Northern Nigeria

By Abdulrahman Sani  

It started like any other routine assignment. A simple task in a place that, on paper, seemed no different from the others. I was sent to a remote village in the heart of the North West, tasked with completing an enumeration in a region that was increasingly known for its volatile security situation. But what I didn’t realise then was that this seemingly innocuous assignment would lead me straight into the heart of danger.

The village, Rugar Yashi, sat on the fringes of the wilderness, far from the usual path of most travellers. The journey had been long, but I arrived early enough to begin work without delay. The protocol for entering any enumeration area was clear. 

Before stepping foot into the village, I was to call my security contact to get a briefing, obtain clearance, and receive a pass that would ensure my safety. I dialled his number repeatedly, but there was no answer. I tried once more, but the line remained dead. Frustration rose within me, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realisation that I had no choice but to proceed.

I wasn’t new to the idea of security checks. Over time, I had come to view the process as a mere formality, a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. Security clearance was just another uncomfortable routine, a small hurdle before getting to the heart of the work. The reality of how precarious the situation honestly was hadn’t fully sunk in. In my mind, it was just another remote village, no different from the countless others I had visited. Little did I know, I was about to step into the lion’s den.

The Village on the Edge of a Whisper

Rugar Yashi wasn’t on any tourist map. You wouldn’t stumble upon it unless you were sent there or running from something.

The place looked serene, almost cinematic. It was tucked neatly between rustling trees and the distant hum of wilderness. I walked in alone, unseen by the world, accompanied only by a curious blend of optimism and unawareness.

I didn’t meet him in the village.

I met him at a farm by accident.

He was tending to something near a stand of goruba trees. I greeted him and mentioned I needed a cutlass to slice through one of the fruits. Without hesitation, he handed me his.

It was only after I introduced myself, explaining why I had come and what I was doing, that he nodded and said simply,

“I’ll guide you.”

That was it.

No suspicion. No resistance. Just a quiet offer that, in hindsight, held far more weight than I realised.

And so we began.

He led. I followed.

At first, he was nothing more than a helpful local. His voice was calm, measured. He spoke sparingly, and when he did, it was often with a faint, unreadable smile. The villagers treated him with a mixture of casual reverence and respect. Nothing overt. Just the kind of nods, glances, and silences that said more than words ever could.

Of Questions and Rifles

As we walked through Rugar Yashi, I quickly noticed something odd. The men around us were armed. Their rifles glinted in the sun as they moved with deliberate ease. Their eyes darted around, scanning the horizon as if waiting for something—anything—out of the ordinary. Some of them offered brief nods of acknowledgement to my guide, a quiet understanding passing between them that I couldn’t quite place.

At first, I dismissed it. I assumed they were simply vigilantes, locals tasked with protecting their community. The village seemed peaceful. The people were humble. And my task was simple. What could go wrong?

We continued through the village, and I conducted my enumeration with the usual questions—family members, occupations, and living conditions. He knew exactly where to take me. At one point, I inquired about his family, which was part of the enumeration form. He smiled and said that his brother, Aliyu, was studying at ABU Zaria. I nodded and moved on.

It sounded plausible enough.

After the work was done, he walked me to the edge of the village where a group of armed men stood, exchanging hushed words and scanning the trees. As we passed, they gave us more than a passing glance. He shook my hand, gave me his contact information, and said casually,

“Call me next time before you come. It’s safer that way.”

I smiled, nodded, and walked away. The road back to the main track was quiet. Just a few goats, wind in the trees, and my own footsteps.

The Call

Then my phone rang.

It was the security contact I had been trying to reach all morning. His voice came through tense and unfiltered.

“Where are you?”

“Done. Just leaving Rugar Yashi.”

There was a pause, and then his voice dropped.

“Who did you work with?”

I gave a brief description. His voice turned sharp.

“That man you were with, Labbo Jauro? He’s one of the most notorious bandit leaders in the region. His brother isn’t at Zaria. He was killed months ago. Deep in the forests of Niger.”

