Northern Nigeria

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.

By Oladoja M.O

A peculiar tragedy defines the Nigerian state—a complete surrender of responsibility by those elected to bear it, a full-blown case of irresponsibility institutionalised at the highest levels. It is as if we are not being led at all. It is as if we are simply being watched, pitied, and narrated to. Our so-called leaders behave like helpless spectators, not as those with the authority to fix the very problems they moan about.

Shamefully, Nigeria lacks leadership. Instead, it has men and women who love the microphone more than the mandate. We are not governed; we are narrated. Commentators rule us.

Just days ago, a State Governor resurfaced with yet another alarming statement: that Boko Haram has infiltrated the government. Again. This is not the first time he has said something like this. Several times, he has come out to decry the killings, to point fingers, to lament the destruction. And every single time, one question keeps hanging in the air. What exactly has he, as the Chief Security Officer of the state, done about it? What has he changed? What systems has he challenged? What heads have rolled under his watch? Where is the real action beyond the endless news appearances and emotional speeches? It is not enough to wear a bulletproof vest and take a stroll in a burned village. That is not leadership. That is performance.

I mean, this individual is not a social media activist. He is not a political analyst. Not a powerless citizen. He is not a sympathiser. He is a sitting governor, for goodness’ sake! He has the resources, influence, and intelligence at his disposal. If all he can do is complain, then he has failed. And that is the bitter truth. Or how did the weight of office shrink to the mere performance of sympathy and public outrage? Because, for all I know, leaders do not just point to problems. They solve them. They don’t weep when the house burns. They command the water. But what we see here is the opposite. 

It is as if holding public office in Nigeria has been reduced to a loud-speaking exercise. The governor speaks. The senators speak. The representatives hold press conferences. Everybody speaks. But nobody leads. They describe problems they were empowered to solve, like detached observers, rather than active change agents. It is nauseating. It is tragic. It is dangerous because this governor is just one symptom of a far deeper rot. 

Nigeria’s leadership structure is littered with voices that echo sorrow and rage without ever lifting a finger to stop the bleeding. The National Assembly, for instance, has become a festival of talkers. Lawmakers who go to the chambers not to legislate, but to lament. Some of them even act as if their job is to criticise the government when in fact, they are the government. You hear them talk on TV and wonder if they were mistakenly sworn into opposition. These are people elected to craft laws, drive policies, and oversee the executive. Instead, they pick microphones and begin to “express worry”, “condemn in strong terms”, and “call on the federal government”, as though they are not the federal government themselves. It is embarrassing. It is pathetic. It is a national disgrace that the loudest voices in power are often the most passive in a country so battered.

And the tragedy is even louder when we look at the so-called new breed. For instance, Peter Obi has earned some Nigerians’ admiration because they see in him a departure from the past. But in reality, he’s just the same recycled blaming and deflecting game-player. Recently, when asked about the internal crisis tearing through the Labour Party, a party he is seen as the head of, his response was a flat finger-pointing exercise. He explained who caused what and who did what. Zero sense of responsibility. No ownership, nor a plan to fix it. Is it hard to understand that leadership is not explaining the problem but solving it? What are we banking on if someone aspiring to govern 200 million people cannot manage internal party squabbles?

Being soft-spoken and throwing statistics around is not leadership. Nigerians need people who carry the weight of responsibility and act with urgency, not people who are always ready with talking points. 

This country is bleeding. Virtually every region, every sector, every institution is either hoping to set into recovery or picking up the pieces. From poverty to insecurity, from joblessness to healthcare collapse, from fuel inflation to decaying infrastructure, we are a nation gasping for air. And what do our leaders do? They gather at events and in press briefings to express sympathy. They talk. They hold conferences. They issue long tweets. And then they disappear. It is now a full-blown epidemic. Everyone in power wants to talk about the problem. No one wants to be responsible for the solution. They love the headlines. They love the interviews. But they vanish when it is time for hard decisions, bold reforms, and deep accountability.

This is not what leadership looks like. Leadership means bearing the burden of others. It means thinking, planning, executing, sweating, failing, trying again, and never passing the buck. But Nigerian leaders today see power as a shield from responsibility. To them, power is for glory, not for duty. It is for the title, not for toil. And we, the people, must also take some blame. Because time after time, we bring these same people back. We vote them in. We defend them. We hail them. We wash, rinse, and repackage them for another round of useless governance. It is insanity.

A time must come, and it should be now, when Nigerians wake up to the bitter reality that democracy today is mostly a circus—a time when we say it clearly and loudly: enough with all the empty noise. We do not want more commentators, glorified orators, or prophets of doom in positions of power.

We want leadership. Real, practical, accountable leadership.

If you are in the office, your job is not to narrate the problem. Your job is to change it. If you are the governor and your people are being killed, we expect action, not pity. If you are a senator and the economy is crashing, we expect reform, not press conferences. Don’t blame others if you are a party leader and your house is on fire. Fix it. Nigeria can no longer afford leaders who vanish when it matters most. We cannot survive another decade of commentators posing as commanders. The country is on the brink, and what we need now are not voices of complaint, but minds of action and hearts of steel.

Until that happens, let the records reflect it. We are not being led. We are being narrated to. And that is the greatest insult of all.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com

By Dr. Muhammad Sulaiman Abdullahi

I was riding my electric bike and the engine was in an absolute silence, courtesy of China’s existence on earth, I passed some guys walking by the road side, and suddenly, I overheard one of them screamed out the word “technologia Alaji”, before I took it in, he screamed again, Tesla!

