Northern Nigeria

By Malam Aminu Wase

Plateau State is a richly diverse and vibrant community, home to people of various ethnic and religious backgrounds. We are one family, destined by God to live together in peace and mutual respect. Sadly, this unity is too often ignored when it comes to leadership, particularly the highest office in the state. The persistent adoption of a Christian-Christian gubernatorial ticket threatens the very foundation of our coexistence.

It is time for Plateau to embrace equity, justice, and inclusiveness. For too long, Muslims in the state have been marginalised in political leadership, particularly at the executive level. This exclusion must end. I firmly believe that the next governorship candidate, regardless of religion, should choose a Muslim as a running mate. A Muslim-Christian or Christian-Muslim ticket would truly reflect the spirit of fairness and unity we all profess to uphold.

For more than two decades, Muslims in Plateau State have shown unwavering political support for Christian-led tickets, believing in the promise of shared governance and mutual respect. From Wase to Kanam, Jos North to Shendam, Barkin Ladi to Quanpaan, Mangu, and other local government areas, Muslim communities have consistently turned out in large numbers to vote, not out of compulsion, but from a sincere desire to contribute to the democratic process and to foster unity across religious lines. Yet, this goodwill has not been met with reciprocity.

Despite making up a significant portion, nearly half of the state’s population, Muslims remain glaringly absent from the highest levels of leadership. This is not merely a matter of political imbalance but a painful reminder that inclusion and equity remain elusive. When a group that has given so much continues to receive so little in return, it breeds frustration, weakens trust, and threatens the very cohesion that Plateau so desperately needs. We cannot claim to be united while one half of our people are repeatedly shut out of the room where decisions are made.

Our call is simple: include us. Recognise our presence. Acknowledge our contributions. Let us build a Plateau where everyone feels seen, respected, and valued regardless of faith.

Personally, some of the most meaningful relationships in my life have been with my Christian friends, friendships that began in the classrooms of Pilot Central Primary School in Wase, grew stronger at Government Science College Wase, and deepened further during my university years. These bonds have shown me the beauty of unity, the strength of mutual respect, and the power of shared dreams. That is why it pains me deeply to see Muslims continually left out of leadership. It feels like a betrayal of the unity we have lived and believed in. If we can walk together in friendship, why can’t we lead together in governance on the Plateau?

In the Wase Local Government, Christians are a minority, yet they have never been treated as outsiders. They have held key positions, including that of the Deputy Chairman, and many have benefited from the federal appointments from the Rt Hon Ahmed Idris Wase, the immediate past Deputy Speaker of the Nigerian House of Representatives, thanks to his inclusive leadership. This is what true leadership should look like, recognising every citizen’s worth, regardless of faith or number. It proves that fairness is not a favour, it’s a duty. If such inclusive governance can be practised locally, why can’t it be replicated across the entire state?

Plateau belongs to all of us. We must build a future where leadership reflects our shared diversity. Let’s end the cycle of exclusion and embrace a new era of fairness, justice, and genuine unity.

Malam Aminu Wase writes from Kaduna State. He can be reached at aminusaniusman3@gmail.com.

By Saifullahi Attahir

In life, every valuable thing has a cost, and a price must be paid. As the saying goes, nothing good comes free. This is true in almost all walks of life.

Looking at human history from time immemorial, man has always cherished being known, popular, heard, and respected. This is one of the powerful factors behind the human search for power, influence and riches. And to be fair to the modern age, this is not a new thing in human history.

But in our insatiable search for popularity and prestige, we must be mindful of what we are trading in exchange for. This article offers some advice on how a celebrity can navigate life without much temptation from his newly acquired status.

As billionaire Microsoft founder Bill Gates stated, success is a lousy friend. It deprives many of the original energy, enthusiasm, discipline, hard-working spirit, and humility that catapulted them to success in the first place. Successful people easily become complacent and trapped in their orbit of self-entitlement.

Once a man becomes successful, a binge of arrogance and self-entitlement starts appearing. He begins to stop listening to experts, observing and learning, and soon, he stops improving. Over the long run, unknown to him, those attitudes he had abandoned are the fabric behind his success. 

One thing we should all know: every man who was on a path to utilise his talent, produce something magnificent, and become successful, whether in sports, leadership, business, entertainment, professionalism, music, writing, or any creative talent, must have met with a bunch of critics.

From the day you become a celebrity, your activities will no longer be secret: your outfits, marital affairs, social life, assets, family, and movements. You will bid farewell to some level of privacy, and life will never be the same again. 

