Nigeria

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

A 17-year-old Nigerian student, Nafisa Abdullah Aminu from Yobe State, has defeated over 20,000 competitors from 69 countries to win the 2025 TeenEagle Global English Championship in London.

Nafisa, a student of Nigerian Tulip International College (NTIC), Yobe, showcased exceptional language proficiency and communication skills, surpassing even native English speakers in the prestigious contest.

Her family attributed the victory to her hard work, supportive educational environment, and the Yobe State government’s commitment to quality education under Governor Mai Mala Buni.

They called for official recognition of her achievement, stating it proves Nigerian students can excel globally when given the right opportunities.

The win has been celebrated as a milestone for Nigeria’s education sector, bringing pride to Nafisa’s school, community, and the nation.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

Nigeria’s national women’s basketball team, D’Tigress, made history by securing their fifth consecutive FIBA Women’s AfroBasket championship after defeating Mali 78-64 in a thrilling final on Sunday night in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire.

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu praised the team for their exceptional skill, resilience, and teamwork, which led to their seventh continental title.

Despite a slow start in the match, the Coach Rena Wakama-led squad fought back to dominate and claim victory.

In a statement, President Tinubu commended the players for inspiring the nation and upholding Nigeria’s sporting excellence.

“Your superb performance has made Nigeria proud. Like the Super Falcons, you have shown the world the strength and talent of Nigerian women,” he said.

The President also applauded Coach Wakama and the Nigeria Basketball Federation for their dedication, assuring continued support as the team prepares for the FIBA Women’s World Cup qualifiers next year.

Tinubu expressed his eagerness to receive the team and the trophy in Abuja, wishing them a safe return.

The victory cements D’Tigress’ dominance in African basketball and reinforces Nigeria’s reputation as a powerhouse in women’s sports.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

In yet another reminder of Nigeria’s vulnerability to climate shocks, the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMet) has issued a fresh flood alert affecting 20 states across the country. From Sokoto to Bayelsa, Delta to Kaduna, and Lagos to Yobe, millions of residents in high-risk areas have begun fleeing or taking preventive steps. At the same time, emergency management agencies race against time to prevent a repeat of past tragedies.

The warning, coming in July at the peak of Nigeria’s rainy season, forecasts intense rainfall in the weeks ahead—an event that could trigger flash floods, landslides, and mass displacement. Already, parts of Lagos, Yobe, Ondo, Benue, and Imo states have begun witnessing early signs of flooding, raising anxiety and putting public preparedness efforts to the test.

In the eye of this looming storm is the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA), which has intensified its pre-disaster strategy in partnership with state emergency agencies. Over the past few weeks, the agency has supported community sensitisation campaigns, mapped out temporary shelters, coordinated inter-agency response frameworks, and closely monitored vulnerable zones through real-time disaster surveillance.

Speaking during a recent stakeholder briefing, NEMA’s Director-General, Mrs Zubaida Umar, reiterated the need for state and local governments to go beyond issuing alerts and activate their flood mitigation plans. “Preparedness is not a choice. It is the only guarantee against irreversible loss,” she noted. Her message captures a reality that has plagued Nigeria for over a decade: early warnings often fail to inspire early action.

From the 2012 flood disaster that displaced over two million people, to the more recent 2022 crisis that killed over 600 and affected 4.4 million Nigerians, the patterns are familiar—and sobering. The annual flood season has become a cycle of warnings, delayed responses, avoidable deaths, and post-disaster relief efforts.

This year, however, there is cautious hope that lessons from the past are prompting swifter action. In Kaduna, for instance, the state emergency agency (KADSEMA) has launched haven centres across flood-prone LGAs, in partnership with NEMA, the Federal Fire Service, and others. Dredging of the River Kaduna has begun, and awareness campaigns are ongoing across radio and community platforms.

In Adamawa State, the government has released ₦700 million to support preemptive evacuation, warehousing of relief materials, and sensitisation in at least 15 vulnerable local government areas. “We don’t want to be caught unprepared again,” said Dr Celina Laori, Executive Secretary of the state’s emergency agency.

