Northern Nigeria

By Muhammad Abubakar Tahir

Jigawa State was created on August 27, 1991, by the administration of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida. Since then, the state — with its 27 local government areas and Dutse as its capital — has grown remarkably in almost every sector, living up to its nickname: “The New World.”

Anyone familiar with Jigawa today will agree that, among the states created at the same time, it has made more than commendable progress. Its story has been one of consistent development, particularly in modern agriculture, healthcare, environmental sanitation, good governance, and infrastructure.

Over the years, each governor who served the state has left a footprint of meaningful projects. Their efforts deserve gratitude and prayers from the citizens, for together they have turned Jigawa into one of Nigeria’s quiet models of growth.

One of the most visible achievements is in road construction. According to surveys, Jigawa ranks among the top three states with the best road networks in the country. Travelling from Birniwa to Gwaram, one will see how successive governments have invested in quality roads that connect communities, ease transportation, and improve livelihoods.

In agriculture, Jigawa stands tall as a national pillar. About 75 per cent of Nigeria’s exported food products originate from the state — a feat that underscores its central role in sustaining the nation’s economy.

Governor Umar Namadi’s administration, in particular, has deepened support for farmers. By making fertiliser affordable, offering loans, and providing milling machines and rice processing equipment, his government has empowered rural farmers and strengthened food security.

In Hadejia, the rice business has transformed lives. Buyers now flock in from across the country, increasing state revenue and creating employment opportunities. Many youths have become millionaires through rice farming and processing. And it is not just rice — Jigawa also thrives in sesame, hibiscus, millet, and maize, with many of these products being exported internationally.

The state’s lesser-talked-about sectors are also booming. Fish and frog farming, for instance, are creating jobs for youths from both North and South, while contributing to local revenue. My recent investigative work with WikkiTimes highlighted this silent but powerful transformation.

Education has also advanced. The sons and daughters of Jigawa continue to make their mark both nationally and internationally. Governments past and present have invested in schools and supported talented youths to acquire modern skills abroad — laying a foundation of knowledge for future generations.

Governor Namadi has shown particular resolve by announcing plans to recruit 10,000 teachers — a bold initiative that will strengthen the education system.

Progress is also visible in other areas, including electricity, water supply, and street lighting. Towns and villages that were once engulfed in darkness are now well illuminated, symbolising infrastructural renewal.

Jigawa has also remained at the forefront in welfare policies. It was one of the first states to implement the national minimum wage, long before it became mandatory across Nigeria. This pro-worker stance has relieved hardship for civil servants and enhanced productivity.

The state’s reputation for peace and security is not to be overstated. Jigawa remains one of the safest states in the country — a fact that allows visitors to move freely without fear. Governor Namadi has further strengthened this by addressing farmer-herder conflicts, ensuring lasting harmony among communities.

Tourism is another rising potential. The serenity, natural beauty, and hospitality of Jigawa are gradually attracting visitors, opening new doors for cultural and economic growth.

Truly, Jigawa has fulfilled its promise as the “New World.” From humble beginnings, it has become a source of pride not only for its people but also for Nigeria.

May Allah continue to bless Jigawa with peace, progress, and prosperity. Ameen.

Muhammad Abubakar Tahir wrote in from Hadejia, Jigawa State, via abubakarmtahir81@gmail.com.

By Samaila Suleiman, PhD

“No amount of deconstruction and reconstruction, to turn history on its head, can bury the truth” – Sule Lamido.

Writing a review of Being True to Myself, the autobiography of His Excellency, (Dr) Sule Lamido, is, for me, both an intellectual obligation and a profoundly personal reckoning. As a student of historiography and politics of knowledge production, book reviewing is an integral part of my professional calling. At the same time, as a member of the editorial team of the Sule Lamido Autobiography Project (SLAP), along with my colleagues Dr Nu’uman Habeeb and Mustafa Ibrahim Chinade, I lived with the idea of this book, from its conception to the first manuscript drafts, the final typeset, and its printing and public presentation. 

Book reviewers are traditionally expected to be neutral critiques, assessing works with analytical distance and relying largely on their reading of the text. What I offer here, however, is a deeply personal reflection of a tripartite engagement with the author, the text, the context of its production and the reactions it elicited from readers. This is, therefore, not a conventional book review but an attempt, as one of the editorial consultants for the project, to recount the story of thinking (working) with Sule Lamido in the making of Being True to Myselfitself. 