Many people are not prepared for this stage of their lives. Many great men, especially celebrities, were lost in this ocean of deception and falsehood. You would now focus more on pleasing people: good outfits, even at the cost of debt, new skin, costly living just to show off, and new fake friends.

On another dimension, the kind of social pressure met is unimaginable: constant calls, constant meetings, constant online presence, just to satisfy your fans or followers. This demand is so consuming that many celebrities hardly cope with it. Stories of celebrities taking drugs and injections are not a new thing. Few celebrities sleep without the aid of pills. Many celebrities lost the battle to alcohol and toxic heroin and were unable to find peace. 

A popular Hausa songwriter, Aminuddeen Ladan Ala, once described how difficult it was to become a celebrity in his famous album “Shahara”. Only phone calls were enough to drain your energy, plus the number of expectations by loved ones seeking your attention. Many celebrities would become friends with highly influential people whose offers they can’t easily turn down. You would be invited at any hour without much consideration for your schedules and health, and turning such invitations down would be described as arrogant to your fans and followers.

This is more common among those who made it in life at a very young age. The majority of these young celebrities squander their fortune. They return to square zero without proper guidance, discipline or genuine counselling. Many celebrities become depressed, psychotic, and destitute.

Well-grounded and sustainable success requires a solid foundation of time, perseverance, and smart decisions. Unfortunately, many celebrities, especially in the music, sports, and entertainment industries, lack such foundations, hence the many sorrowful celebrity stories. Uncountable stories of suicide, crime, divorce, and bankruptcy are always in the papers.

Although I’m not much of a football fan, I always admire the lifestyle of one player called Lionel Messi. Messi was among the greatest and most successful football players of all time, a record breaker in many aspects, but still one of the most humble people on earth. Lionel Messi has all it takes to be arrogant and showy, but he was disciplined enough to maintain his zeal, energy, humility, and enthusiasm. This principle has helped him throughout his football career. He didn’t allow his initial success to distract him from achieving more. 

This attitude of self-entitlement has destroyed many players. Just after a season or two of trophies and achievements, they began to disobey, fight, and become distracted by amusement and glitter. Many celebrities started to lose focus on their primary goals; they became carried away by displaying their newly built homes, newly bought luxury cars, newly made friends, or newly made beautiful girlfriends.

These celebrities become attention seekers on social media platforms. They always engage in trivial issues and display wealth or status, adding to their load of enemies. They have forgotten that their primary goal was to hone more of their talents, score more goals, produce more beautiful songs, deliver more as leaders, maintain their positions in class, and profit more as business individuals.

Another destructive attitude of some celebrities was engaging in a competitive war with their rival colleagues. After being recognised by their followers, they began to install software to envy anyone trying to catch up with them. They subscribed to slander and a war of words to denigrate their rivals to maintain their status. Smart champions never engage in such an attitude; they recognise their God-given talent as a favour from their Lord and offer gratefulness by being humble and respecting their positions even if time changes and they lose their status to the new generation.

Smart celebrities respect others below them; they never act in desperation for money or status; they are philanthropists with their wealth; they are less pompous and showy; they invest and diversify their sources of income; they still make time for their families and core friends; and they always have learning minds and listening ears.

We seek Allah’s guidance in every step of our journey, Ameen.

Saifullahi Attahir is the President of the National Association of Jigawa State Medical Students (NAJIMS) National Body, and he wrote this piece from Federal University Dutse. He can be contacted via saifullahiattahir93@gmail.com.

By Musa Kalim Gambo

The International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT), Central Nigeria Office, recently hosted a pivotal monthly lecture series on Sunday, June 1, 2025, shedding light on the escalating challenge of mental health and psychosocial issues in the modern world through an Islamic lens. The virtual event, titled “Navigating Mental Health and Psychosocial Challenges in the Modern World: An Islamic Perspective,” brought together eminent scholars and practitioners to underscore the urgency of addressing mental well-being, especially in a nation grappling with pervasive stressors and inadequate healthcare infrastructure.

The lecture commenced with welcoming remarks from Dr. Aliyu Tanko, the Coordinator of IIIT Central Nigeria Office, who highlighted the widespread nature of mental instability, noting the common sight of individuals speaking to themselves or acting unusually due to mental distress. Professor Ahmad Bello Dogarawa, a Zaria-based Islamic scholar who served as the chairman of the occasion, emphasised the timeliness and relevance of the topic, noting that the issue of mental health and psychosocial wellness gained critical attention during the COVID-19 lockdown, as families experienced increased troubles and stresses while confined to their homes. This realisation, he stated, underscored the necessity of continuous discourse on mental health and psychosocial support.

