Northern Nigeria

By Muhammad Lawal Ibrahim, PhD

Another brilliant mind has died. Another Nigerian professor, Prof. Abubakar Roko, has just been murdered by the state,not by bullets, nor by bandits, but by an unforgiving system, deliberate neglect, and a government that treats its academics like disposable rags. He needed ₦13 million for medical treatment abroad. After over 20 years of service to this so-called nation, he could not raise it. He lay bedridden, helpless, abandoned, and now he is dead. We must stop calling this “natural death.” This was murder by government negligence.

In a country that throws billions at political cronies, gives lawmakers millions in wardrobe allowances, and funds endless pilgrimages and jamborees, a professor had to be paraded online like a beggar, with students scrambling to raise funds just so their teacher might survive. Yet even that was insufficient. The system choked him to death slowly, much like it is doing to thousands of others right now.

Where are the salaries? 

As of this writing, tertiary institution workers are celebrating Sallah (Eid-ul-Adha) without salaries. Go and verify. Civil servants in other sectors have been paid weeks ago. But those who teach your children, those who write your policies, those who keep the soul of the country alive—are being starved like prisoners of war. And when it was reported that over 1,000 lecturers have died under this current administration, bootlickers and sycophants ask, “What killed them?” What killed them? What didn’t?

Sickness, hunger, depression, suicide, systemic poverty, lack of medical care, all wrapped in the evil legacy of Buhari’s betrayal and now Tinubu’s reign of economic terrorism, killed them and are still counting.

Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope” is academic genocide

Let’s not sugarcoat it. What’s happening in Nigeria’s higher education system today is academic genocide. The federal government has effectively declared war on the ivory tower. Salaries are frozen. Promotions are denied. Research is dead. Morale is nonexistent. Students are turning to fraud and crime. Lecturers are dying in silence, many too ashamed to beg for help. But yes, the president has just approved ₦90 billion for Hajj. Where is the justice in this madness?

A rotten elite and a silent society

The ruling class in Nigeria treats lecturers like slaves while flying abroad for their checkups, educating their children overseas, and stealing public funds to build mansions in Dubai. Meanwhile, professors die waiting for ₦13 million. We are ruled by demons in agbadas, celebrated by cowards, and enabled by silence.

What’s worse is that many Nigerians have been so brutalised that they now laugh off their own destruction. “Lecturers are always complaining.” Yes, because they are slowly being buried alive.

We will not forgive

To those in power, your days of immunity from truth are over. You will be remembered not as leaders, but as executioners. We will not forgive you for the lives you’ve ruined. Not in death. Not in history. Not in the court of God.

You have destroyed one of the few remaining sectors that held credibility in this country. And for what? Your greed? Your power games? Your bottomless stomachs?

Prof. Roko is dead, and I pray for Allah to accept his good, innocent soul into the highest level in paradise, amin. But this article is not about him alone. It is about every Nigerian academic suffering right now in silence. It is about every student being denied a future. It is about a nation killing its own brain and expecting to survive.

Enough is enough. Let this death be a curse on the conscience of every politician who has contributed to this decay.

Let this be a rallying cry for every Nigerian who still has a soul left.

Muhammad Lawal Ibrahim, PhD, wrote from ABU, Zaria, lawalabusalma@gmail.com.

By Malam Aminu Wase

Once upon a time, Plateau State was a beacon of peace and prosperity. Nestled in the heart of Nigeria, it was a place where nature, culture, and hospitality came together in perfect harmony. Tourists enjoyed its cool weather, striking landscapes, and vibrant local communities. The Tin City, as Jos was fondly called, bustled with life, creativity, and promise.

But the tragic eruptions of religious and ethnic crises turned that promise into pain. In just a few years, the spirit of unity that defined Plateau faded, and the state began slowly declining economically, socially, and psychologically. What once symbolised Nigeria’s peaceful coexistence became a cautionary tale.

As we reflect on what was lost, we must confront what can still be regained. The nostalgia we feel for those better days is not just sentimental—it is a reminder of what is possible when peace reigns. Plateau’s beauty remains, as does the enduring goodwill of its people. We need a collective recommitment to peace, tolerance, and shared progress.

Let us not be deceived: the divisions that tore through our communities were not inevitable. They were fanned by the greed and political ambition of a few elites, who found power in division. But the people have grown wiser. Today, Plateau has a growing desire to put those dark times behind us and rebuild a society anchored in unity and mutual respect.