The Context

I first met Sule Lamido in 2019 when the late Professor Haruna Wakili introduced me, along with Dr. Nu’uman Habeeb and Mustafa Ibrahim Chinade, to serve as editorial consultants for his autobiography project. Our role was to facilitate the production of the text through interviews and other editorial interventions. Before this meeting, my knowledge of Lamido was limited. I knew him only as a former Minister and Governor. What I did not immediately realise was how profoundly the project would impact me as a historiographer, constantly negotiating the epistemological questions of truth, power, and narrative responsibility. 

The first lesson I drew from the project was the discovery of Lamido as an intellectual—an aspect of his persona that is often overshadowed by his public image as a forthright politician. At our inception meeting, I was immediately struck by his brilliance and philosophical acuity—following a lengthy conversation about the focus of the autobiography. My initial perception of Lamido was quickly overturned. Beneath the image of a seasoned politician, I encountered a man of deep philosophical substance, whose politics is rooted in a profound knowledge of history and critical thought. 

Although Lamido is not a career academic, his grasp of political and historical discourse is profound to the extent that some of his academic friends affectionately call him “Professor.”  He is one of the few politicians around who embodies the tradition of first-generation politicians, whose politics are grounded in principles and knowledge.

Over the course of many interviews with the editorial team, Lamido narrated his life story with a precision and wit that often left me marvelling at his hyperthymesia, attention to detail, and critical reasoning. Each time we returned to a topic for clarification, he would recount events with striking consistency, as though he had already internalised the book long before the project began. 

As the project advanced, Lamido took control of the content, style, and narrative flow of his autobiography, insisting on framing his experiences within a broader historical process. Even at the stage of typesetting and design, he remained involved, reviewing passages, fact-checking, and fine-tuning the manuscript. At one point, I jokingly said to him, while the book was already at press: “Your Excellency Sir, bakin alkalmi ya bushe”—implying that no further edits should be made, especially with the launch date approaching.

Some of our most intense editorial discussions went beyond factual accuracy to debates about historical methodology and explanation. When Lamido was advised to moderate some contentious revelations in the manuscript, he posed critical questions around secrecy and privacy in knowledge production, carefully dissecting the distinction between classified and declassified records. I found myself challenged, at times humbled, by his rigour and the depth with which he interrogated established academic assumptions about Nigerian history, politics, and writing. This level of discursive sophistication is rare among people without advanced degrees in historical studies.

There were moments when the manuscript resisted simplification, and we chose to retain its complexities rather than smooth them over, because they were intellectually honest. This demonstrates that a political memoir, at its best, is not merely a legacy-building exercise, as many autobiographies are, but a critical exercise in self-reflection within the context of history. Lamido gave himself that space and, in doing so, gave us the opportunity to reconsider some of our scholarly convictions about the nature of truth, memory, and life writing.

The Text  

Lamido’s distinctive voice is evident throughout Being True to Myself. Those familiar with his discursive signature will immediately recognise his bluntness, candour, and unfiltered expression in the text. 

Unlike many public figures whose autobiographies are primarily shaped by ghostwriters, Lamido maintained a hands-on approach. Each chapter bears his imprint, making the work not only intimate but also a demonstration of authorial agency.

Even the book’s title was not chosen lightly. It was the product of a year-long reflection on what Lamido’s life represents. Ultimately, Being True to Myself was favoured as the narrative’s central theme, mirroring the life of a man of unshakable principles and conscience.  The title comes from a passage where he describes himself as “an independent-minded child, who always stood his ground…not because I felt important, but because I tried to be true to myself.” 

What makes Being True to Myself particularly compelling is its historical nuance and emotional texture. Lamido alternates between humour, vulnerability, and defiance, recounting comical childhood stories, such as his naïve performance during Ramadan tashe, alongside harrowing experiences of persecution and betrayal. His willingness to revisit painful memories, without bitterness but with conviction, creates a text that is both deeply personal and politically insightful. 

The book is divided into eight broad thematic parts, tracing Lamido’s journey from his early life in Bamaina to his career in the Nigerian Railways and Tobacco Company, his involvement with the PRP, his time as foreign minister, and his tenure as governor of Jigawa State. It offers rich commentary on important political events such as the annulment of June 12, his detention under General Sani Abacha, his role in the formation of the PDP, the Obasanjo Presidency, his tenure as Foreign Minister, the Yar’Adua Presidency and how he was succeeded by Goodluck Jonathan, and the intricacies of power, politics and democratic governance in Jigawa state. 