Silence.

The kind that makes your spine go cold.

I had shared a blade with him and walked through the village under his protection. Sat beside him in quiet moments. All while unknowingly under the watchful eyes of armed men who could have changed the course of my story in an instant.

The glances. The nods. The stillness in the air. It all made sense now.

But at the time, I thought I was just doing my job.

Reflection on the Edge

Looking back, I wonder whether he knew what I didn’t. Whether he had already decided for me before I’d even finished cutting that goruba fruit. Or whether, by some strange twist of fate, I had walked straight into danger and was spared not by wisdom or caution, but by simple, Divine grace.

That day in Rugar, Yashi changed how I saw the work. It blurred the line between routine and risk. It reminded me that, sometimes, the man offering help in the fields may be more than just a friendly farmer.

Sometimes, he’s the one everyone else fears.

And sometimes, he’s the reason you make it back home alive.

Postscript: This story is based on a true account. The subject’s name has been omitted, and the narrative is told in the first person by the author. Specific details have been altered or excluded to protect privacy and ensure safety.

Abdulrahman Sani can be contacted via Twitter @philosopeace.

By Muhsin Ibrahim

Talk about Kannywood and, often, some people who are scarcely literate or have little knowledge of film will dismiss the entire industry as a sanctuary for good-for-nothing folks. But that is not always true.

I first met the late Malam Umar Maikudi (also known as Cashman) at the 2019 Kano Indigenous Languages of Africa Film Market and Festival (KILAF) conference. We connected immediately, discussed various issues, and ultimately exchanged phone numbers.

Although Malam was old enough to be my father, we maintained a relatively cordial relationship. He would send me some of his writings, and I would send him mine in return. We also met a few more times during subsequent editions of the KILAF conference. I am sure Alhaji Abdulkarim, the CEO of Moving Image and the organiser of KILAF, will dearly miss Cashman.

He was among the few brilliant individuals blessed with the talent to blend theory and practice seamlessly, and he excelled in both. 

Malam was a lecturer at Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, Zaria, and President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN). 

Malam was a bridge between Kannywood and Nollywood, as he featured in films from both industries. Many Kannywood viewers may not be very familiar with him, though.

Cashman only recently started featuring in more mainstream Kannywood productions, such as Gidan Badamasi and Labarina. As a lawyer in the latter (Labarina), who is expected to code-switch and code-mix, you can tell this actor is definitely educated. He was.

His death is a significant loss to his family, of course, and to the Nigerian entertainment industry. May Allah forgive his shortcomings and grant his loved ones the fortitude to bear the loss, amin.

Muhsin Ibrahim, PhD, is an academic and writes about Nigerian films. He can be contacted via muhsin2008@gmail.com.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu 

To many Nigerians, the security allocations in national budgets often appear inflated. Year after year, billions are allocated to the military, defence procurement, intelligence operations, and internal security initiatives.

Yet, the level of insecurity across the country continues to raise eyebrows. The common question remains: “Where is all this money going?” It is a valid concern.

However, beyond the budget lines and official pronouncements lies a more complex reality—one that is often overlooked by the average citizen. The actual cost of warfare and intelligence operations is not just steep—it is staggering.

Take air operations as an example. Military insiders have long noted that flying an Alpha Jet for a single mission can gulp up to a million naira in aviation fuel alone.

This figure excludes routine maintenance, spare parts, logistics, or crew allowances. Multiply these flights across days and theatres of operation, and it becomes easier to understand why security efforts are financially demanding.

On the ground, the story is similar. Armoured vehicles, patrol vans, and tanks require constant fuelling, often idling for hours during missions. Soldiers deployed to remote areas require food, clothing, and equipment.

Medical support must be on standby, and when fatalities occur, families of the fallen deserve compensation. These are not occasional expenses—they are daily operational necessities.

Yet, beyond the financial weight of military engagement lies an even more fragile dimension: intelligence gathering. In parts of the country, particularly the North East, North Central, and North West, attacks by insurgents and bandits continue with frightening regularity.