Elsewhere, NEMA’s field offices are working closely with state authorities to mobilise communities. In Imo, the agency has carried out public sensitisation and positioned ambulances and emergency supplies ahead of potential displacement. In Edo and Jigawa, residents in floodplains have begun self-evacuating following community engagements supported by emergency officials.

But beyond government actions, ordinary Nigerians are taking charge of their safety. In Lekki, Lagos, residents like Olumide Samuel have moved their families out ahead of expected flooding. “We do this every year—it’s not ideal, but it’s better than waiting to be rescued,” he said. In Benue, parents have relocated their children from vulnerable areas even as water levels on the River Benue slowly rise.

Despite this, concerns persist about the capacity of some states to manage what lies ahead. A 2022 report showed that over ₦620 billion in ecological funds have been allocated to state governments over the past decade, yet many states lack sustainable flood defence infrastructure. Environmentalist Mayokun Iyaomolere argues that while awareness has improved, it is not backed by adequate investment or enforcement. “Drainages are still blocked. Buildings still rise on waterways. We’re preparing with buckets when we need bulldozers,” he said.

Part of the challenge lies in the intersection between environmental degradation and urban planning failures. Deforestation, sand dredging, and the uncontrolled construction of buildings on floodplains have eroded the natural barriers that once absorbed rainfall. In many cities, rapid urbanisation has outpaced infrastructure, leaving gutters choked with refuse and floodwaters with nowhere to go.

To bridge this gap, NEMA has not only issued advisories but also strengthened its simulation exercises and inter-agency coordination. Earlier this year, mock flood drills were held in Anambra and Kano states, simulating real-time evacuations and testing communication chains. The goal is to make preparedness a routine rather than a reaction.

Nonetheless, simulation alone is not a substitute for policy reform. Experts insist that Nigeria must move beyond warnings and develop a national flood resilience plan—one that prioritises sustainable drainage, the relocation of communities in high-risk zones, and long-term investment in ecological restoration.

For now, the battle is one of time and commitment. Floods are not a surprise event in Nigeria—they are a certainty. What remains uncertain is how well-prepared the nation is to confront them.

As rivers swell and the skies darken, millions of Nigerians await what may come. But unlike in years past, there is a growing realisation—within government agencies like NEMA, state actors, and among citizens themselves—that early warnings must finally lead to early action.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu writes on disaster management, humanitarian affairs, and national development.

By ‎Sadiq Aliyu Waziri

‎With cliches such as the game of politics, playing politics, the political arena, politics is a dirty game, politics is a game of chess, politics is a game of power, politics is a game of cat and mouse, and many others alike, which metaphorically compare politics to a game, many that participate in it think it is a game-literally. It was Dr. Abdulaziz T. Bako who made the analogy, on Facebook sometime back, of how football fans supported their clubs to how many Nigerians took politics. However, is politics a game? 

‎The former Nigerian President, General Muhammadu Buhari, passed away two days ago. Moments after the announcement, photos of the widow of the late former President were seen circulating on social media. The images were captioned, stating that the deceased had bequeathed her to seek forgiveness from Nigerians on his behalf. She pleaded with Nigerians to forgive her husband before he was laid to rest. ‎

‎Since the announcement of the passing, followed by Aisha Buhari’s words, people became divided, with a section of them expressing their shock, forgiving and praying for the deceased. In contrast, others reminisce about Buhari’s time in office, voice out their dismay, and even go to the extent of publicising their rejection of the late President’s prayer. Again, there has been another section of people who even publicly celebrate the death. 

‎Let us recall that Buhari, just two years ago, was the most powerful, famous, and arguably the most loved Nigerian politician before he came to power in 2015. Who would have thought then that people would say unkind words about him or even celebrate his death? People idolised him; they fought and died for this man to gain power. 

‎Perhaps seeing Buhari’s widow, who at once felt she could not put up with a teasing statement from an immature university student, at people’s mercy, begging on her husband’s behalf, might make those who “play” the “game” of politics rethink their position, to realise that it is not a game. It never has been and never will be. 