The first distinguished speaker, Professor Salisu Shehu, a Professor of Educational Psychology at Bayero University Kano and Executive Secretary of the Nigerian Educational Research and Development Council, delved into the conceptualisation of mental health. He noted that traditionally, mental illness was only recognised in its most severe forms, such as “actual madness and lunatic behaviour,” overlooking milder emotional instabilities like neurosis or withdrawal syndrome. However, with expanding knowledge, it’s now understood that mental illness encompasses a broad spectrum, including emotional disorders.

Professor Shehu highlighted the fluidity in defining “disorder” or “maladaptation” in the modern world, influenced by libertarian philosophies and concepts of freedom and inclusivity, citing the LGBT movement as an example where behaviours once considered abnormal are now termed “difference”. He countered that in the Islamic context, and conventionally, any behaviour “that deviates markedly from the accepted ‘norm’ or pattern can be considered as a disorder or abnormality”. He adopted the World Health Organization’s (WHO) 2022 definition of mental health as “a state of well-being in which the individual realizes his or her abilities, is able to cope with normal stresses of life, work productively and fruitfully, and make a positive contribution to his or her community”. He further explained that mental illness, according to WHO, is a “clinically significant disturbance in an individual’s emotional regulation, or behavior,” often associated with stress. He lamented the “irony of modernity,” where inventions designed for ease have, paradoxically, accentuated stress and psychosocial challenges, leading to increased mental illness due to factors like urbanization, overcrowding, and the erosion of social networking and extended family support.

Transitioning to the Islamic perspective, Professor Shehu articulated that mental health and sickness are “primarily subject to the absolute will of Allah,” rooted in the Tawhidi framework. He emphasised that Islam attaches “fundamental and central concern on maintaining and preserving mental well-being”. A profound demonstration of this concern is the unequivocal prohibition of intoxicants, as mental well-being is a prerequisite for fulfilling all Sharia obligations. He cited a Hadith affirming that “the pen (for record of sins) is suspended… against… the mentally ill until he regains sanity,” underscoring the vital importance of sound mental health in Islam.

The Quran, he noted, directly links stress and depression to emotional disorders, offering remedies such as belief in divine decree, patience, trust, and gratitude. Practices like Dhikr (remembrance of Allah) and Dua (supplication) are prescribed as potent coping mechanisms for sorrow and anxiety. Professor Shehu referenced Islamic scholars like Ibn al-Qayyim al-Jawziyya, who in “al-Tibb al-Nabawy (The Prophetic Medicine),” discussed the effects of stress (e.g., sleeplessness, grief, unfounded fears) on mental well-being and outlined over twenty Islamic coping techniques.

Following Professor Shehu, Professor Taiwo Lateef Sheikh, a distinguished Professor of Psychiatry at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, delivered a comprehensive presentation. He echoed the sentiment that mental health is a core protection in Islam, ranking third among the five necessities. He stressed the critical distinction between mental health symptoms and mental illness, noting that many experiencing distress can recover with community or spiritual support without necessarily needing clinical intervention.

Professor Sheikh painted a grim picture of mental health in Nigeria, describing it as “one of the most neglected areas of health in the world and even worse in Africa”. He presented sobering statistics:

• Over one in five people in conflict-affected areas experience mental health conditions.
• Nigeria allocates less than 5% of its health budget to mental health, with funds often going to standalone psychiatric hospitals rather than comprehensive care.
• There is a severe shortage of mental health professionals, with fewer than one psychiatrist per 100,000 people in Nigeria, translating to a ratio of 1 to 1.5 million.
• More than 85% of people with severe mental illness in low- and middle-income countries do not receive the care they require.
• Around half of all mental health conditions start by age 14, and suicide is the second leading cause of death among youth aged 15-29 in Africa.

He explained that mental health encompasses emotional, psychological, and social well-being, influencing thought, feeling, action, relationships, and stress management. He introduced the “bio-psychosocial approach” to care, integrating biological (physical investigations, medications), psychological (counselling, psychotherapy), social (lifestyle adjustments, environmental factors), and religious/spiritual dimensions. He passionately argued for the crucial role of spirituality in mental health, stating it provides a “sense of purpose and meaning, social support, healthier behaviours, increased happiness, and enhanced coping mechanisms and resilience”.

Professor Sheikh also detailed Nigeria’s mental health governance, outlining policies from 1995 to 2023. He highlighted his pivotal role in developing the National Mental Health Act of 2021, a landmark legislation signed into law in December 2023. However, he lamented the significant institutional barrier: the Act remains largely unimplemented, and the Federal Ministry of Health has yet to establish a dedicated Department of Mental Health, the “first rate-determining step” for a budget line and governance structure. Other barriers include professional rivalry, lack of standardisation in religious healing approaches, and individual self-denial and stigma. To overcome these, he called for multi-sectoral and integrated approaches, involving collaborations across health, education, housing, and other sectors and fostering partnerships with faith-based organisations and community engagement.

The lecture concluded with interventions from other senior colleagues and attendees. Professor Nasiru Maiturare, Rector of the Hajj Institute of Nigeria, underscored the effectiveness of the Islamic framework by presenting statistics on suicide rates: Muslim-majority countries show remarkably lower rates compared to nations like South Korea, Japan, and Sweden. This, he asserted, is not a coincidence but attributable to Islam’s “comprehensive approach to mental health,” which anchors human life in faith, remembrance of Allah, patience, trust, and gratitude.

Participants urged for greater mass outreach, including radio and TV programs in local languages, to reach broader audiences beyond those who can log into virtual platforms. Given their large followership, there was a strong call to engage religious and traditional institutions for awareness and community-based support and to standardise spiritual healing approaches. Suggestions were also made to integrate mental health awareness into primary school curricula and to establish groups of young, enthusiastic individuals at the state level to disseminate this crucial knowledge.

The lecture served as a powerful reminder of the urgent need for a societal shift in addressing mental health, emphasising that Islam provides a robust, holistic, and spiritual foundation for mental well-being and resilience in the face of modern-day challenges.

Gambo writes from Funtua, Nigeria and is a member of the IIIT Central Nigeria Office Monthly Lecture Series Committee.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

The Nigerian educational system faces a crisis that can no longer be ignored. After years of neglect and outdated policies, the system has effectively collapsed. The curriculum in many public schools and universities is stuck in the past, failing to keep up with global developments and the skills needed in today’s workforce. Students often learn content that no longer applies to current realities, leaving them ill-prepared for the job market or further study.

One of the key problems is the failure to reform the curriculum in a meaningful way. While other countries continuously update their education content to match technological advancements and changing economic needs, Nigeria remains stuck with decades-old textbooks and syllabi. This disconnect creates a significant gap between what students learn and what employers expect, ultimately undermining the country’s ability to compete internationally.

The challenges extend beyond outdated content. Many schools are overcrowded, forcing students into cramped classrooms that are not conducive to learning. Basic facilities such as libraries, laboratories, and lecture halls are either dilapidated or entirely missing in numerous institutions. The lack of adequate infrastructure makes it difficult for students to engage in practical and experimental learning, which is critical to developing critical thinking and innovation.

Equally troubling is the condition of the teaching workforce. Many educators in the system are poorly motivated, largely because of low pay, irregular salaries, and poor working conditions. The absence of incentives and professional development opportunities means many teachers do not perform to their full potential. This creates a cycle where students receive substandard teaching, further reducing the quality of education and widening the skills gap.

Another critical issue is research funding, which is almost non-existent in Nigeria’s public education sector. Research is the backbone of academic and scientific progress, but here, lecturers often have to fund their projects or give up entirely. Without adequate grants, modern labs, or support for collaboration, innovation stalls. This lack of investment in research not only affects universities but also denies the country breakthroughs that could address local and global challenges.

The federal government’s role in this decline cannot be overstated. Despite education being constitutionally a priority, it remains underfunded and undervalued. While political budgets and other sectors receive increased allocations, education’s share continues to shrink. The failure to treat education as a strategic investment has led to a cycle of decay where graduates come out unprepared and schools continue to crumble.

In conclusion, reversing the collapse of Nigeria’s education system requires urgent and sustained commitment. It demands updated curricula, better infrastructure, improved teacher welfare, and significantly increased funding for research. Until these steps are taken seriously, Nigeria risks falling further behind as its youth are denied the quality education they need to thrive in a fast-changing world. The country’s future depends on a system that values knowledge, innovation, and real learning, not just ticking boxes on paper.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe and can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu 

I read with deep shock and sorrow about the gruesome murder of innocent travellers from Basawa in Zaria LGA of Kaduna State. It is heartbreaking and disturbing. 

What is happening to our society? When did we become so heartless that taking a human life no longer moves us? When did we start watching these tragedies unfold without reacting, without speaking, without demanding justice? This is not normal. We are clearly losing our sense of humanity and conscience.

The killing of these travellers is wicked, and it must be condemned in the strongest terms. No matter the excuse, mob action is mob action. Whether it happens in Plateau, Uromi, Kaduna, or anywhere else, it is lawlessness. It is cruel. And it has no place in any society that wants to grow, that wants peace, that wants justice. The moment we begin to justify the unjustifiable, we open the door to more bloodshed and deeper division.