People often ask: Why aren’t these attacks being preempted? Where is the intelligence? These questions are justified. Comparisons are frequently drawn to agencies like the FBI or Israel’s Mossad, known for preemptive actions.

But intelligence is no miracle tool. It relies on actionable information—gathered, processed, and relayed with accuracy. In many of Nigeria’s conflict zones, such information is scarce.

Locals often fear reprisals and refuse to share what they know. Rural and forested areas remain difficult to monitor due to the absence of surveillance infrastructure.

Moreover, intelligence work is not the sole burden of the military. It requires seamless coordination among the police, DSS, NSCDC, and even vigilante groups. Where this collaboration falters, intelligence fails.

That is not to absolve our agencies of their failings. Reports of negligence, delayed responses, and poor communication abound. However, these shortcomings, while real, are not insurmountable.

Nigeria urgently needs to rethink its approach to intelligence. There must be fresh investment in surveillance tools, inter-agency communication systems, and the training of personnel in modern techniques.

Citizens, too, must become active partners by volunteering timely and truthful information. This war cannot be won solely by the military. It requires collaboration, from the government to the grassroots.

Technology, including drone surveillance and satellite imagery, must be embraced. But more than anything else, there must be political will to treat intelligence not as a side note, but as the beating heart of our national security strategy.

Balanced expectations are also important. While it is tempting to measure Nigeria’s intelligence systems against those of global powers, such comparisons can be misleading.

Nations like the US and Israel have built theirs over decades with enormous financial commitment. Nigeria, by contrast, is still building its base. Still, quiet victories exist—many of them deliberately kept from the public domain for strategic reasons.

Terror plots have been foiled, camps dismantled, and lives saved through intelligence-led operations. These successes rarely make headlines. What are the failures, the losses, and the anguish they leave behind?

That is why we must keep asking questions—but with an understanding of the context. Accountability, yes. But also support, reform, and renewed trust. National security is not a spectator sport. It is a shared duty.

And if Nigeria is to triumph over its many threats, it must first accept that intelligence, not just guns, is its most potent weapon.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu writes from the Centre for Crisis Communication (CCC) in Abuja.

By Uzair Adam

The National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA) has commissioned a National Cybersecurity Centre at Bayero University, Kano (BUK), in a move to strengthen Nigeria’s cybersecurity capacity and digital resilience.

The commissioning ceremony, which took place on Tuesday, at the university’s New Campus, was performed on behalf of NITDA’s Director-General, Kashifu Inuwa Abdullahi, CCIE, by Dr. Jide Ajayi, Director of Zonal Coordination at the agency.

Speaking at the event, Dr. Ajayi described the centre as a strategic national asset that goes beyond infrastructure.

“It is the activation of a knowledge-driven platform designed to equip our nation with the tools, talent, and infrastructure required to safeguard our digital space,” he said.

He added that the project aligns with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda and the Strategic Blueprint of the Honourable Minister of Communications, Innovation and Digital Economy, Dr. Bosun Tijani.

The newly commissioned facility is expected to support cybersecurity education, research, capacity building, and innovation.

Dr. Ajayi noted that cybersecurity has become an indispensable pillar for building trust in the digital economy, especially in an era of increasing cyber threats and vulnerabilities.

He announced that NITDA, in collaboration with the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA), will co-host the first National Cybersecurity Conference from July 9 to 10, 2025, in Abuja.

The event will bring together global experts, policymakers, and innovators to chart the future of AI-powered cybersecurity in Nigeria.

In his vote of thanks, the Vice-Chancellor of Bayero University, Professor Sagir Adamu Abbas, FMAN, expressed deep appreciation to NITDA and the Ministry of Communications for their commitment to technological advancement and education.

“This centre is a symbol of foresight and commitment. It will significantly improve the quality of teaching, research, and practical training in cybersecurity at our university,” he said.

