Literature

By Salim Yunusa 

When we were neck deep into planning for KAPFEST 1.0, we decided that we would definitely have a poetry slam. Having seasoned spoken word poets on the team who had participated, judged, or simply watched one made planning for it easier. Everyone knew what to expect and what structure would work. The poetry slam was not going to be a filler—it was going to be a central experience of the festival.

Then came the aspect of naming it. Without hesitating, I suggested we either name it the Aminu Kano Poetry Slam or the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Both names carried weight. Both men represented distinct traditions of intellectualism, activism, and the power of the word. At the end, we settled for the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. It felt right. It felt timely. It felt necessary.

When I informed my friend Mukhtar that we decided to name a segment of our program after his dad, he was elated. Genuinely elated. We didn’t do it because we wanted sponsorship from the family or anything like that. We didn’t do it because we were friends with the family members. We did it because of what Mudi Sipikin stood for—creative expression, social commentary, economics, science, thought, and literary legacy.

Salim Yunusa is the founder of Poetic Wednesdays Initiative and curates the Kano International Poetry Festival. He writes from Zaria, Nigeria.

He was one of those voices that had shaped public thought and intellectual culture in Arewa for decades. So came to pass the first edition of the Mudi Sipikin Poetry Slam. Young people from different places participated. They competed. They poured their hearts out. They won cash prizes. And they made history.

Two of Mudi Sipikin’s children—Mukhtar Mudi Sipikin and Sani Misbahu Sipikin—were there physically. Mukhtar, in a touching gesture, gifted the winners beautiful textile materials. The SSA to the President also showed up and made generous cash donations. It was a moment of recognition. It was a moment of continuity. It was a moment of reclaiming history.

Then came ZABAFEST. I was pleasantly surprised when they named their poetry slam after Dr. Abubakar Imam, the famous writer and intellectual who lived in Zaria. His name, for those who know, is one of the pillars of early Northern Nigerian literature. The slam segment was electric and greatly thrilled the audience. Two of Dr. Imam’s children were in attendance, and they expressed their appreciation for the gesture. It was not just about honoring their father—it was about honoring an entire generation of thinkers who laid the foundations for what we now call Northern Nigerian literature.

And then, just yesterday, the Jos Art and Culture Festival announced that there would be a poetry slam and it would be named after Danmaraya Jos. That news made me deeply happy. Danmaraya Jos was not just a musician. He was a griot. A chronicler. A custodian of memory. And seeing young people take the initiative to immortalize his name within a literary event speaks volumes. It is not about nostalgia. It is about remembering rightly. It is about giving names their due.

During the opening ceremony of the maiden Kano International Poetry Festival in 2024, I emphasized the significance of literary festivals, stating: “Can we have enough festivals? I am thrilled that we are having literary festivals spring up in this part of the country, where we have many unsung literary heroes and heroines. You see, festivals are remarkable opportunities to educate, empower, enlighten, and entertain the public. They are a breath of fresh air, where we reignite the fires of our literary passion, cultivate new friendships and rekindle old ones, and above all, engross ourselves in rich conversations about the arts, culture, music, and poetry.”

This is why naming these events after literary icons goes way beyond immortalizing them. It is a way of preserving their contributions to the literary world. It is a method of introducing their names—and possibly their work—to younger audiences who may never encounter them otherwise. When I curated the poetry exhibition on the life of Alu Ɗan Sidi, I realized how much has been forgotten. For many attendees, it was the first time they were hearing that name, let alone engaging with the literary and scholarly contributions of the emir. But what pleased me most was how that exhibition opened a portal of learning. It sparked appreciation. It generated questions. And it even led to plans for follow-up conversations and more literary and cultural exploration on of our rich literary legacy. That is how preservation begins.

We are in a time where the literary contributions of our ancestors are being neglected or sidelined. Curriculums barely reflect their names. Public discourse often forgets them. Archives are dusty. Monuments are few. So it is refreshing—no, it is necessary—to see young people bringing back these names and personalities to life through poetry, exhibitions, festivals, and critical discussions. This is more than memory work. It is cultural survival. It is literary resistance. It is about stitching our present to our past, so that the future does not forget.

Hopefully, this growing momentum will lead to proper archiving of their works. Hopefully, it will inspire scholars to take interest in their contributions. Hopefully, it will lead to deeper appreciation and appropriate honor for their legacies, in Nigeria and beyond.

Because the names live on. Because we must speak them. Because the griots must never be forgotten.

