeat and entered the room. Anwar was crying so loudly that he drew the other patient’s attention. In my mind, I thought, you see why I avoid sharing rooms…. I dislike inconveniencing others. I didn’t think the patient would be able to sleep with that noise.

One of the women attending to the other patient asked me, “Do you know that your son has a tongue-tie?”

I said no. What’s a tongue-tie? I had never heard of it.

She told me to look at his tongue while he was crying and said I would see a tissue-like thread holding it, meaning the tongue isn’t free. When I checked, I saw it was very visible.

I asked her more about it, and she explained that it’s natural for some babies to be born with it. Usually, doctors notice it and remove it shortly after birth. But if it isn’t addressed early, it may require a minor surgery to remove it. Anwar was about six months old then.

I thanked her and asked for the way forward. She recommended a paediatrician.

Before the procedure, I read about tongue-tie from over a hundred sites, and spoke to more than ten doctors… lol. It turned out to be a minor surgical procedure that didn’t take more than a minute, since he was still a baby. It gets more complicated with age.

From my research, I also learned that Anwar’s feeding difficulty was likely caused by a tongue-tie.

Many children with tongue-tie may also experience:

– Speech difficulties, especially with sounds like “t”, “d”, “l”, “r”, “s”, and “th”

– Unclear or slightly slurred speech

– (Though not every child with tongue-tie has speech issues, it can contribute)

Other possible effects include:

– Oral hygiene challenges (difficulty clearing food, increased risk of tooth decay)

– Eating difficulties (trouble licking, swallowing, or moving food around the mouth)

– Dental or jaw development issues (such as gaps or bite alignment problems)

– Social or psychological effects, like reduced confidence due to speech or tongue movement limitations

Anwar’s procedure (frenotomy) was done seamlessly, and everything returned to normal. Alhamdulillah.

After that experience, I made it a point to pay closer attention to babies. I realised it’s quite common, yet not widely known. I’ve made it a personal responsibility to educate parents about it before it becomes complicated.

There’s also a lesson here:

1. Not everything we dislike is bad. Sometimes, what we resist is exactly what we need….or what will benefit us the most.

2. I hate sharing rooms with strangers because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone or feel like a burden. But from that experience, I learned something valuable…. and now I’m sharing it with others. So maybe it’s not so bad after all. Hausa people say, “mutane rahama ne” (people are a blessing).

3. No matter your position, knowledge, number of children, or experience, there’s always something you don’t know. And there’s always something you can learn from others—their experiences, exposure, and expertise.

Anyway, when I gave birth to Azrah, my fourth child, I was subconsciously checking for tongue-tie—and I saw one! Hausa people, again, say: “Mai nema na tare da samu”… Bature yace: “He who seeketh… findeth.”

That was after a full check-up by nurses, doctors, and even a paediatrician. I brought it to their attention, and they confirmed it. The minor surgical procedure (frenotomy) was done four days after birth.

I hated the sight of blood on her tiny mouth, but what could I do? The earlier, the better. Alhamdulillah.

If you’ve learned something from this write-up, kindly share it so others can benefit too.

If you’d like to read more stories and reflections like this, drawn from real-life experiences, you can get my book Between Hearts and Homes for deeper, relatable insights into everyday life.

Aisha Musa Auyo, PhD, is an Educational Psychologist, author, and media professional passionate about translating research into practical impact. She writes on parenting, family, and education, drawing from expertise and personal experience. Aisha is also a parenting and relationship coach and founder of Eesher Auyo’s Empire in Abuja, Nigeria.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

A 3-foot-tall medical doctor in India, Dr Ganesh Baraiya, is inspiring millions worldwide after his extraordinary journey was spotlighted by BBC News.

Born with dwarfism and standing at just about three feet, Baraiya grew up confronting stigma and low expectations. In the widely circulated report, he recalled being once offered a place in a circus—a path his father firmly rejected in favour of education and a life of dignity.

That decision changed everything.

