National Association of Nigerian Students

By Fatihu Ibrahim

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

I don’t know where to start. I am literally in tears. I still cannot fathom the reality and fragility of life.

Huzaifa is no more. Ya Allah! 😭

I can’t remember the exact first day I met Huzaifa, but I remember seeing him from afar during our 100 Level days. He was just a normal classmate to me then. We weren’t particularly close.

We started getting closer in 200 Level through Abdul Aziz Ahmad Malam Boy, our mutual friend.

We were in the same room in 200 Level, Room 64, the last room in Area One Hostel. Our room was right beside the hostel mosque, and we always joked about being “Baƙin Allah” (Allah’s guests) because we lived right beside the mosque.

Huzaifa lived across the hall, about five or six rooms away from ours. If I remember correctly, he was Malam Umar Sale’s roommate in the Department of Animal Science. They used to visit our room frequently, and since almost all of us were classmates, there were four Agriculture students in the room. Our room eventually became a mini headquarters where we studied, played and spent time together.

Huzaifa was a very calm and reserved person.

Most times, we would get caught up in some banter, and I would use my naturally superior talkative nature to bash Huzee in an argument. Even when he clearly had the better point, he would simply nod, smile and say:

“Fatihu, kai ko…? Ba a cinka da zance.”

I would laugh in triumph and respond:

“Dama na faɗa maka.”

Those little moments are memories I never knew I would one day desperately wish I could have again.

Huzee loved his family more than anything.

I have never met most of his siblings, except his sister, but somehow I knew all their stories. You could hardly spend an hour talking with Huzee without hearing about his younger brother, Sauban.

“Sauban did this… Sauban did that…”

Ya Allah.

I cannot even begin to imagine what Sauban is feeling right now.

I remember one day when we left Wudil together in the company of friends. As we reached Kano Line, Yahaya Rabi’u Abdullahi (Kundaz), in his usual banter, was trying to piss Huzee off.

His immediate younger sister, Khadija, if I remember correctly, came to welcome him and greeted us. Kundaz, just to provoke him, told Huzee point-blank that he loved his sister.

Huzee simply smiled and said:

“Zan ba ka number ɗinta.”

Whenever Kundaz wanted to tease him afterwards, he would ask:

“Kai, ina budurwata?”

And Huzee would just smile and say:

“Tana nan lafiya.”

That was Huzee. Calm, reserved and patient. Even when we were joking with him, he rarely got angry.

When he decided to venture into student politics, Malam Boy and I were firmly against it. His Level 2 result, whether it was first or second semester, I can’t remember exactly, was above 4.0, and we didn’t want politics to distract him from his studies.

But Huzee had a way of making you eventually agree with his point. He would calmly explain himself until you found yourself thinking, “Maybe this guy actually has a point.”

And no matter how intense the political rivalry became, Huzee never treated you as an enemy. That was one of the things I admired about him.

I still remember him complaining to me:

“Fatihu, ba ka da mutunci. Kana Gwammaja amma ba ka faɗa min inda kake ba. Rannan na zo wajen Siya-Siya. When I come next, dole mu haɗu.”

I never imagined that one day, those words would become a memory.

Perhaps what makes this loss even more painful is that this is not the first time we have had to say goodbye to someone from our circle.

Years ago, we lost another friend and classmate, Anas Rano. I thought I had somehow learned to live with that pain, but Huzee’s death has brought it all back. It is as though an old wound has suddenly been opened again.

One moment, you are young students sharing classrooms, hostels, jokes, arguments and dreams for the future. You never imagine that some of the people making those memories with you will one day become memories themselves.

Anas. Now Huzee. Maybe tomorrow, me or you. 😭

Ya Allah.

The fragility of this life is frightening.

We make plans, argue, laugh and tease each other. We worry about tomorrow. And then, without warning, someone is gone.

Huzee, I still cannot believe this.

From being a classmate I once only saw from afar to becoming a friend, a brother and a fellow student leader, you became part of a chapter of my life that I will never forget.

You were here.

Now you’re gone.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

May Allah forgive your shortcomings, have mercy upon you, illuminate and widen your grave, and grant you Jannatul Firdaus.

May Allah forgive Anas Rano too, have mercy upon him and grant him Jannatul Firdaus.

May Allah give Huzee’s parents, Sauban, Khadija, his siblings, his entire family, his friends, the UG15 family, classmates and everyone who loved him the strength to bear this painful loss.