‎To many of the player-participants, politics is merely a game to be played and won, with the ultimate goal of securing leadership positions and staying relevant. To many of the supporter-participants, it serves as an avenue to support and cheer the players, making money, securing appointments in some cases, and engaging in trolling one another. They come out and defend whatever wrong their bosses do and discredit and blemish whatever right their rivals do, simply because it’s all a game to them.‎

‎If they take politics as a game, it is at their own peril. And, it is high time that the people who participate in politics and take it as such understood that politics touches people’s lives. And that they do not have separate lives from their political activities. Every action, decision, cheer, support, defending, discrediting, blemish, etc., will be accounted for. They could view politics as a game, if that is what they choose, but it’s about this world for the next one.   

‎

‎Sadiq Aliyu Waziri wrote via sawaziry@yahoo.com.

By Sabiu Abdullahi

Nigeria and the Benin Republic have reached a significant agreement on a joint trade framework aimed at removing cross-border trade barriers, promoting economic growth, and strengthening ties between both nations.

The agreement was sealed during a high-level meeting held on Saturday, August 2, 2025, at the Ministry of Economy and Finance in Cotonou.

The session brought together top officials, Customs leaders, and trade experts from the two countries, all focused on improving the efficiency of cross-border trade.

Nigeria’s Minister of Industry, Trade, and Investment, Mrs. Jumoke Oduwole, described the new framework as a strategic advancement in West Africa’s quest for regional economic development.

“This agreement signals strong political will from both countries to pursue a progressive and inclusive trade relationship,” she stated.

She recalled the recent meeting between Presidents Bola Ahmed Tinubu and Patrice Talon at the West African Economic Summit, where both leaders signed a preliminary Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) and directed their technical teams to turn political agreements into real progress.

“Our joint commitment is to dismantle barriers, improve logistics, and ensure that trade becomes a tool for job creation and regional prosperity. The Heads of Customs of both nations have demonstrated commendable synergy, which we are expanding through four thematic working groups covering trade facilitation, enforcement, data sharing, and infrastructure,” she added.

Mrs. Oduwole also noted that Nigeria is positioning itself to transition from a regional trading hub to a global player in shaping equitable trade systems.

Comptroller-General of Customs, Adewale Adeniyi, MFR, assured that the Nigeria Customs Service is fully prepared to implement the agreement in line with the country’s trade agenda.

“What we have witnessed today is the culmination of intensive technical meetings between Nigeria and Benin Customs officials over the past 48 hours. We’ve developed a joint framework that reflects our Presidents’ shared vision for economic growth,” he said.

He disclosed that both countries are planning to sign a formal Memorandum of Understanding based on the framework by early 2026.

Addressing the role of Customs in improving trade processes, CGC Adeniyi said measures have been outlined to ensure corridor-based trade solutions, which will promote transit and transshipment activities and reduce the bureaucratic delays affecting small and medium businesses.

“We’re committed to removing trade barriers that hinder local businesses. New trade corridors have been identified, and connectivity between our systems has already been activated,” he added.

He also expressed gratitude to the Director-General of Benin Customs, Mrs. Adidjatou Hassan Zanouvi, for her support, particularly for Benin’s endorsement of Nigeria’s leadership role at the World Customs Organisation (WCO) Council meeting in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo.

Both delegations later toured the Cotonou Port to review existing operations and identify areas for modernisation. They also visited the Seme-Krake Joint Border Post, demonstrating their commitment to closer coordination and regional integration through joint border management.

This new agreement marks a major milestone in the trade relations between Nigeria and Benin and is expected to promote growth, transparency, and innovation across both economies.

By Zekeri Idakwo Laruba

Many years ago, though I can’t quite recall what class I was in at the time, I read with deep suspense the secondary school play The Gods Are Not to Blame, a gripping adaptation of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex by Ola Rotimi. The story left a lasting impression on me.

