Northern Nigeria

By Muhammad Muhammad Salisu

Meet Professor Rudolf Gaudio (he has adopted a Hausa name, Sani), a professor of anthropology at the State University of New York, who started learning Hausa in the US in 1986. He had never visited any African country, not to mention any Hausaland, when he started speaking Hausa. His first contact with the Hausa people was in 1991 in Sudan before coming to Nigeria. He started learning Hausa alongside Swahili.

This reminds me of an Igbo girl at Nigerian Law School, Yenagoa campus. She was awestruck when she saw me speaking Hausa with another Igbo girl. She retorted, “So you can speak that ‘thing’?” From her tune, I could see that she thought it an abomination for the person I was speaking to speak the ‘Aboki language’. The person I was talking to speaks the Hausa language fluently, though was born and raised in Bauchi.

Another incident was when I took a tricycle in Yenagoa. The driver told me the fare, which I bargained for. He told me, “Ka cika son banza.” I was surprised at how an Igbo man (he later told me he was Igbo) could speak Hausa, though with a heavy accent.

One day, I was at a restaurant alone at the Yenagoa campus. Another co-student was sitting by himself and three other female students from the northern part of Nigeria were at another corner gossiping. They, along the line, turned their gossip on the other lad. They were making jest of him, believing he couldn’t speak Hausa. When it was time for him to leave, he bade farewell to them in Hausa, saying, “Na gode [probably for making jest of him], sai an jima.” (Meaning, “Thank you, goodbye.”)

Muhammad Muhammad Salisu wrote via muhdibnmuhd@gmail.com.

By Dr. Aliyu U. Tilde

History repeats itself, they say. However, that recurrence was less frequent in the history of rulers of Northern Nigeria. While historians can remember two, we may be at a point of witnessing the third.  

Sometime in December 1652, Muhammadu Kakuna, the 33^rd Sultan of Kano, was ousted under the influence of the powerful Maidaki Auwa, who installed her son, Soyaki. Kakuna retreated to Zaria and, within days, fought back his way to the throne just before the year ran out. That was the only time a ruler of Kano was restored.

In 1901, the British colonialists occupied Kontagora—tudu makwantar rikici—and deposed its 3^rd Emir, Ibrahim Nagwamatse, for his notorious slave expeditions. They installed his son. For some reason, after just two years, the British returned Ibrahim from exile in 1903 and made him the Sarkin Sudan, and he reigned until he died in 1929.  

Muhammadu Sanusi II, the 14^th Emir of Kano, may soon be the third. Like in the case of Kakuna, many saw his removal by Governor Abdullahi Umar Ganduje on the grounds of insubordination as a live specimen of highhandedness, intolerance, and vengeance. The Emir was arrested and banished to Loko, Nassarawa State, for confinement, an action which he successfully fought against before a federal high court in Abuja. On 30^th November 2020, the court declared the internment and the Emirate Council Law under which it was undertaken unconstitutional. It restored the fundamental rights of the deposed Emir to human dignity and personal liberty.  

In contrast to Maidaki Auwa of 1652, Governor Ganduje went beyond the Emir and balkanised the Emirate. He divided it into five independent emirates to prevent the emergence of any strong Emir of Kano in the future. This act of downgrading the system, the first of its kind since Bagauda founded Kano 1,025 years ago, is understandably repugnant to the Kano ruling family and many of its subjects. If the malware, they argue, had only changed the driver file—in this case, the Emir—the system could tolerate that and continue with the same speed. But corrupting the entire system files and downgrading its performance to a status of a photocopier cannot be tolerated. A ‘system restore’ is necessary.  

Restoring the Kano Emirate system to its 9 March 2020 date is now on the fingers of the new administration in the State. It will undoubtedly be greeted with mixed feelings in the next few days, especially as it will portend restoring its unified disk configuration and the deleted driver file.  

History is about to witness that restoration if the feelers from Kano are accurate. How the ancient city would absorb the heat of the operation and bounce back as one of the most important emirates in the region is a matter of immediate concern to its citizens. As Nigerians, we can only hope that it does so without boiling.

