Muslims

By Anwar Usman

Nigerian cleric Sheikh Ahmad Gumi has dissociated himself from alleged statements and materials circulating online linking him with support for banditry in Nigeria.

This was disclosed in a press statement issued in Kaduna on Saturday, where the cleric described the reports as fake, manipulated and doctored by individuals and groups pursuing ethnic and sectional interests.

He stated that some of his media interviews, public lectures and comments on insecurity had been deliberately misrepresented by certain internet content creators seeking sensational headlines and online traffic.

The statement in part reads, “I hereby state unequivocally that any video clip, written statement, or message attributed to me, whether directly or by innuendo suggesting support for, justification of, protection of, or advocacy for banditry in Nigeria or anywhere else, does not emanate from me,” he said.

The Islamic cleric reaffirmed his loyalty to Nigeria, describing the country as a nation with unmatched potential.

Gumi urged the public, media organisations and government authorities to disregard any misleading materials being circulated in his name.

Gumi further warned that individuals or groups perpetuating the spread of falsehoods against him from the date of the statement would face legal action.

The cleric expressed hope that Nigeria would overcome its security challenges and that victims of violence across the country would find comfort in the collective resolve of Nigerians and the international community to end insecurity.

He attributed the persistence of insecurity to factors such as ignorance, poverty and widespread social injustice, while calling for lasting solutions to the crisis.

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 Ibrahim Aliyu

Over the past few decades, Kannywood has grown into one of the most influential cultural industries in Northern Nigeria. Rooted in the Hausa language, Islamic values, and local traditions, it has shaped entertainment, storytelling, and public discourse across millions of homes. For many families, Kannywood was never merely cinema; it became a reflection of identity, morality, family structure, and social values.

Yet despite its cultural importance, Kannywood continues to attract criticism from various sections of society. Some believe the industry has drifted from the moral and religious principles it once claimed to uphold. Others argue that society itself has become increasingly harsh, suspicious, and contradictory in its judgments of public morality.

Perhaps the deeper issue is not merely “bad behaviour” in the industry, but the growing tension among public morality, private intentions, and shifting social perceptions.

In Islam, unnecessary physical intimacy between non-Mahram men and women is generally discouraged, and Hausa society has historically taken such boundaries seriously and with respect. However, there was also a period in Northern Nigeria when families could sit together and watch classic Kannywood comedy scenes featuring actors such as Ibro and Tsigai without automatically interpreting every interaction through a sexual lens.

Parents watched alongside their children. Grandparents watched with their grandchildren. Communities laughed together. At the time, many viewers saw those scenes primarily as comedy, storytelling, and harmless entertainment within a familiar cultural context.

This raises an important question: What changed?

Part of the answer may lie in how modern society increasingly interprets many human interactions through suspicion and moral anxiety. The rapid expansion of social media, unrestricted internet access, celebrity culture, and exposure to explicit online content have reshaped how people perceive entertainment, gender interactions, and morality itself.

As a result, public discussions about morality sometimes become less about intentions, discipline, and character, and more about appearances and public performance. In such an environment, accusations of immorality can spread quickly, even when the cultural context or the intention is more complex.

Hausa society contains longstanding cultural traditions that show how social interaction has historically been understood within context and boundaries. Practices such as “wasan kanin miji” and “wasan kaka da jika” reflect playful social interactions that coexisted with strong family values and respect for marriage institutions. These interactions were not automatically deemed immoral because society recognised the importance of trust, intention, and communal understanding.

This does not mean boundaries should disappear, nor does it suggest that moral principles are unimportant. Rather, it highlights the need for balance, sincerity, and self-awareness when discussing morality in public life.

The danger arises when society becomes more concerned with appearing morally superior than with cultivating genuine ethical discipline. Excessive suspicion, constant public outrage, and the tendency to sexualise ordinary human behaviour can deepen social tension rather than achieve genuine moral reform.

In this sense, Kannywood is more than a film industry. It has become a mirror reflecting the wider struggles within Northern society — the struggle between tradition and modernity, religious values and entertainment culture, public expectations and private realities.

The debate surrounding Kannywood is therefore not only about actors, actresses, or films. It is also about how society defines morality, how communities respond to cultural change, and whether public conversations about ethics are guided by wisdom, balance, and sincerity rather than by fear, projection, or moral performance.