By Sa’adatu Aliyu 

Whenever I think of Nigeria, my mind swiftly veers towards the plot of author Adamu Kyuka Usman’s book “Hope in Anarchy.“ A book that explores the disastrous effects of poverty in Beku City where Ahoka, the main character, finds himself, and how this impoverishment, caused by the enormous economic disparity between the rich and poor, injustice, and political disillusionment, slowly tore into the fabric of society, creating a Republic of criminality and lawlessness, consequently proving that injustice and poverty largely birth insecurity.

Security in a country can’t be underestimated. It is a thread stitching other things together. It is what lets a nation thrive; without it, the potential of a people is diminished, as fear is one of the greatest potential killers. Unfortunately, this menace bedevils our country today, disorganising everything and everyone, causing citizens to lose their lives and means of livelihood. While the state appears to be attempting to tackle this, little success has been recorded, leaving most in utter despair and repeatedly asking: When will this nightmare end?

Similarly, I am writing this piece with the question: When will this mayhem cease? But while also seeking accountability from the government, in addition to challenging them to bring an end to this menace, though I do not want to point accusing fingers at some malicious politician as being in the know of the root cause of this instability or as having direct involvement with the current status quo for one selfish reason or another—primarily to enrich themselves or capitalising on the insecurity to gain political leverage during elections. I firmly believe that we’re not as helpless as we portray.

To quote a PhD student of Political Science, Hamza Aliyu, who is also a political analyst, “Sometimes if there’s a prolonged state of insecurity in a nation, the government is aware of its actors.” Backing former military president Gen. Sani Abacha’s quote, “Any insurgency that lasts more than 24 hours, a government official has a hand in it.” While these claims may be exaggerated, and I do not want to make myself believe such statements, I strongly insist that we cannot continue like this. As such, with the right attitude, there’s a way forward.

And this is why I am calling on President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to put necessary mechanisms in place to fight these insecurities presenting themselves in multiple shades: from ethnic and religious tensions to kidnapping. Doing so will certainly elevate his reputation in the sight of the people; otherwise, the current groaning continues. Moreover, it is wise to do so as a leader who intends to recontest in 2027. If Nigerians were to vote for him, on what basis would that be? The bloodbath, harsh economic policies, or delivering to the people based on the 2023 campaign promises? I think it’s time to look beyond the politics of money (vote buying) because Nigerians are tired of having an endless trail of failed leadership.

Additionally, the Northern part of the country remains the hardest hit, and it is disheartening to see the lack of ingenuity of Northern politicians who care more about sustaining their lavish lifestyles along with those of their families. At the same time, their region is aflame, doing very little to develop the region. I’m using this medium to call on the Arewa Elders’ Forum and Northern politicians and businessmen to put self-interest aside and work tirelessly and collectively towards ensuring regional security. 

And among other things, one of the ways forward is reforming the Almajiranci system of education; Almajiris, being citizens who have become easy targets for electoral violence and other acts of criminality, must be integrated into society and equipped with the necessary basic education and skills to become useful citizens of the country.

Insecurity affects everyone, rich or poor. For this reason, they should invest primarily in securing the region and attract foreign investors, in addition to creating a conducive environment for economic development for hardworking entrepreneurial Nigerians, even if this means devising strategies typically unheard of.  

Difficult situations call for drastic measures. Whether Nigeria has failed as a state and people to secure the nation is not up for debate at this point, but prioritising the security of our people and the way forward is the goal.

If this means seeking foreign intervention from well-equipped and well-trained military mercenaries like the Russian Wagner group to train our security personnel and enhance our security apparatus, I think we should take the plunge. Critics, however, might argue that this move is myopic, as doing so is akin to inviting foreign intervention into the country, which has suffered at the hands of colonialism. 

Moreover, arguments like indulging private mercenaries come at a price, mainly that of exploiting natural resources in exchange for security services. As such, the mercenaries might work against, instead of for, the betterment of the country by worsening the insecurity and prolonging it to continue gaining access to solid or liquid minerals, as seen in CAR, Sudan, Libya, and Mali, where the Russian Wagner group has had some presence. An argument that holds water to an extent, but is essentially not solid in the face of the realities staring Nigeria in the face.

Besides, political meddling by foreign powers, especially the United States and its other Western allies, has been constant in Africa. While ideally, this is a time for the continent to be ridding itself of foreign aid in its multifaceted nature, we have failed to give hope and instil confidence in our people.