Against the odds, Baraiya pursued his studies with determination, overcoming social and institutional barriers to qualify as a medical doctor. When discrimination threatened to halt his progress, he refused to back down, taking his fight for equal opportunity to India’s Supreme Court.

Today, the 3-foot-tall doctor stands as a powerful symbol of resilience, courage, and possibility. His story has gone viral, touching hearts across the world and sparking renewed calls for inclusion and equal access for persons with disabilities.

For many, Baraiya’s journey is more than a personal triumph; it is a reminder that greatness is not measured by physical stature but by strength of purpose.

By Abubakar Muhammad

Crime is a prominent feature of the city. The mitigation of crime and other social vices is a responsibility that falls not only on the government. The health of society is a responsibility that spans multiple dimensions, from authorities with direct power to families and residents of the community as a whole. The social health of the city is also the work of architects and planners. 

Physical planning is an important factor in influencing the social health of society and its inhabitants. Respected voices in urban planning note how a great urban environment, in terms of design and social services, can enhance people’s quality of life and foster a sense of community. In this piece, I set out to use Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano as a social repair tool and a planning theory for combating crime and other social ills in our society. 

We have recently heard the gruesome murder of an entire family in Kano, first in Tudun Yola and then in Ɗorayi, by the same alleged criminals. Cities are characterised by petty and violent crimes. The job of residents and governments is to implement policies that prevent crime to ensure the safety of inhabitants and the prosperity of the city. Sustainable urbanism involves governments at various levels, as well as city residents. 

I was particularly happy weeks ago when I learned that communities around Dala have mobilised to construct a police station around Kuka Bulukiya cemetery to combat persistent phone snatching that has cost countless lives of innocent passersby. The idea of constructing security outposts in crime hotspots has been a productive strategy for combating crime. It is not only about fighting crime; it also replaces crime with security and constant human presence and activity. It not only prevents crime and protects lives but also brings life and economic activity to beleaguered areas.

My friend once took me to an area of the ancient city to pay my condolences. It was a long time ago I cannot remember the name of the neighbourhood. Those who know Kano intimately can piece together snippets from my narration to figure out the area. I can vaguely say that the area was around Mandawari, Yar Mai-Shinkafi, Gyaranya, Baƙin Ruwa, or Gwauran Dutse. We walked through the alleys after the condolence and appeared at the Aminu Kano Way. 

The neighbourhood has a shelter christened Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano. It is an open pavilion in the heart of the neighbourhood. I was intrigued not only by the discovery but also by the place’s name and social function. This was the first time I had ever heard of the place, or any shelter named Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano in the city. I began to think about the connection between the place and the famed radical politician. 

I did not ask the naming history behind the shelter, but my imagination wagered that this must be the spot where Mallam Aminu Kano hung out with friends and conducted his public life. It must be the local context where he started his political career, a gathering place for the nightly schooling and political organising. My guess was supported by my assumption that the place is located within the ancient city, and not far from his initial dwelling at the Aisami/Sani Mainagge axis. I was intrigued by the place for its great potential to build a community.

The Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is a mini square and public space for the community. It enables the residents to perform social and religious functions. Residents of the neighbourhood, particularly the elderly and retirees, use the pavilion to hang out. The community uses the open space to perform the funeral salat for the deceased. The main street around the space serves as a collector road, receiving people from nearby alleys and neighbourhoods. Thus, the open space becomes vibrant with life. Residents and visitors use the space to park their vehicles. Around the square, activities sprang up: informal people, vendors, and small entrepreneurs set up stalls offering services, various wares, delicacies like tsire and awara, and other household items that cater to the neighbourhood’s hospitality and social needs. The shelter becomes a living room of the community. My reading is that Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is an open space that allows residents to do things that they cannot perform in the narrow alleys of their neighbourhood.

Part II

For this reason, Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano stays with me. I want to suggest an expanded version of this space be built in as many places as possible in the ancient city, its suburbs and major towns across the state. This is based on key spatial ideas for sociability and security of communities and neighbourhoods. 