Dr Aliyu is a former Bauchi State Commissioner of Education. He can be reached via Twitter @Dr_AliyuTilde.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

My posting about MU Adamu’s 1968 paper on the influence of Arabs on Kano culture, economy and religious practices has ignited a few responses of personal nature from some readers interested in their own interconnected life stories. This is a follow-up and update.

I think it is wonderful that we begin to interrogate our past so that we can appreciate our present in order to make better plans for the future. We were all besotted with this implausible concept of ‘Hausa-Fulani’ that we tend to ignore other genetic tributaries that constitute the Hausa genetic pool, especially in Kano. Such Majma’al Bahrain is either unknown to many or ignored. Bringing it out means that the ethnic picture of the Hausa is more than the mingling of the Fulani genes with the Hausa – there were dashes of Arab in there thrown for good measure.

For the most part, the Arab voices had been silent. I think it is time for them to voice out their life histories in conversations with their elders. Not to further divide a monolithic Hausa society but demonstrate how the Hausa have been developing into distinct, absorptive people. Clearly, then Hausa is not a language but a people. Ask any individual in Kano with ‘Fulani’ or ‘Arab’ ancestorial roots, and they will tell you they are Hausa, ‘even though my grandmother is Fulani/Arab/Russian/Greek, etc.’

Let’s split hairs here. Having different languages but the same skin colour – whether you are black, white, brown, yellow or (if an alien) green, and submitting to the same central, national governing authority makes you ‘ethnic’. Having the same attributes but without recognition of national authority, only blood and kinship ties make you ‘tribal’. Separation across skin colour is a race, not an ethnic issue. Arabs are a separate race from Africans. So, what happens when the racial divide is crossed (bred)? Will a new ‘race’ emerge?

The Arabs’ contributions to the economy and culture of Kano are far more than any other ethnic group, including the Fulani. Consider the Yemeni alone and their massive contributions to the animal skin trade in northern Nigeria. Initially ‘imported’ as Italian trade agents from Yemen in the early 20th century, they have now become domesticated to the Hausa society. Yes, they are light-skinned, and quite a few speak Arabic; but the mid-generations have lost the Arabic language. As a ‘minority’ group, they intermarried with local African women and their offspring contributed to the sustainable development of culture and life in Hausa societies without the consciousness of being ‘the other’. What are then the cultural specificities that tie them to the Arab world? Can it be in dress, language, food, existential rites and rituals (birth, living, death)? How do theirs – if at all present – differ from those of the Hausa?

Then consider the Lebanese and their input into the goods and products found in various Kano markets – including their influence all over West Africa. They are less integrative with their African hosts but have been linguistically domesticated, and for all intents and purposes, many self-identify as Hausa and retain some living rituals (e.g., food habits). This is an area initially mapped out by Sabo Albasu’s monumental groundbreaking research, “The Lebanese in Kano” (which is based on his 1989 doctoral thesis), and unfortunately, not much else was done on such a scale by other people. I wish he could update and re-print it, as now, more than ever, is the time for it.

The Sudanese, more than the other Arabs, had integrated more effectively into northern Nigerian Hausa communities, perhaps due to the gradation in their skin colours – from extremely dark to extremely light – than either the Tripolitanians, Yemeni, Lebanese or Syrians/Jordanians, whose clearly light skins made them stand out in any group. Establishing themselves in the city of Kano at Sudawa (Sudanese settlement), they formed part of the identity of the Kano city populace.

The Sudanese influence was also more intellectual. While they were instrumental in trade, their main contribution was in education. For instance, when the School for Arabic Studies – undoubtedly the Oxford of Arabic Studies in Nigeria – was established in 1934, it was to Sudan that inspiration was sought, including the teachers. Even what later became Bayero University Kano was first headed by Abdullahi el-Tayyeb, a Sudanese. No talk of Sudan itself being a destination for studies at all levels by northern Nigerians. You don’t see such rush for education in Lebanon or Yemen.

While rummaging through the caverns of an old abandoned hard drive, I came across a booklet that Kantoma (Muhammad Uba Adamu) had asked me to extract from his “Confluences and Influences” as a standalone paper (presented in 1998) and later with additional material, as a booklet. We named it “The Presence of Arabs in Kano”. Lack of funding prevented its publication, but I was able to get it published as a paper in a book project. A link to the paper is given at the end of this posting.