The future of Plateau depends on us, ordinary citizens who choose dialogue over conflict, cooperation over suspicion. If we unite sincerely, we can restore trust, attract investment, and lay the foundation for a thriving economy. Peace is not a luxury—it is the bedrock of development.

With stability, there is no limit to what Plateau can achieve. Its tourism potential, agricultural wealth, and strategic location can be leveraged to turn it into a hub of economic activity, perhaps even rivalling global success stories like the UAE, in sha Allah.

Plateau belongs to all of us. It is our shared heritage and responsibility. The time to recover its lost glory is now.

By Usman Muhammad Salihu

I never truly grasped the danger of exposing personal information in the digital space until Mr. Yushau Shuaib, my boss and mentor, handed me a book—Born Digital: Understanding the First Generation of Digital Natives by John Palfrey and Urs Gasser. 

It was an eye-opener, full of prescient warnings about the hidden costs of living in a world where our lives are increasingly mediated by technology. Ironically, neither of us imagined that the warnings in that book would soon play out so personally, and so dramatically.

Mr. Shuaib, a respected public relations expert and founder of PRNigeria, participated in Senior Executive Course 47 at the National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS). On May 2, 2025, he was abruptly suspended from the course. 

His offence? Publishing articles highlighting and supporting President Bola Tinubu’s Digital and Blue Economy reforms. One article, “Understanding the ‘Blue’ in the Blue Economy,” praised the government’s innovative strides in marine resource development. 

Another, “NIPSS Goes Digital,” celebrated the institute’s transition to a paperless administrative system—part of Nigeria’s broader digital transformation agenda. While he did not write or edit the latter, it appeared on his media platform.

In response to his suspension, Mr. Shuaib petitioned the President, citing harassment, cyberbullying, and professional ostracism. He argued that the action was punitive and lacked due process. 

NIPSS, however, insisted he breached institutional policy by publishing materials related to the institute without clearance—a rule they claim he had previously been warned about.

But a chilling twist escalated the matter beyond internal disciplinary lines: PRNigeria’s editorial email account was allegedly compromised. Confidential communications between journalists and their sources, private story drafts, and editorial exchanges were reportedly accessed without consent. 

The intrusion, attributed to officials of the same institute that suspended Mr. Shuaib, raised serious ethical and legal concerns. This was no ordinary data breach. It directly violated professional boundaries, journalistic independence, and Nigeria’s own Cybercrime Act. 

It represented something more insidious than a lapse in judgment—it was, in many ways, a digital form of trespass. The incident sent ripples through the media and security circles. 

If an elite policy institute tasked with grooming Nigeria’s future strategic leaders could be implicated in such an act, what message does that send about our national commitment to digital ethics and the rule of law?

It is precisely the kind of scenario “Born Digital” warns about—a world where our private digital footprints are vulnerable not just to hackers or corporations but also to institutions that should be protecting those rights.

In one haunting passage, the authors write: “Young people who are living their lives mediated by digital technologies will pay a higher price, sometimes down the road, for the way privacy is handled in this converged, hybrid environment… 

“Most young people are extremely likely to leave something behind in cyberspace that will become a lot like a tattoo, something connected to them that they cannot get rid of later in life.”

That line has stayed with me because it is no longer just about young people; it is about all of us. Our identities, habits, preferences, locations, communications, and relationships are all being recorded, stored, and sometimes exploited through what are now known as digital dossiers.

These dossiers are detailed archives of our lives compiled by apps, platforms, websites, and even institutions. They are often created without our consent or awareness. While they promise convenience and personalised experiences, they also have profound risks.

Privacy has become a currency we are forced to spend for access. And increasingly, it is a luxury only a few can afford. The NIPSS breach is a wake-up call. It reveals the fragile boundaries between transparency and intrusion, policy enforcement and personal violation. 

It is a reminder that digital transformation must be matched by ethical responsibility and legal accountability. As a journalist, I have often lived under the illusion of digital safety. 

But as a parent, I now worry for my young daughter and the millions like her growing up in a world where data is your shadow—and sometimes, your shackle. We must do more. We must demand stronger data protection laws, foster a culture of privacy awareness, and hold institutions accountable, no matter how revered. 

