Northern Nigeria

By Muhsin Ibrahim

The interview with Professor Tijjani Naniya on Arise News that I shared on Facebook yesterday continues to generate more (wild) reactions. At the time of posting this, more than 1100 comments had been made. This is far more than my previous posts or, generally, above-average social media posts.

Of those comments, many are expletives. I deleted a few, but I chose to leave almost all the subsequent ones, including those containing abuse and insults. Why?

I want people, especially the thoughtful among us, to see who the faces behind the Hausa Zallah agitation are and what many of them represent.

Those comments contradict several core Hausa socio-cultural ideologies codified by scholars such as Kirk-Green (1974), Alhassan et al. (1982), and Adamu (2001). I wonder where those so-called Hausa Zalla folks got them. If they were genuinely “Hausa Zalla”, they should demonstrate the cherished Hausa values.

Equally, go see how erstwhile Hausa “enemies” are defending the Hausa Zalla ideology. Naniya did not blame southeasterners for our growing insecurity or disunity. Rather, he traced the etymology of the term “Hausa-Fulani” to them. This is debatable, but it should be based on knowledge rather than insults.

When the Hausa Zalla staged a protest in Berlin, they displayed pictures of Nnamdi Kanu and called for his release. Why? So, even if Naniya associated the agitation with the Southeast, he might not be wrong. We should dig deeper to find the connection because it exists.

Folks asked for my opinion on all this. I have no problem with people identifying as Hausa, Fulani, or both. Actually, it’s bag governance that is fuelling all this hogwash. Identity politics is not a case in places where people live in peace and property.

In my neighbourhood in Cologne, there is a mosque, a church, and a mandir (a Hindu temple) within shouting distance. I have lived here for five years. I have never witnessed ANY problems between followers of these religions.

For me, we should unite against bandits, terrorists and corrupt politicians. They do not fight for or represent any particular ethnicity, religion or region. They are our real enemies, not your friend, colleague or neighbour who did not choose to be born Hausa, Fulani, Igbo, Yoruba, you name it.

When bandits or terrorists strike, they often do not distinguish between victims. They kidnap or kill them all. When a politician steals our money, it affects our roads, schools, hospitals, and more.

Wake up. Think and do the right thing.

Muhsin Ibrahim can be reached via muhsin2008@gmail.com.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

Moses E. Ochonu, Boko Haram: The Past of the Present Upheaval, University of California Press, Oakland, 2026.

There are books that inform, books that provoke, and, rarer still, books that compel you to interrogate not merely their subject but the assumptions through which it has long been misread. Moses E. Ochonu’s Boko Haram: The Past of the Present Upheaval belongs, in large measure, to this last category. It is a serious, learned, and often illuminating work. It is also, at a foundational level, a work that mistakes genealogy for inheritance. In a region where the stakes of historical narrative are measured in mass graves rather than academic citations, that error deserves honest reckoning.

Let me be clear from the outset: Ochonu is no lightweight, and no serious reviewer should pretend otherwise. His central argument, that Boko Haram did not emerge in a historical vacuum but must be situated within a long tradition of Islamic reform, dissidence, and theological contestation in Northern Nigeria, is not only defensible but necessary. His four-phase map of postcolonial Muslim dissidence, from Sheikh Abubakar Gumi’s pragmatic shiga a gyara (enter to reform) politics, through the revolutionary “Islam Only” radicalism of the 1980s, to the Salafi fence-sitting of the 1990s, to the full-blown jihadism of Muhammad Yusuf, is genuinely useful. His insistence that Boko Haram be studied as a rational, calculating actor rather than dismissed as inexplicable barbarism reflects an intellectual courage sorely needed in the debate. All of this deserves acknowledgement. 

But respect for a scholar’s craft does not require silence about where it occasionally leads him astray. After sustained engagement with this book, I find that Ochonu’s historical genealogy – meticulous and intellectually compelling as it is – ultimately commits the cardinal error of confusing proximity with equivalence. That the Fodiawa jihad and Boko Haram invoke similar texts, deploy similar vocabulary, and emerge from overlapping cultural landscapes does not make them participants in the same civilisational project. Resemblance is not identity. And a genealogy is emphatically not a pedigree.

The fact that Boko Haram claims Dan Fodio does not mean Dan Fodio claims Boko Haram. Throughout history, movements of radically different character have invoked the same ancestors. Revolutionary France invoked Rome. Such invocation tells us about the claimant; it tells us nothing reliable about the legacy claimed.