Professor Abbas added that BUK already runs undergraduate and postgraduate programmes in cybersecurity and is prepared to launch a PhD programme soon, noting that the centre will enhance the university’s role as a national hub for cybersecurity excellence.

He also reaffirmed BUK’s readiness to collaborate with NITDA and the ministry in training, research, and policy development, stressing the university’s strategic position in Nigeria’s digital transformation journey.

The establishment of the National Cybersecurity Centre at BUK marks a major step in fortifying Nigeria’s digital ecosystem and promoting inclusive, region-based digital empowerment.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

In a touching act of compassion, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State has adopted Hauwa Yusuf (popularly known as Ummi), a 31-year-old woman battling a rare and debilitating illness known as muscular dystrophy.

Ummi, a law graduate of Bayero University Kano (BUK), has been living with the incurable condition for 18 years. Despite her severe physical limitations and financial hardship, she defied the odds to complete her university education. Today, she can barely walk without support.

Social media personality and academic, Dr. Muhsin Ibrahim, who has followed Ummi’s story for two years, revealed that she had previously received some assistance from Air Peace CEO, Allen Onyema, who sponsored a short medical trip to India. However, her condition remained unmanaged until a turning point came on the night of May 18, 2025.

In a desperate bid for help, Ummi reached out to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf via text message. The Governor responded promptly and compassionately. According to Dr. Ibrahim, Governor Abba promised to take full responsibility for her well-being, saying he would do “everything a father would do for a daughter.”

In a symbolic gesture of solidarity, the Governor connected Ummi with his own daughter, also a law student, fostering a personal friendship to provide emotional support. Additionally, he directed that Ummi’s family be provided with adequate food supplies and pledged to make her upcoming Sallah celebration “memorable.”

In a further show of generosity, the Governor ordered that Amina, a lady who has spent years caring for Ummi, be placed on the Government House’s casual staff payroll with immediate effect.

The Governor’s actions have drawn widespread praise, with many Nigerians taking to social media to commend his empathy and swift intervention.

“May Allah make it easy for Ummi and reward Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf handsomely,” Dr. Ibrahim concluded in his heartfelt tribute.

By Prof. Abdussamad Umar Jibia

Sometime in 2023, after the APC presidential primaries, I wrote to advise the flag-bearer of APC, Alhaji Bola Ahmad Tinubu, on the need to appoint a Muslim as his running mate. The reason I gave is still valid. Northern Christians (read opportunists) are a tiny minority compared to their Muslim counterparts. 

Additionally, northern Nigerian Christians are known to unleash violence against Muslims in the few areas where they form a majority. Any presidential ticket with a Northern Christian was thus dead on arrival.

Taking Nigeria as a whole, Christians are fewer than Muslims. A Muslim-Muslim ticket is thus a winning ticket. A Christian-Christian ticket will always lose. If it could win, Nigerian Christians would never allow us access to even the most insignificant positions in Government. 

But even as we were talking about Islam and Christianity, we ignored a statement credited to former President Olusegun Obasanjo that to the Yoruba man, Yoruba culture is more important than religion. We also ignored notes from other Muslims that Tinubu was married to a pastor who had an excessive influence on him. Whereas, going by the teaching of Islam, Bola Ahmed, a Muslim male, did nothing wrong by marrying a Christian woman, the undue influence of his wife had not been established. Hence, we ignored those notes.

Now, with a Muslim as the head and another Muslim as his deputy, what are the expectations? 

Since democracy is a game of numbers in which the majority have the way, it is highly unexpected that a minority will populate a government that came to power with the votes of the majority. That is what President Tinubu has done. 

Tinubu, a Muslim who came to power with the votes of the Muslim majority, travelled to the Vatican “with a bragging right of 62% Christian appointees”. This figure was shamelessly released by the Presidency, according to the Thisdaynewspaper. 

The presidential entourage itself is Christian. There is no single Muslim name in it except the President himself. If I may ask, is the president still a Muslim? Is he practising double religion? 