As Northern Nigeria continues to evolve socially and culturally, perhaps the challenge is not to destroy cultural institutions out of anxiety, but to engage them thoughtfully, critically, and honestly — while preserving the values that truly strengthen society.

Ibrahim Aliyu wrote via khalilnuradeen@gmail.com.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Alhaji Shehu Yahaya Jalam, a senior Nigerian civil servant and permanent secretary for special services in northern Bauchi State, has died in Saudi Arabia while performing the annual Hajj pilgrimage, state officials said on Sunday.

Jalam died at Al-Noor Hospital in Makkah early on Sunday morning following a brief illness, according to a statement from the Bauchi State Muslim Pilgrims Welfare Board.

He served as head of information and publicity and secretary of the feeding committee for the state’s 2026 Hajj delegation, managing welfare and logistics for hundreds of Nigerian pilgrims.

“His death is a monumental loss to our state and the nation,” Imam Abdurrahman Ibrahim Idris, the executive secretary of the state’s pilgrims board, said in a statement from Makkah.

Bauchi State Governor Bala Mohammed expressed his condolences, describing Jalam as a dedicated and exceptionally loyal public servant. Jalam also held the traditional title of Turakin Dawakin Misau in his home state.

Funeral prayers are scheduled to be held at the Grand Mosque in Makkah following the afternoon Zuhur prayers, with burial to take place in the holy city in accordance with Islamic rites.

Millions of Muslims arrive in Saudi Arabia annually for the Hajj, a key pillar of Islam. Managing the logistics and health requirements of large international delegations remains a critical task for foreign governments and Saudi authorities.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The Coalition of Ulama and Islamic Organisations in Kano State has expressed concern over rising political tension in Kano State, warning that the increasing use of inflammatory language and politically motivated violence could threaten peace and stability in the state.

In a statement issued on Wednesday, the coalition condemned recent incidents linked to political activities and urged politicians and their supporters to avoid actions capable of inciting unrest.

The group said the growing trend of insults, intimidation, and provocation in the political space was disturbing and inconsistent with the values of peace and mutual respect long associated with Kano.

The coalition also cautioned youths against allowing themselves to be used as tools for violence by desperate politicians, urging them instead to uphold law and order. It called on political leaders to embrace issue-based engagement and conduct their activities responsibly in the interest of public peace.

The statement, signed by the coalition’s secretary, Saidu Ahmad Dukawa, prayed for continued peace and unity in Kano State and urged residents to remain calm and law-abiding.

By Amina Abubakar Fugura

As Muslims, we believe that the Qur’an is the final and most sacred book revealed by Allah to humanity. It is a book of guidance, light, and healing, and it serves as a source of mercy and wisdom for all believers. In this article, we will explore the significance of the Qur’an and its importance in the lives of Muslims.

The Qur’an is described in the Holy Book itself as a guidance, light, and a cure for what is in the breasts of men. It is a book that provides solutions to all the problems that humanity faces, and it offers guidance on how to live a righteous and virtuous life. The Qur’an is also a source of comfort and solace, providing reassurance and hope to those who are facing difficulties and challenges.

As Muslims, we believe that the Qur’an is the word of Allah, revealed to the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) through the angel Gabriel. It is a book that has been preserved in its original form, and it remains a source of inspiration and guidance for millions of people around the world.

The importance of the Qur’an cannot be overstated. It is a book that provides guidance on all aspects of life, from the simplest matters of personal hygiene to the most complex issues of international relations. It is a book that teaches us how to live in harmony with ourselves, with others, and with the natural world.

In addition to its spiritual significance, the Qur’an is also a book of great literary and historical importance. It is a book that has shaped the course of human history, inspiring countless generations of scholars, scientists, philosophers, and artists.

In conclusion, the Qur’an is a blessed book that provides guidance, light, and healing to all who read it. It is a book that has been preserved in its original form, and it remains a source of inspiration and guidance for millions of people around the world. As Muslims, we are encouraged to read and reflect on the Qur’an, and to follow its teachings in our daily lives. By doing so, we can gain a deeper understanding of the world and our place in it, and we can live a life that is guided by the principles of justice, compassion, and mercy.