For those interested, I have included the table (from the paper attached) of the 25 Arab-dominated Kano inner city wards. I did this because not many would have the time to read 43 pages of the paper!

Adamu, Abdalla Uba. 2014. The presence of Arabs in Kano. In A.I. Tanko & S. B. Momole (Eds.). Kano: Environment, Society and Development (pp. 125-164). London & Abuja: Adonis & Abbey Publishers.

Or: https://shorturl.at/dgzW0

By Jamilu Uba Adamu

Late Mallam Sa’adu Zungur (1915 – 1958) in his song Arewa Mulukiya ko Jamhuriya said;

“Ya Sarki Alhaji Bayero,

Ga Yan birni da Kanawiya.

Tun Bagauda na saran Kano, Suka fara fataucin dukiya.”

Kano State has been a trading and crucial commercial centre throughout its history.  History has shown that Kano has produced several wealthy individuals whose names will always be there in the annals of history.

The ability of Kano and its people (Kanawa) to create wealthy individuals did not start in this modern era. The likes of Madugu Indo Adakawa, Muhammadu Dan Agigi, Madugu Dangomba, Umaru Sharubutu, Mai Kano Agogo, Alhasasan Dantata, Adamu Jakada, Muhammad Nagoda and many others were among the wealthy individuals that Kano produced.

Late Alhaji Haruna Kundila (1810-1901) was known for his great wealth and fortune in the pre-colonial Kano during the reign of Emir Abdullahi Maje Karofi and his successor Emir Bello Ibrahim Dabo.

This popular Hausa saying attributed to him, “Ba na siyarwa ba ne; ya gagari Kundila”, means that there is nothing Kundila can’t afford to buy unless it is not for sale because of his massive wealth and purchasing power.

Haruna Kundila was born in 1810 at Makwarari Quarters in Kano city. 

The story about his source of wealth says that “one day when he came out from the house, he met Mallam Sidi (according to the story, Mallam Sidi is a pious, God-fearing Islamic teacher, and many people believe that he is a “Waliyyi” ). Mallam Sidi asked Kundila how he could help him get those that could evacuate his sewer pit. Kundila answered him positively.  When he checked and couldn’t find anyone to do the job, he decided to do it himself. When the Mallam returned and asked whether he had seen the people? He told him that the people had already come and done the work; Mallam Sidi asked him again, “How much were they supposed to be paid for the work? But suddenly, someone who witnessed how Kundila did the work alone intercedes and tells Mallam that Kundila did the work alone. When the Mallam heard that, he shook his head and said; To , Insha Allahu, duk inda warin masan nan ya buga gabas da yamma, kudu da arewa, sai ka yi suna, ka shahara an san ka “

History tells us that Haruna Kundila, who was a slave trader in those days, had trade relations with traders coming to Kano from foreign countries such as Mali, Sudan, Libya, Senegal, Damagaram, Agadas, Garwa, Duwala, Bamyo and Fallomi. 

In his heyday, no one in Kano has Kundila’s wealth. Kundila was rich and had estates by each city gate (Kofofi). It was said that he owned more than one thousand enslaved people. He was the wealthiest trader in nineteen century Kano. 

The name Kundila is because Haruna has a younger sister named Binta, who follows him at birth. After she grew up, one day, Haruna went home and found his sister in their mother’s room. He said to her, “Please, Binta, miko min kundina”. The sister started repeating the words “Ina kundina? Ina kundina? Since then, Kundila has followed him for the rest of his life. Until today, some government housing estates in Kano, such as Kundilar Zaria Road, bear the name.

It was said that when he died in 1901 (two years before the British conquest of Kano), Kano was shaken by the loss of one of the greatest wealthiest individuals in its history.

Jamilu Uba Adamu wrote from Kano via jamiluuba856@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Sulaiman Abdullahi, PhD

President Muhammadu Buhari has come and gone. It is believed that many Nigerians thought Buhari would be the best president of their lifetime. Even Baba Buhari himself assumed and pretended that he was the best. And he did his best; only that his best was not enough for Nigeria.