In discussing Nigerian politics, Lamido dons the garb of a political scientist and historian, offering a critical examination of the military’s role in Nigerian politics. He critiques successive regimes, from Buhari’s military rule to IBB’s sophisticated but flawed transition programs, Abacha’s repression, and Abdulsalami’s genuine and successful transitional government, as well as the restoration of democracy. His reflections read as much like political history as autobiography, enriched by his insider perspective. One cannot help but wonder at the contents of his library, given his ability to weave theory and empirical detail with ease. 

The Praise and the Pushback 

Since its launch in May 2025, Being True to Myself has attracted a wide range of reactions, from praise by the media, scholars and statesmen to criticism from political associates, reflecting the complexity of both the author and the book.

At the high-profile launch in Abuja, political heavyweights celebrated the work. President Bola Tinubu, through his minister, commended Lamido as “a bold, consistent, and principled politician whose personal journey mirrors the story of Nigeria’s democratic evolution.” He described the book as a “significant contribution to Nigeria’s political literature,” encouraging other political veterans to document their experiences for posterity. 

The book reviewer, Dr. Iyorchia Ayu, lauded Lamido’s courage, recalling episodes such as the author telling an IGP, “Who are you?” and a military head of state to his face, “You must resign”. 

The book has not been without detractors. Some critics, including Malam Aminu Ibrahim Ringim, a former Chief of Staff to Lamido during his governorship, criticised the memoir as being rife with “self-glorification, misrepresentation and disrespect for the contributions of others.” 

Taken together, these divergent reactions reveal the dual nature of Being True to Myself as both an intimate self-portrait and a contested historical document. 

On the whole, the Sule Lamido Autobiographical Project is an elegant demonstration of how autobiographies can serve as a space for dialogue between politicians and scholars, working as collaborators in the pursuit of truth.

As former President Olusegun Obasanjo writes in the foreword: “No historian or public affairs officer should be without a copy of the book. I enjoyed reading it.” 

Happy 77^th Birthday and best wishes, Sir!

Samaila Suleiman, PhD, wrote from the Department of History, Bayero University, Kano. He can be reached via smlsuleiman@gmail.com.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

About three decades ago, at the beginning of my youthful years, around Bakinruwa, Sabongari, Kaduna, I first encountered the idea of “Qur’an-only” Islam. Shaykh Uthman Dangungu, who had passed through the Izala movement, began to promote it in our neighbourhood mosque near Kasuwan Gwari. He was not the first—Muhammadu Marwa Maitatsine had pushed something similar in Kano State in the 1980s, though in a harsher, less workable form. Since then, my philosophical self has wrestled with such currents—Wahhabism, Shi‘ism, Sufism, Boko Haramism, and more. Each encounter has been a struggle for clarity and stability, for faith, and for cultural continuity in our fragile postcolonial Nigerian modernity.

Now, with Shaykh Yahya Ibrahim Masussuka—my generational peer—reviving the Qur’an-only argument, it seems fitting to reflect again. This time, however, I do not begin from theology alone. I lean on the wear and tear of intellectual toil, and on the reflective gifts of experience—what philosophy, logic, and science have taught me about human beings and the trustworthiness of transmission.

Philosophy has long asked: Can knowledge survive without tradition? Plato, in The Republic, warned that truth severed from the teacher–student chain becomes mere opinion. Aristotle, more grounded, argued that reason itself grows from custom, habit, and inherited practice. If Plato guarded against instability, Aristotle reminded us that even rationality needs a body —a living community —to give it shape.

Modern science adds its own perspective. Research in psychology shows that while humans are prone to bias or fatigue, under structures of accountability and community, they are remarkably capable of fairness and truth-telling. Integrity, in fact, often comes naturally. In other words, people can be trusted, though they must be guided.

The Qur’an itself affirms this. It does not portray humanity as unfit to bear the truth. Instead, it honours our moral agency while calling for systems of verification. “And thus We have made you a just community that you may be witnesses over mankind, and the Messenger a witness over you” (2:143). To be a witness requires the ability to observe, remember, and transmit faithfully. Surah Al-Tawbah (9:122) goes further, encouraging some believers to remain behind, study religion deeply, and teach others. That is nothing less than a Qur’anic endorsement of scholarship—the very task Hadith scholars later undertook.

The Qur’an also acknowledges our dual moral compass— “By the soul and He who proportioned it, and inspired it with its wickedness and righteousness” (91:7–10). Hence, the command in Surah Al-Hujurat (49:6) to verify reports before acting. That balance between trust and scrutiny is the same principle that shaped the science of Hadith.