Ancient cities like Kano had been built around their traditional institutions. The city spread out from the Emir’s Palace, surrounded by other civic buildings such as the court and the central mosque, which eventually formed the city centre. Spreading in a radial pattern, subsequent expansions and settlements of the city and major towns followed the same tradition. All roads lead to the city centre. And the civic centre, or city centre, is almost always located in the vicinity of the traditional ruler’s dwelling. Outside the city, the Maigari’s or Dagaci’s house sat at the centre of the settlements.

The best location for the Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is to look for the ugliest and most dangerous part of the neighbourhood and tear it down to create a large enough open space to build the shelter. This place should be the heartbeat of the area by consolidating basic services in one building: a small local clinic, a school, a library, administrative offices for Mai-unguwa, Dagaci, and security agents, and a conference room for important community meetings and non-partisan civic engagements.

A strong civic component and social life are essential. The idea is to overwhelm crime, blight and unsightly facades. The building can serve as a venue for adult literacy classes, mass education and public orientation centres for social mobilisation and political awareness. As a multipurpose building, the place can host activities such as elections, immunisation campaigns, skills and personal development training for local youth. 

A mosque can be located close to the shelter. Around the mosque, the elderly sit, dine, and eat. It is where they enjoy calm, festive hours by day and night. Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano should be the agora and living room of the community. Clusters of civic buildings, residential and commercial uses can create sociability. This is not new; it is something that needs to be consciously improved upon existing traditions. Several Hausa villages have a santa or tsakar gari, which serves mixed purposes and brings people together. Since the shelter is located near the mosque, it should also serve as an open space for conducting funeral prayers. Commercial activities can be encouraged around the area to provide a more vibrant economic life. In Kano city, many neighbourhoods have ƴar kasuwa within walking distance, allowing residents to make purchases for their daily needs. 

The small clinic located in the centre should offer first-aid services and cater to the health needs of the most vulnerable. It should deliver basic drugs and inexpensive medications, medical advice and other services that might not require a trip to the hospital. Local people with training in medical fields can volunteer to operate the place. They can also request NYSC corps members to be posted there. Funding can come from donations from wealthy residents of the community. People who have retired from active service in various walks of life can participate. Skilled individuals can also ask to set up offices and contribute their services to the community. Community services can serve as a clear benchmark for future political leaders. People can see what potential representatives have contributed to their local communities before they enter politics – what they have done for the people before asking for their votes.  

It would not be a bad idea to allow car owners to park their vehicles in and around the shelter. Community-owned assets, such as donated vehicles for transporting the deceased, a power transformer, and water sources like a borehole, can be sited there. The underlying assumption is that communities would actively work to protect their assets and improve their neighborhood. Their commitment or otherwise to safeguarding their assets is clear proof of their collective responsibility, leadership, accountability and readiness for sustainable development. 

The idea is to use Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano to make the targeted area active and vibrant with human activity. The dwelling of the traditional ruler should be sited there to continue to facilitate administrative functions and liaison with various levels of governments for record-keeping, issuing birth certificates and documents, and other civic engagements. The closest idea to this is Ofishin Wakili, which can be upgraded where they already exist. If built with magnificent architecture, places like this can become historic sites that represent the community and its traditions.  

The building should house an office for joint security agencies, including the police and Hisbah. This is where disputes will first be reported. It will enhance coordination and timely reporting of suspicious activities to support early crime prevention. Emphasis is placed on civil matters and on preventing violent crimes. The activities and involvement of the security should be largely civil and minimal. The point is to increase safety through informal supervision. Security agents, the elderly, and small business operators are public figures who keep an eye on the neighbourhood. Retirees and the elderly also fill the void and silence when others are at work or school. They can alert parents – and the security agents – to what is happening in the neighbourhood. Sustainable urbanism can be achieved by densifying social life in hitherto dark corners without militarising the neighbourhood. The refurbishment of the neighbourhood is a valued alternative to blight, providing security through communal social space. Services and buildings can be distributed according to the community’s needs and resources. The purpose is to chase away the thugs from the heart of the community and bring light to the dark corners and crevices. In the process, services are brought closer to the people. Traditional institutions are involved more closely and meaningfully in public service for their immediate communities.