Baba accused all those before him, directly or indirectly, of mismanaging Nigeria. However, with all the accusations he heaped on others, Nigeria was technically and practically raped under his watch. It is even alleged that most of the suffering inflicted upon Nigeria and its innocent citizens was the handiwork of some of the closest associates of Buhari, including his family members. Some supporters claimed that his style was the best way to govern. They boasted that Buhari assigned competent hands to govern, and he never interfered. This assertion has many troubles, and I will mention only two.

First, it is wrong for any leader to assume that his workers or those he assigns to do a specific job for him are perfect. They are not, and no one is. And even if assuming they are, he is responsible for watching, gauging, supporting and assessing them. Buhari didn’t do that. He was just there sitting, flossing and picking his teeth.

Second, some of those assigned some responsibilities and some ministries during the Buhari era were not competent. Look at what Adamu Adamu and Ngige and some of their close allies did to education. Look at what Hadi Sirika did to aviation. Look at what Godwin Emifele did at the Central Bank of Nigeria. These are just a few among many. One would wonder how did that happen under Buhari’s watch.

When Nigerians voted for Buhari in 2015, most believed Nigeria’s worries of 1960 downwards would just vanish. There is a widely circulated story of someone who sold his generator, considering that the electricity would be fixed and that the generator would be a nuisance to him and occupy space. Buhari disappointed him and all other Nigerians in the energy sector. The electricity tariff was hiked unprecedentedly, to the corrupt extent of not even giving notice. They hiked it at their will without recourse to anything or fear of anyone. This was Buhari’s era.

Furthermore, according to what many Nigerians believe, had Buhari not become a president, many fools and even non-foolish among Nigerians would have tagged him “The best president that never is”! He came and went, and his performance shows he isn’t the best.

However, no one will occupy that seat without doing good, willy-nilly. Buhari did some things, but I don’t think he did it consciously. His undoing and the power of the seat made it happen, as Baba didn’t seem to care then. I can’t mention a lot, but I know he tried not to influence the 2023 elections in favour of his party. That single action should be emulated by all those who come after him.

Also, some of our airports look majestic but at the expense of our roads. Some think that it happened due to his excessive love of foreign trips. He couldn’t bear the sinister looks of our airports as he happens to be a constant, consistent and regular customer there.

The health sector received almost total neglect during Baba’s era. He knew about it very well as he shunned all Nigerian hospitals because his government abandoned them. The former president enjoyed robust, healthy and developed foreign medical healthcare when Nigerians died in Malaysia and lack of genuine Capenol. He didn’t care, and neither did he ever talk about it.

Wallahi Nigerians suffered a lot under his leadership. Inflation has never been bad, like how it grew big during Baba. Another thing that Nigerians may live to regret is their high hopes for Buhari’s government, which became a curse on them. The ordinary people with whom Buhari sided and dined when he looked for the seat lost him completely. He later started accusing them of laziness.

His non-strategic accusations to all classes of people in Nigeria started in phases and kept on changing based on the position he found himself. 

The first phase was when he was aspiring to be the President. Then, he tactically sided with the masses and openly demonstrated with them on the streets. He yelled at the PDP government and accused them of various things, and his government multiplied all the suffering. The second phase was when he became the president, accused all the Nigerian politicians, and painted them bad in the eyes of all Nigerians and the world.

Lastly, in the final phase, when he consolidated his grip on the leadership, he turned and accused all Nigerians, especially the youth and the masses he sided with and voted for him. He accused them of being lazy and full of enjoyment as if he didn’t want to see anyone enjoying and smiling!

He governed as if he was doing Nigerians a favour while most of those who supported him were either dying of hunger, kidnapped or wholly disoriented.

Nigerians from the North and South graciously excused many of Buhari’s excesses, thinking he would do wonders. Today is only a few days of President Bola Tinubu’s government, but he has taken some decisive actions which Buhari’s eight years couldn’t do.

We didn’t have high hopes for Tinubu initially, but we foresee and pray that his government will be better and more beneficial to Nigerians than the I-don’t-care government of Baba Buhari.

Dr Muhammad can be reached via @muhammadunfagge (Twitter) or email: muhammadunfagge@yahoo.com.