The Missing Dimension: What the Genealogy Leaves Out

Ochonu’s framework operates almost entirely along the axis of theological and political dissidence, the reformist impulse, the grievance against corrupt rulers, and the appeal to textual authority. What it leaves almost entirely out of view is the civilisational dimension of Northern Nigerian history: the long, patient, and extraordinarily durable process by which the Hausa-speaking world built not only political orders but also moral architectures, shared systems of meaning, obligation, hierarchy, and dignity that survived dynasties, empires, conquest, and colonial transformation alike.

That moral architecture did not originate with Dan Fodio. It was already ancient when the Fodiawa arrived. The old Hausa city-states and the Kanem-Bornu, which Ochonu himself acknowledges as a sophisticated Islamic civilisation predating Sokoto by centuries, had already created the conditions for a complex society organised around recognisable concepts of hierarchy, obligation, and social responsibility. The Fodiawa did not create this order. They found it, deepened it, gave it sharper Islamic articulation, and codified it in law and administrative structures. This is the real achievement of the nineteenth-century jihad, not that it overthrew the existing order, but that it built upon and consolidated what was already there. The Caliphate succeeded because it was, in the deepest sense, continuous with the civilisation it reformed.

At the centre of that civilisation lies a concept absent from every reformist movement Ochonu analyses, whether in the Fodiawa corpus, the MSSN anthems, or a single Boko Haram sermon. It is the concept that the late Anthony H. M. Kirk-Greene famously described in his landmark essay, “Mutumin Kirki: The Concept of Good Person in Hausa.” Mutumin Kirki, The Good Person, is the civilisational ideal at the heart of Hausa moral order.

The Mutumin Kirki ideal captures something no purely theological analysis can adequately convey: that social legitimacy in Hausa society derives not from ideological purity or reformist credentials, but from kirki, the cluster of virtues encompassing mutunci (dignity), kunya (shame as a moral conscience), responsibility, restraint, and recognition of one’s obligations within the social order. The framework placed duties on Sarakuna and Malamai alike, gave meaning to the roles of Attajirai and ordinary farmers, and even extended its logic to those society defined as marginal. Everyone knew where they stood. Everyone knew what was expected. Dignity required discipline. Power required restraint. And knowledge without wisdom was understood to be incomplete, even dangerous.

Colonialism, for all its violence and extractive logic, largely preserved the structure within which this framework operated. Indirect rule in Northern Nigeria worked precisely because the existing institutions already possessed legitimacy. The Emirates, the Alkali courts, and the hierarchies of office were incorporated into, and in some respects reinforced within, the colonial administrative framework. The resulting order was imperfect, as every historical product is. But it remained broadly legible to the moral universe the Kirki framework had constructed over centuries. In this sense, each successive political order, from Kanem-Bornu to the Sokoto Caliphate to colonial administration, can be understood as a successive tenant of the same civilisational operating system, adapting it, straining it, but ultimately operating within its logic.

The Verdict: Why Boko Haram Is Different, Categorically

Against this backdrop, the comparison between Boko Haram and the Dan Fodio jihad does not merely strain; it collapses. The Fodiawa jihad, whatever its human costs, was oriented towards institution-building. It produced a legal system, an administrative hierarchy, an educational network, a scholarly tradition, a literary culture, and a deepened moral framework that placed obligations on rulers and ruled alike. It expanded the universe of the Mutumin Kirki ideal; it did not attack it.

Boko Haram has done the exact opposite, systematically. It has attacked schools, murdered scholars, destroyed markets, abducted children, and reduced entire communities to rubble. It has not built a single institution that a future generation will inherit with gratitude. It has not produced a single scholar whose work will outlast the insurgency. It has not deepened the social hierarchies in which dignity and obligation are mutually reinforcing; it has weaponised those on the margins of society and enslaved those it was supposed to protect. Whatever else this represents, it is a direct assault on the civilisational operating system that both Kanem-Bornu and the Sokoto Caliphate spent centuries constructing.

Ochonu acknowledges this divergence; he explicitly notes that Boko Haram’s positions “directly contradict major aspects of the Fodiawa reformist creed and statecraft.” Yet within his framework, these divergences occupy a subordinate position. Structurally and rhetorically, the main assertion is the connection. And it is that connection, Boko Haram as participant in Northern Nigeria’s reformist DNA, that lingers in the mind and provides precisely the legitimacy Boko Haram’s ideologues have always craved. This is not a small risk. It is the central vulnerability of an otherwise admirable intellectual project.