Even in worldly matters, the Qur’an demonstrates confidence in structured testimony. The long verse of debts in Surah Al-Baqarah (2:282) lays out detailed rules for recording contracts with witnesses. If humans can be entrusted with preserving financial records, surely they can also be tasked with documenting the Prophet’s words—so long as there is a system of accuracy and verification.

This brings us to the heart of the matter. The Qur’an-only stance insists that Hadith is unnecessary. Yet the Qur’an itself says otherwise: “We revealed to you the Reminder so that you may explain to people what was sent down to them” (16:44). The Prophet’s explanatory role is not contained in the Qur’an’s text—it lives in his sayings, actions, and approvals. Surah Al-Ahzab (33:21) refers to him as “an excellent example” for believers. But how would later generations know his example without the Hadith?

Other verses go further: “Whoever obeys the Messenger has obeyed Allah” (4:80); “Whatever the Messenger gives you, take it; and whatever he forbids you, abstain from it” (59:7). These are not time-bound commands. They apply to all Muslims across generations. And they assume access to the Prophet’s guidance—something only Hadith provides.

Seen this way, Hadith is not an intrusion upon the Qur’an but its necessary partner. The Prophet was sent not only to recite but to teach and model. His companions and the generations after them, through discipline and painstaking verification, preserved that model. The Hadith tradition is not perfect—no human endeavour is—but it was forged as a check from within Islamic culture, not imposed from outside. It is part of the Qur’an’s own vision of a community of witnesses.

At its core, then, the debate is not only about scripture but also about how we see human beings. If we assume people are too weak or biased to preserve truth, the Hadith collapses. But if we recognise—as both the Qur’an and science do—that humans, when guided and structured, can be reliable witnesses, Hadith stands on solid ground. The Qur’an-only position misses this deeper point. It mistrusts human agency in a way the Qur’an itself never does.

In Nigeria, where cultural streams converge and clash—Sahelian traditions meeting global influences—the Qur’an-only approach risks severing us from the rich heritage that has sustained Muslim communities through colonialism, civil strife, and modern pressures. My own journey—from that mosque in Kaduna to today—has taught me that certainty lies not in subtraction but in integration: the Qur’an as foundation, illuminated by the Prophet’s Hadith, upheld by our God-given moral agency.

As this debate resurfaces in our time, we would do well to remember: the Qur’an trusts us, commands us, and makes our testimony central to its unfolding. To follow the Qur’an, then, is to follow the Prophet. And to follow the Prophet is impossible without Hadith.

Ultimately, as Surah Al-Baqarah reminds us, we are called to be witnesses. Let us honour that calling by trusting the mechanisms Allah has provided—including Hadith, which brings the Prophet’s example to life for every generation 

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

The Kebbi State Government has officially appointed Alhaji Sanusi Mika’ilu Sami as the new Emir of Zuru.

The appointment was confirmed on Thursday in Zuru when the State Commissioner for Local Government and Chieftaincy Affairs, Hon. Garba Umar Dutsin-Mari, presented the letter of appointment to the new monarch.

Dutsin-Mari stated that the appointment, approved by Governor Comrade Dr. Nasir Idris, followed the recommendation of the Zuru Emirate’s election committee. The committee screened three candidates for the revered throne, with Alhaji Sanusi Mika’ilu Sami emerging victorious by securing the highest number of votes.

The stool became vacant following the passing of the former Emir, His Royal Highness Alhaji Muhammad Sani Sami Gomo II, who died on August 16, 2025, in a hospital in London.

The commissioner congratulated the new Emir and urged him to justify the confidence reposed in him by the government and the people of the emirate. He advised the monarch to discharge his duties diligently and with the fear of God.

Alhaji Sanusi Mika’ilu Sami now assumes the leadership of the Zuru Emirate, succeeding his late predecessor.

By Abba Murtala

In Northern Nigeria today—from Kano to Katsina, Kaduna to Abuja, Gombe to Adamawa and beyond—prostitution is being redefined, repackaged, and repurposed in ways our society is yet to grasp or confront fully. Once seen as an explicit, stigmatised trade practised by women living in brothels or in the fringes of urban society, prostitution has now assumed a form that is more discreet, deceptive, and dangerously normalised.

The new face of prostitution no longer resides in dingy motels or poorly lit street corners. She may very well be your neighbour’s daughter or your daughter, your cousin, your niece, or even your girlfriend (wives, too, have been reported). She lives at home, speaks decently, dresses modestly in public, attends school or has a small job, and blends perfectly into her conservative community. Yet, she is actively engaged in transactional sex.