Stakeholders – government, traditional institutions, and community members – should work together to realise the Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano as a state-supported, neighbourhood-funded civic infrastructure across Kano State. Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano should be conceived as a community and family resources centre for the neighbourhood’s residents. It should be designed as a crime-prevention tool through visibility, social life, and shared spaces that strengthen grassroots governance and access to basic services.  It is also an embodiment of the spatial practice of good neighbourliness, the warmth, and the communal character of the Mutumin Kirki society. 

 Abubakar Muhammad is from Kano, Nigeria. 

Author: Aisha Musa Auyo

Number of Pages: 184

Date of Publication: 2025

Publisher: Erkan Publishing-Nigeria

I just finished reading Dr Aisha Musa Auyo’s book, Between Hearts and Homes: Reflections on Faith, Love, and Everyday Life. It sure leaves a lasting impression…

The book feels like a heart-to-heart conversation with someone who has literally ‘lived life’, not just studied it.

What stands out immediately is how relatable it is. The tone used is not from a high or detached pedestal. It’s more like the tone of an older sister, a friend, or that person who tells you the truth whether you’re ready for it or not. From body image and self-awareness, to marriage, motherhood, perfume, clothes, and even shawarma cravings, using your cuisine as a comic relief… Everything feels real-life. It’s so easy to see oneself in the stories.

For example, the shawarma story hits hard. We’ve all said things like “I’ll do it tomorrow” or “next time.” But here, “next time” never came. That simple moment teaches a powerful lesson: don’t delay kindness or small acts of love, because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. That’s something everyone can relate to; whether it’s postponing a visit to a parent, delaying a call to a friend, or putting off saying “I love you.”

It’s also commendable that you used practical examples instead of abstract advice. It doesn’t just say “be kind”, it shows kindness through cooking for someone, helping neighbours, respecting professionals, and being intentional in relationships. It doesn’t just say “take care of yourself”; it talks about specifics, perfume, grooming, clothes, and your living space. Even something as simple as keeping your house smelling nice can be a lesson in self-respect and in creating a pleasant atmosphere. That’s everyday wisdom.

Another strong point is how brutally honest you were at some point without sugarcoating things. For instance, pointing out things like:

Openly talking about body shapes and dressing realistically.

Telling people to stop pretending body realities don’t exist.

Warning couples with an AS genotype to reconsider marriage, not out of cruelty, but out of concern for future pain.

That kind of honesty might make some people uncomfortable, but it’s refreshing. It’s not about trying to be politically correct; it’s about trying to be helpful.

Yet, despite the bluntness, the book still keeps a beautiful balance. It blends faith and daily life while tactfully fusing serious medical topics with soft emotional reflections. It also successfully blended romance with responsibility, self-care with modesty and so on.

If I’m being honest, I never knew that the inability to recognise people was a medical condition with a name (prosopagnosia), but that’s one thing I’ve also learnt from your book.

There were interesting discussions about prosopagnosia, sickle cell disease, parenting, and marriage, alongside perfume tips and fashion advice. That balance makes it feel complete, like life itself.

There’s also humour sprinkled throughout. Lines like “Don’t smell like a flower while the house smells like Daddawa” will make you laugh because it’s so true. Or when you mentioned dressing badly makes you look like Muciya da Zani at home, funny, but the message lands. The humour keeps the book light, even when it’s talking about heavy topics like death, genetics, or emotional struggles. Most importantly, the book carries serious ideas beneath the laughter, which made it more fun to read.

Most of all, you were able to pass key messages like: 

Be intentional in love.

Respect your neighbours, you never know when you’ll need them (the button incident was so scary to read. As a mother, I could relate so well).

Take care of your appearance for yourself and your partner.