Those of us who have observed Northern Nigerian politics, society, and intellectual life across decades, including pundits and commentators who know this civilisation not only from the archive but from the inside, find this framing, however sophisticated its execution, essentially uninitiated. It reads like the work of someone who has mastered the grammar of Northern Nigerian Islamic history with enormous care but has not quite absorbed its spirit: the civilisational confidence, the deep institutional memory, and the quiet but unmistakable recognition shared by virtually every segment of Northern Nigerian society not affiliated with Boko Haram that this movement does not belong to the tradition it claims. It is not reform. It is rupture, a specifically anti-civilisational rupture that the region’s history has not witnessed in any comparable form.

A movement may quote the same texts as its predecessors and still negate them. The Dan Fodio movement built what endured. Boko Haram destroys what was built. That distinction is not a footnote to the history of Northern Nigeria. It is the history of Northern Nigeria.

Final Reckoning: The Question History Is Actually Asking

Ochonu’s book asks: Where did Boko Haram come from? It is a vital question, and the book answers it with real skill. But the deeper question, the one the civilisational history of this region most insistently raises, is: What does Boko Haram’s existence reveal about the resilience of the moral architecture it attacks?

The long view of Northern Nigerian history suggests this: the Kirki operating system has survived before. It survived the disorder preceding the Fodiawa jihad. It survived the internal rebellions of the post-jihadi Caliphate period. It survived British conquest and the dismantling of the Sokoto political order. It survived the postcolonial state’s repeated failures to honour the obligations the Caliphate tradition placed on rulers. It did so because it is not merely a political arrangement or a theological position. It is a civilisational inheritance, embedded in culture, language, social practice, and moral imagination, that no single insurgency, however violent, has yet to erase.

Moses Ochonu has given us an important, serious, and deeply researched book. He has expanded our understanding of the landscape in which Boko Haram emerged, and he has done so with intellectual integrity. But genealogy, to repeat, is not pedigree. The real story of Northern Nigeria is not the story of rebellion. It is the story of civilisation, the long, patient construction of a moral society anchored in dignity, responsibility, learning, and character. Measured against that standard, Boko Haram appears not as the culmination of Northern Nigerian history but as its most violent recent attempt at self-erasure.

And on that measure, the verdict of civilisation itself remains, as it has always been, clear: this is not our inheritance. This is our wound.

By Muhammad Abubakar

A renowned mathematician and infectious disease modeller, Professor Abba B. Gumel, has been elected President-Elect of the Society for Mathematical Biology (SMB), becoming the first African to attain the prestigious position.

The announcement was celebrated by academics and researchers across the world, including Dr Salihu Sabiu Musa, who described the achievement as a major milestone for mathematical biology and African scholarship.

The Society for Mathematical Biology is one of the world’s leading professional organisations dedicated to advancing research and education at the intersection of mathematics and the life sciences.

Professor Gumel is internationally recognised for his pioneering contributions to infectious disease modelling, particularly in the study of epidemics and public health challenges. His work has influenced scientific understanding of disease transmission and informed public health responses globally.

According to Dr Musa, Professor Gumel’s election reflects his outstanding scholarship, leadership, and commitment to mentoring students and early-career researchers. He noted that the professor has inspired and supported countless scientists worldwide through his research and academic guidance.

Scholars have described the development as a significant achievement for Africa, highlighting the growing global impact of African researchers in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics.

Professor Gumel is expected to help shape the future direction of mathematical biology as the field continues to play an increasingly important role in addressing global health and environmental challenges.

By Munir Aliyu Kabuga

It is indeed disheartening, though sadly not surprising. A nation’s commitment to the welfare and security of its citizens is often measured by how it responds when its finest men and women make the ultimate sacrifice in service to their country.

The deaths of senior military officers in the fight against terrorism, including Brigadier General Uba and Brigadier General Momoh, and many more, remain painful reminders of the enormous sacrifices being made daily by members of the Armed Forces. These officers dedicated their lives to defending Nigeria against insurgency and insecurity, yet many Nigerians were left with the feeling that the national response to their deaths did not adequately reflect the magnitude of their service and sacrifice.

Beyond official statements of condemnation and condolences, many citizens expected a more robust and visible response—one that would demonstrate an unwavering resolve to bring the perpetrators to justice and intensify efforts to defeat the forces of terror. Such losses should serve not merely as moments of mourning but as catalysts for decisive action against those who continue to threaten the nation’s peace, security, and unity.

It is against this backdrop that concerns are being expressed regarding the death of General Rabe Abubakar. If the loss of serving generals did not elicit the level of response many Nigerians had hoped for, it is understandable why some fear that the passing of a retired general may receive even less attention from the authorities.