I was internally filled with joy as I was sure he was talking about my little angel, which I didn’t know it would make such an impact on anyone, though the young guy was a millennial. These set of people are fascinated by almost everything today. They find fun even in every sort of trash. The way they take trashes high is so funny and confusing. But my electric bike, though small, is something to attract their whole, I am sure of that.

After I passed, the word “technologia” keeps coming back to me and I just remembered Sarkin Mota, because the young guy mimicked him while screaming the words out.

Sarkin Mota is a Hausa term which can literally be rendered into English as King of Cars or Master of Cars or Owner of Cars or Seller of Cars or all these combined. In this case the guy who is called Sarkin Mota qualifies for all the above mentioned renditions.

I know of Sarkin Mota recently and I am sure he started trending not long ago. The guy was super talented in his unique, unprecedented and unpresidented humorous way of advertising his wares. His style was so tantalizing, timely and it coincides with the needs of the time. Added to this, the Tinubuconomics has angered most Nigerians and made them to think for simple alternatives. Boom… Sarkin Mota emerged with super cars, mostly from China but not in any way affordable by the “Civil Servants”!

The guy started by teasing civil servants whom are mostly today frustrated, angry, hungry and ridiculed from all angles, ranging from their employers, their managers, their community members and even sometimes from within their family structures. Civil servants are in trouble and Sarkin Mota teased them to sell his stuff without remorse identifying with them.

However, Sarkin Mota is sarcastically and truly right. Only some very few privileged civil servants who work in high places can afford the cheapest of his cars today. Others who can afford to purchase cars from him from among the civil servants may do so only with proceeds of corruption, looting or embezzlement. Therefore, the guy is truly right, it is only that too much of everything can be boring as well as hurting. It is not funny to keep banging and punching at one spot, it may end up becoming so fatal and brutal.

In Nigeria there are two types of civil servants today. The extremely poor civil servants and the super-rich civil servants. The extremely poor civil servants are those who work but cannot afford to buy what they need for their lives. They are of various categories. Those who can’t regularly fuel their cars and opt for two days fueling per week or even month. Some have already abandon their cars and opt for their legs. Those who cannot buy a bag of rice to feed their families. Those who are always on credit from the neighboring shop owners as a result of purchase of certain groceries, which they always collect on credit. Those who cannot pay their children school fees. Those who always hide when they see the landlord coming or ignore phone calls to avoid embarrassment. These are even regarded as tier two up, in as much as they eat, even if what they eat is not what they want. There are tier one, top tier, who cannot afford anything. They hardly eat. They barely have any form of enjoyment in Nigeria beside the air they inhale and the sky that covers them from the above. They just live and follow the time. These two categories form the majority of Nigerian civil servants today.

The extremely poor civil servants in Nigeria takes more than 95% of the civil servants’ population. Civil servants are suffering beyond any reasonable doubts. Sarkin Mota was just someone who is frowned at unnecessarily or was only targeted as a scapegoat. His sarcastic nature of dragging the civil servants in the mud was used by NOA to silence him. NOA is also another government agency, which I am pretty sure, harboring extremely poor civil servants who cannot afford to buy Salla rams for their families.

Though I reason with NOA especially if what they did is part of their mandate, I still find their misdirection of anger and warning as worthless.

Their letter should have been a dual sharp edge sword which should have called Sarkin Mota to order and drawn the attention of the government on how they reduce civil servants to being ridiculed by the business community. People look at the “branch” instead of digging deep in order to see the root of a problem! Sarkin Mota’s costly sarcastic style was as a result of what the government does, deliberately. Let us assume that Sarkin Mota was disrespectful, something that he debunked, and then would the government that forcibly pushed the civil servants into this sorry state be? Wicked and merciless, simple. There are no two way about this. He who beats you is more wicked than he who only laughs at you from afar.

What worsen Sarkin Mota’s sarcastic videos were the fact that some other Social Media copycats have already taken his style to another level. A ram, which is purportedly priced at one million naira, would be displayed, and after all the grandiose show off, a civil servant who cannot truly buy it will be dragged. Then, you would be surprised as against whom should a civil servant set his face now? This is someone deprived, wickedly and mercilessly, of all enjoyment and now little boys have made him as laughing stock on their empty social media trashes. On this, everyone must commend NOA for stopping this nonsense.

As for Sarkin Mota, I feel he has carved a niche for himself and has been recognized as one of the top dealers even when for sure, there may be many others above him, but yet unknown.

Aliyu Muhammad Sarkin Mota confirmed that his parents are civil servants and that he was not disrespectly and that he was just pulling their legs in an interview he granted to Channels TV. Also, in a new recent video where he displayed a convoy of electric cars, he didn’t mention civil servants again. He still maintained some of his major take always and insignias like technologia Alaji, but he didn’t mentioned civil servant. This is a sign that he had “repented”. Thanks to NOA’s intervention. But a question to NOA, does their intervention make civil servant to afford his cars?

Another take away from the Sarkin Mota’s style is his unique way of speaking English, especially “my buraza”, which makes him unique and original. This takes us to the resounding debate of English as a measure of intelligence. To Sarkin Mota, that isn’t even a topic of discussion, because he has a great command of the English language but he chooses not to sound like a grandchild of Kings Charles. He speaks in a very nice deep and lovely Nigerian accent which even if you don’t like, that doesn’t snatch a dime away from his celebrity status he attained.

Keep going Sarkin Mota! And may we see a day when ordinary primary school teachers can afford to buy the latest brand of cars you brag about, amen!

Muhammad writes from Kano Nigeria, and can be reached via, muhammadunfagge@yahoo.com

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.