The Federal Government, Plateau and Kaduna State Governments, security agencies, traditional rulers, religious leaders, and all other concerned stakeholders must rise to the occasion. This crime must not go unpunished. It is not enough to issue statements. Action must follow. Those behind this evil must be arrested, investigated properly, and brought to justice. That is the only way this act can serve as a warning to others. We cannot continue to act as if all is well when innocent lives are being wasted with no consequences.

It is painful to admit, but we have become a society where people record killings with their phones instead of stepping in to stop the madness. Where is our sense of community? Where is our compassion? The silence and indifference from many quarters are just as dangerous as the violence itself. We must speak up, we must act, and we must demand better from those who claim to lead and protect us.

The media, civil society, and the public must not let this incident be buried under the weight of the next trending story. These lives mattered, and these families deserve answers. We must keep the pressure on until justice is served. A society that fails to protect the innocent will one day be a danger to everyone, including those who look away.

May the Almighty Allah forgive the victims, grant them eternal peace, and give their families the strength to bear this painful loss. And may we, as a people, wake up before it is too late.

Muhammad Umar Shehu is a writer and social commentator from Gombe and can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

By Fatima Ishaq Muhammad

Kano, known for its deep Islamic practices and royal traditions, witnessed a historic and uneasy moment during the 2025 Eid-el-Kabir celebrations as two rival Emirs led separate congregational prayers in different parts of the city.

This development demonstrated the woeful crisis over the leadership of the Kano traditional Emirate, which, indeed, remained one of the most powerful traditional institutes in northern Nigeria.

Moreover, on one side was Emir Muhammadu Sanusi II, reinstated in May 2024 by the Kano State Government after being dethroned in 2020. Aminu Ado Bayero was installed as Emir on the other side after Sanusi’s removal. He still maintains that he remains the rightful occupant of the royal seat.

During the Eid celebrations, Emir Sanusi II led prayers at the Kofar Mata Eid Ground, traditionally recognized as the seat of the Emir’s religious leadership.

Meanwhile, Emir Aminu Bayero held his prayers at a different location, with loyalists gathered around him. For the first time in recent memory, Kano experienced two major Eid congregations, each holding up to a divided royal allegiance within the ancient city.

This unprecedented situation did not happen in isolation, but it resulted from the recurring tussle over the Kano Emirate, rooted in politics and personal rivalries.

Sanusi II’s removal in 2020 by the administration of former Governor Abdullahi Ganduje was widely termed as punishment for his massive outspoken criticism of the government.

His reinstatement by the current government of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has been challenged in court by Bayero’s supporters, creating legal and political uncertainty over who the legitimate Emir of Kano is.

The split Eid prayers skyrocketed across Kano and beyond, symbolizing the Emirate’s division and disunity of authority.

What should have been a day of religious unity became a visible sign of division in the state’s leadership. Thankfully, no major disturbances were reported, though tensions remain high.

Adding to the complexity of the situation, the traditional Durbar festival, which usually follows the Eid prayers, was banned by the police for security reasons.

The ban disappointed many residents, as the Durbar is integral to Kano’s cultural identity and economic life.

As the legal battles escalate, many residents and observers fear that the division within Kano’s traditional leadership could escalate unless a clear resolution is provided by the courts or through dialogue among key stakeholders.

For now, Kano remains a city with two Emirs, two congregations, and a divided loyalty, awaiting clarity on the future of one of northern Nigeria’s most important royal institutions.

Fatima Ishaq Muhammad via fatimaishaq021@gmail.com.

By Sabiu Usman

On a Thursday evening, I began to experience symptoms of a fever. I took paracetamol, which temporarily reduced the temperature, but the fever returned more aggressively by nightfall. I spent the entire night shivering and praying for dawn, hoping to visit a nearby pharmacy for further treatment.

By morning, I was too weak to leave the house alone. I contacted a neighbour who often assisted people with basic medications. He came over with some drugs, inserted a cannula into my hand, and administered an injection. After some time, I felt slightly better, just enough to perform my early morning obligatory prayers.

After prayers, I visited my parents for the usual morning greetings. They noticed the cannula in my hand and expressed concern. I explained that I had been battling a fever all night. They offered prayers for my quick recovery and good health.

I returned to my room to rest, but a few hours later, the fever returned. I decided to visit a hospital for a proper diagnosis and treatment. I informed my mother and father, who responded with prayer and support.