As a young military leader, Ibrahim Traore seems to be the only leader currently making waves and admirable political reforms on the continent. However, he might not be the best example to cite for some because his leadership is undemocratic. But who cares about democracy? While the governance system is suited for the West, we Africans must find a system that works to drive significant change and development, fostering capacity building in Africa. It could be a modified form of democracy suited for our place, people, and time – there should be several routes to the market.

Having said that, I am calling on northern politicians to wake up. We do not need more bloodbaths before the fog is parted from our eyes to see the glaring realities of the North. Particularly, the way our elites display wealth, wining and dining in luxury, while their masses are subjected to inhumane conditions at the hands of criminal gangs and biting poverty. The wedding ceremonies of the sons and daughters of elites, intimidatingly littered across social media platforms, with wads of crisp hard currencies on display, sleek exotic cars, and palatial wedding halls, prove our misplaced priorities. We can do better. All that money could go a long way in developing the region, investing it into something that profits the population.

So, I’m calling on the youth of the North as well. The younger generation must try to outdo their fathers, ensuring they work for the good of the nation and not to satisfy their greed. We do not want a country like the Beku City Republic, as rightly portrayed by Adamu Kyuka Usman in “Hope in Anarchy,” where: “The Republican police were sent to arrest armed robbers but did not return. It was later learned they had joined the armed robbers. Eventually, the police and the armed robbers were brought to the judges for trial, but the judges joined them. This is the order of things in our Republic today.” A country “where everyone will prosper by the strength of their arms or perish by the lack of such strength.”

However, while there’s huge dysfunctionality in the nation, I want to convince myself that Nigeria may not be a failed state, despite the anarchy; I’m trying to hold on to hope. But it is undoubtedly unapologetically swaying its shameless hips towards that direction. But we, the masses, cannot afford that. I believe even the rich do not want to wake up to the realities of a nation where deep resentment, as a result of poverty, drives an unquenchable thirst for the blood of the rich.

If President Nayib Bukele of El Salvador can round up notorious criminal gangs, we can restore Nigeria’s peace and security. Therefore, in this spirit, I am calling on Northern youth, Nigerian youth – rich and poor – the nation’s development is in your hands. Rise.

Sa’adatu Aliyu is a tutor at DLC Ahmadu Bello University, pursuing a Master’s in Literature. She writes from Zaria, and can be reached via this email: saadatualiyu36@gmail.com

By Abdullahi Yusuf Tela

Introduction 

In many societies, women are constantly reminded of their roles as wives and mothers. They are saddled with the responsibilities of producing and nurturing children and caring for the home. Over the years, however, women have embarked on a struggle aimed at affirming their identities while at the same time doing all they can to transform the societal, cultural, or traditional perceptions of their gender. Women are striving very hard to change these perceptions through education and by creating awareness.

Female writers have significantly helped by making the female characters in their works more prominent. They aim to have female characters that are powerful and outspoken. This is because women in most male writings are often illustrated as subservient. 

In 1966, Flora Nwapa broke the silence of women by publishing her first novel, Efuru, inspiring other female writers. These women used literature to explain the state of their societies, either good or bad, and the importance of female existence in society. These feminist writers include Zaynab Alkali, Buchi Emecheta, Mobolaji Adenubi, and Hilary Rouse-Amadi.

Notably, Azizah, like other female writers, has been able to outline the following feminist angles in her book, A Sackful of Wishes.   

Cultural Feminism:

Cultural feminism celebrates human attributes in women. It focuses on the feminist virtues by celebrating the positive sides of women. In A Sackful of Wishes of Azizah Idris M., Inna Binta, Hadiza’s mother, is a character who portrays aspects of cultural feminism. Inna Binta is a calm, reserved woman who faces a lot of tragedies as a new bride to Mallam Musa. She is hated and manipulated by her co-wife, Mairo Lauje. Inna Binta’s character shows a woman with patience despite the confrontations she faced from Mama Mairo. Cultural feminism believes that there is strength in a woman’s silence. They see the strength in women in the face of oppression. 

Hadiza’s mother, Inna Binta, could endure hardship from her co-wife or return to her parents. Binta remains strong even when Mairo Lauje makes her evil plot to charm her into never staying in Mal Musa’s house. 

Despite all the plots, Binta says, “It’s okay, I can do that . . .as long as she lets me stay with you. You are worth it.”

It is evident from the above quote that Binta, as being put in the cultural feminism, wanted peace for herself, her husband, and her children; that was why she heeded Mama Mairo’s deal. At this point, the cultural feminists view the mother’s strength as crucial. “Mothers have to be strong to take on both roles, loving, protecting, and counselling in turns” (Ngcobo 536).