Islam doesn’t allow a person to practice two religions. You are either a Muslim or something else.  Is President Tinubu going there to worship? Of course, the Vatican is a Catholic city with no single Muslim. Why can’t he send the president of the senate, if at all, Nigeria has to honour the “Pope’s invitation”?

But appointment to public offices is only secondary. What is fundamental is the right of every Nigerian Muslim to practice their religion without let or hindrance and without another religion being imposed on them. A Muslim-Muslim presidency is useless if it cannot remove, or at worst attempt to remove, the aspects of Christianity imposed on non-Christian Nigerians in our national life. 

Only a few weeks ago, the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) protested the closure of schools by some Northern states during Ramadan, claiming an attempt to “Islamize” the country. Instead of the Tinubu/Shettima government seizing the opportunity to conduct a total review of the influence of the colonial Christian religion in our national life, this government, like some cowards, succumbed to CAN’s position and asked the Federal Ministry of Education to “discuss” with the Muslim states that closed schools. 

A simple review of our working and work-free days would reveal that we are being forced to observe Christian holy days of Saturdays and Sundays as weekends, a total of 104 days per year. Again, our schools close twice a year for Christmas and Easter Christian celebrations. Yet, the Muslim-Muslim Government is not even looking in that direction. Is it timidity or deception? Either way, the disappointment is stinking.

Out of laughable ignorance, Nigerian Christians consider Israel a Christian country and Israelis as their brothers. Yes, the same Jews who proudly claim the murder of Jesus and consider his mother a whore. This ignorance is what led Pastor Adeboye to pray for Israel against the occupied Palestine. At the point the entire freedom-fighting nations like our own South Africa were filing a petition at the International Criminal Court, we saw the President’s wife receiving the Israeli ambassador at the state house.

Assuming the land and blood of Gazans were lawful for Israel, which is what Mrs. Tinubu seems to believe, what of the valid claim that Israel has a hand in the failure of our internal security by giving military training to Christian militia in the North Central? Why can’t President Tinubu launch an honest investigation into it? 

Mr. President, have we not made the wrong choice? 

On a final note, I still believe that it could have been worse if Tinubu had chosen a Northern Christian as his running mate. Of course, he would have lost the presidential election. 

Professor Abdussamad Umar Jibia wrote via aujibia@gmail.com.

By Abbas Datti

I am worried by the increasing broadcast of music videos featuring women in revealing, indecent dressing by the popular Arewa24 television station. In sum, it has reached a tipping point where women featured in music videos are sometimes half-naked, in a provocative, obscene dressing. 

Considering its audience, Arewa24, whose programming is widely accessible to viewers of all ages, must be subjected to public scrutiny for continuously airing content that contradicts the Hausa culture and traditional values of our society.

Many of these music videos not only portray women in revealing clothing but also promote gestures and themes that are inappropriate for family viewing. The consistent exposure to such content, especially during prime time when children and young adults are most likely to be watching, raises serious questions about Arewa TV’s commitment to ethical broadcasting and social responsibility. Most of those video songs are being shown during prime time.

Our society, rich in religious moral character and cultural pride, has always upheld values that protect the dignity and modesty of individuals, particularly women. The portrayal of women in such a demeaning and objectifying manner is not only an affront to Hausa Fulani’s traditions but also sends the wrong message to younger generations.

We call on the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) and other censorship regulatory bodies to urgently investigate some content being aired by the Arewa TV station. Strict measures should be taken to ensure that all media platforms operate within the boundaries of decency, respect, and cultural sensitivity. 

Furthermore, there is a pressing need for media houses to adopt self-regulation policies and prioritise programming that promotes positive values and Hausa cultural identity. Our religion and cultural heritage must not be compromised in the name of entertainment.

The time to act is now. Authorities must rise to the occasion and safeguard the moral fabric of the Hausa people from further extinction.

Abbas Datti writes from Kano via abbasdatti448@gmail.com.