May Allah preserve the rest of us, forgive us before our own time comes, and grant us a beautiful ending.

Adieu, Brother Huzaifa Sabo Usman.

Allah Ya jikanka, Huzee. 😭

Allah Ya jikanka, Anas.

We will never forget you.

Sai mun taho.

By Aiman Fodio

As a concerned rank-and-file student at Abubakar Tafawa Balewa University (ATBU), let me say this. Look around this group. We are on different levels: some have been here for nearly a decade, some for five years, some for six. It is a whole spectrum of experience. But I want you to pause and ask yourself one question: What have you observed about student leadership over your time here?

Aren’t these complaints we are lodging day in, day out, the same old tunes we have grown familiar with? What tangible change have you witnessed across the number of administrations you have seen come and go? The script, sadly, never changes. The concerns are always the same: school fees increment, access to accommodations, and, just recently, the NELFUND refund joined the party. And let’s not forget the usual guest stars—water and light issues—making their regular appearance.

The most painful part? The approach to these problems remains the same every time, so much so that you could write the Students’ Union Government’s response in your sleep. “We are in dialogue with management.” “We implore students to remain calm.” “We are aware of your plight.” It is a tired liturgy. But let us be fair—exempt that issue of protest. The real tragedy is that the SUG is often not given proper regard by the management. An SUG President will struggle to secure a simple appointment with the VC. If a concession will not work out, then… wallahi, this daily complaint cycle will never work out. Nothing will change.

This is precisely why people like me, who once stood a chance, withdrew our interest from the beginning. I speak from the inside: from my time in Gamji Memorial Club to serving as a serial senator, Chief Whip, and even Deputy Senate President in the SUG Parliament. I’ve seen the engine room. I have been asked so many times by those who saw this trajectory. “Why not run for SUG President?” They ask. The answer is these limits and the remote control. They make you lose interest because you know, no matter your passion or plan, you will ultimately fail those who gave you their loyalty and support. The structure is designed to frustrate genuine agency.

Why do our student leaders fail? Or, rather, why does the system ensure they cannot succeed? Both questions are intertwined. Off the top of my head, I can identify at least three (out of one hundred) reasons. One, a leadership selection process based on popularity and empty promises, not pragmatic skill. Two, a university management structure that sees student leadership as a necessary nuisance to be managed, not a partner in welfare. Three, the domination of the SUG space by the politically ambitious, rather than the service-oriented.

In this matter, I will dwell on the first: our own role as students in choosing the wrong pilots. It could be emotional: we vote for the most charismatic orator, the one who throws the biggest parties, the one with the slickest posters. It could be tribal: we vote based on faculty, department, or state of origin. It could also be a result of a poor understanding of the depth of the challenges ahead. We set our leaders up for a verdict of failure from the campaign period onward. We want them to fix in one semester what has been broken for a decade, and when they cannot perform magic, we brand them as sell-outs.

I have been there before. In my first year, I was a staunch supporter of a particular SUG presidential candidate. He spoke like Fela, promised like Obama, and had a slogan that was on everyone’s lips. Upon visiting our hostel to campaign, he was wowed by our living conditions. He said if a student could live like this, then he had his work cut out for him. I started promoting him as the leader who would finally make management listen. At the time, I saw management’s deaf ear as our only problem. I did not take kindly to any criticism of my candidate. But less than three months into his administration, I had turned to his critic. It was a case of disappointed love.

For one, I couldn’t stand some of his executives. I said if this man really wanted to fight for us, as he staunchly promised in his manifesto, some persons should not have been in his cabinet. When he started talking about “understanding management’s constraints,” I was incensed. All my life as a student, I had argued that students, being the reason the university exists, should enjoy basic dignity. I refused to evaluate or accept any administrative arguments. I concluded he had been compromised, as I was more interested in the militant implications. Meanwhile, our water situation got worse. I held him liable for failing to lead a strong protest as he had promised during his campaign.

That was how our dear messiah began to unravel. Ahead of the next election, I had found another messiah in a final-year student known for his fearless critiques of management on social media. I said this was the fighter we needed! By then, I was already in the parliament, seeing the gap between fiery speeches on the floor and actual results from the executive. I remember arguing for him in a hostel lounge. My friend, who was in the School of Environmental Technology, called to ask me, jokingly: “So how much did he pay you for this?” With that candidate’s dream going nowhere, I gave up on my search for a student messiah. Instead, I started thinking: “Let’s make do with what we have.”