Our digital world should not come at the cost of our humanity, dignity, or freedom. The threats are real, the consequences are near, and the time to act is now.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The academic community is mourning the passing of Professor Abubakar Roko, a respected lecturer in the Department of Computer Science, Faculty of Physical and Computing. He died after a period of illness, despite efforts made to secure advanced medical treatment abroad.

Professor Roko had been battling a critical health condition that required specialist care, prompting a crowdfunding campaign to support his medical trip to Cairo, Egypt. The campaign received overwhelming support from colleagues, students, friends, and well-wishers.

Notably, the Governor of Kano State, Engineer Abba Kabir Yusuf, contributed ₦5,000,000 to the cause, a gesture that was widely appreciated by the family and academic community.

In a message announcing his passing, the department expressed deep sorrow and extended heartfelt thanks to everyone who supported him during his time of need. “We are saddened to announce the demise of Professor Abubakar Roko… May Allah SWT reward you abundantly,” the statement read.

Prayers are being offered across the campus and beyond for the repose of his soul. “May Allah bestow His grace on him,” the department added.

Professor Roko is remembered not only for his academic excellence but also for his humility and dedication to the advancement of computer science education in Nigeria.

By Uzair Adam

Renowned academic and former Minister of Education and Petroleum, Professor Jubril Aminu, died at the age of 85.

The Daily Reality gathered that Professor Aminu passed away on Thursday in Abuja after a prolonged illness.

A prominent diplomat, medical doctor, and politician, Professor Aminu will be laid to rest in his hometown of Song Local Government Area, Adamawa State, following funeral prayers at 2:00 p.m. today at the Abuja National Mosque.

Professor Aminu’s career spanned decades of public service. He graduated from the University of Ibadan in 1965 as the best student from the University College Hospital (UCH), Ibadan.

He earned a PhD in Medicine from the Royal Postgraduate Medical School, London, in 1972.

He served as Minister of Education and later as Minister of Petroleum and Mineral Resources between 1989 and 1992. Professor Aminu was Nigeria’s Ambassador to the United States from 1999 to 2003 and represented Adamawa Central as a senator from 2003 to 2011.

He also participated as a delegate in the National Constitutional Conference from 1994 to 1995.

While leading the Petroleum Ministry, he was elected President of the African Petroleum Producers’ Organisation in 1991 and later served as President of the OPEC Conference from 1991 to 1992.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

In 2024, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu granted duty waivers for the importation of key food items such as rice, maize, wheat, sorghum, and others. This decision was intended to tackle soaring food prices and has indeed led to a significant drop in the prices of food commodities.

Yesterday, Friday May 15th 2025, the Chairman of BUA Group, Abdul Samad Rabiu, announced that his company is intensifying efforts to further reduce the prices of rice and other essential commodities. While this gesture may appear patriotic and commendable, it raises critical questions: Is Abdul Samad a farmer? Shouldn’t such statements about food pricing and availability come from actual farmers and those directly involved in food production?

To be fair, the massive and often irrational hoarding of food items by middlemen has created artificial scarcity and price hikes, which may have prompted  the  government intervention and Abdul Samad’s statement . However, these  efforts, though well-intentioned, highlight a deeper, systemic problem that cannot be solved by importation alone. 

The government’s current approach, focused on crashing food prices through imports, is hurting local farmers and ultimately unsustainable.

While reducing food prices is essential for national food security and the wellbeing of ordinary Nigerians, the pathway to achieving this goal must be rooted in empowering local producers. Farmers are the real drivers of food affordability. Without supporting them, any temporary relief brought by food imports will ‘collapse’ the local economy under the weight of neglected domestic agriculture.

President Tinubu should prioritize policies that strengthen local agricultural capacity. This includes granting duty waivers not just for imported food, but more importantly for farm inputs, such as seeds, fertilizers, equipment, and agrochemicals. Supporting local agrochemical manufacturers and agromerchant firms will boost productivity and reduce dependence on foreign inputs.

Moreover, providing farmers with easy access to affordable loans is critical. Many smallholder farmers lack the capital to invest in modern tools or expand their operations. Through targeted financing and robust extension services, the government can unleash the full potential of Nigeria’s agricultural sector. Though many farmers and officials have abused several well-intentioned government incentives for agribusinesses. 