‎‎The play retells the classical Greek tragedy in a Yoruba setting, replacing Delphi with Ifa, but retains the central tragedy: a prophecy that Odewale would kill his father and marry his mother. The oracle had spoken. His parents, terrified and confused by the fate foretold, did everything to avoid it. They gave the boy away, hoping to cheat destiny. But in doing so, they unknowingly set in motion the very events they hoped to prevent.

‎Like a mirror held up to society, the play reminds us that fate, while powerful, is often enabled by human choices. And as I reflect on Nigeria’s present economic and political situation, I am compelled to draw a parallel. The gods, be they ancestral spirits, destiny, or structural circumstances, are not to blame for our predicament. The fault lies within us, among the citizens, and in our daily conduct. Nigeria’s crisis is not rooted in some divine curse, leadership, or preordained calamity. The tragedy is man-made, self-reinforced, and perpetuated by generations of unchecked habits.

‎The go-to culprit for our country’s dysfunction is always leadership; yes, he must be voted out. And in fact, we have had our share of weak, corrupt, selfish or visionless leaders. But to lay the entire burden of national failure on leaders alone is to ignore the broader ecosystem that produces and enables them. Leadership, in many ways, reflects the society from which it emerges.

As the former national secretary of the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), Buba Galadima, recently argued on Arise TV, the problem isn’t merely the constitution or even the political structure. The constitution may have its flaws, yes, but no document, no matter how perfectly worded, can save a people who refuse to uphold its spirit. The rot goes deeper, into the very fibre of society.

‎The average Nigerian seeks change, including better roads, reliable electricity, transparent governance, and reduced costs for transportation and foodstuffs, but is reluctant to make the personal sacrifices necessary for this transformation. We want leaders who won’t embezzle funds, but we are ready to bribe our way out of traffic offences, rig student union elections, or inflate business invoices for profit. We demand accountability from the top while practising impunity at the grassroots.

‎‎What we face is not a constitutional crisis, but a moral and cultural one. An attitudinal crisis. A society where dishonesty is normalised and rewarded cannot produce integrity at scale. A nation where people cheat customers, underpay staff, evade taxes, and applaud fraudsters as “smart” will always find itself circling the drain of underdevelopment.

‎‎You see it in business, in education, in religious institutions, even in our homes. The trader who mixes sand/stones in beans to increase weight; the employer who withholds salaries while funding a lavish lifestyle; the pastor or imam, even herbalist, who uses fear to manipulate followers; the teacher who extorts students for grades; the parent who teaches a child to lie to visitors, these are not the acts of the gods. They are human choices.

‎‎Much is said about fighting corruption in public office. But who will fight it in the private lives of citizens? In that small business of yours, are you sincere? Do you treat your staff the way you demand to be treated by your political leaders? Do you keep your promises? Are your scales balanced? Do you honour contracts? These questions are not rhetorical; they are foundational.

‎Corruption does not begin at the national budget office; it begins in the market stall, the classroom, and the family dinner table. Before it becomes institutionalised, it is psychological. We must cleanse the mindset that normalises dishonesty, excuses shortcuts, and praises the rich regardless of how their wealth was acquired.

‎What Nigeria urgently needs is a complete national reorientation campaign, not the kind that involves empty slogans or jingles on the radio, but a sustained, grassroots movement to rebuild ethical standards. We need to teach honesty not just as a virtue, but as a power. We must reintroduce shame where wrong is done and rekindle collective pride in doing things right.

‎This means rethinking our educational curricula to emphasise civic duty and moral reasoning. It means reforming religious institutions to prioritise substance over spectacle. It means applying social pressure on influencers, celebrities, and community leaders to model ethical behaviour. It also means supporting the rare public officials who dare to lead by example.

‎‎If the gods are not to blame teaches us anything, it is that destiny is not an external enemy; it is a consequence of our own decisions. Nigeria is not doomed. It is not a failed state by fate. But we must be honest: we are dangerously close to reaping the full harvest of our collective neglect.