This new wave of commercial sex work is cloaked in deception. Unlike the “traditional” prostitutes who often migrated far from their family homes to avoid shame and suspicion, these girls remain within the comfort of their homes. The family remains unsuspecting; society remains blind. They are not seen as sex workers, and they don’t identify as such. But the reality is, they sell their bodies to men—usually for money, phones, rent, trips, and more.

Who Are the Clients?

They are not their peers. Young men, even those with questionable morals, typically frown at paying for sex, especially with women their own age, especially since there is the looming risk of exposure. The real clients, therefore, are middle-aged and elderly men—the “uncles.” These men, often above 50, use their financial power to exploit vulnerable young girls. Many are married, influential, and sometimes respected members of the community. They book hotels, arrange flights, and fund the lavish lifestyles of these girls, all in exchange for sexual gratification.

They are the shameless engines driving this trade, creating demand and sustaining the illusion. They are the reason a girl from a struggling family can suddenly afford the latest iPhone, expensive clothes, designer handbags, and weekend trips to Lagos, Abuja or Dubai.

How Does It Happen?

It starts with a desire—often triggered by poverty, peer pressure, or social media fantasies. The girl feels a pressing need for money, attention, and a lifestyle far beyond her family’s means. She may resist menial jobs or honest work, not because she is lazy, but because those options won’t fetch her the quick cash she believes she deserves.

Then comes the network. A friend introduces her to someone. A “pimp”—male or female—slides into her DM. The network is simple but effective—a few conversations, a meeting, a test run. Then the money starts flowing. Once she gains footing, she establishes a base of loyal clients—uncles who can be called upon for any service, at any time, for the right price.

Her life becomes a web of deception. School hours, “friend visits,” or supposed job responsibilities become covers for interstate flights, secret hotel bookings, and clandestine transactions. The richest among them reportedly offer services like anal sex, which are in high demand by some of these predators.

Who Are These Girls?

They are typically from low-income or struggling homes. They reject being categorised as “poor” in public, and they will go to great lengths to appear middle-class or affluent. Many of their families are unaware. In some extreme cases, parents even give silent consent, as long as the money keeps flowing home.

Their greatest assets? Physical beauty, curvy figures, and the naivety that predators exploit. These girls have no business with brothels or street corners. They have gone digital. They operate through WhatsApp groups, TikTok algorithms, and private Facebook pages. With just a few clicks, they are matched with high-paying clients—sometimes in entirely different states.

Why Poverty Is Not an Excuse

Many will point fingers at poverty. But we must be careful not to romanticise or rationalise prostitution as a legitimate response to hardship. Poverty is real, yes—but so is integrity. There are girls in the same communities who, despite hunger and hardship, have chosen honest paths. They work as waitresses, hairdressers, salesgirls, and tutors. They manage small businesses, survive on tight budgets, and still hold their heads high.

Prostitution, especially in this form, is not a product of poverty alone—it is often a product of greed, laziness, entitlement, and a corrupt value system. The growing belief that one must “look rich” or “live big” regardless of how the money is made is at the core of this moral collapse.

Religious warnings are being ignored. Even when confronted, some girls say, “Allah will forgive.” But repentance requires remorse and a firm commitment to change—not a continuous indulgence in sin while hiding behind religious phrases.

The Role of Social Media

Social media is a major culprit. The platforms intended to connect and educate have become virtual marketplaces for the flesh trade. TikTok glorifies vanity, consumerism, and “soft life” narratives. WhatsApp becomes the digital brothel where clients and sex workers finalise deals. Facebook hosts secret groups where sex work is promoted in coded language.

The constant bombardment of luxury lifestyles, body flaunting, and materialism fosters insecurity and desperation among impressionable girls. The result? An endless race to fake perfection—even if it means trading dignity for money.

The Damaging Effects

 • On Families: Many families remain oblivious, and by the time they discover the truth, the damage is irreversible. Reputations are destroyed. Trust is lost.

 • On Society: The normalisation of secret prostitution threatens the very foundation of our cultural and moral values. When immorality becomes invisible, it becomes unstoppable.

 • On Marriages: This trend contributes to rising distrust in relationships and marriages. Husbands are becoming suspicious, wives are growing insecure, and divorce rates are climbing.

 • On Public Health: Increased sexual activity with multiple partners, often without protection, raises the risk of STDs, including HIV/AIDS. Yet, this danger is seldom discussed.