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu 

In 1968 I was a twelve-year-old whippersnapper and found solace in my father’s library (hate football and games anyway!). A journal, Kano Studies of the year, caught my attention because of the way my Dad held on to it. I fixed my sights on it, eventually opening it and trying to read it. Oh, I did, quite all right, but I did not understand half of what was written! However, I did not give up and continued perusing the journal. 

Eventually, during high school years, a couple of years down the road, I discovered what glued my late father, Muhammadu Uba Adamu, alias Kantoma, to that specific issue – his article. The article was titled “Some Notes on the Influence of North African Traders in Kano”. This time when I read it, it made sense. I found it fascinating, and I can genuinely say it planted the roots of historical interest in me. However, I was keener on race, culture and identity, and in particular, how new racial identities emerge as a result of what Kantoma himself later referred to as ‘confluence and influences.’

“Some Notes on the Influence of North African Traders in Kano”, as I was to discover later, was based on the methodology of what Victor Turner referred to as “the anthropology of experience”. Kantoma embedded himself in the Arab community (a bit easy to do, with an Agadesian grandmother) in the Alfindiki community in the heart of the city and close to his traditional family homestead at Daneji. It was through extremely loose focus group discussions that he was able to gather as much data as he could. And he was then a student of Political History at Ahmadu Bello University Kano (via Abdullahi Bayero College). 

Years later, I had the chance to befriend one of Kantoma’s teachers, John Lavers. He glowingly told me how excited he was with Kantoma’s initial paper and how he made a series of suggestions that eventually turned the paper into a classic. John Lavers was one of the founders and editors of Kano Studies. 

The paper was extensively revised by Kantoma as “Further notes on the influence of North African traders in Kano”. It was presented at the International Conference on Cultural Interaction and Integration Between North and Sub-Saharan Africa, Bayero University Kano, 4th–6th March 1998 – some thirty years after the original. Unfortunately, despite being the person who typed it up for him, I could not locate a copy (remember, we were using floppy drive storage in those ancient days!).

Some notes planted in me an interest in race, culture and identity and the interrogation of the specific gravity of racial identity in Africa. For instance, take a community of Tripolitanian Arabs who settled in Dandalin Turawa, Kano, right on the edge of the Kurmi market. Years later, they were no longer ‘Turawa’ but African – at least in colour and language, as most have also lost the Arabic language of their forebears. So, what exactly are they? Arabs? Hausa? Or do they create a crazy hyphenated identity – Hausa Arabs (like the ridiculous ‘Hausa Fulani’)?

So, I started my own anthropological trajectory by writing a proposal for a Stanford University (US) residency on Race, Culture and Identity. I wanted to map the six groups of Arab residents in Kano to determine how they self-identify – language or genes. These are Shuwa, Sudanese, Tripolitanians, Syrians, Lebanese, and the Yemeni. Again, Kantoma had much data on especially the Yemeni, in addition to his earlier Tripolitanian engagements.

For a few years, I worked with him to flesh out the project and even got some of the Yemeni elders interested in proper documentation of their community (as was done by S.U. Albasu in “The Lebanese in Kano”). I did not get the Stanford residency, and other things about the daily grind kept me away from the project, so I put it on hold! I can’t even locate the original proposal now. But who knows? Once I have a free year or so, I might rummage through some forgotten hard drives and see what lurks there and, if possible, get back into the race (pun intended!). 

Here, for your archival pleasure, is a gift from Kantoma pending a full-blown site that will have all his writings much later in the year (hopefully by Fall). Download from here:  https://bit.ly/3p2LeOx.

By Mukhtar Jarmajo 

The state of education in Bauchi state is in disarray as over 1.4 million children remain out of school, according to recent reports. This crisis manifests itself in the acute shortage of qualified teachers, inadequate infrastructure, and poor funding for education. The Gabchyari community in Darazo local government is a classic example of the sorry state of our education system.

The only primary and junior secondary school in this area, which has approximately 350 students, has just three teachers, as reported by The Nation Newspaper last Monday. This is a gross inadequacy, as it means that each teacher will be responsible for teaching over 100 students. This will invariably lead to overcrowding, poor quality of learning, and the inability of individual students to receive adequate attention and care.

The continual neglect and unwillingness of the government to provide quality education for our children is evident in the rising number of out-of-school children in the state. This growing trend should be of concern to well-meaning citizens of the state, as it poses a threat to our future and that of the nation.