Just as I stepped out, NEPA restored electricity, so I went back inside briefly to plug in my phones. Then I picked up my HMO & ATM card, some cash, and headed out. I stopped an Okada taxi motorcycle and climbed. However, midway through the trip, I suddenly felt dizzy and weak. I asked the Okada man to stop so I would not fall off. He parked and waited with me for about 10 minutes. When the dizziness did not subside, he advised me to stop another Okada when I felt better, and he left.

As I sat by the roadside with my head lowered, trying to recover, I heard someone call my name: “Sabiu, what are you doing here?” I looked up and saw a man who seemed to recognise me. I told him I was heading to Doma Hospital, and he offered to give me a ride. Without much thought, I entered his tinted glass car, given my background working in places like banks, I often encountered many people, so I did not find it unusual that he knew me, even though I could not recognise him.

I did not realise the danger until the doors shut behind me. The two men in the back seat immediately pulled me to the centre and forced a long beanie over my head, covering my face. We drove for about 25 minutes. When the cap was finally removed, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with three men surrounding me.

One of them, wearing a face mask and medical gloves, opened a kit, pulled out a syringe, and took my blood. He also forced me to give a saliva sample by pressing my jaw and collected it in a small container. Then he asked for a urine sample. I told him I did not feel the urge, but he insisted. One of the men, a tall, heavy-set individual, struck me twice in the back. The pain and fear triggered an immediate urge, and I had no choice but to comply. I gave the sample.

They offered me food, which I refused. I was scared and confused, still burning with fever. I noticed a wall clock, and it was 11:20 am. They left me locked in the room around noon and did not return with food and water until late that night, around 10:00 pm. Again, I refused to eat.

Later, one of the men sitting beside me was scrolling through what appeared to be my Facebook profile on his phone. I realised he had likely performed a reverse image search using the photo he had taken of me earlier. As he continued scrolling, a call came in from a contact saved as “Dr. Gombe.” He answered briefly, and shortly afterwards, they opened the door to let the doctor in. He appeared again wearing a face mask, this time also with a pair of glasses.

He reviewed some papers and likely test results and told the others that my vitals were fine and the only issue was my fever. He handed me medication I recognised and trusted, so I took it. It relieved the fever, but I remained cautious and continued to reject all food and drinks they offered.

That night, I could not sleep. I was terrified, and I knew something terrible was about to happen.

On Saturday morning, I refused to eat the breakfast they brought. They eventually left, leaving me alone inside the room. Around 9:00 pm, they returned. I overheard a tense conversation between the men and the doctor from behind the door. The doctor confirmed that everything had been arranged for a journey to Kaduna, where a surgery was scheduled for Monday. The driver, whom I had become familiar with by voice, asked about payment and the buyer of the kidney. Suddenly, one of them realised the door had not been entirely shut and might have allowed me to overhear their plans. He quickly pulled it closed and locked it properly.

When I realised they were planning to transport me to Kaduna, surgically remove my kidney, and sell it, a wave of fear surged through me. My heart began to race uncontrollably. I knew, without a doubt, that I had to find a way to escape or I might not live to tell the story.

That night, after they all left with the doctor, I gathered what little strength I had left and began inspecting the room. The doors were solid, and the windows were tightly secured with reinforced burglar-proof bars. Then, as I looked upward, I noticed the ceiling was made of a thin, rubber-like material, not as strong as the rest of the room. I dragged a chair to the centre, climbed onto the headrest, and carefully broke through two ceiling panels. With trembling hands, I pulled myself up into the roof cavity.

Carefully crawling along the ceiling joists, I broke through another panel leading into a different bedroom. I did not stop. I kept crawling, searching for a way out, until I spotted a weak point near the edge of the roof. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed through it, and to my relief, it opened to the outside.

I jumped down and instantly heard approaching footsteps. My heart pounded as I dove into a nearby flower bed, pressing my body flat against the ground. A man walked by, sweeping the area with a flashlight. I held my breath, praying he would not see me. Fortunately, he moved on to another part of the compound. When his back was turned, I leapt up, climbed onto a drum near the wall, and scaled it, disappearing into the night as fast as my legs could carry me.

I ran blindly, barefoot, and disoriented. Eventually, I found a road. I tried flagging down cars, but most sped past. Finally, an elderly man stopped. He asked where I was going. I said Nasarawo. He said he was not going that far but would drop me at Jekadafari Roundabout.

He noticed I was barefoot and looked me over suspiciously, probably questioning my mental state, but he said nothing. When we reached Jekadafari, I got down and began walking toward Central Primary School, exhausted and disoriented. Along the way, someone who looked familiar stopped me. Though I could not remember his name, we recognised each other. 