 • On Religion: The erosion of fear of Allah and the disregard for Islamic teachings show how deep this problem runs.

Critical Questions We Must Ask

 • How did we get here?

 • Who failed our girls—parents, clerics, or the government?

 • Why is society silent?

 • What kind of men are sleeping with girls young enough to be their granddaughters?

 • Will we allow another generation to grow up in a society that calls evil “smartness” and shamelessness “hustle”?

Final Warning

This is not a rant. It is a wake-up call. What we are witnessing is not just immorality—it is moral suicide. If we continue to ignore this, we risk raising a generation that believes fornication is business, pimps are mentors, and prostitution is hustle.

Let the uncles be warned: your lust is destroying the daughters of the land. Let the girls know: no amount of iPhones or Dubai trips will cleanse the burden of shame you’re carrying. And let the parents rise: your silence is no longer innocent—it is complicity.

May Allah guide us all, amin.

Abba Murtala, FCH DK, wrote from Gombe via abbamurtala8@gmail.com.

By Kamal  Alkasim

When Kawu Sumaila decamped from NNPP to APC, it showed that the issue isn’t about party loyalty but about choosing the best leader. Blind loyalty can hinder good governance in Nigerian politics. What matters most is effective representation, not party allegiance. Let’s prioritise good leadership over partisan loyalty and choose the best candidate for the benefit of Kano South.

When choosing between Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, a prominent figure in Kano politics known for influencing political dynamics, and Kawu Sumaila, the decision leans towards Kawu due to his genuine service to the people of Kano South. Regardless of the political party Kawu affiliates with—whether APC, PDP, or ADC—his actions demonstrate a commitment to his constituents. 

People recognise Kawu’s efforts and intentions, making party affiliations secondary to his impact. Let’s prioritise choosing the best candidate based on their service and dedication, rather than party loyalty.”

Kwankwaso’s impact will be remembered. Let’s choose leaders based on merit, not loyalty to individuals. In politics, those who deliver tangible benefits to the people should be preferred over those who seek dominance. 

After 16 years of Kabiru Gaya’s tenure, which saw the Kano senatorial district abandoned for personal interests, it’s time for a change. Kawu Sumaila has emerged as a rescuer for our region, and let’s give him the support he deserves.

Let’s choose a leader who creates jobs, empowers youth, provides scholarships, and advocates for our interests in the Nigerian Senate. Prioritise your senatorial district’s needs and be vigilant. A leader who brings in multi-million dollar projects, generates employment opportunities for youth, and develops feeder roads in our communities deserves our support. 

Both Kwankwaso and Kawu Sumaila have legacies that will be remembered, but let’s focus on the one who delivers tangible benefits to our region.

Kamal Alkasim wrote via kamalalkasim17@gmail.com.

By Khadija Hamisu Daninna 

Across Nigeria, kitchens are changing. Gas cylinders stand neatly in urban homes, while charcoal bags fill market stalls. Yet, despite these alternatives, firewood still burns in countless households. Its smoky flames carry taste, memory, and tradition that neither gas nor charcoal can fully replace. For some families, it is also the more affordable choice.

Zainab, a 31-year-old resident of Daura, has never known another way of cooking. “I have never cooked with gas before. All my life, I have been using firewood. I don’t even know how food tastes on gas, but I prefer my firewood. Maybe it is because I grew up with it. I use charcoal sometimes, but firewood is easier for me. Firewood is what I know.”

For Mariam, a 39-year-old housewife, firewood is tied to her husband’s nostalgia. “My husband always says the fried eggs his mother made tasted better on firewood. So I fry eggs on firewood, just to remind him of his childhood.”

Hajara, a 26-year-old food vendor, said firewood gives food a flavour no other fuel can provide. “When I cook jollof rice for parties, I always use firewood. It brings out a special flavour. Gas and charcoal cannot give you that same smoky taste. My customers expect it.”

But even warnings from doctors cannot keep some people away. Amina, a 37-year-old married woman, recalled: “There was a time I was sick, and the doctor told me to avoid smoky areas because of my eyes. But how can I stop? Firewood is what I grew up with. It is not just about cooking. It is about sitting together as a family, sharing stories, and working around the fire. That memory cannot be replaced.”

Cost is another factor. Mallam Usman, a 42-year-old man, explained: “I use both charcoal and firewood. The least charcoal I can buy is ₦200, while firewood is more expensive, up to ₦500. But I prefer firewood. My wife is already used to it. Sometimes I buy charcoal to ease the work, but mostly we use firewood because that is what we have always been using.”