Accelerating Kano’s Future Through Technology and Innovation

Your Excellency, 

I write to you with profound optimism about the transformative potential of technology and innovation to position Kano State as a beacon of progress in Nigeria and beyond. As Africa’s youth population surges, Kano, rich in culture, commerce, and human capital, is uniquely poised to harness this demographic dividend by embracing technology as a catalyst for economic growth, social equity, and sustainable development.  

Your Excellency, I recognise and commend your commendable efforts and those of the Kano State Ministry of Science, Technology, and Innovation, under the visionary leadership of the Honourable Commissioner, in laying the groundwork for transformative projects already in the pipeline. The recent establishment of the Kano State Information Technology Development Agency (KASITDA) is a particularly strategic leap forward, signalling the state’s resolve to institutionalise tech-driven growth. These efforts are a critical foundation, and I urge sustained momentum to ensure their timely execution. 

The recommendations outlined herein aim to complement and accelerate these existing plans, providing additional frameworks to attract global partnerships, amplify local talent, and unlock scalable opportunities. By building upon the Ministry’s initiatives and KASITDA’s mandate, Kano can fast-track its rise as a regional leader in technology-driven development.  

Why Technology Matters

Technology is not merely a tool but a foundation for modernisation. It drives efficiency, creates jobs, and bridges gaps in education, healthcare, governance and more. For Kano, where over 60% of the population is under 25, investing in tech equips our youth with skills to compete globally while addressing local challenges like unemployment, agricultural productivity, and access to public services.  

Globally, nations such as Rwanda and India have demonstrated that prioritising tech ecosystems can spur prosperity. Closer home, Lagos’s emergence as a start-up hub highlights the power of deliberate policy and infrastructure. Kano, with its strategic location, historical significance, and entrepreneurial spirit, can surpass these models by tailoring solutions to our unique context.  

A Blueprint for Transformation

To unlock this potential, I propose the following actionable initiatives:  

1. Establish Kano Tech City

Create a dedicated innovation district with co-working spaces, labs, and incubation hubs. Partner with organisations like Google, Alison – Free Empowerment Platform, Microsoft Africa, Altmentor and more to offer training, mentorship, and funding access. This ecosystem will nurture startups in EdTech, AgriTech, FinTech, HealthTech, etc, sectors critical to Kano’s economy.  

2. Revolutionise Education

Integrate digital skills into school curricula. Launch “Kano Code Clubs” and sponsor scholarships for students pursuing careers in STEM fields. Collaborate with Universities to offer advanced degrees in emerging technologies, ensuring a pipeline of skilled talent.  

3. Upgrade Infrastructure

Prioritise broadband expansion, especially in rural areas, and deploy solar-powered tech centres to overcome energy challenges. Reliable internet and electricity are non-negotiable for attracting global investors.  

4. Enact Innovation-Friendly Policies

Offer tax breaks for tech start-ups, streamline business registration, and establish a regulatory sandbox for testing solutions. Launch a Kano Innovation Fund to provide grants and venture capital. Some Innovation-Friendly Policies are outlined below;

-Tax Incentives & Financial Support

• 5-Year Tax Holiday: Exempt early-stage start-ups (0–3 years) from corporate income tax, PAYE, and land use charges. 
• Investor Tax Exemptions: Offer 100% capital gains tax relief for investments in Kano-based tech start-ups. 
• R&D Grants: Fund 50% of R&D costs for startups in priority sectors (AgriTech, EduTech, renewable energy).
• Kano Equity Fund: Establish a state-backed venture capital fund to co-invest in high-potential startups, matching private investments 1:1.  

-Ease of Doing Business

• 24-Hour Start-up Licensing: Create a dedicated tech desk at the Kano Investment Agency to fast-track business registration, licenses, and permits. 
• Regulatory Sandbox: Allow start-ups in FinTech, HealthTech, and mobility to test products for 12 months without full regulatory compliance. 
• Land Grants: Allocate subsidised land in Kano Tech City to start-ups and investors who commit to hiring at least 60% local talent.