‎To change our national direction, we must start with the mirror, not the ballot box. Reforms must begin in the marketplace and the family unit before they can translate to public office. Only then will the constitution come alive. Only then will good leadership be sustained. Only then will Nigeria’s story turn from tragedy to triumph.

‎The gods are watching, yes. But they are not to BLAME. WE ARE!

Zekeri Idakwo Laruba is the Assistant Editor of PRNigeria and Economic Confidential. He can be reached via idakwozekeri93@gmail.com.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

It all began like any other viral moment on Nigerian social media, but then it took a turn. Popular TikTok sensation Hamzat Habeeb Adelaja, popularly known as Peller, shocked followers recently with a post that seemed almost too generous to be true. He was hiring a cameraman for a monthly salary of ₦500,000. The news spread like wildfire, and in no time, graduates, yes, university graduates, trooped in for interviews, hoping to clinch the role under the young entertainer’s banner.

But beneath the glitz of that social media post lies a stark irony, a brutal reflection of Nigeria’s current socioeconomic reality: a secondary school certificate holder interviewing degree holders for a position in the gig economy. Is this a triumph of hustle over education or a symptom of a failing system?

This scenario has ignited widespread controversy. Should someone with Peller’s academic background employ graduates? Is he flaunting success in a way that undermines the value of formal education? Or is he, in his own unorthodox way, contributing to job creation in a country where unemployment is a ticking time bomb?

Regardless of where you stand, one truth remains: Nigeria’s youths are not only unemployed, they are disillusioned.

But, beneath the glamour, is Peller’s youth the key to his controversial rise? At age 20, can Peller truly shoulder the weight of fame, fortune, and the emotional toll that comes with being in the public eye? Fame is a double-edged sword, and wealth earned in the public space, especially in a country like Nigeria, where social values matter, can either elevate or destroy a brand.

Some have attributed his behaviour to immaturity, a lack of exposure, or poor guidance. Others question the roles played by his management and inner circle. Are they enabling his excesses or helping him stay grounded?

Peller’s youth and maturity seem to be dancing to different tunes at times in sync, at other moments, sharply distinct. While his age brings the energy, creativity, and audacity that fuel his rise, it may also limit the depth of judgment that comes with lived experience. Despite his fame and financial success, one thing remains true: maturity isn’t measured by wealth or followers. 

He may be richer or more popular than his advisers, but that doesn’t make guidance obsolete. In fact, the higher one climbs, the more essential wise counsel becomes. No matter our age or status, we all need mentors, correction, and continued learning because growth, like fame, should never outpace wisdom.

This is not Peller’s first brush with public criticism. During the heated JAMB controversy months ago, he was branded a poor role model. Critics say he misuses his influence. Admirers say he is just being himself. But the question is not just what Peller does, it’s what he represents.

When individuals like Peller become the aspiration of thousands of young people, what message are we sending? That fame, regardless of how it’s earned, trumps knowledge, experience, and decorum?

One might ask, is this a systemic failure or a personal flaw? But the deeper question is this: Can we really blame Peller for being a product of a broken system? Or should we point fingers at the society that created him, a society where education is devalued and unemployment drives graduates to accept roles from entertainers with no formal qualifications?

This is a national dilemma. Young people are no longer looking to engineers, doctors, or scholars as role models. They now look to influencers, many of whom may lack the maturity or training to handle such responsibility.

This isn’t just about Peller; it’s about perception, power, and public influence.

The Brand at Risk: PR Implications

From a public relations perspective, Peller’s every move is now under a magnifying glass. As a brand, his current trajectory presents both opportunity and risk. He is loved by many but also watched with scrutiny by an equal number. His brand power lies in his authenticity, but even that must be managed with intentionality because one viral moment can either grow his brand or ruin it.

In a society where cultural norms still dictate public perception, Peller must understand that his brand isn’t just about content; it’s about conduct. His platform gives him power, and with that comes responsibility.

PR experts warn that failing to manage this carefully could result in brand erosion, reduced partnerships, and a gradual loss of public trust. A sustainable career in entertainment requires more than charisma—it demands discipline.