Amina Abubakar Fugura, Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri.

By Muhammad Abubakar

Renowned American commentator and podcaster Tucker Carlson has ignited debate after saying, “the people in charge don’t want you to know this, but Muslims love Jesus,” amid tensions involving Donald Trump and Pope Leo XIV.

The remark followed controversy over an AI-generated image shared by Trump on Truth Social, showing him in attire associated with Jesus Christ.

Carlson’s comment drew mixed reactions online, with some noting that Islam indeed reveres Jesus as a prophet, while others questioned the timing and context of his statement.

Recall that President Trump called Carlson low IQ, among other abuses, as the two former allies fall apart, especially because of the US-Israel war on Iran and US foreign policy towards Iran.

As of the time of this report, Trump has yet to respond to Carlson’s recent post on Jesus and Muslims.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The Supreme Council for Shariah in Nigeria (SCSN) on Monday disowned viral social media reports alleging that it had directed Muslims to embark on prayers for the removal of the Chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), describing the claims as false and provocative.

In a strongly worded press statement, the Council said the reports, traced to anonymous and unofficial online platforms, were “misleading and unsubstantiated,” warning that they could incite tension and draw the organisation into partisan politics.

“At no time did the Council issue any such directive or threat regarding the conduct of elections,” the statement said.

Reaffirming its non-partisan stance, the SCSN said it remains committed to justice, equity, and peaceful coexistence and will not be used for political manipulation.

However, the Council restated its earlier position that the INEC Chairman should either resign or be removed from office, citing concerns over what it described as prejudicial dispositions against Islam and Muslims. It maintained that its stance was rooted in the need for neutrality and integrity in public office.

The Council urged the public and the media to disregard unofficial statements and rely only on its authorised communication channels.

The statement was signed by the Secretary General, Malam Nafi’u Baba-Ahmad, and issued on April 13, 2026.

By Malam Aminu Wase

There is something quietly noble about Plateau State, its hills, its history, and above all, its diversity. It is a state woven together by the threads of ethnicity, language, and religion. And yet, that same diversity, which should be our strength, has too often been ignored in political leadership.

For too long, the highest office in Plateau State has been shaped by one-sided considerations. The repeated emergence of Christian Christian governorship tickets, while strategically convenient to some, continues to erode the principle of inclusive governance. It sends a subtle but loud message to a large portion of the population: you are seen, but not enough to be counted.

Muslims in Plateau have consistently shown political maturity. They have supported Christian-led tickets, participated in state-building efforts, and invested their trust in shared progress. From Wase to Kanam, Jos North to Shendam, Mangu, Quanfaan, and beyond, Muslim communities have not withheld their votes, their voices, or their commitment. But politics, like any meaningful relationship, cannot survive on one-sided loyalty. Reciprocity matters.

This is not just about religion; it is about equity. About the right of every community to see itself reflected in the leadership that governs it. Muslims make up a significant segment of Plateau’s population. Their persistent absence from the governorship, or even from serious consideration for the deputyship, is more than a political oversight; it is a moral failure.

What would it cost the political class to offer a Muslim-Christian ticket or vice versa? What would it say to the next generation if Plateau finally decides to lead by example, to choose unity over uniformity, and inclusion over imbalance?

My reflections are not theoretical. I grew up in a Plateau that taught me the value of coexistence. My closest friends in school, from Pilot Central Primary School, Wase, to Government Science College, Wase, through Federal College of Education (Technical), Bichi, in Kano State, and later Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, were Christians. We laughed together, studied together, and dreamed together. That spirit never left me. It shaped my worldview, grounded in mutual respect and shared humanity. If we could sit side by side in class, why can’t we serve side by side in leadership?

In Wase Local Government, where Christians are a minority, they have not been pushed aside. They have held positions of responsibility, including Deputy Chairman, and benefited from federal appointments, many of which came under the leadership of Rt Hon Ahmed Idris Wase. This is not charity. It is simply fairness in practice.

That example should guide the rest of the state. Leadership is not a reward for numbers alone, but a test of vision. A government that sees only one side of its people cannot fully represent them. And a society that silences its own diversity risks becoming deaf to its own future.