The consequences of the education crisis in Bauchi state are far-reaching and multifaceted. The inability of these children to access quality education could lead to a high rate of poverty, unemployment, and a general lack of development in the state. We cannot continue to ignore the plight of these children, as they represent the future of our society, and their education is a fundamental human right.

It is, therefore, imperative that the government takes urgent steps to address this crisis. The government must invest more in education by providing adequate funding, training and recruiting qualified teachers and building more schools in rural areas where the majority of these children live.

The education crisis in Bauchi state is a ticking time bomb that needs to be diffused as soon as possible. As stakeholders and well-meaning citizens, we must continue to put pressure on the government at all levels to take education seriously as an essential tool for development and nation-building. The time to act is now before it is too late.

Jarmajo can be reached via dattuwamanga@gmail.com.

By Dr Shamsuddeen Sani

I thought The Lebanese in Kano: An Immigrant Community in a Hausa Society in the Colonial and Post-Colonial Periods merely contained a handful of newspaper tales. I was mistaken! Within its pages lies a meticulously researched body of work, a testament to the cultural heritage of Kano that begs to be savoured and preserved for generations to come. It has profound glimpses into the very foundations of Kano’s societal evolution as it illuminates the paramount role played by the Lebanese community in the rich Kano’s historical traditions.

This book, published in 1995 and authored by S.A. Albasu, unfolds with an intricate chronology of eight captivating chapters. As the introduction sets the stage, the initial chapter gracefully delves into the existing body of literature on migration, skilfully intertwining it with the historical fabric of West Africa and Nigeria. Embracing a tangent in the second chapter, Albasu illuminates the emigration of the Lebanese into Kano, beginning in the mid-19th century.

However, a pivotal juncture in Lebanese history within Kano emerged in 1920, a defining moment marked by profound geographical and religious divisions among the Lebanese migrants. The historical catalysts propelling Lebanese emigration into Nigeria were meticulously examined within this segment.

It becomes apparent that prior to the 1920s, the Lebanese immigrants in Kano predominantly belonged to the Maronite Christian community. It is only after this period that a demographic shift occurs, welcoming the arrival of Muslim Lebanese, particularly those of the Shiite sectarian extraction hailing from southern Lebanon. The book exposes the reader to the sociocultural intricacies of the Lebanese community’s towns of origin and unravels the fabric of their society, dispelling prevailing myths.

The entire Lebanese migration into Kano is thoughtfully categorised into four distinct phases, each meticulously explored with great detail: 1890-1903, 1903-1912, 1912-1920, and the 1930s during the tumultuous period of the great depression. Each of these phases represents a significant milestone in the history of the Lebanese community within Kano, as well as its impact on the city’s socioeconomic development.

Subsequent chapters of this book delve into the physical establishment of the Lebanese community, intricately entwined with crucial historical policies such as colonial taxation, the indirect rule system, and segregation policies.

Chapters four, five, and six embark on an exciting journey, covering the consolidation of the Lebanese community within Kano’s vibrant business milieu. From the thriving cattle trade to the realms of Kolanut and groundnut businesses, the book unfurls the profound influence of factors like colonial intervention, the upheaval of the Second World War, Nigeria’s independence, and the burgeoning national consciousness. The book has revelations of ground-breaking nature, leaving you enlightened and astounded, and for me, every piece seamlessly falls into place now.

By Prof. Abdussamad Umar Jibia

It is no longer news that Alhaji Bola Ahmad Tinubu has taken over as the President and Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Nigerians are always happy when there is a change of leadership because we are a hopeful people. It doesn’t matter that we have been disappointed and had our hopes dashed many times over. Most of us believe that it shall be different this time around. Nigerians believe that the hardship that immediately greeted the inauguration of President Tinubu due to removal of oil subsidy is only temporary. This only shows how optimistic our hope can be.

Party stalwarts who have participated in campaign and are important enough to be remembered by Mr. President are even more hopeful. Offices shall soon be shared. Ministerial appointments, advisors and other aides of the President, Boards membership, headship of Government agencies are some of the ‘gifts’ given to individuals who have shown enough commitment to the project of selling Mr. President and his party to Nigerians.