Beyond the Buzz: What should Peller do? It’s easy to dismiss these concerns as envy or moral policing, but that would be a mistake. Peller is a Nigerian pride, a self-made entertainer who carved a niche and created employment. That in itself is commendable. But with influence comes expectation. With status comes scrutiny.

This article is not to tear Peller down. It is to offer a lens of accountability, reflection, and growth. The same media that celebrates must also question, not out of hate, but out of hope that Nigeria’s influencers will see themselves not just as entertainers, but as leaders in a generation gasping for direction.

Peller can choose to be more. He can use his platform to elevate the values of integrity, hard work, and education, even as he continues to thrive in entertainment. He can show that success does not require disrespect, and that influence is not a license for irresponsibility.

Whether he likes it or not, Peller is not just a content creator. He’s a movement. And movements, when misdirected, can lose their magic or worse, mislead millions.

Final Thought

Peller’s story is still unfolding. He is talented, young, and full of potential. This is not a final verdict, but a cautionary tale. The camera is rolling, the nation is watching.

The real question is: What will Peller do next?

Haroon Aremu Abiodun, An Author, public Affairs Analyst. He wrote in via exponentumera@gmail.com

By Uzair Adam

Government has revealed that the majority of bandit attacks in the state are being aided by informants and some members of affected communities who supply food, fuel, drugs, and other essentials to the criminals.

The Commissioner for Internal Security and Home Affairs, Alhaji Nasir Mu’azu, made this known while briefing journalists on Thursday in Katsina, lamenting that about 80 per cent of attacks are linked to insider collaboration.

Mu’azu said some community members act as informants or conduct illicit trade with the criminals at highly inflated prices inside the forests, thereby enabling their operations and profiting from the insecurity.

“In one of the communities affected by the insecurity, a man was found selling a bottle of Coca-Cola for N3,000, and another sold fuel to the bandits for N5,000 per litre,” he disclosed.

He added that drugs and illicit substances are also being supplied at high prices, creating a profitable business for the collaborators.

“Some people even connive with bandits to facilitate abductions of specific victims, including family members,” he said.

Citing a shocking example, the commissioner narrated a case where a man colluded with bandits to kidnap his diabetic father.

“When the bandits brought him to their hideout, they already had diabetic medication ready for his daily treatment. The family eventually paid N30 million in ransom, and the man received N8 million for facilitating the abduction,” he explained.

Mu’azu also said that some informants tip off bandits when Nigerian Air Force (NAF) jets take off for operations, enabling the criminals to evade airstrikes by taking cover within civilian populations.

“This has made it difficult for the military to succeed in some of their missions,” he said.

According to him, only about 20 per cent of the insecurity challenge in the state can be attributed directly to bandits, while the remaining 80 per cent is driven by the actions of insiders who aid and abet them.

While noting that the state government has made significant progress using kinetic approaches in some local government areas, he stressed the need for community cooperation and non-kinetic solutions to address the root of the problem.

He urged the public to provide credible information that could support security efforts, assuring that all such reports would be treated with the utmost confidentiality.

By Abdulrahman Sani

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he turned to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Abdulrahman Sani can be reached via X: @philosopeace.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

A leadership crisis has erupted in the African Democratic Congress (ADC) after Nafiu Bala, the party’s 2023 Gombe State governorship candidate, declared himself Interim National Chairman on Thursday.

Bala, who previously served as the party’s National Deputy Chairman, announced his new role during a press conference in Abuja.

He accused former party leaders of abandoning their constitutional duties and handing over ADC’s structures to “powerful outsiders.”

The position is currently held by former Senate President David Mark, who was appointed interim chairman after an opposition coalition adopted ADC as its platform.

Bala, however, insists his assumption of the role is legitimate under the party’s constitution.

He called on the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) to recognize the leadership change, warning that failure to adhere to ADC’s constitutional guidelines could lead to legal action.

Bala vowed to restore internal democracy, stating, “No party leader has the right to transfer elected mandates to non-members.”

The development signals deepening divisions within the opposition party.