If current policies continue to favor food importation over local production, the consequences could be dire. The economy may suffer, and Nigeria’s food security will become dangerously dependent on foreign nations. This dependency not only undermines national sovereignty but also exposes the country to global agricultural market shocks.

Agriculture remains an important sector of Nigeria’s economy. Farmers contribute roughly 25% to the nation’s GDP. It is also the largest employer of labor, with over 25 million people, about 30.1% of the total workforce engaged in the sector. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), more than 70% of Nigerians participate in agriculture in some form. 

Clearly, supporting local farming is not just about food, it is about livelihoods, national development, and economic stability.

Cheaper food prices are indeed crucial for Nigeria’s survival, but they must be achieved the right way, through robust, self-reliant, and locally-driven food production. Supporting and scaling small, medium large-scale farming across the country will naturally lead to lower prices, eliminate hoarding, increase food exports, and align with the Tinubu administration’s stated “Nigeria First” policy.

Food imports is a short-term fixes, now is the time to shift from to long-term solutions,

by putting farmers at the center of President Tinubu’s government food policies and programs 

Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja via zaymohd@yahoo.com.

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido, PhD

It was a warm afternoon in my office at the Zakah and Waqf Foundation in Gombe, and I had cleared my schedule for what was described as a “very important meeting.” A group of nine young professionals—doctors, nurses, and medical administrators—filed in with purposeful expressions. These were respected Muslim health workers in our community, competent and resourceful in their own rights, leading their Muslim body. 

They sat down, exchanged pleasantries, and after a few minutes, one of them cleared his throat and spoke. “We were hoping you could help us reach Qatar Charity. We want to build a mosque in our hospital.”

I paused. My mind raced not with criticism but with confusion. These were not poor villagers. These were professionals, all salaried, some likely earning above average. I asked gently, “How much will the mosque cost?”

“About ten million naira.”

“And how many Muslim staff do you have?”

“Roughly 500,” they responded.

I picked up a pen and scribbled something. “That’s twenty thousand naira each,” I said. “Divided over four months, that’s 5,000 naira per month.”

There was a short silence. “You don’t need Qatar Charity,” I told them. “You need yourselves; you need Gombe Charity.”

From my limited understanding, I explained that most international charities, like Qatar Charity, raise funds from within their own people first. They identify a problem in a country, develop a proposal, return to their citizens and say: “Donate to build a mosque in Nigeria.” If they can do that for us, why can’t we do it for ourselves? I then told them to put my name as the first donor of the twenty thousand naira to kickstart the project. 

That brief meeting offered a glimpse into a deeper issue—our chronic psychological dependence on external aid, even when we can act. The problem isn’t always material poverty; often, it’s a lack of belief in our collective strength—a poverty of the mind and will.

The Turkey Phenomenon: A Lesson Misunderstood

Take, for example, the popular trend in some Northern Nigerian states where applications pour into Turkish and other organisations for Qurbani (Udhiya) distributions. Turkish charities, may Allah reward them, buy cows and distribute meat during Eid.

But here’s a crucial question: Is this a model to emulate or one to reconsider? If every year, our people look outward to receive—and never inward to learn how to organise, fund, and distribute—we risk cultivating a culture of constant reception without reciprocity.

Islam is not a religion of passivity. It teaches us to act before asking, to solve before seeking, and to build with what is already in our hands. Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us that the upper hand is better than the lower one—the hand that gives is superior to the hand that receives.

The Al-Basar Example: From Vision to Visionary Impact

Now, let’s discuss a model worth following—Al-Basar International Foundation.

Al Basar International Foundation is a non-profit international NGO. Founded in 1989 by a group of concerned professionals. Al-Basar is a shining example of what happens when people come together to solve a problem themselves. Their focus? Combating preventable blindness across the Muslim world. No dependency. No grand donor campaigns. Just strategic self-mobilisation as well as waqf and collaborative mindset. 

It works in Yemen, Bangladesh, Sudan, Nigeria, Pakistan, etc. In Nigeria, for instance, a 2019 campaign funded by King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Centre in collaboration with Al Basar International Foundation saw medical volunteers from Saudi Arabia meet 8,000 eye patients and perform 800 eye surgeries to remove cataract and glaucoma in Ibadan, Nigeria, as well as in Lafia in Nasarawa State. 