Ultimately, the greatest tribute to fallen heroes is not found in words of sympathy alone, but in concrete actions that strengthen national security, honour their sacrifices, and ensure that those responsible for such acts are relentlessly pursued and brought to justice.

The manner in which some military personnel have been treated, both in life and in death, is bound to have consequences for morale within the Armed Forces and for the willingness of future generations to enlist. It is only natural for a young citizen to think twice about joining the military when those who devote their lives to the service of the nation sometimes appear abandoned at their most vulnerable moments.

Why would one not hesitate when brave men and women give their all in defence of their country, only to face the prospect of falling into the hands of ruthless and barbaric terrorists? The courage required to wear the uniform is immense, but that courage must be matched by an unwavering national commitment to protect, support, and honour those who serve.

There is something profoundly troubling about the thought of a nation that entrusted a man with its uniform, bestowed upon him rank and responsibility, benefited from his years of sacrifice, celebrated his retirement, and yet seemed unable to guarantee his safety when he needed it most.

Today, we mourn General Rabe Abubakar.

He served his nation with honour, dedication, and distinction. His passing has reignited important questions about how a country values those who dedicate their lives to its service and security. It challenges us to reflect on whether we have done enough—not only to honour our heroes after their deaths, but also to safeguard them while they are alive.

This is more than a eulogy; it is a call to reflection. It is a reminder that the true measure of a nation’s gratitude to its heroes lies not merely in ceremonial tributes or eloquent speeches, but in its enduring commitment to their welfare, dignity, and security, both during and after their years of service.

May Allah forgive General Rabe Abubakar’s shortcomings, expand his grave, and grant him Aljannatul Firdaus. May He comfort his family, grant patience and strength, and bless them with peace and security, ameen. May Allah grant him eternal rest and comfort those he left behind, ameen.

By Muhammad Muhammad Salisu Esq.

As Nigeria approaches the 2027 elections, the alliance between the Kwankwasiyya and Obidient movements is attracting significant attention. On paper, it looks like a powerful partnership. Kwankwasiyya has a strong following in Kano and much of the North, while the Obidient movement enjoys significant support among young people and urban voters, especially in the South.

Together, they could become a formidable political force. But there is a problem.

Both movements have increasingly developed a reputation for attacking critics, insulting opponents, and treating disagreement as betrayal. Politics is a game of persuasion, not intimidation. A movement that insults everyone outside its camp may excite its loyal supporters, but it will struggle to attract the undecided voters needed to win national elections.

The situation worsened when some Kwankwasiyya supporters recently made comments perceived as disrespectful toward the late Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto. For many Northerners, the Sardauna is not just a historical figure. He is regarded as one of the architects of modern Northern Nigeria, a leader who championed education, institution building, economic development, and regional unity.

Attacking such a widely respected figure is politically damaging. It alienates many Northerners who might otherwise be sympathetic to the movement and raises questions about the judgment of those involved.

This is why Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso needs to clearly distance himself from such attacks. In politics, silence is often interpreted as approval. A simple and firm defence of the Sardauna’s legacy would reassure many people that the movement respects Northern history and values.

The larger lesson is straightforward. No political movement can build a successful national coalition through insults, bullying, hostility, or attacks on respected historical figures. Winning elections requires discipline, maturity, tolerance, and respect for people who hold different opinions.

The Kwankwasiyya-Obidient alliance has the potential to become a serious national alternative. But potential alone is not enough. If both movements continue down the path of intolerance and political hostility, they risk pushing away the very voters they need.

The choice before Kwankwasiyya is simple: either grow into a movement capable of governing Nigeria or remain trapped in a cycle of unnecessary controversies and self-inflicted political wounds.

In the end, political movements are remembered not for how loudly their supporters shout, but for the wisdom, discipline, and judgment they display when it matters most.

Muhammad Muhammad Salisu Esq. wrote via muhammad.writes01@gmail.com.

By Abdussamad Umar Jibia

On May 15, 2026, 39 school children and seven teachers were abducted from three schools in Oyo State. Since then, the incidence has been the major headline in Nigerian traditional and social media.

This is not the first time criminals have stormed a school and abducted school children and teachers. The first known mass abduction of school children in Nigeria occurred in 2014 at Government Girls Secondary School, Chibok, in Borno state. It was followed by a series of similar abductions in different states of the North. This is the first time such a mass abduction has taken place in Southern Nigeria. Hence, the storm.

One piece of information that has been circulated is that the bandits have demanded the implementation of Shariah in the South West as a condition for the release of the children and their teachers. This is something I have found difficult to believe from my knowledge of bandits and their operations.