Understand medical realities before making lifetime decisions.

Be patient with people who behave differently; they might be dealing with invisible conditions (the ID Card scenario of the lady with hearing impairments was quite touching). The personal stories, motherhood, interactions with neighbours, and dealing with loss make the lessons stick. It wasn’t about boring theory but more about fun and practical experiences.

I could go on and on…

In short, the book teaches without preaching, corrects without insulting, and entertains while educating. It’s funny in places, deep in others, and honest throughout. I laughed at some points and reflected at others. It will even make you start rethinking a few habits.

I just love how it generally reminds you that life is made of small moments, how you dress, how you speak, how you love, how you treat people, and that those small things matter more than we realise.

P.S- Meanwhile, I noticed two pages with small errors: one had a typographical mistake, and another contained a repetition. However, these are mere observations and don’t detract from the book’s powerful messages. A more thorough proofreading in future editions would help polish the work and make the reading experience even smoother.

Overall, these are very minor concerns in such an otherwise thoughtful and impactful book as yours. I look forward to more of this. Kudos and more power to your elbow, Ma’am!

Reviewed by:

Eunice Johnson (Southpaw), a UK-based media broadcaster, musician, actor, media consultant, and public relations expert, wrote via eunicejohnson001@yahoo.com.

By Garba Sidi

In Nigeria, academic failure is often treated as a life sentence. A poor result can earn a student a damaging label—not serious, not intelligent, or not destined for success. I know this because I lived it. Yet my journey proves that failure, no matter how often it occurs, does not end a person’s future. Giving up does.

After completing SS3, I sat for WAEC, NECO, and JAMB, like millions of Nigerian students whose dreams rest on examination numbers. When my WAEC result was released, I had only three credits—Chemistry, Hausa, and Animal Husbandry. Showing the result to my father was one of the most painful moments of my life. His words, suggesting I might have to repeat SS3, broke my heart. Still, I chose prayer over bitterness.

My JAMB score of 145 further reduced my chances of gaining admission to university. Though ashamed, I showed the result to my father. He advised patience and encouraged me to wait for my NECO result. When NECO came out, I earned seven credits, including English and Mathematics, but failed Physics. At the time, I did not realise how much that single subject would shape my future.

Like many science students, I dreamed of studying Medicine at Bayero University, Kano. I also applied to the College of Education, Gumel, and Hussaini Adamu Polytechnic, Kazaure. With my JAMB score, university admission was impossible. My options narrowed, and disappointment became familiar.

On my uncle’s advice, I enrolled in Remedial Studies at Tafawa Balewa University, Bauchi, hoping to later study Engineering, a course believed to offer better job prospects. I passed the remedial exams and continued attending lectures while preparing for another JAMB. When I failed again, my journey in Bauchi ended abruptly. Without a successful JAMB result, remedial studies could not secure admission.

I returned home discouraged. Applications to the College of Education, Gumel, and Bilyaminu Usman Polytechnic, Hadejia, yielded no results. While friends moved on to universities and colleges, I spent most of 2015 at home, surrounded by self-doubt and silent questions about my worth.

In 2017, I wrote JAMB again and scored 171, meeting the reduced cut-off mark for Sule Lamido University, Kafin Hausa. I was offered admission to study Mathematics and even attended the interview. However, during registration, my admission was withdrawn because I did not have a credit in Physics. It was another painful reminder that failure has consequences—but it does not have to be final.

Once again, family intervention redirected my path. Through my uncle’s connection at the College of Education Gashuwa, affiliated with the University of Maiduguri, I secured admission. I randomly chose Physical Education (PHE), not out of passion, but out of necessity. I was admitted into the preliminary batch with only three weeks left before examinations.

That short period forced a decision: surrender or struggle. I chose to struggle. I attended lectures relentlessly and studied day and night. Of the eight courses I took, I failed only one in my first semester. I cleared it later and completed the programme successfully.