The foundation manages the Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital in Kano state, Nigeria, where 4,000 free eye surgeries were carried out in 2021. The hospital treats eye conditions, including diabetic retinopathy. In 2022, Al Basar International Foundation, in collaboration with the King Salman Relief Center, sponsored 400 free cataract surgeries for residents of Kano, which took place at Makkah Eye Specialist Hospital. 

Over the years, Al Basar has conducted over 2,000 outreach programs worldwide, performed over 700,000 cataract surgeries, and dispensed nearly 2 million glasses. With 28 hospitals across six countries, the foundation has recorded 26 million outpatient visits. It also invests in education by establishing colleges to train eye care professionals, impacting Africa and Asia. Their school screening program has reached over 1 million children, providing immediate interventions and ensuring a comprehensive approach to their eye health.

Now ask yourself: is Al-Basar a government-funded operation? No. Did it start with foreign aid? No. It was “from them, by them, for them.” And now it is for us, too—because they nurtured it to the point where it could grow beyond them.

We should not only admire such models. We should replicate them.

Historical Echoes: Islamic Proofs of Self-Driven Solutions

Uthman ibn Affan (RA) and the Well of Rumah

When water scarcity plagued Medina, and a private owner monopolised a well, the Prophet (SAW) called for someone to purchase it for the Muslims. Uthman (RA) stepped up, bought the well, and made it a public waqf. He didn’t write to Yemen. He didn’t petition the Romans. He simply used what Allah had given him to solve a problem for Allah’s sake.

So, What Can We Do? A Homegrown Waqf Blueprint

If we genuinely want to stop relying on donors and start building resilient communities, here are practical steps:

Think Within, Act Within: Begin every solution by asking what the community already has—not what it lacks. Do you have professionals? Land? Skills? Social networks? Then, start from there.

Group Economic Self-Waqfing: Encourage professional groups (doctors, teachers, engineers, traders, lawyers) to dedicate a portion of monthly income to a fund. Even a modest 5,000 naira monthly from 100 people can generate sustainable capital. At Zakah and Waqf Foundation, we enjoy that from some professionals, and it works. 

Community Challenge Waqf: Identify a local challenge—maternal health, education for orphans, access to clean water—and collectively endow a waqf around it. Let the yield solve that problem perpetually.

Transparent Management Structures: Set up trustworthy waqf boards to manage resources. Trust fuels contribution. Accountability sustains it.

Celebrate Independence: Create cultural pride around self-funded projects. Showcase schools, hospitals, orphanages, and mosques built without a single foreign dime.

It is Time to Change the Script

Imagine if each LGA in Nigeria had one waqf-funded primary health centre, one vocational training centre, and one scholarship fund—all funded by local contributions from professionals, retirees, and small traders.

We would not be beggars. We would be builders.

It’s time to write a new story. One not of helplessness and application letters to foreign NGOs but of resolve, unity, and strategic giving. One of From Us, By Us, For Us—in the truest, most impactful sense.

When that story is told to future generations, they will say: There was a people who stopped waiting and started building.

Amir Lamido wrote from Gombe via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Ibrahim Inusa

Over the years, the Almajiri system of education has served as a traditional form of Islamic education in northern Nigeria, where young boys, often aged between 7 and 14, are sent far from home to memorise the Qur’an by their parents under the supervision of a Malam (teacher). While the system’s intent was to instil religious knowledge, encourage direct engagement in Islamic activities, and provide practical moral learning, it has largely become disconnected from its original purpose.

At present, the system has turned millions of pupils into nuisances, leaving most of them without literacy or numeracy skills. Pupils divide their day between reading and wandering the streets to beg for food and money, intended to cover their living and schooling costs. This model places the pupils in highly vulnerable situations, exposing them to all forms of exploitation and manipulation, and even rendering them a threat to national security.

The Almajiri system of education has been a cornerstone of learning for many Nigerian children. However, its implementation has raised concerns about child welfare, education, and human rights. As Nigeria strives for progress, it is essential to address the challenges within the Almajiri system. One major issue is the lack of regulation and oversight, which leaves children vulnerable to all forms of abuse.

Another significant challenge is the limited access to quality education. Traditional Almajiri schools focus solely on Islamic studies, neglecting secular subjects such as mathematics, science, and English. This restricted curriculum can hinder students’ ability to compete in the modern world. By incorporating modern subjects, Almajiri schools can offer students a more comprehensive education.

The Almajiri system also raises concerns about radicalisation. Some Almajiri schools may promote extremist ideologies, which can have far-reaching consequences. To mitigate this risk, it is essential to encourage critical thinking, tolerance, and inclusivity within Almajiri schools.

To reform the Almajiri system, a decisive approach is necessary. Government agencies, NGOs, and communities must collaborate to provide support for Almajiri students, including access to healthcare, nutrition, and protection from abuse. Almajiri schools should be encouraged to adopt a modern curriculum and teaching methods.

Furthermore, teachers and caregivers in Almajiri schools require training and support to provide a quality education. Community engagement is also important, and parents, guardians, and community leaders involved in decision-making processes are encouraged to prioritise children’s welfare and education.

The current Nigerian government can play a crucial role in reforming the Almajiri system through policy initiatives, such as the Almajiri Education Programme. However, more needs to be done to ensure effective implementation and sustainability. Long-term commitment to reform requires a sustained effort to improve the lives of Nigerian children. By working together, we can create a more inclusive, equitable, and prosperous society for all.

In conclusion, monitoring and evaluation mechanisms are essential for tracking progress, identifying challenges, and making adjustments to reform initiatives. Reforming the Almajiri system is a complex task that requires collaboration, commitment, and creativity. By working together, we can create a more just and equitable education system that benefits all Nigerian children.

Ibrahim Inusa writes from the Department of Mass Communication at Abubakar Tatari Ali Polytechnic Bauchi and can be reached via Ibrahiminusa216@gmail.com.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

They are both young boys, although one seems slightly older. From March to May 2025, they captured the attention and interests of Hausaphone social media with their radically different approaches to digital media visibility. In the process, they provided a template or script for the future of youth engagement in public culture and demonstrated the power of agency. 

Taranding in an open cesspool (Kabiru Isma’il, Kano).

The first was Kabiru Isma’il, better known as Kabeer2pac (apparently a fan of the late American rapper 2Pac Shakur).He had 1.8m followers and 15.1m likes on his TikTok account, which prominently displays his phone number (or that of his agent) for advertising purposes. His early videos clocked in millions of views. His most famous video, in which he shakes the dust off his body and jacket, has earned 51 million views. He devised two strategies to achieve this fame. 

His first videos were posted during the 2025 Ramadhan on 19 and 20th March 2025. In the videos, he was recorded immersed in a stagnant open cesspool of household wastewater (kwatami), dunking himself in it and smearing the sediments on his face. The videographer asked for his motives, and he replied he was doing so to “tarand” (trend) because he yearns for fame (ɗaukaka). He affirms he was not a lunatic. The video had 2.6 million views. He further explained that he resorted to this because his earlier attempts at trending were unsuccessful.

On 3rd April 2025, he switched from cesspool contents smearing to getting a sack of charcoal dust dumped on his head,which earned the video 14.8 million views. By then, his fame spread because the CoalDust video he posted two days later earned him 51 million views. His videos attracted Gwanki Travels and Tours International Ltd in Kaduna, who invited him and offered him a free ticket to perform the lesser Hajj, Umrah. Beaming with happiness, Kabeer2pac declared his gratitude that he had achieved the fame he had sought and had “taranded” very well. Of course, Gwanki also trended because they were riding on his coat-tail, as it were, to advertise their services.

Reactions to Kabeer2pac’s fame and fortune were varied but predictable. Most commentators were happy for him and took umbrage at any view that condemned his behaviour as unhealthy and unbecoming. Some Muslim clerics condemned him. Others were against the money spent on his Umrah, arguing that he was young and the money should be invested in either a trade or his education. His behaviour led to copycat copying. 

Quite soon after it started trending, copycats appeared in various guises, including a cesspool girl, from dousing themselves with petrol to set fire on themselves, to having cement blocks banged on their head, to immersing themselves in a stagnant pool of waste water. In one case, a young boy entered a soak away— all in their desire to “tarand” and possibly get a free Umrah ticket.

In an RFI video interview posted on 16th April 2025, Kabeer 2pac admitted that the possibility of his social media celebrity status is likely to be short-lived, as he understands that people will soon get bored with his antics and switch to something else. But for the period he was trending, he was happy with the endorsements he received and his branching out into comedies and short dancing skits in his trademark winter jacket. 

He has accurately anticipated the ephemeral nature of his antics. About two years ago, others who trended and quickly faded away were even more famous and established what I call “celebrification culture”. The first was Ale Rufa’i Bullgates, who devised his own currency, “Gangalion”. He was followed by Ale Umar Bush, whose speciality was foul-mouthing everyone around him. Each was given a social media celebrity status – private jets, fancy meals, endorsement deals by fancy local merchants. Ale Umar Bush seemed to have a Middle-Eastern “girlfriend”. People mocked their mental health and turned them into the theatre. That was probably why Kabeer2pac prefaced his first video by proclaiming that he was not mad. 

What motivates people to watch grisly events as lookie-loos, whether on screen or in physical spaces? Kabeer2pac’s audience can be called voyeuristic or spectator audiences. Odd or outlandish behaviour fascinates them because it provides novelty, entertainment, and sometimes a sense of shock or disbelief. Due to its unconventional nature, such content often triggers curiosity, amusement, or even a desire to share with others. 

Trending Young Dangote (Sadiq Usman Ahmed, Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna)

In contrast to Kabeer2pac, Sadiq was a street hawker in Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna, whom someone tagged Young Dangote. His nickname refers to the Hausa business mogul Aliko Dangote, the richest Black man in the world at the time. Anwar Textiles Ltd discovered him at a traffic stop in Kurmin Mashi, Kaduna, on 18th May 2025, when the young lad, who looks about 13 years old, was hawking car fresheners. 

Intrigued, the videographer asked how he started the business. Beaming an incredibly infectious smile (alone enough to make you buy his ware, even if you had no intention of doing so), he said he started with ₦300 with which he used to purchase cotton buds for ₦50 and sold for ₦70-₦100, before moving to products he bought for ₦350, selling at ₦500, happy with whatever profit he made. Gradually, his capital reached ₦5,000, then ₦1000, “har jari ya kai dubu hamsin cifi cif”/up to ₦50,000 neat. He said he prefers schooling to hawking, but poverty forced him into hawking. He relates this with a devastating, charming smile and enthusiasm for his current station in life, clearly with a business goal in mind. 

Touched by his resolve to improve his business, the video was posted on Anwar Textiles’ personal account and went viral. This impressed so many people (including the Pop Cola company in Kano) that they sent their widow’s mite to Anwar Textiles to improve the boy’s capital. Some asked for an account. In a very honourable way, Anwar Textiles traced the boy’s father. They recorded a video in which the father explained their happiness about the crowdsourcedfunding efforts made by Anwar Textiles. He emphasised that they were not begging for assistance as such (they were well off, but had a bad patch in life), but are grateful to those who contribute to the boy’s entrepreneurial ambitions. An account number was given. 

By 16th May 2025, Sadiq had over ₦300,000 capital and a larger basket to hold more products, which Anwar Textiles helped to purchase for him. The balance of the money was handed over to the father. He thanked Anwar Textiles for making it possible for people to know him. He displayed his new “mobile shop” and declared, “daga nan sai ƙasar waje, inshaa Allahu”/next, overseas, by God’s grace. He also stated his intention to go back to school soon. 

I find Anwar Textiles honourable. He located the boy, helped him, and supported his family. Importantly, he did not engage the boy in a gaudy marketing gimmick for his company, as done with Kabeer2pac. The boys’ marketing strategy was brilliant, as seen in a video posted a few days later in which he persuaded a motorist to buy more car fresheners than the customer actually intended to buy!

Both of these teenage boys demonstrate what personal resolve can achieve. Through social media, each person has attained something they wanted at the beginning of their lives. Kabeer2pac’s social media platform, which thrives on trends and viral content, where the unusual or unexpected can quickly gain traction through likes, shares, and comments, further amplifying its reach, worked perfectly well. He has the fame (ɗaukaka) he strives for. 

For Young Dangote, who has no social media presence (I even doubt if he has a phone, for he would probably plough the money into his business), we see what the power of crowdfunding and simple determination can do spontaneously. Comments from those who knew the family indicated that they were stable (as indeed even the father stated), but went through a bad patch. Instead of mourning their turbulent period, Sadiq dropped out of school, picked up a basket, got some money, bought car fresheners, and started hawking them at traffic stops. The rest, as they say, is a viral history. 

Social media can be a space for what Bala Muhammad (Adaidaita Sahu) at the DEEDS Book vs Screen May 2025 KHAIRUN Dialogue refers to as “digital iskanci”—or something else. Your judgment of each is, of course, personal.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

April is traditionally a month of pranks and laughter. But in Nigeria, the joke was on no one except, perhaps, on a nation whose security architecture is under siege from terrorists, bandits, and kidnappers.

Far from fearing our security operatives, criminal elements across the country displayed shocking audacity, reminding us that the battle for Nigeria’s soul remains bloody and unresolved.

In a horrific display of lawlessness, notorious bandit leader Bello Turji celebrated Eid in Sokoto by executing kidnapped victims, recording and broadcasting the gruesome act without fear of consequences. Across parts of Katsina, Kaduna, and Zamfara, bandits not only continued their reign of terror but have begun levying taxes and operating parallel governments in areas still supposedly under state control.

Compounding public anxiety, National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu made headlines when he advised families of kidnapped victims to “stop paying ransom.” While theoretically sound, the reality is far more brutal. Without swift and credible government intervention, desperate families have no option but to finance their tragedies. Until state forces can decisively rescue captives, this vicious cycle will continue.

In just one month, attacks escalated across Plateau, Kwara, and Benue States, leaving communities in mourning. Boko Haram and ISWAP insurgents resurfaced with deadly ambushes, signalling their continued relevance in Nigeria’s security equation.

April’s bloodshed has revealed operational lapses and a deep strategic and moral crisis. The Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA) must urgently intensify efforts, especially by working discreetly with rescued victims to extract intelligence, boost surveillance systems, and dismantle criminal networks worldwide.

While commendable successes by security operatives, such as rescuing hostages and recovering illegal arms, were recorded, they were dwarfed by the scale of atrocities witnessed within just 30 days.

The Department of State Services (DSS), often criticised and even facing calls for disbandment, must seize this moment to redeem itself. Encouragingly, recent commendations from the Plateau State Government and Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna for the DSS’s contributions to curbing insecurity suggest a glimmer of institutional reliability. Their successful arrests of gunrunners and dismantling of kidnapping syndicates are steps in the right direction.

Notably, the DSS also intercepted a British Army Major in Delta State attempting to smuggle 50 AK-47 rifles and ammunition—a major bust, and a signal that the service can perform under pressure. Their ability to withstand calls for the suspect’s release further strengthens public confidence.

Going forward, DSS and ONSA must strengthen collaboration through real-time joint operations, intelligence sharing, and visible outcomes. The Nigerian Intelligence Agency (NIA) also must integrate its overseas capabilities with ONSA’s domestic strategies. Today’s criminals are sophisticated—our response must be smarter.

Beyond the battlefield, Nigeria’s fight against corruption also demands attention. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) must intensify efforts with ongoing arrests of internet fraudsters and by pursuing justice in high-profile cases involving figures like Betta Edu and Sadiya Umar Farouq.

Regarding Aisha Achimugu’s case, the EFCC must adhere to due process and uphold its promise to act with diligence and integrity. Recent arrests, including that of Bauchi State Accountant General Sirajo Muhammad Jaja, show the commission is active, but visibility and transparency are critical.

Despite receiving accolades, such as the Government Spokesperson Award and the Courage in Justice and Transparency Award from the Nigerian Human Rights Community, EFCC must do more to recover funds stolen through schemes like CBEX. Collaborating with Interpol to dismantle international fraud networks and prevent future scams using forged EFCC certificates will reinforce the commission’s credibility locally and abroad.

Transparency is the only antidote to growing public cynicism about the Commission’s integrity.

The Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC), though laudably organising programs like its stakeholders’ meeting on accountability in local government, must now transition from talk to action. Corruption within Ministries, Departments, and Agencies (MDAs) remains rampant. A recent ICPC report showed that over 60% of corruption cases involved diverting healthcare funds—a scandal demanding decisive intervention.

April has ended, but the wounds it inflicted are still fresh. If we’ve learned anything, it is that the fear of the Nigerian state must be restored—not with hollow rhetoric, but through coordinated, courageous, and relentless action.

The enemies of Nigeria no longer fear our uniforms, our institutions, or the name “government.”

The time to act was yesterday. Today is already a dangerous gamble. Tomorrow may be too late.

Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a PRNigeria Fellow and author. He can be reached via exponentumera@gmail.com.