Plateau State belongs to all of us. Let us end the quiet exclusion. Let us begin a new chapter, one in which faith is no longer a political disadvantage and unity is no longer a slogan but a living reality.

It is not too late to do the right thing. But it is urgent.

Malam Aminu Wase is a Political Analyst and Advocate for Good Governance and Youth Inclusion.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

Recent signals from Washington suggest a growing impatience with Nigeria’s internal complexities, especially as they relate to religion, security, and political leadership. At the centre of this emerging posture is a troubling tendency to compress Nigeria’s layered crises into externally convenient labels—labels that risk doing more harm than good.

One of the clearest flashpoints in this evolving narrative is the renewed attention to former Kano State governor Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso. His name, along with those of Fulani-affiliated organisations and, by implication, Nigeria’s Muslim political class, has begun to feature in American policy conversations framed around religious freedom and accountability. What appears, at first glance, as principled concern deserves closer scrutiny.

Nigeria’s security breakdown is undeniable. Insurgency, banditry, farmer–herder violence, and organised criminal networks have torn through communities across the country. But these tragedies have never respected religious boundaries. Muslims and Christians, northerners and southerners, rural farmers and urban traders have all paid the price. To reframe this national trauma primarily as a story of religious persecution is to flatten reality into something politically useful but analytically false.

This framing did not emerge organically. It has been cultivated through persistent lobbying, selective reporting, and advocacy-driven briefs circulated within Western policy and faith-based circles. Many of these narratives rely on contested data sets and ideologically motivated interpretations that have been challenged by journalists and security analysts familiar with Nigeria’s terrain. Yet repetition has given them traction.

Under Donald Trump, the United States has shown a greater willingness to convert these narratives into policy instruments. Nigeria’s earlier designation as a “Country of Particular Concern” over alleged religious persecution, and the signals accompanying its reconsideration, reinforced the impression that Washington had settled on a moral script that leaves little room for nuance.

What is especially alarming is how this posture now intersects with Nigeria’s domestic political timeline. The proposal of punitive measures against figures like Kwankwaso—who has no public record of religious extremism—raises uncomfortable questions about motive and timing. Sanctions, visa restrictions, or terror designations do not occur in a vacuum; they shape reputations, constrain political options, and influence electoral perceptions.

Even more dangerous is the elastic use of terms such as “Fulani militia.” The Fulani are not a monolith, nor are they a security organisation. They are a vast, diverse population spread across West and Central Africa, encompassing professionals, farmers, scholars, politicians, and pastoralists. To collapse this diversity into a security label is not accountability—it is ethnic profiling with far-reaching consequences.

Those who defend this approach often argue that allowing clerics or religiously identified politicians into democratic space risks sanctifying power. That concern is not without merit. In plural societies, when political authority borrows the language of divine legitimacy, dissent can be recast as moral deviance. But that argument cuts both ways. External actors who cloak geopolitical interests in moral absolutism risk exporting the very instability they claim to oppose.

Nigeria’s democracy, imperfect as it is, rests on pluralism, negotiation, and the acceptance of politics as a human—rather than sacred—enterprise. When foreign policy instruments treat Nigerian political actors as symbols in a global religious drama, they undermine this fragile equilibrium. Worse still, they embolden local extremists who thrive on polarisation and grievance.

None of this is to argue against international engagement or concern for human rights. On the contrary, Nigeria benefits from cooperation with partners such as the United States in intelligence sharing, capacity building, and counterterrorism. But partnership must be grounded in evidence, context, and restraint—not in sweeping classifications shaped by advocacy pressure or domestic American politics.

If Washington’s objective is stability in West Africa, then the path forward lies in engagement rather than labelling, dialogue rather than designation. Nigeria’s challenges are internal, complex, and deeply rooted. They cannot be solved by reducing political figures to caricatures or entire communities to security threats.

Kwankwaso’s politics, like that of any public figure, should be judged by Nigerians through debate, scrutiny, and the ballot. External political labelling, however well-intentioned, risks distorting that process and deepening divisions within an already strained federation.

In the end, what Nigeria requires from its partners is not moral theatre but sober cooperation. Fairness, evidence, and respect for internal democratic processes remain the only sustainable foundations for international engagement.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja.