Northern Nigeria

By Bilyamin Abdulmumin, PhD

There is much to learn from the politics currently unfolding between the Jega community, their constituency representative, and the Kebbi State government. 

It all began with rising criticism directed at the state government over the glaring lack of infrastructure development in the community. What made the criticism particularly serious was the surprise and visible projects by Hon. Mansur Musa Jega, the National Assembly member representing Jega, Gwandu, and Aliero. Unarguably, since the return of democracy, this constituency has never witnessed such a scale of project delivery. So, unsurprisingly, prayers and praise were poured in from all quarters.

With Senator Muhammad Adamu Aliero of Kebbi Central also delivering notable developments, public frustration quickly turned toward the state government—the governor, the state assembly member, and the local government chairman. During the latest Eid prayer, one fierce Imam echoed the sentiment in his sermon before thousands of faithful. 

In a bold rhetorical salvo, the Imam asked: “Where are the capital projects from the state governor? Or from the local government chairman? Has governance been reduced to merely paying salaries?” 

On the other hand, the Imam turns to the constituency member to invoke Allah’s blessings on him for conspicuous township developments. These prayers were the straw that broke the camel’s back. The video went viral, sending shockwaves through the state government and its supporters.

But then, almost immediately, something interesting happened. Based on the advice, the government mobilised contractors to immediately mark for dualisation one of the busiest roads (leading to the house of the town chief). Behold, performance-based politics (which should have been the case) has given birth. 

One interesting lesson from this development is that a politician’s performance speaks louder and travels faster than any political campaign: A politician’s performance becomes an automatic means of political campaigning. Imagine an Imam on Eid grounds before thousands campaigning for one candidate. That’s the power of visible performance.

Another interesting piece revealed by the saga was the political influence of the population. Jega is among the few local governments in Kebbi State with the highest population, hence one of the most influential politically. The old town forms what would be called a swing state in America for its political dynamism or K states in Nigeria for its sheer number of electorates, so winning it is a sign of success in Kebbi State. A reason why the state governor didn’t joke with the Imam and the electorate’s outcry. This shows that a large population, when strategically mobilised, can become a political asset.

 While delivering constituency projects also depends on what committees a representative belongs to, Mansur still deserves credit because there are allegations of constructors conniving with constituency members to divert billions of naira from constituency projects. 

We criticise politicians when they fail; we should also encourage them when they try.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

Governor Umar Bago has directed security agencies to arrest individuals with dreadlocks in Minna, the state capital, as part of a broader clampdown on crime.  

During a high-level security meeting on Tuesday, Governor Bago ordered that those with dreadlocks be arrested, forcibly shaved, and fined. “We will have zero tolerance for rascality. Anybody found with dreadlocks should be arrested, their hair barbed, and fined,” he declared.  

The governor also banned commercial motorcycles and tricycles from operating between 6 p.m. and 6 a.m., except in cases of medical emergencies. Additionally, he warned parents to caution their children, vowing a “fire-for-fire” approach to crime.  

Traditional rulers were instructed to document all residents in their domains, while houses harbouring criminals faced demolition. “Niger State is not for useless people,” Bago stated.

The measures aim to curb rising criminality and restore order in the state.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

As we celebrate the World Book and Copyright Day (the UNESCO, not UK version) on 23rd April 2025, and even though it is targeted at children and youth, let’s reflect; after all, we were once children and youth. A historical excavation of our reading habits shows how lucky we were.

Hausa folks over 50 have always lamented the death of reading culture among contemporary Hausa youth. Such old fogies always hark back to the days of reading, mainly English language authors: James Hadley Chase, Denise Robins, Jacqueline Susann, Frederick Forsyth, Nick Carter, Stephen King, Robert Ludlum, Harold Robbins, Ayn Rand, Wilbur Smith, etc. Almost always English. Always British or American. The novels written by these authors, I would argue, laid solid foundations for their knowledge, command and mastery of the English language. 

And the comics. Tintin (actually, Tan-Tan), Asterix, Mad Magazine, Marvel comics (Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Thor, X-Men, etc). The entire comics of London’s Fleet Street. Evoking memories of Valiant, Thunder, Eagle, Commando, Cor!!, Buster, Tiger, Battle. Even football comics (even though I don’t particularly like football at all), such as Roy of the Rovers. The novels, the comics and the TV shows (Star Trek, Space 1999, Man from U.N.C.L.E., Man from Atlantis, Perry Mason, etc.), to be frank, laid the foundation of what I am today. Not much from Africa, though. But the little we had was superb as well. These included Lance Spearman’s African Film, Fearless Fang’s Boom, and a romantic tear-jerker, Joy.  

All were readily available at the Post Office in Kano and major supermarkets of Leventis and Kingsway. The latter in particular became a must-visit place for me in the 1970s. Nothing, absolutely nothing, beats the wonderful smell of fresh books being stacked on their shelves. And it wasn’t just books. I scrimped and saved pennies and shillings until I had enough to purchase my first vinyl record album – Rare Earth’s Get Ready in 1972, three years after it was released in 1969, when I first heard a single version on the radio. 

This was what defined reading culture, at least for those of us in the urban centres who grew up with it. And even if one can’t afford fresh new books and comics from Leventis and Kingsway stores, there are many places in Kano centred around Plaza in Fage, Coca Cola Roundabout, and even the main Post Office frontage itself, where hundreds of second-hand books are sold, even up to now. 

Exchanging books and discussing their plots, characters, and titles set the tone of conversations with friends. The most popular pulp fiction writer, of course, was René Lodge Brabazon Raymond, most popularly known as James Hadley Chase. Interestingly, his novels were written in the 1930s and later, painting an often-depressing picture of his setting (mainly the United States, even though he was British). Titles like Tiger By the Tail, Tell It to the Birds, Just a Matter of Time, Knock, Knock! Who’s There? There is a Hippy on the Highway that evokes our hastily copied Americanism. The garish covers, almost always graced by a long-legged sultry female model, made many truly judge the book by its cover. 

These foreign novels existed alongside African novels, particularly those published by Heinemann since 1969. The Heinemann African Writers Series produced a massive variety of novels, almost 225, many by people from the eastern part of Nigeria. For most of us, though, their postcolonial themes seemed too intellectual. Further, they were made part of the set reading for those offering literature, so again, many who want to read a novel just for pleasure rather than pan-African political philosophy simply avoided them. 

The struggle for the souls—and pockets—of school children in the 1970s continued in efforts to dislodge James Hadley Chase. In 1977, Macmillan Publishers decided to publish a low-cost paperback series under what they called the Pacesetters Series. These were published from 1979 to 1988 and became massively popular. I remember seeing one of the earliest, The Undesirable Element by Mohammad Sule from Kano, published in 1977, while we were students at ABU. 

When Sule finished the novel (which he wrote while a student at the now Rumfa College Kano), he initially took the manuscript to the Northern Nigeria Publishing Company (NNPC) in Zaria, which rejected it because it was in English. Luckily, Macmillan was in partnership with NNPC and the MD, a Briton, asked his wife to evaluate it. She did it positively and recommended it to Macmillan London, who were just about to start their Pacesetter series. See providence. If NNPC had accepted it, they would have created a large pool of English language novelists in northern Nigeria

For Baby Boomers (1946-1964) and Generation X (1965 to 1979), the Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) of 1986 severely affected their reading culture in one way: the books just dried up, whether foreign or local. Foreign became too expensive, local became too repetitive and static. We simply went back to the old classics and read them again and again. It was Robert Ludlum re-read (especially The Parsifal Mosaic) for me. 

All this was for ƴan boko. What about Hausa novels or reading materials? There are very few. By the 1980s, all the classics had been read, and no new ones were coming out. These included Magana Jari Ce, Ilya Ɗan Maiƙarfi, Gogan Naka, Nagari Na Kowa, Sihirtaccen Gari, Dau Fataken Dare, and a whole bunch of plays. Writing and publishing was very strenuous. Publishers could only publish if the books were to be made part of the set reading for WAEC, which limits the writer’s imagination and creativity. 

Then Hafsat AbdulWaheed came along with So, Aljannar Duniya in 1980. The first published Hausa language novel. The first by a woman from northern Nigeria. Plotting the classic Hausa marriage situation. A revolution was ignited in Hausa language fiction, leading to Mills and Boons style romantic fiction or Littattafan Soyayya. In less than five years, both male and female writers had emerged with stories to tell. Writers’ collectives were formed. The printing presses of party politics made it easier to self-publish. So, the writers ignored the snotty hoity-toity “big” publishers, especially NNPC (although NNPC can PRINT your book for payment, as they did with Balaraba Ramat’s early novels).  

In less than five years, the emergent authors have published more volumes than Heinemann (225) and Pacesetters (130). This made Hausa the most voracious reading public in Nigeria. Prof. Graham Furniss of the SOAS London even published a bibliography of the genre, including a whole website based at SOAS. When they became too much for the Kano State public culture, for that was where they flourished, a censorship board was created in 2001 to curb them. When that did not work, the Kano State government burned them in 2007 to cleanse the youth of the books. A harsher censorship regime debilitated them even more, throwing them out of business. The Hausa reading culture died. 

Then the Smartphone came in 2007—the then-Kano state Governor publicly burned Hausa books the same year. The same year, a harsher censorship regime was instituted in Kano that made life hell for the creative industries (Maryam Hiyana, anyone?). The iPhone, while not the first smartphone (Blackberry, anyone?), nevertheless revolutionised communication in its innovative approach to design. Clone copies with Android operating systems cemented the mass appeal of the smartphone. Eventually, it became commodified. 

Then, in 2013, Hausa novelists had their epiphany. They realised that with Facebook bubbling away, they could write their novels and escape censorship. Sure, no money, but they would be sharing their ideas. Things then blossomed from there. They created hundreds of Facebook pages for Hausa novels. When they became technologically proficient or engaged those who were, they created blogs sharing Hausa novels and creating massive readership throughout the Hausaphone world. For instance, Hafsat Hausa Novels (H²) had 471,000 members last time I checked. 

Then they discovered Wattpad, which had been in existence since 2006. They moved on the site with massive gusto, creating novels in three presentation modes – Hausa, English and Enghausa. Mainly by women. The migration online redefines “reading culture” if it is seen as engagement with text. Wattpad’s metrics alone convincingly show that the Hausa reading culture has been revived. For instance, Jewel by Maymunatu Bukar had 1.1 million reads. Thus, E-books and online literary content became increasingly popular, and social media can be used to share and discuss these resources

And let’s not ignore social networks and social media posts and COMMENTS. Agreements, disagreements (including insults typical of Arewa Social Media), expanded explanations – all are READING, and far livelier than just reading a book on your own. But again, social media gives us the opportunity to discuss – have a debate – about the books we like/hate (Goodreads, anyone?). 

“Reading culture” is a dynamic and evolving concept that encompasses more than the mere act of reading. It is an intricate web of practices, values, and institutional structures that defines how individuals and communities interact with texts. Whether viewed through a sociological, historical, or digital lens, understanding reading culture involves recognising the interplay between technology, policy, and the deeply personal ways that texts influence and reflect who we are.

I therefore argue that reading social media is very much part of today’s reading culture. It is a re-invention of reading culture. It may differ from traditional literary reading in depth, tone, and purpose, but it still involves interpretation, meaning-making, and cultural exchange. In any event, all the books, comics, and TV shows you so favoured are now digitally available (I have sourced all of these that defined my youth).

As reading culture adapts to the digital age, social media becomes an important arena for literacy and engagement in all spheres. Hey, you might even find the rest of the James Hadley Chase books you missed (you know he published 98, right?). 

Happy World Book and Acibilisian Day to y’all.

By Uzair Adam 

Kaduna State Governor, Uba Sani, has said political leaders from northern Nigeria have failed the region and should collectively apologise to the people for decades of underdevelopment and neglect.

Speaking during an interview with Trust TV, Sani stressed that criticism of government policies should be driven by the genuine interest of the people and not by political ambition.

“Every democracy must allow criticism, but it must be constructive, and in the interest of the Nigerian people. That’s what we did as activists — not because we wanted power,” he said.

He noted that those who have held public office in the last two decades — including himself — bear responsibility for the challenges facing the region.

“Anyone who is from northern Nigeria and held a political office in the last 20 years, we all need to look at ourselves in the mirror and apologise to the people of northern Nigeria. We let them down,” he admitted.

Reflecting on his own time in office, the governor said the region’s problems stem from long-standing structural and economic neglect.

“I’ll say it here today — all of us; I was a senator in this country, and the problems of northern Nigeria didn’t start two years ago,” he added.

Sani also criticised the outcomes of the massive social intervention programmes under former president Muhammadu Buhari, saying they failed to uplift the region due to deep-rooted financial exclusion.

“Buhari spent hundreds of billions on social interventions,” he said. “But the North became poorer even after that because 70% of the population, especially the masses, were completely financially excluded.”

He pointed out that anyone who had served as a senator, minister, governor, or vice-president from the region over the past 20 years shares in the blame.

The governor cautioned politicians against misleading the public and lauded honest critics who maintain integrity and a people-first approach.

“We must not deceive the people of northern Nigeria. We must not mislead them. I’ve no problem with people criticising the government — people like Dan Bello Galadanchi. 

“Those individuals have the moral right to speak. But those who contributed to the rot and now claim to have repented — I think that’s wrong,” he said.

_________________________________

Muhsin Ibrahim, PhD

Institute of African Studies, 

University of Cologne 

Blog: www.muhsin.in

By Lawan Bukar Maigana 

From the ashes of battle-weary Borno to the powerful corridors of Aso Rock, Vice President Kashim Shettima has consistently defied the odds. His journey has never been one of privilege but of perseverance, grit, and unswerving faith in destiny.

As governor, he governed Borno State at a time when Boko Haram unleashed one of the worst humanitarian crises in Nigeria’s history. While others fled, Shettima stayed. He took bold, calculated risks to keep his people safe, rebuild destroyed communities, and stabilise a state under siege. Many thought Borno would collapse—yet under Shettima’s leadership, it stood.

Transitioning to the Senate, Shettima faced different types of warfare—political manoeuvring, underestimation, and party intrigues. Yet again, he rose above, earning his place as a voice of reason and strength within the APC, known for his eloquence, intellect, and firm grasp of national issues.

Today, as Nigeria’s Vice President, Shettima faces yet another challenge—this time from within. A coordinated campaign has emerged, allegedly pushed by political actors with ambitions for 2027, aiming to sow discord between him and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Fake news merchants have been deployed to twist narratives and fabricate rifts. But the facts remain stronger than fiction.

President Tinubu’s trust in Shettima runs deeper than many understand. Tinubu chose Shettima as his running mate—without pressure, without external consultation, and certainly without seeking endorsement from even the most powerful figures like former President Muhammadu Buhari. His decision was based on conviction, not compromise.

Each time the media speculates on a rift, President Tinubu swiftly dispels it, reiterating his confidence and respect for Shettima. This alliance is built on shared vision and mutual respect, not convenience.

Kashim Shettima has emerged stronger, wiser, and more determined through every fire he has walked. History shows us that adversity sharpens his focus. This latest round of animosity, though loud, is fleeting. Just like before, he will rise—not only to prove his critics wrong, but to reaffirm the values of loyalty, resilience, and visionary leadership.

The noise will fade in the end, but Shettima’s legacy—like his rise—will endure.

Lawan Bukar Maigana is an award-winning journalist and humanitarian who can be reached at: lawanbukarmaigana@gmail.com.

By Hauwa Mohammed Sani PhD

The phrase “No women, no peace” has become a rallying cry for those who recognise the critical role of women in peacebuilding. Yet, in conflict-prone regions like rural Northern Nigeria, this vision often feels like a distant dream. During my recent visit to communities of displaced women, coinciding with the Ramadan period in March 2025, I witnessed heartbreaking realities. Despite the challenges, I remain convinced that positive change is possible and that women hold the key to it.

My first heartbreak came from witnessing the deplorable conditions in which these women live; hunger, poverty, ignorance, and social exclusion were evident in their lives. 

The second heartbreak occurred when a child fetching water fell into a deep, uncovered well. I have never felt a more profound sense of helplessness. 

Although these women may not be able to read, write, or comprehend my work, this article represents my humble contribution to the society I belong to, with the hope that it will reach the ears and eyes of those it may concern.

As a researcher, I am supported by the Science for Africa (SFA) Foundation in Nairobi, Kenya, and the Carnegie Corporation through the Preparing Outstanding Social Science Investigators to Benefit Lives and Environments in Africa initiative (POSSIBLE Africa) Postdoctoral Fellowship. My research aims to go beyond portraying women as victims to spotlight their potential as active peacebuilders in Northern Nigeria.

The statistics are staggering: In the conflict-prone zones of Northern Nigeria, women and girls suffer disproportionately from conflict, displacement, and violence. They flee their homes, lose their livelihoods, and often face trauma that leaves lasting scars. During my visit, I saw this pain firsthand. The tears I shed were more than emotional; they were a testament to the suffering I witnessed.

It is pathetic to recount that these women’s expectations have shrunk to a single plea: “May the government come to our aid.” When I inquired about their own efforts toward peace, they shared that they engage in regular prayers and fasting. Yet, they feel that their tormentors are always one step ahead because they are often accompanied by clerics. Still, they seek spiritual protection and divine intervention, clinging to faith as their last refuge. 

Some even recounted instances where women, in acts of desperation and courage, pretended to be mentally unstable or “mad”, hoping that such displays might scare off their oppressors, which in many instances worked.

This mindset illustrates the psychological toll of prolonged violence and displacement. Over time, a person’s sense of agency may erode. Many begin to see themselves solely as victims, dependent on external rescue.

But women are not just victims of conflict. They are also agents of change. In some rural Northern Nigeria, women are organising themselves into cooperatives, advocating for their rights, and supporting one another to rebuild their communities and foster peace.

How can we support these women in their quest for peace and development?

Amplify their voices: Provide platforms for storytelling, problem-sharing, and solution-finding, for example, through theatre for development, etc.

Build their capacity: Offer education, psychosocial support, and economic empowerment tools. Address root causes: Confront the structural issues, poverty, injustice, and exclusion that feed cycles of violence.

Healing Collective Traumas: From Erasure to Memory

Violent conflict does not just destroy homes; it scars communities. Healing collective trauma involves:

1. Acknowledgement and Recognition: Validating and recognising the suffering of affected communities.

2. Truth-telling and Documentation: Recording stories and preserving collective memory.

3. Community-Based Initiatives: Promoting healing through solidarity groups and cultural activities.

4. Education and Awareness: Raising understanding to encourage empathy and reconciliation.

Conclusion

“No women, no peace” is more than a slogan. It is a truth we must act upon. Women are essential to peacebuilding, particularly in conflict-prone regions like rural Northern Nigeria. By recognising their voices, supporting their efforts, and addressing the systemic roots of violence, we can build a future where peace is not just possible but sustainable.

Hauwa Mohammed Sani, PhD, is the Deputy Director of the Institute for Development, Research &Training at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. She can be reached at hauwamohammedsanim@gmail.com.

By Salihi Adamu Takai

Farida Musa Kalla(FMK) should be the exact definition of the Hausa woman in Kano, not as some of themmischievously intend to misrepresent to the world, being a hope of a lavish and luxurious life without a purpose in their matrimonial home. 

FMK, a woman who married her husband in her early years during her university days, uses her courage and ambition to define how women should be. She has steadfastly retained her femininity, contrasting with how others view them. 

Women are not a liability and shouldn’t be seen as such, neither by how “feminists” position them nor through the extremism of “masculinists.”

I was on Facebook, browsing my timelines when I came across a video on the DCL Hausa Page featuring an interview with Farida Musa Kalla, the CEO of FMK Nigerian Ltd. The program is titled “Sirrin Ɗaukaka,” and it invitesindividuals whose names trend in the media. 

In the interview, FMK disclosed how she started the business with a bit of capital of 30k in her matrimonial home. She used the market tactics she’s known for to advertise her business, recording videos for the materials she sells. This was the first time her name started coming to the media—Facebook, X, and YouTube.

As she improved the business, her husband advised her to put 600k in the business, given to her by her mother, to buy a car. According to her, this 600k expanded the business and blessed it in every second. And today she runs the business with hundreds of millions. 

As FMK’s business improves and gains recognition in the market, she poses a threat to prominent marketers in Kano, such as Mudassir & Brothers. They have started to adopt her market strategies — using videos to unveil their faces as the CEOS of their company, as she has been doing.

Interestingly, FMK has not been using immoral activities just to advertise her business, but rather strategies that are not questionable for a married woman. 

FMK should be a challenge to all the women in Hausa land who think that they’re a liability to their husbands, as they “belong to the kitchen,” as propagated by the immediate former President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, Muhammadu Buhari.

Salihi Adamu Takai wrote via salihiadamu5555@gmail.com.

By Huzaifa Dokaji

Kano is not a place you reduce to a headline or dismiss with a stereotype. It is a city with too many layers for that—too much memory, too many voices. This is the Kano of Muhammadu Rumfa, the ruler who gave it form and vision, and of Ibrahim Dabo, the scholar-king. The Kano of Kundila and Dangote, where wealth meets ingenuity.

It is the Kano the British once described as the ‘London of Africa,’ the Tripolitans praised as ‘a city like a thousand others’, each one magnificent—and its own people, knowing its complex social and ideological chemistry, named tumbin giwa, the intestine of an elephant: vast, winding, and full of hidden depths.

Kano has always carried many lives at once. It is the home of Shehu Tijjani Na Yan Mota and the sanctuary of Abdullahi dan Fodio when he felt the revolution had been betrayed. It is Madinar Mamman Shata and the home of Aminu Ala, the author of the philosophical Shahara and masterfully composed Bara a Kufai. This is the same Kano that made Dauda Kahutu Rara, the master of invective lyrics, and Rabiu Usman Baba, the Jagaban of Sha’irai.

Here, contradictions do not cancel each other, they coexist. It is the city of yan hakika and yan shari’a, of Izala and Tariqa, of Shaykh Rijiyar Lemo and of Shaykh Turi. It is the Kano where people will argue passionately about doctrine, then share tea afterward. Where silence and speech, mysticism and reform, are all part of the same long interesting yet boring conversation.

This is the Kano of the diplomatic Emir Ado Bayero and combatant Muhammad Sanusi II. Of Rabiu Kwankwaso, the red-cap-wearing jagora, and of the agreeable Ibrahim Shekarau. It is that same Kano of the incorruptible Malam Aminu Kano and Dollar-stuffing Ganduje. The cosmopolitan city of Sabo Wakilin Tauri and of the saintly Malam Ibrahim Natsugune.

If not Kano, then what other city could birth Barau Kwallon Shege, the bard of the profane, and welcome Shaykh Ibrahim Nyass, the towering saint of the mystics? Where else but Kano would you find Shaykh Nasiru Kabara- scholar and Sufi master- sharing the same cityscape with Rashida Yar Daudu and all the remembered and forgotten Magajiyoyin Karuwai? This is the Kano of yan jagaliya and attajirai, of the sacred and the profane, the pulpit and the street. The Salga and of Sanya Olu and Ibedi streets. Kano has never pretended to be a city of one truth, its greatness lies in the multitude it carries.

So when people speak carelessly about Kano, they miss the point. Kano is not a relic. It is alive. It debates itself. It holds its tensions with pride. And like Adamu Adamu said, “the story of this enigmatic city is simple and straight backward – and , in the end one can only say Kano is Kano because Kano is Kano – and that’s all; for; it is its own reason for being.”

You don’t explain Kano. You respect it.

Huzaifa Dokaji is a PhD student and teaching assistant at the Department of History, State University of New York at Sony Brook. He can be reached via huzaifa.dokaji@stonybrook.edu.

By Musa Kalim Gambo

ND Shehu Kanam, a political scientist and son of the soil, offered a searing insight into Governor Caleb Mutfwang’s recent statewide broadcast in a Facebook post following the blood-soaked tragedy that befell some communities in Plateau. In dissecting the speech, he made a remark that has lingered in my conscience like smoke from an unquenched fire:

“The governor made reference to previous attacks including Dogo Nahauwa and completely ignored the attack in Garga District of Kanam LGA in 2022 where over 100 lives were killed. At all times, Kanam LGA is being treated as third-class citizens in Plateau State.”

And how true that is—how bitter, how brazen. One would expect that in the arithmetic of grief, every loss would count, that memory would not play favourites. But alas, even in mourning, there is politics. Even in death, there are those deemed more worthy of remembrance than others.

Let’s be clear: every act of violence against any group of people is an abomination. It should be met with absolute condemnation. Those who carry out such horrors—burning homes, hacking down the old and the young, silencing lives with the crack of a rifle—are not just criminals. They are monsters in human form, agents of chaos and cruelty, and they must be made to face the full wrath of justice, if justice still has a name.

But then we turn to the governor’s address. Perhaps the speechwriter, weary and burdened, meant no harm. Maybe it was all too much—the urgency, the pressure, the tears behind closed doors. Perhaps grief blurred the pen, and memory failed. But selective memory tells a deeper story, whether by accident or design. It speaks of a hierarchy of pain where some cries echo louder in the chambers of power while others are muffled into silence.

The omission of the Kanam massacre, where bullets and blades buried over a hundred souls in 2022, is not just an editorial oversight. It is a symbolic erasure. It is a painful reminder that suffering is not always seen in some communities in Plateau. The state does not always mourn their dead. Their pain is not always acknowledged. In the cold theatre of political memory, Kanam seems to occupy the balcony—watching, grieving, unheard.

But why? Why must Kanam and others like it constantly beg to be seen?

Maybe the intention of the governor’s speech wasn’t to compile a historical record of tragedies. Perhaps it was just a passing mention meant to stir the ghosts and frame the urgency. But even a passing mention must carry the weight of justice. When invoking past massacres, we must strive for balance, breadth, and truth. We cannot cherry-pick grief.

This is not mere sentimentality—it’s about shaping policy from a place of inclusion. When the memory of a people is consistently erased or ignored, how can they believe in the solutions presented to them?

Interestingly, embedded in the governor’s speech was a subtle but telling reference to the nature of the attacks. The subsequent ban on open grazing and cattle movement at night across the state implies that the perpetrators may be connected to patterns of pastoral violence. Whether these connections are definitive or speculative is for the intelligence community to clarify. Yet, in that policy, one senses that the governor has a working theory of the violence–it is, therefore, expected that this act of violence will be brought to a definite end very soon.

Still, even the most astute policies will fall flat if people feel excluded from the conversation—if they feel like third-class citizens in their own land.

A state cannot heal when its government speaks selectively, and a people cannot move forward when some of their dead are left behind in the narrative. To move forward, we must gather all the names, all the villages, all the cries, and lay them bare—without hierarchy or hesitation.

Governor Mutfwang must do better. Plateau deserves better. Kanam demands no pity—only remembrance, and justice.

Let this not be another footnote in the long, bitter history of the Middle Belt. Let this be a turning point—where silence gives way to truth, and truth gives rise to healing.

Musa Kalim Gambo writes from Barkinladi, Plateau State.

By Musa Idris Panshekara 

Everyone who cares about the future of our society must be terribly worried about some social media users’ behaviours in the name of trendsetting. One of the most trending topics these days is a video clip of a young boy pouring ashes and filthy charcoal over his head.

The youngster vividly states his motive and goal without considering the negative impact of the dust on his health. Earlier this week, another woman appeared, adopting the same style as the young boy. Who copies the other’s style is unbeknownst to me; however, they share the same approach.

Moreover, another young man comes out of the blue – licking a goat’s vagina and uttering his goal of doing the animalistic behaviour. He briskly and shamelessly urged his followers to share it for him to trend. Unfortunately, many people have been sharing and reacting to the post, forgetting that they are indirectly helping to popularise the malicious and extra-moral behaviour contained in the clip.

Nevertheless, setting a goal and working to achieve it is never a sin; rather, the nature of the goal is what matters. Nowadays, youth are desperately seeking popularity blindly, regardless of the means they employ.

Whoever lived in the two or three decades back will undoubtedly know how discipline and moral training are diminishing in our society. By reflecting on the current situation of our youth and the trajectory of their future, if deep thought is given to the scenario, there will be a great challenge in the near future. Our youth lose direction, and they are the so-called leaders of tomorrow. No concrete foundation has been made, yet they are eager for overnight success and popularity.

However, almost no one is safe – as long as there is a smartphone in your house, the moral discipline of your family is at stake of demoralisation. Most children have more interest in comical videos, and many comedians are now pornographising their videos to gain more viewers and followers, which is becoming normal. Thus, everyone can be victimised unknowingly and unintentionally.

How can these bad attitudes be stopped from spreading? Who is responsible for doing so? These two questions can occupy the minds of every good individual who seeks the betterment of society. Thus, if these two important questions were asked, people might have different opinions. But, to me, it is a collective responsibility, while providing individual responsibility remains constant.

We use our phones for personal reasons and have complete control over whom we follow and unfollow on social media. We have the power to decide which posts to like or share. No one besides ourselves has total control over these actions. Therefore, I urge everyone to take immediate action on this issue to shape, clarify, and prepare the future for our born and unborn children.

May Allah guide us to the straight path.

Musa Idris, HND. (Laboratory science technology microbiology), CERT. (Animal production technology), CERT.(Cybersecurity and Digital Forensics investigation), wrote from Panshekara, Kumbotso LGA, Kano.