“Sabiu, what happened to you?” he asked, shocked. I did not have the strength to explain. I simply begged, “Please just take me home.” Without hesitation, he helped me onto his motorcycle and rode straight to our house in Nasarawo.

My mother was the only one at home; all of them were out searching for me. I knocked on her door and weakly said, “It’s me.” She opened it, and I collapsed in her arms, crying. She offered me water, which I drank desperately. After two sachets, I passed out from exhaustion and trauma.

My elder brother and his wife, both medical practitioners, had returned by then. They immediately began treating me. I was given injections and placed on intravenous fluids. Their swift care helped stabilise me.

I didn’t wake up until midnight the next day, Sunday. I had slept for more than 24 hours straight. My body had completely shut down from the fever, stress, and trauma.

When I finally regained enough strength to speak, I sat with my mother and narrated everything, from the moment I fell ill to my escape from the traffickers. As I said, her eyes filled with tears. She listened in horror, then pulled me close and wept.

Through her sobs, she kept repeating, “Alhamdulillah. Your prayers and ours worked. Allah protected you.” Today, I am recovering, still feeling aches and pains, but alive. I thank God for giving me the courage and the opportunity to escape.

I share my story to warn the public: organ trafficking is real. These people are organised and patient, and may even know your name or background. They work like professionals, from collecting samples to contacting buyers.

Please be cautious when interacting with strangers, even those who seem familiar. If you ever feel dizzy, disoriented, or experience sudden symptoms after a simple injection, seek professional medical help immediately.

Above all, always let your loved ones know where you are going and don’t move around alone, especially when you are unwell.

May Allah continue to protect us all, ameen.

Sabiu Usman can be reached via sabiuusman12@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

Let’s stop sugarcoating it. Nigeria’s leaders have failed the very people they swore to serve. The signs are everywhere. Millions go to bed hungry, communities are under constant threat from bandits and terrorists, and families bury loved ones over avoidable tragedies. The cry from the North to the South is the same: “Where is the government?”

For decades, we have watched politicians campaign with promises and disappear after elections. We have listened to speeches full of hope, only to wake up to worsening hardship. Whether in education, healthcare, security, or the economy, Nigerians are primarily left to fend for themselves in a country that seems to work only for the elite.

Electricity is unstable. Public schools are underfunded. Hospitals lack basic equipment. Roads are death traps. Jobs are scarce. The police often protect the rich while the poor face brutality. The gap between government and the governed has become dangerously wide.

But the failure didn’t start yesterday. It results from years of corruption, mismanagement, and lack of vision. Successive governments, both military and civilian, have chipped away at the country’s foundations while enriching themselves. The civil service, once respected, is now known more for inefficiency and bribery than service delivery.

What’s worse is that people have grown tired. Tired of voting without results. Tired of protesting with no response. Tired of hoping for leaders who never come. This fatigue is dangerous because when people lose faith in the system, they seek alternatives. And that is where chaos begins.

Still, all hope is not lost. The first step is honesty. We need to admit that things are not okay. Then, we must demand better. Louder. Consistently. In unity. Good governance doesn’t happen by chance. It happens when citizens hold leaders accountable during elections and every day after.

Nigeria is not poor. Nigerians are not lazy. The failure lies in a leadership that treats public service like a private business. Until that changes, the suffering will continue. But if the people find their voice and use it, we may turn this broken system into something that works for all.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe and can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

By Usman Abdullahi Koli, ANIPR

It is difficult to tell the story of a man whose life was not just lived but felt deeply, genuinely, and profoundly. It’s over now, the last file signed, the final handshake exchanged, the door gently closed behind a man whose entire life has been anything but ordinary.

As of May 30, 2025, Dr. Bala Maijama’a Wunti stepped out of public service, quietly bowing out from a remarkable journey that shook boundaries, lifted lives, and left behind a trail of courage, dignity, and truth. I find it not only fitting but necessary to say this: Now that it is done, let this be my tribute.

Much has been said, written, and whispered in admiration since his retirement announcement. But what I pen today is not a replica of what others have offered. This is personal. This is from a heart that was moved years ago when I sat quietly among students of ATBU Bauchi, listening to a man speak not as a bureaucrat, not as a technocrat, but as someone who had walked through fire barefoot and came out not burnt, but better.