That was why, when the next candidate was being marketed as the “bridge-builder” and “technocrat,” I was calm. I had become a realist. My worldview had evolved. Even later, as Chairman of the Bauchi Axis for NAUS, I saw how student politics at every level face the same structural walls. I had looked deeply at ATBU’s power dynamics and its complications. I said this candidate, relatively connected, would only try, but not much would change. The water problem he inherited only worsened as more hostels were built. Rather than face this common threat, the SUG and management resorted to politicking and finger-pointing. Meanwhile, frustration grabbed us by the neck, but only the SUG President carried the blame.

As we later saw, all the politicking was geared towards securing a peaceful tenure and a good recommendation letter from management. The cycle continued. That is how overmarketing begins again every election. People who previously abused and rejected a candidate become pilots of their campaign, creating fables and fantasies. I am so worried for the next set that I will say this: God help the next SUG President if, by their second semester, hostels still lack water; if the electricity is more off than on; if the NELFUND issue is still unresolved; and if accommodation is still a blood sport. They won’t find it funny!

Let me be very clear: there is nothing wrong with having expectations. In fact, to expect nothing will be a tragedy. However, ATBU will not change overnight—no matter what any SUG candidate promises, or how their supporters sell them. The management structure is rigid. We can’t reduce fees or increase water supply within the twinkling of an eye. Many good things take time and persistent, intelligent pressure. We don’t need to be deceived, or to deceive ourselves, at election times.

What then? We need to temper our pre-election expectations and sharpen our post-election engagement. We need to vote for the gritty pragmatist with a three-point welfare plan (Water. Light. Health.) over the flamboyant orator with a 50-page manifesto. We must look out for signs of diligent pressure and creative advocacy to avoid concluding within a month that a leader has failed. A President who fails to secure a fee reduction but installs and maintains 10 new boreholes has not failed entirely. Selling every candidate as a messiah is the issue, but even if they were the messiah, could they succeed in this system? That is the question.

But we must also demand that management stop seeing the SUG as a kindergarten government. A student leader who must beg for three weeks to see the VC is set up for ridicule and failure. Until that relationship is recalibrated into one of respectful engagement, we will remain here, singing the same songs of lament. It is all politics—and, sadly, politics in which the most important voters, the students, often empower the very system that frustrates them.

AND FOUR OTHER THINGS…

THE CV CANDIDATE

We must be wary of the candidate whose entire campaign seems designed to add a glossy line to their CV. You can spot them by their focus on “organising flagship events” and “international partnerships” while being vague on hostel water pressure. Their tenure is often a series of photo-ops with management, culminating in a glowing reference letter while the student’s condition remains unchanged. Ambition.

THE QUIET LOBBYIST

Conversely, let us not discount the quiet lobbyist. The one who may not be great on Twitter but is always in the Dean’s office, presenting costed proposals for water tankers or negotiating small but real wins on exam deadlines. This approach lacks drama and doesn’t fuel the “activist” brand, but it sometimes yields the only tangible results we see. Pragmatism.

MANAGEMENT’S BLIND SPOT

The university management often forgets that a frustrated, disrespected student body is a tinderbox. By neutering the SUG and denying it genuine agency, they create an environment in which peaceful channels are seen as useless, making spontaneous, unmanageable unrest more likely. It is a profound failure of strategic thinking. Shortsighted.

OUR COLLECTIVE AMNESIA

Finally, we, the students, suffer from collective amnesia. Every new election cycle, we get swept up in new promises and forget the lessons of the past three administrations. We refuse to hold candidates to their predecessor’s failed promises. Until we develop an institutional memory and vote based on record and realistic plans, we will be forever disappointed. Cycle.

Aiman Fodio is the former Executive Chairman of the National Association of University Students (NAUS) Bauchi Axis and a serial legislator during his time in ATBU Unionism. He is currently a final year student of ATBU.

By Ahmad Deedat Zakari

The President of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS), Asefon Sunday Dayo, says the association will block all airport roads in the country, as a result of the government’s inability to end the lingering ASUU strike.

Asefon made this known in a press release on Facebook on Monday, May 9, 2022.

This is coming after the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU ) extended their ongoing strike to 12 weeks. ASUU has been on strike since February and cited negligence on the part of the government as the reason for the extension of the strike.

According to the NANS President, the extension of the strike is a total declaration of war by the Federal Government against the university students in Nigeria.