Marxist feminism: 

The Marxist feminist approach propounded by Karl Marx is embedded in this work. The author portrays Hadiza Musa as someone who earnestly wants to earn for herself and feed her children. When she faces hunger, starvation and poverty, Hadiza immediately engages in a skilled job to take care of her children. She was into plaiting people’s hair and got an immense reward in cash. Hadiza becomes her own woman, independently sourcing and feeding herself and her children. 

It should be noted that Marxist feminists connect the oppression of women to social exploitation and oppression. A Sackful of Wishes by Azizah Idris M. majorly portrays an oppression of the female gender. According to Sotunsa, Marxist feminists believe that male domination is one of the societal ills, and gender oppression must be overcome to overcome societal ills. Hadiza resists the dominance of her husband, AR, whom society believes she needs to bow to. In the text, Hadiza says:  

“I want to start a business.” 

“I don’t have enough money, but I have skill in weaving hair. So, I’m going to start making people’s hair, I want your permission.” (129)

When her husband, AZ, decides to stop her, Hadiza says:

You can’t stop me, you know. You don’t feed me, nor clothe me, you don’t know how I buy my detergent or my body cream or provide the needs of Maahir. You just go out and come home. Some nights, you would try to come near me. Why do you think I got the money for those perfumes and creams that make me feel smooth and appealing to you? You either man up and hold on to your responsibilities or you let me start a business. (129)    

Fortunately for Hadiza, she wins the battle to make people’s hair after Umma Sala, Abdurrazak’s mother, intervenes.   

In portraying her bizarre situation, Hadiza was quoted as thus: 

I resorted to selling two of my wrappers from Mahir’s naming gifts to buy some foodstuffs since I was so heavy, I could not plait my customers’ hair at this stage. I found it difficult to sit for long. They did not sell for much. I saved some of the cash because I knew my situation, and I could need it anytime. I bought some spaghetti and vegetables. My sisters came to check on me the next day. We ate and chatted, and I even gave them some transport fare. Nobody would think things were amiss in my house. (141) 

Another portrayal of Marxist feminism in the text is in the character of Umma Sala, Abdurrazak’s mother. Umma is the boss of the house because her husband, Abdurrazak’s father, is not earning much, and she’s making money with her food business. 

As it turns out, Umma took over control of the house. With her business as a food vendor and other small businesses, whenever she did something in the house, she billed it to Baffa. Whether he had it or not, he would pay when he got some money. 

Radical Feminism: 

A Sackful of Wishes by Azizah Idris M. portrays richly a form of radical feminist approach. Radical feminists view society fundamentally as a patriarchy in which men dominate and oppress women. According to Shulamith Firestone, radical feminists seek to abolish the patriarchy in a struggle to liberate women and girls from an unjust society by challenging existing social norms and institutions. This struggle includes opposing the sexual objectification of women, raising public awareness about such issues as rape and violence against women. 

The central character, Hadiza Musa, exhibits a taste of radical feminism as a woman who mysteriously falls in love with a man so obsessed with her that Hadiza rebels against her husband’s oppressive behaviours. The radical feminism inked in the work portrays Hadiza as a woman who stays firmly and fights against starvation, rape, humiliation, and disrespect from her husband and, subsequently, his. Hadiza Musa rebels to the extent that she leaves her husband’s house several times out of her mother’s frustration and anger. 

Hadiza states that: 

I was fed up with my life. I was just twenty-five years old, but I had seen the difficulties of a sixty-year-old’s lifetime. I did not put on fancy clothes, nor did make-up appeal to me. I had forgotten how to laugh heartily, my soul was a wreck, my spirit in shambles. I was a walking time bomb waiting to explore. The things I bore in my chest were unimaginable. I had a sackful of wishes that I craved, that I needed to explore but could not do that because I was a coward. There, that’s it. (172)

Her rebellious act makes her stand tall against society, which tends to make her return to her horrible marriage. With the assistance of her brother, Yusuf, Hadiza can take the matter to court. She perseveres despite the intricacies of her husband, Abdurrazak, until she finally gets a favourable judgment dissolving the marriage.  

Conclusion

A Sackful of Wishes is one of the many texts that portray the difficulties, hardships, pain, angst, and oppression women experience in their marriages. It is one of the works that uses a feminist approach to fight for women’s freedom and free them from society’s shackles. 