Abdulmumin, a firewood seller in Rumfar Shehu who is over 40, said many people still depend on his trade. “People still come to buy firewood every day. Even though the price is high, food vendors, households, and event caterers still buy it. Firewood is something people cannot abandon. We have been using it since the time of our grandparents, and it still holds memories.”

But experts warn that firewood comes at a cost. According to a 2024 report from the National Bureau of Statistics published in Punch newspaper, 67.8 per cent of Nigerian households still cook with firewood. In Bauchi State, the figure is as high as 91 per cent. Doctors interviewed by Punch Healthwise have cautioned that prolonged exposure to smoke can lead to lung disease, eye problems, and respiratory infections. They noted that women and children, who spend long hours near smoky kitchens, are especially at risk. One pulmonologist, Dr. Abiona Odeyemi of Osun State University Teaching Hospital, explained that smoke from firewood damages the lungs over time, leading to serious health conditions.

Experts have also raised concerns about the environmental impact. Firewood use contributes to deforestation, worsens climate change, and adds to indoor air pollution.

Still, the flames continue to glow. For some, firewood carries memory and tradition. For others, it remains the more affordable choice. And for many, it is simply the way they were raised. Gas may be quicker and charcoal less smoky, but in countless Nigerian homes, firewood still burns, not just as fuel, but as a link between the past and the present.

Khadija Hamisu Daninna wrote via khadijahamisu2003@gmail.com.

By Bagwai LGA Concerned Forum

Dear Hon. Comrade Aminu Sulaiman Goro,

We write to you with great respect and admiration for your outstanding service to the good people of Fagge Federal Constituency over the past 12 years. Your tenure as a member of the House of Representatives has been nothing short of transformative, marked by unparalleled achievements in job creation, infrastructure development, education, and empowerment for women and youth. Your accessibility, humility, and dedication to grassroots politics have set a benchmark for leadership in Kano State and beyond.

While we celebrate your remarkable legacy in Fagge, we, the Concerned Forum of Bagwai Local Government, humbly call upon you to return to your roots—Rimin Dako, your ancestral town and one of the 10 wards that constitute Bagwai Local Government—to extend your transformative leadership to your place of origin. Bagwai has long suffered from poor governance, inadequate representation, and the mismanagement of its abundant human and natural resources by selfish and incapacitated leaders. Our people yearn for a leader of your calibre—one who is proven to be compassionate, and capable of turning challenges into opportunities.

Your return to Bagwai would not only bridge the gap of quality representation but also allow you to replicate and expand upon the successes you achieved in Fagge. Imagine the impact of your empowerment programs, educational initiatives, and infrastructure projects in a community that has been neglected for far too long. Bagwai is ripe for development, and your wealth of experience, influence, and unwavering commitment to service can ignite the change we desperately need.

Honourable Sir, we urge you to share your leadership with Bagwai, where your journey began in Rimin Dako. By answering this call, you will not only uplift your homeland but also cement your legacy as a true statesman who served his people at every level.

The time is now. Bagwai awaits you with open arms and high hopes. Come home, Hon. Goro, and let us build a brighter future together.

Signed:

Habibu Dan’ana
For: Bagwai LGA Concerned Forum
Kano State

By Ibrahim Suleiman Ibrahim 

It is part of my dreams to one day establish a female-only sports & gymnastics centre that would be managed and run by females, where taking pictures and videos during training sessions would be strictly prohibited.

This is to disprove the ill-conceived notion promoted by mischief makers that northern Nigerian women, particularly the Muslim ones, are deprived of the freedom to engage in sports and fitness activities. 

I’m honestly sick and tired of all the backlash Islam and Muslims are receiving, portraying us as people who do not give women freedom, as though the so-called freedom some other women are enjoying has earned them the needed value and respect from society. 

Unfortunately, these critics don’t consider the position of Islam about free-mixing between opposite sexes, and also the kind of outfit that is morally due for a woman to be seen in by men who are not her ‘Mahrams'(Muslims will understand this).  

It is worthy of note that what makes us religious people is the fact that we are neither freethinkers nor atheists. We have codes of conduct and laws enshrined in our religious scriptures, which we are obligated to abide by.

I don’t like how even some Muslims consider it absurd and barbaric that Muslim ladies are discouraged from participating in some of these secular-oriented sporting activities where women are mandated to appear in skimpy dresses, and intermingle with men indiscriminately. 

At the slightest provocation, they make references to Arabian countries where secularism has almost eaten up the religious aura there.