During my studies, I met Haruna Aseeni, a Health Education student. Our friendship began simply—sharing study materials. We stayed connected long after graduation. I later completed my NYSC between July 2023 and June 2024, unsure of what the future held.

Then came a message on a Sunday evening. Haruna informed me that someone was looking for a graduate of Physical Education. A few phone calls later, I was submitting my credentials. After an interview in Dutse, I received an Offer of Appointment as Sports Officer II under the Jigawa State Ministry of Information, Youth, Sports and Culture, and was posted to Hadejia Stadium.

What struck me most was that the opportunity came through someone I once helped academically—not through influence or desperation, but through relationship and character. Even more surprising, my father and uncles later discovered they already knew the official who facilitated the process. Life has a way of connecting efforts in ways we do not expect.

My story is not extraordinary. It is Nigerian. It reflects a system where setbacks are common, opportunities are uneven, and success is rarely linear. But it carries a message young people must hear: failure is not the opposite of success; quitting is.

To students and graduates facing rejection, delay, or disappointment, my advice is simple: do not give up. Respect everyone you meet. Work hard wherever you find yourself. Pray, persevere, and remain humble.

You never know who God will use to change your story.

By Tahir Mahmood Saleh

Kabeer 2Pac’s rise to online fame began in early 2025, when he started posting highly unconventional videos on his TikTok account. Born Kabiru Isma’il and known online as Kabeer2pac (a name he chose in homage to the late American rapper 2Pac Shakur), he quickly garnered massive attention for performing bizarre, often shocking stunts. His content included immersing himself in stagnant open cesspools and smearing sediment on his body, actions he explained were not signs of madness but deliberate attempts to “trend” and gain visibility online (“ɗaukaka na ke nema”).

The TikTok metrics behind his rise were striking. Within months of posting these videos, Kabeer had amassed millions of views and a large following. One of his most-viewed clips, in which he shook off charcoal dust while wearing a distinctive winter jacket, reached over 51 million views, and at one point, his account had approximately 1.8 million followers and 15.1 million likes. These numbers reflect how quickly his brand took off in an environment where the algorithm rewards shocking or novel content.

Kabeer’s content evolved over time as he experimented with different styles and stunts to maintain attention. After his early cesspool videos gained traction, he shifted to other eye-grabbing visuals, such as having bags of charcoal dust dumped on him, which again drew viral attention. This strategy positioned him as a cultural exemplar of the “attention economy,” in which creators leverage extreme content to secure views, engagement, and, eventually, financial or material rewards.

His fame translated into real-world opportunities, though not without controversy. A notable outcome of his online popularity was an invitation from Gwanki Travels and Tours International Ltd in Kaduna, who publicly offered him a free ticket to perform Umrah (a pilgrimage to Mecca). Kabeer expressed gratitude for achieving the fame he sought and noted that such endorsement was among the factors that drove him to continue his work. However, reactions were mixed: while many fans celebrated his creative drive, some religious leaders and critics warned against harmful behaviour and urged investment in education or trade instead.

Despite his meteoric rise, Kabeer himself acknowledged the ephemeral nature of his viral popularity. In later interviews shared online, he said he understood that people might soon tire of his antics as the public constantly seeks fresh content and new personalities. Beyond the sensational stunts, he also sought to diversify his videos by including short comedy skits and dance clips to retain audience interest, a common strategy among creators seeking to build sustainable relevance.

Today, the outcome is telling. There is no consistent content relevance, no major promotion, no formal education leveraged, no lasting sponsorships, no two million followers, just a fading digital footprint. Kabeer2pac’s story is not merely about an individual; it is a cautionary tale.

For Arewa content creators, the lesson is clear: fame without strategy is noise, not power. Visibility alone does not ensure sustainability. Without structure, skill development, personal growth, and long-term planning, viral attention fades as quickly as it arrives. In the digital age, the challenge is not how to trend, but how to remain relevant with dignity, purpose, and value.

Tahir Mahmood Saleh wrote from Kano via tahirmsaleh.seggroup@gmail.com.