Thus, it is evident from the text that there still exists a repressive and hostile environment against women. The text shows how young Hadiza faces and traverses through oppression and pain from her psychopath husband and his mother. 

Abdullahi Yusuf Tela wrote via abdullahiyusuftela@yahoo.com.

By Aliyu Idris

Engausa is a new emerging phenomenon that involves code switching and code mixing in English and Hausa. It’s a creative bilingual blend encompassing importance, uniqueness, and sending a message using a fusion of two popular languages (Hausa and English). It’s another genre of poetry and writing with its peculiarities. Its linguistic efforts are not to create a phenomenon that is Hausa or English but to create a genre that’s genuinely “Engausa.”

Khalid Imam and Ola Ifatimehin worked to establish a new writing phenomenon in the atmosphere of writing. After submission, they edited the ENGAUSA poetry anthology titled KWARAPTION.

Kwaraption Engausa Anthology is a poetry anthology comprising fifty-one poems penned by forty-five teeming poets. Various notable works of art have been produced on corruption in Nigeria. The poems in this anthology were written in various styles, from traditional to experimental, and they reflect the diverse voices and experiences of the poets.

One of the anthology’s strengths is its focus on Engausa poetry. Engausa is a hybrid form of poetry that blends Hausa and English languages. It is a relatively new and still evolving form of writing. The anthology features several poems in Engausa, allowing readers to experience this unique and dynamic form of writing.

The poems provide readers with a vast knowledge of Nigerian richness and valuable resources, but they’re not properly managed and are embezzled due to corruption. They also portray corruption as a major hindrance to the country’s progress, lament the nation’s current status, and inquire when corruption will end. The poems highlight many causes of corruption and its consequences.

The poets come from various backgrounds and experiences, and their poems reflect this diversity. The anthology features poems from established and emerging poets, which shows diversity in the anthology.

They try to display the pervasiveness of corruption in all parts of the country. Clearly, corruption was endemic but has now metamorphosed into an unending pandemic that continues to destroy the nation’s advancement. Several instances of the poem address corruption in different sectors of life, ranging from offices to hospitals to markets to politics to schools.

Kwaraption Engausa: An Anthology of Poems is a valuable contribution to Nigerian and Hausa literature and literature at large. It is a must-read for anyone interested in contemporary Nigerian poetry or the Engausa form of poetry as a newly branded way of writing.

Aliyu Idris wrote via aliyuidris063@gmail.com.

By Sabiu Abdullahi 

The Flame Tree Writers’ Project, in partnership with the Heinrich Böll Foundation, has announced a call for applications for a writers’ workshop targeting emerging writers from Northern Nigeria.

The initiative aims to support young writers in honing their craft and envisioning a more democratic and peaceful Nigeria.

According to Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, founder of the Flame Tree Writers’ Project, “This has been a passion project of mine for so long, and I am excited that, with the support of the Heinrich Böll Foundation, it is coming to fruition.”

The workshop, scheduled for June 24–28, 2024, in Abuja, will be co-facilitated by NLNG Nigeria Prize–winning authors Abubakar Adam Ibrahim and Chika Unigwe.

Participants will receive guidance in writing a short story suitable for publication in an anthology. 

Ere Amachree, Program Manager at the Heinrich Böll Foundation, noted, “The foundation is excited about the Flame Tree Writers’ Project, as it advances our vision of promoting writing as a means of political expression, just like Heinrich Böll, the German writer after whom our foundation is named.” 

The call for applications is exclusively for writers from the 19 Northern States of Nigeria, aged between 18 and 35. Female emerging writers are strongly encouraged to apply. 

Interested participants must meet the eligibility criteria and submit their applications to flametreewritersproject@gmail.com by June 1, 2024. 

Encouraging writers to apply, Mr. Abubakar said, “It’s not just a workshop but a project that will publish the stories from the workshop in an anthology of new writing and get them into institutions of learning, where they will be taught as part of the growing and exciting corpus of literature from this part of the country.”

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

References.

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

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

By Muhammad Sani Usman

If you are an introvert and, worst of all, you don’t want to go out and meet strangers, or you are not financially stable enough to explore the world you romanticise in your head, then you should read fictional books.

Consider The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini for a unique perspective on Afghanistan. Unlike the war-torn image often portrayed in American movies, Hossien’s narrative paints a different picture. He depicts a flowing country, with small boys flying kites in the streets of Kabul and the vibrant Afghan holidays like Nowruz. 

You will learn about friends and kinship. There is Amir, the privileged son of a wealthy businessman, and Hassan, the son of their family servant, who grew up together in Kabul. Despite their different social statuses, they are inseparable as children. They spend their days flying kites, with Hassan being the best kite runner, always ready to retrieve the kite Amir cuts down. 

If you don’t know what betrayal is by a friend, then you should look at how Amir witnesses Hassan being sexually assaulted but chooses to do nothing out of fear and selfishness. This event haunts Amir, leading to guilt and a sense of betrayal that defines much of his life.

If you are still wondering about the lengths people go to with the ones they love, you will see how Amir chooses to marry Soraya (his girlfriend), accepting her past and the societal judgment that comes with it. In essence, you will see matured and refined love between Hassan and Soraya.

You will only get all this information from creative writers pushing the world close to you. 

Muhammad Sani Usman wrote muhdusman1999@gmail.com. 

By Saifullahi Attahir Wurno.

John Grisham’s The King of Torts tells the story of Clay Carter. He is a Washington city-based, poorly paid lawyer who works as a public defender on the city’s outskirts. Like most employees, he was unsatisfied with his job as it hardly paid his monthly expenses. Another problem with Clay was that he had been dating Rebecca for a long time, and her parents were unhappy with their relationship. These issues kept Mr Clay’s poor mind busy, always thinking of nothing but how he would become rich.

One afternoon at the office, a man named Max Pace appeared before Mr Clay, claiming to be an insider of one pharmaceutical company that secretly carried out a clinical trial on some prisoners without their consent. The story goes that a drug called Tarvan had a side effect that forced its victim to carry out senseless killings without any remorse. Mr Clay became interested in the case and went to investigate up to the prison and interviewed the victims. 

Mr Clay gathered enough evidence to sue the pharmaceutical company involved. Before that, he went into an agreement not to disclose or involve Max Pace in the dealing. After lengthy litigation, the company pleaded guilty and made a massive settlement for the victims through Mr Clay’s hands. This made Mr Clay a hot cake within a month. 

Surprisingly, Max Pace appeared again while trying to adjust to his new life, promising Mr Clay that more litigation cases needed another lawyer for the investigation, so he advised Mr Clay to try his luck. Ever greedy with money, without question, Clay accepted the challenge and plunged into action.

 This one involved another giant pharmaceutical company called Ackerman Laboratories that developed a drug called Dyloft, which was found to be carcinogenic (potential to cause cancer). This time, Mr Clay raised a campaign in TV and magazines until, eventually, the Ackerman laboratories pleaded guilty and agreed to pay a 100 million Dollar settlement. Barrister Clay became an overnight Millionaire and the talk of the city, with magazines featuring and making stories about him; they even nicknamed him ‘The King of Torts’.

Typical of a man longing for cool Dollars, Mr Clay bought a new black and latest Mercedes Benz for a couple of millions, purchased a house in a neighbouring suburb, leased a building and founded a private law firm just for handling litigation cases. He hired more smart rookies ( young lawyers) and decorated his office building to appear prominent and affluent. 

The problem with soft Dollars is that they often affect our thinking negatively. This time, Mr Clay’s relationship with Rebecca becomes sour, and he begins to distance himself from her, although they genuinely love each other. The fact that her parents are not happy with their relationship and would not allow them to live together forced Mr Clay to date other young girls secretly. He was always roaming from one five-star hotel to another, paying huge bills to satisfy his desire.

 He entered the big league of Great lawyers in town, spending lavishly, travelling around the country attending conferences in a state-of-the-art private Jet he leased! and travelling to the Caribbean Islands during holidays to enjoy his wealth. 

 He eventually met a lady named Ridley, who was a beauty Model. Ridley (modern-day prostitute). That is where Mr Clay was losing his soft Dollars quickly and without noticing. He bought many properties in her name, fearing to lose them to the FBI, thinking he trusted her enough and their relationship would be permanent.

As for his work, he was luckily getting more dollars, litigating more pharmaceutical companies, the latest involving a company called Goffman that produced a drug called Maxatil. Thinking it’s always a win, he invested heavily in this case by orchestrating expensive adverts, hiring expensive lawyers, and even recruiting fake victims just to get the soft Dollars. Unfortunately, Goffman was not ready to back down; they hired more expert lawyers and conducted a deeper investigation. Eventually, Mr Clay lost the case.

Losing for the first time, Mr Clay lost his balance, and more trouble awaited as the Goffman company sued him for blackmailing their products; this forced Mr Clay to lose a large proportion of his fortune.