First and foremost, we have to distinguish among the different types of criminals who operate in Northern Nigeria. Boko Haram, which originated from the North East and later integrated with ISWAP (Islamic State of West Africa), claims to be fighting for Islam and has religion as part of its agenda, just like similar groups around the globe. Boko Haram/ISWAP mainly operates in the North East.

However, the bandits, as they are popularly called, who originated from the North West and are mainly of Fulani extraction, have nothing to do with religion, do not advocate it, and, in fact, most of them do not pray five times a day like Muslims do and cannot even recite the opening chapter of the Qur’an. This group, sometimes referred to as Fulani herdsmen to avoid ethnic profiling, is the group said to have abducted the Oyo pupils.

The bandits are not a single group. They are different groups, each with its leader, who live in the forest and are believed to have their informants in townships. The informants gather detailed information about their potential victims before striking. This is well known to anyone living in Northern Nigeria.

As a person who hails from the western part of Katsina State, I am one of the earliest victims of banditry. For example, in August 2016, my maternal uncle, who is the Imam of his village, was killed by bandits who shot him 11 times, injured his 10-year-old son and raped two of his daughters. In addition, more than 300 cows were rustled from the village. We reported the matter to the Katsina State Commissioner of Police, but nothing was done. 

Two months later, the government announced amnesty for all the bandits in Katsina State. The suspects were brought to the village with Police escort, and the villagers were told they must forgive them because they were “their brothers”. In all of these, religion was not mentioned. It was never an issue because the bandits were not a religious people.

After the amnesty, banditry continued as usual until 2019, when the Federal Government under Buhari asked all the state Governors to enter into peace agreements with the bandits in their states. The vividly uncomfortable Katsina State Governor held meetings with bandit leaders across the affected local governments of Sabuwa, Dandume, Faskari, Safana, Dan Musa, Kankara, Batsari and Jibia. The meetings took place in the forest under heavy security and before press cameras. The military support in the escort of the Governor was enough to crush all the bandits. Ironically, the Government decided to beg them. Videos of some of the meetings are still available online.

It is noteworthy that all the bandit leaders who attended those meetings were Fulani; they were all Nigerians, and none of them was religious. No one talked about religion, and the only complaint from most of them was that some of their gang members were in police custody and should be released. 

It is also not a Hausa-versus-Fulani affair. Some of the early victims of banditry were Fulani who refused to join banditry and refused to give their support to it. There are still many rural Fulani communities in the North West who are against banditry and do not harbour bandits. 

Now, at what point did banditry begin to be associated with religion? Different possibilities.

The Zionist entity

One of the biggest mistakes made by the General Ibrahim Babangida administration was normalising diplomatic ties with the Zionist occupation called Israel. Zionists are believed to be behind some of the crimes committed in the Northern part of Nigeria. 

The former deputy speaker of the House of Reps, Alhaji Abdullahi Wase, alleged that 300 youths from the Christian majority state of Plateau were given training in Israel and that four containers of arms were brought in by an Israeli security company to a politician’s house in Plateau state.

Alhaji Abdullahi Wase called for an investigation by the government. The investigation was not conducted. It is thus not out of place if Zionists, through some hirelings, introduced religion into the discussion of banditry in order to cause further internal crisis or use their American boys to attack innocent Muslims in Nigeria.

Sheikh Ahmad Gummi

The involvement of Dr Ahmad Gummi with bandits leaves more questions than answers. Gummi is an Islamic scholar who views issues from an Islamic perspective. Did he ever tell the bandits to shift their focus to religion rather than remain common criminals? I have no answer to this question. Only the Government and Sheikh Gummi have.

Elements in the Tinubu administration

A young Islamic scholar, Sheikh Munir Koza, once claimed that he was among the many influential young Islamic scholars invited to a meeting by some defence officials of the Tinubu government not long after the Government took over. With a financial reward, they were asked to emphasise three things in their preaching. 

One. That banditry by Fulani groups is justified because Fulani have been subjected to neglect and injustice over a long period. 

Two. Call on the government to engage in dialogue with bandits and offer them political appointments. 

Three. The Governors of Zamfara and Katsina are wrong to have set up security outfits to confront bandits. 

According to Sheikh Koza, he was the only person who expressed his disagreement at the first meeting and was thus not invited to subsequent meetings.

If Sheikh Koza’s claim is true, it means there are bandits’ sympathisers in the Tinubu Government. One would ask, is Mr President not aware? Did he appoint them because he believes insecurity is a Northern Nigerian affair, and he has thus appointed Northerners to go and eat themselves? Now that it has spread to the South, is he ready to make amendments?

Or, who actually introduced religion into it?

Professor Abdussamad Umar Jibia wrote from the Department of Mechatronics Engineering, Bayero University, Kano. He can be reached via aujibia@gmail.com.

By Aisha Mohammed Usman 

The Abduction of Major General Rabe Abubakar (Rtd) and His Wife Should Concern Every Nigerian.

Major General Rabe Abubakar (Rtd) spent decades serving Nigeria, helping to protect its people and defend its sovereignty. A respected military leader known for his professionalism and patriotism, he represents the sacrifice and dedication of countless Nigerians who have devoted their lives to national service.

Now, the reported abduction of Major General Abubakar and his wife has sparked widespread concern. Beyond the pain endured by their family, this incident is a troubling reminder of the insecurity facing the nation and a matter that should concern every Nigerian who values service, sacrifice, and justice.

At a time when public conversations are often dominated by criticism of leadership failures, we must ask ourselves an important question: Have we become a society that only speaks about bad leaders while remaining silent about the good ones?

There is no doubt that Nigeria faces significant leadership challenges. Citizens have every right to demand accountability, transparency, and effective governance. However, while we criticise those who fail us, we must also recognise, celebrate, and support those who have devoted their lives to serving others. Recognition is not merely praise; it is encouragement. It sends a message that integrity, sacrifice, and dedication still matter.

Major General Rabe Abubakar represents those values.

Among his many distinguished accomplishments, Major General Rabe Abubakar served as Nigeria’s Director of Defence Information, a position that placed him at the forefront of military communications and national security engagement. Throughout his career, he became widely respected for his professionalism, patriotism, and commitment to strengthening the relationship between the Armed Forces and the Nigerian people. Even after retirement, he remained an influential voice, mentor, and statesman whose counsel and experience continued to benefit both military and civilian communities.

For decades, he served Nigeria with distinction. Like many military officers, he endured the hardships that come with wearing the uniform—extended periods away from family, exposure to danger, and the immense responsibility of protecting lives and national interests. While millions of Nigerians slept peacefully at night, brave men and women in uniform stood watch, often under difficult and dangerous conditions, safeguarding the nation.

Yet what makes Major General Rabe Abubakar particularly remarkable is that his service did not end with retirement. Through mentorship, community development, youth empowerment, and civic engagement, he continued contributing to the growth and progress of society. His influence extended far beyond military assignments. He became a mentor to many, a trusted voice in his community, and a source of inspiration to both military personnel and civilians alike.

His impact can be felt not only through the positions he held but through the countless lives he touched. From his hometown and village to communities across Nigeria, he has consistently demonstrated that true leadership is ultimately about service to humanity.

It is therefore particularly distressing that a man who devoted his life to defending Nigeria, together with his wife, reportedly became a victim of the insecurity he spent years working to combat.

Alongside him is his wife, who has undoubtedly shared in the sacrifices that military families endure throughout the years of service to the nation. Behind every distinguished military officer is a family that bears the burden of long absences, uncertainty, and the demands of national duty. Their ordeal is therefore not only a tragedy for two individuals but also a painful reminder of the sacrifices made by military families across Nigeria.

According to reports, Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife were travelling to Katsina for a family wedding when they were abducted in the Matazu Local Government Area of Katsina State. Their driver reportedly survived despite sustaining a gunshot injury, while the retired General and his wife were taken away by armed men. Security agencies and military authorities have since commenced efforts to secure their safe rescue and return.

To those holding Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife captive, this is an appeal to your humanity. Whatever circumstances may have led to this situation, there remains an opportunity to choose compassion over cruelty. This retired General dedicated his life to protecting fellow Nigerians. He served his country with honour and distinction. We appeal for his immediate and safe release, alongside that of his wife.

To the Federal Government, security agencies, and all relevant authorities, Nigerians are looking to you with hope and expectation. Every available resource must be deployed to ensure the safe rescue and return of Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife. The nation owes a special duty of care to those who have spent their lives safeguarding its people and institutions.

Beyond this particular incident, there is a broader lesson for all of us. We must learn to celebrate our heroes while they are still with us. Too often, recognition comes only after tragedy strikes. We must speak about the people making positive contributions to our communities. We must highlight examples of integrity, sacrifice, and patriotism. We must encourage the next generation to believe that service to the country remains a noble calling.

A society that constantly criticises but never appreciates risks discouraging those who are striving to do the right thing. Good leaders need support. Good examples need visibility. Good deeds deserve recognition.

Major General Rabe Abubakar is one such example.

At a time when insecurity continues to challenge communities across the country, Nigerians must unite in support of all lawful efforts to secure the safe return of Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife. Beyond differences of ethnicity, religion, region, or political affiliation, this is a moment that calls for collective concern, compassion, and national solidarity.

As Nigerians, regardless of tribe, religion, or political affiliation, this is a moment to stand together. It is a moment to pray for his safe return, support his family, and reaffirm our commitment to the values he represents.

The story of Major General Rabe Abubakar is ultimately a story of duty, sacrifice, and service. It is a reminder that true leadership is measured not by titles or ranks but by the positive impact one leaves on the lives of others.

As we await the safe return of Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife, let us remember a simple truth: a nation that honours its heroes strengthens its future, while a nation that forgets them risks losing the very values that hold it together.

May Major General Rabe Abubakar and his wife return home safely. May justice prevail, amin.

And may Nigeria never stop celebrating those who serve her faithfully.

By H. A. Dandajeh

I was in Ajah, Lagos State, a few weeks ago, where I observed a large number of beggars, mostly women and children, ranging 5 – 13years, from Northern Nigeria, occupying the road divider along Addo Road under the Ajah bridge.

The situation was quite disturbing. Apart from being an eyesore, the persistent manner in which many of them approached unknown vehicles in search of alms was deeply concerning. Some kids were left fighting within themselves and some provocatively dancing to the street music with obviously no parent to send them to schools and no one to discipline them for bad behavior and wrongdoings.

I asked someone where these individuals sleep, how their safety and security are guaranteed, and whether the women are protected from harassment by street gangs and other criminal elements? No clear answers were forthcoming.

The Lagos State Government’s efforts to sanitize and regulate public spaces within the state especially with the escalating rate of insecurity shouldn’t be questioned. The Lagos authorities are not going after genuine Northern traders, but beggars who can easily be compromised as vulnerable security threats.

Beyond issues of aesthetics of Lagos, there are important concerns relating to public safety, human dignity, child welfare and education that must not be ignored.

We cannot continue to tolerate the commercialization of intentional, avoidable and unjustified begging in some parts of Northern Nigeria and then criticize other regions when they take decisive measures to protect their communities and maintain public order.

As a society, we can, and must, do better. We owe it to ourselves to create environments that uphold human dignity, encourage productivity, and provide vulnerable individuals with sustainable opportunities rather than leaving them exposed on the streets.

Every parent must be held responsibly accountable to his family!

By Dahiru Kasimu Adamu

Rice farmers in Kebbi State are in a dilemma as quila birds, locally known as Buwa, continue to threaten food security by devouring their farm produce.

During a visit to rice clusters in the Argungu fadama land, including Dankwalli, Kuyar Masama, Janduma, Kwalaga, and others, farmers were seen shouting, wielding sticks, and using other materials to make loud noises to scare the birds away from their farms.

The farmers described the situation as disastrous. “Quila birds need only a short time to finish what farmers spend months cultivating. This forces us to move early to the farms and prevent the birds from ending our farming,” said Lauwali Usman, a farmer at the Dankwalli rice cluster.

Another farmer, Usman in Kuyar Masama,  explained how the quila bird “has caused some farmers to harvest their rice early because they can no longer keep moving to their farms every morning and evening to prevent the birds from eating their produce. They are afraid of losing what they spent months cultivating.”

Many farmers have stories to tell about the quila bird and how it threatens rice farming. What they share in common, however, is an appeal to authorities to assist them by spreading chemicals to eliminate the birds, arguing that traditional methods are too weak.

In a previous interview, Dr Aminu Aliyu, an agriculturalist who teaches at the Department of Agricultural Education, Adamu Augie College of Education, Argungu, said the best and most scientific method of addressing the quila bird problem is “locating their nesting environment and spreading chemicals. This can be achieved by collaborating with local farmers and extension agents, and is normally done by the state government or in conjunction with the federal government.”

Dr Aliyu described quila birds as “migratory birds that travel long distances and can cause havoc to any farm they stay on, even within a short period.”

Apart from rising input costs and the petrol price hike due to subsidy removal, the quila bird has been a major problem affecting rice farmers since the beginning of dry season farming, known locally as Katashi in Kebbi State.

By Abdullahi Aliyu Maiwada, PhD

My mother and Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu’s wife have been close friends for decades. My earliest memories of the family are rooted in our home at Bayero University Kano New Campus Senior Staff Quarters, Area C, over three and a half decades ago. As a child, I remember I was fondly called “Maigida” by Professor Abdalla’s wife because I share the same name as her husband, an early, personal reminder of the many coincidences and intersections that bind our families. 