-Talent & Immigration

• Tech Talent Visa: Partner with the Federal Government to expedite visas for foreign founders, engineers, and investors relocating to Kano. 
• Residency Rebates: Offer 50% discount on residency fees for startups that train and hire 100+ Kano youths annually.  

-Market Access & Growth

• Government Procurement Quota: Mandate 20% of state procurement contracts (e.g., e-governance tools, agri-supply chains) to be awarded to local tech startups.
• Export Incentives: Subsidise Saas (Software-as-a-Service) startups to scale across Africa by covering 30% of their cross-border marketing costs.  

-Investor Confidence & Exit Opportunities

• Investor Matchmaking: Host quarterly pitch sessions connecting startups with angels and global VC networks.
• Acquisition Support: Legal and financial advisory subsidies for startups exiting to foreign or local acquirers.  

-Sector-Specific Boosts

• AgriTech Subsidies: Free state-owned farmland for AgriTech startups piloting IoT-enabled irrigation or crop-monitoring drones.
• AI Ethics Framework: Develop Nigeria’s first state-level AI governance guidelines to attract ethical tech firms and global grants.  

-Long-Term Stability

• 10-Year Policy Guarantee: Legislate a “Kano Innovation Charter” to lock in incentives beyond political cycles, ensuring investor confidence. 
• Kano Tech Ambassadors: Appoint youth innovators as global ambassadors to showcase success stories in international media.  

5. Host Annual Tech Conferences

Showcase Kano’s potential through events like “Kano Innovates,” attracting investors, entrepreneurs, and thinkers. Celebrate local success stories to inspire a culture of innovation.  

Attracting Investment

A thriving tech ecosystem signals stability and opportunity. By cultivating homegrown talent and infrastructure, Kano will attract investors seeking opportunities in untapped markets. Public-private partnerships can further de-risk investments, while success stories will generate organic interest.  

A Call to Legacy

Your Excellency, this vision demands bold leadership. Imagine a Kano where farmers use drones to monitor their crops, artisans sell their products globally via digital platforms, and students use AI to solve community problems. Championing this agenda will secure Kano’s place as a hub of African innovation, creating jobs, reducing poverty, and inspiring generations.  

The time to act is now. Let us collaborate with stakeholders, businesses, educators, and youth to build a Kano that leads, not follows.  

Abubakar Sadiq Umar writes from Kano and can be reached via email at aserdeeq@gmail.com

By Muhammad Abubakar

Operatives of the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC), RS12.31 Potiskum Unit Command, on Sunday morning intercepted an overloaded Volkswagen Golf along the Potiskum–Gombe (PKM-GME) highway.

The vehicle, with registration number TRN 59 SB, was stopped during a routine patrol as part of the Corps’ nationwide enforcement operation targeting overloading and other critical traffic offences.

According to the patrol team, the vehicle was found to be carrying passengers and cargo in excess of the permitted limit, a violation that significantly increases the risk of road accidents.

“This action is in line with the Corps’ commitment to reducing road crashes caused by reckless practices such as overloading,” a spokesperson for the unit said.

No injuries were reported during the interception. The vehicle has been impounded, and further investigations are underway.

The FRSC continues to urge motorists to comply with traffic regulations and prioritise safety for all road users.

By Isah Dahiru

There’s a Hausa proverb that says, “Wanda ya saci akuya, ya saci itacenta”—he who steals a goat has already stolen the rope tied to it. But who would have imagined that the sacred grounds of a mosque, a space where hearts are purified and souls are recharged, could become fertile ground for what I now call “holy heists”?

Last Friday, I attended Jumu’ah prayers like any regular seeker of divine mercy, looking forward to the serenity of the sermon and perhaps a gentle breeze under the neem tree afterwards. You know, that kind of spiritual therapy that reboots your inner battery. 

The Imam began passionately, with what I can only describe as a verbal balm for troubled marriages. He waxed poetic about marital life, reminding us brothers that a man’s greatness is not measured by how many goats he owns, but how gently he treats the mother of his children.