“Having exhausted all windows of constructive engagement with the government, I, on behalf of the national leadership of NANS, therefore, declare National Action from tomorrow 10th.

The National Actions is tagged “Operation Test Run”. Operation Test Run shall be held in all the 36 states of the Federation. Federal Roads across the 36 States shall be occupied for a minimum of 3hrs. The Operation shall be a precursor to a total shutdown that will be decided during our Senate meeting/pre-convention on Saturday 14th May 2022. Our decision from the pre-convention shall be binding. The action shall be total as the extension of the ASUU strike is a direct declaration of war by the Federal Government against university students in Nigeria.” He wrote.

He added that the association will subsequently block airport roads across the country and disrupt party primaries amongst other things.

“Our proposal to our congress on the 14th shall be total blockage of the airport roads across the country and total disruption of political party primaries, blockage of the national assembly until they are committed to passing legislation banning public office holders from sending their children to university [sic] abroad.” He stated.

By Abubakar Suleiman

“Why waste your money to study your family tree? Just go into politics, and your opponents will do it for you free.” – Mark Twain

The Minister of Education, Adamu Adamu, has become the subject of public scrutiny lately, after members of the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) deserted university classrooms for a one-month warning strike to drive home their demands.

To compound Mallam Adamu Adamu’s ordeal, the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) President, Asefon Sunday Dayo, threw decency, good English grammar and coherence to the dogs and confronted him for the way forward on these incessant strikes. The Minister, within his rights, could not stomach zingers from the NANS President; hence, he peacefully walked out.

What the Nigerian academics and critics need to crucify Adamu any day is to comb his past articles on the sorry state of education in the country and the possible solutions he highlighted in addressing the anomaly, notwithstanding the practicability or sustainability of the solutions. Blessed with astonishing writing prowess, Adamu doesn’t pull punches whenever he decides to take the government of the day to the cleaners on education.

Mallam Adamu is not alone in the blowback of past written or spoken words. Isa Ali Pantami, Reno Omokri and Reuben Abati are good examples of how venturing into public service can force critics to chew some of their words or elegant analyses raw. They get to see, first hand, the depth of the rot in the system they seek to reform. Moreover, thanks to their fantastic writings, their readers or fans expect them to do wonders, including unrealistic expectations actions.

History is replete with critics who ended up being the worst versions of the people or policies they obsessively criticised. So also, the grave is filled up with critics whose know-it-all dispositions and elegant solutions never get tested.

Criticism is sweet and romantic. However, it is undeniably required to hold elected or appointed leaders accountable as humanly possible. It helps improve a system and checks leaders’ excesses, thereby insulating them from being despots or demagogues.

However, criticism should be accompanied by good knowledge or grasp of the subject matter, moderation, realistic approaches, and viable solutions. The quick urge or attitude of some critics pontificating on, or criticising, everything under the sun without critical thinking is among the reasons many critics presumed as messiahs ended up as disasters.

Nothing humbles most critics like public service. So, they either choose sheer populism or face the realities or challenges that come with purposeful leadership amidst competing demands, meagre resources, criticism and tough decisions, which are often unpopular. With the latter, they get more kicks than halfpence.

As it is true with an onlooker who sees most of the game, their opinions are birthed from the outside on the premise of poor exposure and little information, which invariably make them see complex and daunting challenges as straightforward.

Interestingly, opinions could change due to contexts or circumstances. People learn from exposure, old age or new knowledge. We may find ourselves opposing some views we hold so dear today in the future when we are eventually called to serve the people. Therefore, if you are called to serve the people, don’t hesitate to oblige. However, be ready to get your fair share of kicks and past opinions unearthed.

Abubakar Suleiman writes from Kaduna and can be reached via abusuleiman06@yahoo.com.

By Uzair Adam Imam

The National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) has stormed Kano State roads to protest against the ongoing nationwide strike by the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU).

The association that has frowned upon the incessant strike in the country is protesting to tell the world the situation they are facing in the country regarding their education.

The students who converged on the Kofar Nassarawa bridge in Kano City decried over delays in academics.

Singing solidarity songs against ASUU’s action with their hands clinking placards, the students said the menacing issue of the strike should by now be put to an end.

They also called on the federal government to intervene and call off the strike.

Recall that the Vice President of the Union, Comrade Yazid Tanko Muhammad, disclosed their intention to protest on Monday.

Comrade Yazid added, “So, it is a protest which, if we start, will not stop until the issues are resolved, and the lecturers resume work.