He wasn’t speaking to impress. He was telling the truth, raw and unfiltered. He spoke of days when meals were not guaranteed, when dreams seemed laughable in the face of brutal reality. He described the hunger, the worn sandals, the sleepless nights, and how faith became his pillow. I remember that moment clearly. That day, in that humble auditorium, something shifted. It wasn’t just a speech. It was a defining moment for him and for us who listened.

In that moment, I carried three life lessons from Dr. Wunti—ones he never explicitly taught but demonstrated through his life.

First: Prayer is not optional. I have never encountered a man more grounded in submission to the Divine. No matter how tight his schedule, how demanding the office, and how crucial the meeting was, he found time to pause and connect with his Creator. And he did it not out of habit but conviction. It shaped everything about him: his calm, clarity, and confidence.

Second: He never forced what his heart didn’t embrace. Dr. Wunti did not do things just to tick boxes. He left it alone if his soul wasn’t aligned with a cause. This rare integrity gave his actions an unusual depth. Whether leading multi-billion-naira reforms or quietly helping an ailing community clinic, he did so with full acceptance and sincerity.

Third: Compassion wasn’t a virtue for him; it was a reflex. He gave not because he had to, but because he knew what it felt like to need and not have. Every school he built, child he sponsored, borehole he commissioned, and hospital bill he paid came from a heart softened by experience. He remembered. And in remembering, he uplifted.

Born in Bauchi, in a household where survival often came before ambition, Dr. Bala Wunti grew up in the shadows of lack. But he did not let it define him. Instead, he let it refine him. He pushed through school with sheer determination — from Chemistry at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, to earning his MBA in Marketing from ATBU Bauchi, and a Postgraduate Diploma in Management. These were not just academic milestones but small battles won against the odds.

Then came the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC). He joined in 1994, and what followed was a remarkable odyssey. From Production Programming Officer to GM Corporate Planning, and eventually MD of the Petroleum Products Marketing Company (PPMC), he did not just fill positions — he transformed them. His work at NAPIMS as Group General Manager changed how Nigeria handled petroleum investments. Projects like Operation White restored sanity to a system many had given up on.

But beyond strategy and structure, he brought the soul into the system. He refused to let numbers dehumanise policy. He saw the downstream sector not as a marketplace but as a lifeline, and he made it work for people, not just profits.

Still, if you asked Dr. Wunti his proudest achievements, he would not point to the boardroom. He would likely tell you about the girl in Dass who got a scholarship and later became a pharmacist, or the widowed mother in Katagum who now has a roof over her head. He would tell you about community boreholes, school renovations, and the youth he mentored who are now leaders in their own right.

He didn’t just serve; he saw. He saw people not as statistics but as stories. And he listened. And when he could, he helped. Quietly. No cameras. No hashtags.

In his family, Dr. Wunti is not the oil executive; he is Abba. A father who sits with his children teaches them not just by advice, but by example. A husband who understands that love is shown in small acts, in presence, in patience. He did not let success steal him away from those who mattered most. He carried them with him.

Now that his chapter in public service closes, many will remember Dr. Wunti for the policies he shaped, the reforms he led, and the titles he bore. But I will remember him for something more enduring: the humanity he never let go of.

Some may chase greatness by building empires. But some, like him, choose to make people. And when people grow, they remember. They speak. They write just like I am doing now.

Dr. Bala Maijama’a Wunti didn’t retire. He simply stepped into another phase of influence that does not require office walls or government files. His impact now lives in the echoes of children’s laughter in classrooms he built, in the gratitude of patients treated in hospitals he supported, and in the hearts of all of us lucky enough to know the kind of man he truly is.

Thank you, sir, for rising and taking many of us along with you.

This is not goodbye. It’s an honour.

Usman Abdullahi Koli wrote via usmankoli31@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar

A wave of violent attacks across Plateau State over the past week has claimed the lives of at least 41 people, with dozens more reportedly wounded, local sources and security officials have confirmed.

In what residents describe as a series of coordinated assaults, a total of 96 homes were set ablaze in several communities, displacing scores of families and raising fresh concerns over the escalating insecurity in the region.

The attacks, which spanned multiple local government areas, are believed to be part of ongoing communal clashes and reprisal violence that have plagued the state for years. Eyewitnesses recount harrowing scenes of gunfire, arson, and panic as armed assailants descended on their villages under the cover of darkness.

Authorities say security operatives have been deployed to the affected areas, but locals continue to express frustration over what they perceive as a slow or inadequate response to the violence.

While the Plateau State Government has condemned the attacks and promised to bring the perpetrators to justice, humanitarian agencies are calling for urgent relief efforts to support the growing number of displaced persons.

As of the time of this report, no group has officially claimed responsibility for the attacks. Investigations are ongoing.