 Mr Clay was sued again before the court by the clients on whose behalf he collected a massive settlement for not paying them enough to cover their hospital bills after leaked news by one of his close allies. Without saying, Mr Clay becomes more deeply in trouble.

He was eventually investigated by the FBI, risking a jail term or a settlement that would cost him almost all of his fortune. He has the option for the latter.  He lost all his assets and new ‘friends’, including Ridley, who fled without a trace. He fled the country, and surprisingly, all this while, his original lover Rebecca was married to another man but got divorced later. Finding out Mr Clay’s story, she travelled to meet him, console him and offer her genuine care and love. They continued to live afterwards, and Mr Clay learned his lessons.

History has continually shown that overnight riches or those who stumble upon a vast fortune suddenly and effortlessly are similarly more susceptible to losing it. The problem with overnight riches is that they impede our positive thinking, allowing us to dive deep into fantasies, opening unrealistic doors, and drawing us toward deceptive paths.

This story can reference some of our lives today; this insatiable search for soft money by all and sundry, hook or crook, could remind the old maxim that happiness, contentment, genuine wealth, and loving family matter more. 

By Kamal Alkasim

Last year, I hung out with my good friend Umar, a hotshot writer and all-around awesome guy. He proudly introduced me to his younger siblings, calling me a writer and poet. My heart did a flip-flop – being called that in front of his sisters made me a little nervous! But I took a deep breath and chatted with them, especially the super smart Maryam. 

Maryam showed me a cool book she had. I wanted to read it badly, but I didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring everyone else. You see, I’m all about cheering on women and helping them reach for the stars.

Not everyone likes the idea of strong women, which stinks. Girls should write their own stories, not have others write them for them. So, we decided to write a fun story together in our language. Maryam, her eyes shining, told me how writing was her passion and how she wished she could be like me. 

I shared my writing journey, the good and the bad, and told her, “The only way you fail is if you avoid making mistakes. Sometimes messing up is what gets you ahead.” Maryam seemed impressed, which was fantastic!

Here’s the thing: sometimes it’s better just to listen than to try and give advice. Words are powerful. They can build you up or tear you down. Think of yourself as a special gift to everyone you meet. And you never know where you might find success.

Maryam shared how her teacher had slammed her dreams. “They said I’m wasting my time on something nobody cares about. They even said girls shouldn’t be writers, especially if their boyfriend doesn’t like it!” she sighed. I told her to keep reading, even more than she wrote, like planting seeds of hope to water her dreams.

It’s crazy how often we forget to talk about dreams with our sisters like their voices don’t matter. Too many girls deal with this kind of drama at home. Our chat got a little sad when Maryam talked about her late sister, but it just made me even more determined to keep lifting women, no matter what.

So there you have it: a story about sharing ideas, encouraging dreams, and the power of friendship. Remember, everyone has a story to tell; sometimes, they need a little push to start writing it.

Kamal Alkasim is a Freelance Writer based in Kano, Nigeria. He wrote via kamalalkasim17@gmail.com.

By Sa’id Sa’ad

In 2021, I sat at Arewa House. I listened to Late Ummaru Danjuma (Kasagi) thunder – in his old throaty yet commanding voice – bitterly about how Hausa culture and stories have diluted over the years. His face, though saddened, lit by fluorescence – old, yet much alive – spread goosebumps throughout the room, reawakening all the murdered tales back to life. No one would think that that command births the reawakening of not just Hausa culture, stories, and language but northern Nigeria’s stories.

That was the maiden edition of the Hausa International Book and Arts Festival (HIBAF)—a time when literary festivals have suffered lashes of COVID-19. Literary enthusiasts, writers and journalists were once again full of life to reconnect. While some see it as a promising beginning for a new Jaipur Literature Festival of Northern Nigeria, a lot thought it was just a naming ceremony of yet another Nigerian literary festival that will soon wither due to shrinking funds.

Hausa or northern Nigeria literature – before now – couldn’t afford itself a “consistent” arts festival that solely promotes and celebrates its artistry, culture, and stories until the advent of HIBAF. However, there were several one-off attempts previously, but mostly political. One might argue that festivals like Kaduna Book and Arts Festival (KABAFEST) have blanketed the same purpose. Still, I would differ because KABAFEST is an international festival bringing international guests with national stories to a northern city. KABAFEST is – or now probably was – an arts festival “in” northern Nigeria, while HIBAF is an arts festival “for” northern Nigeria. This is not a dismissal of the influence KABAFEST had on northern Nigeria. It would be stupid to dismiss that.