In the early 1990s, when only a few households had desktop computers or landlines, he was already digitally acculturated, an early adopter of technology long before it became commonplace. Prof. demonstrated a forward-looking embrace of digital tools, from supporting desktop computers in the early 1990s to launching a dedicated website (https://auadamu.com) and then seamlessly acclimatising with the social media space. Though not a digital native by birth, he exemplified curiosity and was always willing to explore and adopt new technologies.

Back in the classroom, Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu was a refined, multidisciplinary scholar who served as Head of Department during my undergraduate years at the Faculty of Education. Interestingly, we both began our academic journeys in Science Education. After establishing an outstanding career in Education, he expanded his intellectual horizons and pursued further studies in Mass Communication, rising to the rank of professor in the field, becoming, in every sense, a dual professor in both Education and Mass Communication.

Along a somewhat similar path, after earning my first degree in Education and a Master’s degree in Environmental Management, my various professional postings inspired me to pursue Mass Communication, from a bachelor’s degree to a PhD.

Prof. Abdallah’s intellectual brilliance, expertise, and exceptional command of English are qualities widely recognised by anyone who has encountered him. Yet, beyond these obvious attributes lies a man of principle, honour, integrity, humility, and uncommon decency. He deeply values culture, religion, and family ties.

His pursuit of knowledge has taken him across different countries of the world. Many sought to convince him to remain abroad, drawn by the depth of his knowledge and expertise, but his answer was always a firm no. His famous saying remains: “When a man is tired of Kano, he is tired of life.”

Over the years, he served in various capacities across different states and countries. Yet, despite the vast exposure and countless opportunities available to him, he remained committed to his teaching career and chose Kano as home. That decision alone has earned my deepest respect and admiration.

Our professional journeys eventually crossed paths in a remarkable way when I had the privilege of bringing the annual PR Week to my alma mater, Bayero University Kano. As I reflect on the successful delivery of the Nigeria Customs Service Public Relations Workshop 2025, held at Bayero University Kano, I find it both necessary and deeply meaningful to place on record my personal appreciation for the invaluable contribution of Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu, who is now retiring from active service upon attaining the age of 70 years.

From the outset of the workshop themed “Beyond Masters of Ceremonies: The Strategic Role of Public Relations Officers for Institutional Growth and Stakeholders’ Trust,” Prof. Abdalla distinguished himself not only as a scholar of remarkable depth but also as a committed partner in institutional development. His intellectual engagement and presence added significant value to the programme’s overall success.

I recall with appreciation his active participation in the town-and-gown panel session, where he brought to bear his vast experience in media studies, cultural communication, and higher education governance. His contributions were not abstract academic reflections; they were practical, grounded insights that challenged participants to rethink the evolving role of public relations in a rapidly changing communication environment.

Throughout the engagement, Prof. Adamu consistently demonstrated an exceptional ability to bridge theory and practice. He helped situate public relations within broader questions of institutional trust, societal perception, and knowledge production. In doing so, he enriched the learning experience of Customs Public Relations Officers who participated in the workshop and broadened the intellectual horizon of the discourse.

On a personal note, I found his interventions particularly instructive in reinforcing the Nigeria Customs Service’s commitment to strategic communication as a tool for institutional legitimacy and stakeholder engagement. His calm disposition, clarity of thought, and depth of scholarship left a lasting impression on all participants.

As Professor Abdalla steps back from active service, we celebrate not only a distinguished career but a legacy: a legacy of rigorous scholarship, faithful service, and humane leadership. The students he taught and mentored, the colleagues he collaborated with, and the institutions he served bear the imprint of his wisdom. His writings and public engagements have helped to shape national discourses around media, culture, and education; his mentorship has created new generations of scholars and practitioners who will carry his influence forward.

On behalf of the Nigeria Customs Service Public Relations Unit and in my personal capacity, I extend our profound gratitude for his willingness to honour our invitation and for generously sharing his time and expertise. The workshop’s success was unquestionably enhanced by his involvement. As he embarks upon retirement, I wish him robust health, abundant fulfilment, and continued relevance in national and global intellectual conversations.

May his retirement be a season of reflection, continued contribution, and joyous company with family and friends. The lights of classrooms and conference halls may dim for him in one sense, but his ideas, his mentorship, and his example will continue to illuminate minds and institutions for many years to come. 

Thank you, Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu, for your scholarship, your service, and your steadfast love for knowledge and community.

Abdullahi Aliyu Maiwada, PhD, mnipr, mniia, is the Deputy Comptroller of Customs and the National Public Relations Officer of the Nigeria Customs Service. He can be reached via abdullmaiwda@gmail.com.