He quoted the Prophet (SAW), emphasising kindness, loyalty, and romance—even after ten years of eating her over-salted tuwo. He reminded us that he who denies affection at home may end up seeking counsel from side mirrors—and by side mirrors, I mean side chicks. It was a sermon of gold, and I had already drafted a mental apology letter to my wife (with a footnote asking for fried fish for dinner).

Then came the second khutbah—and brothers and sisters, the tone changed like NEPA light.

What followed was no longer spiritual nourishment—it was a full-blown security bulletin. The Imam, now resembling a mosque-based CNN anchor, solemnly announced the spike in theft within the mosque premises. Shoes, phones, even umbrellas—yes, umbrellas in dry season—had become an endangered species in the hands of holy day hustlers.

I blinked twice. “Wallahi, this must be fiction.”

Apparently not. The Imam cited examples. Men who had arrived barefoot left in polished Clarks. Samsung devices evaporated during sujud. One man reportedly came out of the toilet to find that not only had his shoes vanished, but so had his ablution kettle. “An saci butar alwala!” someone muttered beside me.

My friend Musa Kalim, ever the idea machine, leaned in and whispered, “Wallahi Isah, the mosque should invest in designer shoes with trackers inside. Give them out before prayer. Anyone who deviates from coming to mosque without shoes to going home with a shoe—bing! The alarm goes off. ‘Thou shalt not misstep.’”

Another friend, Engr. After I narrated the ordeal and my frustration to him, Aminu offered another way to tackle the situation. Honestly, I laughed so hard I almost missed the supplication after the prayer had ended. But knowing that Aminu wasn’t joking made me return to my senses. This is the same man who once suggested using goats to deliver medicine in rural villages, and almost got a grant for it from Melinda and Gates Foundation.

I imagined it immediately:
“Mosque Sole Security (MSS): Track Your Blessings from Sole to Soul.”
A startup powered by shame and GPS.

But there’s a deeper sadness here. When the masallaci, the house of Allah, becomes the hunting ground for pickpockets, it signals a spiritual recession. It’s no longer just a pair of stolen shoes—it’s a metaphor for the theft of morals, the robbery of conscience, and the hijacking of trust.

There’s a popular Yoruba saying, “Ti ile ba n bajẹ, a fi ti ile ni nko,” meaning, “When a home begins to decay, it starts from the inside.” And truly, if criminals now comfortably perform ablution before proceeding to commit theft, then we must urgently recalibrate our moral compass.

Let’s consider the ridiculousness: someone prays beside you, says “Ameen” with gusto, maybe even sheds a tear during supplication—and minutes later, he’s making off with your Bata sandals like a post-prayer souvenir. What kind of shame is that?

The Prophet (SAW) warned us of a time when people would pray like angels and live like devils. Perhaps this is what he meant.

Maybe the solution isn’t just CCTV or Musa’s high-tech slippers (although I’d donate to that GoFundMe). Perhaps we need something more profound—a revival of taqwa, of God-consciousness, in our lives. Because let’s be honest, even if we padlock the ablution area, thieves without fear of God will find a way to sin in style.

Perhaps we need to return to the basics—teaching our children that a stolen shoe, even if it fits, carries the burden of its last prayer. Reminding our youth that every crime committed under the minaret echoes louder in the heavens than those committed in the market square. And as elders, we must not be afraid to call out wrongdoing—even if the culprit looks like a saint in a turban.

Until then, dear reader, as you go for prayers, carry your faith boldly—but your shoes discreetly. I suggest you start wearing bathroom slippers, the type no thief would proudly wear. And if, by misfortune, you find yourself shoeless at the end of the prayer, don’t wail. Just smile and say: “May the thief walk straight into the path of repentance—and a pothole.”

And should you ever catch one red-handed, don’t beat him. Sit him down, offer him zobo and a hard chair, and give him a khutbah so fiery, even his ancestors would consider refunding your shoes.

Isah Dahiru is a pharmacist and can be reached via easerdahiru@gmail.com.