However, as the region continues to suffer stereotypes about its literary prowess, HIBAF could stand on the edge of liberating northern Nigeria from such an ugly view. Perhaps the birth of what can be predicted today is the conscious reawakening of northern stories.

For a young festival with such an ambitious name, the question is: Is HIBAF only representative of the Hausa people or northern Nigeria?

It is easy to assume that HIBAF solely represents Hausas and their stories, especially for those who view them from the outside. This is mainly because, unlike other art festivals in Nigeria and around the world founded to represent a geographical entity, such as Lagos Book and Arts Festival, HIBAF is one of few whose nomenclature represents a tribe. In previous seasons, the festival granted conversations in the English Language; therefore, that says a lot about HIBAF going beyond Hausa “alone” in its programming, which I find healthy.

It would be great if HIBAF were only for Nigerian Hausas. It is okay if it is for Hausas globally. But it will be graciously honourary if HIBAF is for northern Nigeria in general. The value of this ambitious festival is in its capacity to reconnect Hausas and Hausa cultures with cultures around it through diversifying into introducing tribes that have existed with Hausas, such as Fulani, Nupe, Tiv, Igala and other northern tribes to its programming. This will mean Hausas and communities of non-Hausas in Hausa communities could re-share a space in arts and shape a positive narrative of the region in terms of collective literary and artistic prowess. This will create a unified northern story(ies).

Another issue that can’t be dismissed is the problem of northern consciousness – this time, refusal – to appreciate northern initiatives. It is a similar case for HIBAF. It is seldom difficult to see a representation of famous northern personalities – especially from Kannywood and music sub-sectors, aside from a few interested in literature such as Aminu Ala or Ado Gidan Dabino. Most hardly care. This does not mean that such personalities – who don’t care – will decline invitations from similar festivals in other parts of Nigeria. They certainly will accept. Now, the question of the “potentiality” of the festival in creating “value” and “shaping northern stories” has everything to do with bringing people of value, not just in literature but from other art sub-sectors such as Kannywood and Hausa music space into its fold.

Knowingly or unknowingly, the Kannywood industry needs more fora this time than ever. Imagine Ali Nuhu, Rahama Sadau, Fauziya D. Sulaiman and Salisu Balarabe on a panel to discuss how northern creative writers could get their – more well-written stories – to Kannywood screens. This panel can pave the way for collaboration that could place both the creative writing and Kannywood film industries decades ahead—a potential both industries share.

With its ambiguous programming nature of inculcating cultural programmes, the festival could give life to northern cultural heritages on the verge of fading with the recent digital revolution. It will be fascinating to see HIBAF Durba, HIBAF Tashe, HIBAF Dambe, Dandalin HIBAF, HIBAF Mawakan Gargajiya and other numerous HIBAF’s all-year-round that could bring back the northern cultural heritages while also Including non-Hausa cultural programme. Again, this creates unified northern cultural narratives.

This year’s HIBAF, in its third year of awesomeness and vibrancy – though still wounded by honest negative feedback from the second season – is bringing diasporic faces back home. Simply put, ‘going international with locals, and for locals.’ Such a breed can give life to a new dimension of cross-geographical collaboration between northern storytellers in the diaspora and Nigeria—a remarkable feat to a tremendous progressive bond.

While the festival, through its host organization, is becoming a spot for learning and sharpening creative and artistic mastery through workshops and seminars, it depicts how it can create a birthplace of yet new sets of Abubakar Imams and Zaynab Alkalis who would live to tell the stories. But this can also be limited if the focus is Hausa and literature alone as, thus, expansion both in language and sub-sector is where the growing inclusive value lies.

From pages of novelists to the rhymes of poets, from scenes of playwrights to screens of filmmakers, from the vocals of singers to the lyrics of songwriters, from the colours of culture to the lens of photographers, from northeast to northwest and northcentral, HIBAF could cook a recipe of blended stories – of all that have been around Hausa – to a valuable northern unified story.

Though all these are a long walk to a new revolution for northern Nigeria’s stories, it can place HIBAF at a point of liberating the region and demolishing its stereotypes.

Sa’id Sa’ad is a Nigerian writer, playwright and journalist from Maiduguri. He won the Peace Panel Short Story Prize 2018 and the NFC Essay Prize 2018. He writes from Bonn, Germany. He can be reached directly at saidsaadabubakar@gmail.com