I understand that situations might sometimes warrant us to compromise and adopt some secular practices (Darooraat), but giving full acceptance to those practices, despite their contradiction with our religious laws, while considering our religious laws as barbaric and extreme, is quite unbecoming of a Muslim. 

Meanwhile, I implore religious organisations to begin investing in some of these necessary but non-Shariah-compliant things, such that we can have a halal version, and save ourselves this noise about us not depriving women of their rights. 

It’s about time we began to think outside the box and come up with solutions to some of these problems. 

Sports and gymnastics are necessary, and establishing a shari’ah-compliant atmosphere isn’t a bad thing. 

Ibrahim Suleiman Ibrahim wrote via suleimibrahim00@gmail.com.

By Usman Abdullahi Koli, ANIPR

There are people whose presence on earth answers questions, silences chaos, and reassures broken spirits that goodness has not lost its place in the journey of humanity. When you meet such a soul, you don’t need persuasion or praise to understand them. Their essence speaks gently but powerfully. Their actions speak more than introductions. And their humility becomes the loudest testimony. Dr. Bala Maijama’a Wunti is one such rare man.

He is not defined by his position. He is defined by his posture toward people, toward purpose, and toward the possibilities that are in building others. He carries influence with a gentleness that disarms pride. He wields intellect with a clarity that speaks in results, not rhetoric. His kindness does not seek the spotlight, yet it lights up lives. In Dr. Wunti, leadership is not a claim; it is an effect. You don’t need to be told he leads; you feel it by what surrounds him: hope, truth, trust.

Dr. Wunti is a thinker. But not one who sits in silence while people suffer. He listens, he observes, and he acts. His success in the energy sector is known by experts across continents, but even more admirable is how he has remained deeply connected to the people beneath the statistics—those whose lives don’t appear in data sheets but whose realities matter the most. He balances global intellect with local empathy, and he does so effortlessly.

Every act of his kindness is not random. It is intentional. It is driven by a deep understanding of pain and a personal conviction that no one should be left behind when it is possible to lift. Many men do charity. Few men carry kindness as a responsibility. Fewer still see it as an identity. For Dr. Wunti, it is not about doing good to impress. It is about being good enough to make a difference that leaves no noise but creates echoes of gratitude.

What sets him apart is not only what he does but how he does it. He makes room for others without shrinking himself. He uplifts without needing to be worshipped. He speaks with such calm confidence that even disagreement becomes a space of learning. There is discipline in his humility, and there is wisdom in his silence. He doesn’t interrupt with his greatness; he simply lets it shine in how he walks into a room, how he listens to the ordinary, and how he never forgets those without titles.

Dr. Bala Maijama’a Wunti is a builder of people, not just systems. He is a man who understands that progress is not only about projects but also about peace. He knows that development is not truly development if it does not carry the human soul along. That is why his style is not loud. It is thoughtful. That is why his touch remains long after he has moved on. People do not only remember what he did; they remember how he made them feel—seen, respected, and valued.

It is no surprise that across regions, communities, institutions, and families, his name is spoken not with awe but with affection. And there is his secret—he earns respect by restoring dignity. He doesn’t walk in front to be praised. He walks beside, so no one is left behind. He does not pretend to know it all, but what he knows, he applies with uncommon honesty.

There is something deeply graceful about a man who does not chase validation yet earns admiration by simply being himself. In a time when too many seek recognition before action, Dr. Wunti has quietly made his life a gift to others. His kindness is not weakness. It is strength in its purest form. A strength that builds rather than breaks. A strength that gives, even when no one is looking.

This world, with all its weight, still finds light in people like Dr. Bala Maijama’a Wunti. He reminds us that being accomplished is good, but being compassionate is better. That having knowledge is necessary, but using it to serve others is noble. That being known is nice, but being remembered for goodness is divine.

As one reflects on his journey, it becomes clear that such a man deserves not just recognition but appreciation, not just applause but prayers. He doesn’t wear his impact as decoration. He lets others wear it as hope. And in doing so, he has built something bigger than status. He has built trust.

May the road ahead for Dr. Wunti remain wide, purposeful, and peaceful. May his type multiply in a world that desperately needs the fragrance of men whose hearts still beat for others. And may his story inspire many more to lead not by command but by compassion.

Because in this world of fleeting moments and forgotten promises, one truth remains: kindness will never go out of relevance. And for that, the name Bala Maijama’a Wunti will always echo where sincerity is treasured.

Usman Abdullahi Koli wrote via mernoukoli@gmail.com.