Another way in which politicians compensate states that gave them a large number of votes is situating infrastructural and empowerment projects. 

To become the President of Nigeria, Asiwaju, a National candidate, polled  8,794,726 votes  to defeat Atiku Abubakar and 16 other candidates, some of whose influence does not transcend their states of origin. Out of this number of votes, more than thirty percent came from the North West. Thus, if political support is important to Tinubu, and of course it is, he has an obligation to thank the people of North West and to practically acknowledge that they are his people.

Now, how is Tinubu supposed to compensate the North West? To answer this question it is important to note that only an insignificant few of the more than two million voters mentioned above are politicians who are expecting contracts or appointment to public offices from President BAT. Thus, while those appointments and contracts may or may not affect commoners in the North West, there are things that affect their lives for which they need the attention of Government.

President Tinubu has taken over at a time when banditry has exhausted and impoverished an average villager in the North Western part of Nigeria. Banditry began as cattle rustling by people who believe that only they have the right to own cattle. It then metamorphosed into full scale armed robbery and occupation. As I m writing this, there are many communities under bandits’ control. Many of them decided to submit willingly out of frustration since their Government has failed to provide them protection.

For communities that have not submitted to the bandits’ authority, the attacks continue.

To rationalize banditry, a number of false narratives have been created and spread by bandits and their sympathizers. For example, it is common to hear people saying that banditry was brought about by the unfair treatment given to nomadic Fulani for decades. Thus, according to this narrative, what we are witnessing today is a backlash of this unfair treatment. Some years ago, I had a reason to write a rejoinder to a group of Islamic scholars who bought into this narrative and, instead of calling on the Government to deal ruthlessly with bandits, were asking for fair treatment of nomads.

I don’t know of any group of Nigerians that is not complaining of unfair treatment. In fact, Nigerians, especially the proletariat, have for long been unfairly treated by the elites and the system they control. Does that mean every Nigerian should acquire arms and become armed robber? Surely no. Injustice does not justify crime. This narrative is thus faulty in every ramification. It is unfortunate that some people in Government have been deceived into accepting it.

Another narrative is that banditry taking place in the North West and North Central geopolitical zones is a fight between Hausa farmers and Fulani cattle-rearers. This is even as we saw travelers who are not Hausas being intercepted and burnt alive. We also saw Fulani cattle rearers  who refused to join criminal gangs being attacked and killed in their homes. Yet, the immediate past central Government bought into this narrative and asked Governors of the affected states to negotiate with bandits. If nothing else, those negotiations exposed the identity of the criminals. They appeared before press cameras and confessed their crimes and gave conditions to Government. They continued with their crimes almost immediately after the 2016 and 2019 peace accords. 

Another false narrative is that banditry is being executed by foreigners from other West African countries. Yet, during the failed peace negotiations all the bandit leaders were Nigerian Fulani whose ancestry is well known. In fact, all the bandits known to be operating in the North are like that. Now that they have occupied many rural communities their identities are even more exposed. 

This is the number one problem of the North Westerner that Tinubu should confront even if it means stepping on some of the biggest toes in this country.  Fortunately he has come at the same time with Governors who are interested in fighting crimes. In particular, the new Governors of Katsina and Kano have shown early signs that they mean business as far as crime-fighting is concerned. Working with them closely would help President Tinubu. Zamfara that has been serving as the hideout of bandits has also a new Governor.

Professor Abdussamad Umar Jibia wrote from Bayero University, Kano. He can be contacted via aujibia@gmail.com.

By Maryam Idris Bappa

Introduction

It was May 2023, and as I surfed the net for ideas on how to spend children’s day with my family, I imagined that my parents had likely not undergone this dilemma. I also realised it had been a decade since I considered myself part of Children’s Day. But, of course, I had once been a child, and I had once been celebrated. This prompted me to take a trip down memory lane to recall my childhood experiences.

The fact is that as of the early 2000s, there was no internet, to begin with. There were hardly any mobile phones in Nigeria or GSM,  as it was referred to back then. So scouting the net for activities was not a practice. Moreover, it was in the mid-2000s that landlines were domestically replaced with the GSM. So any planned activity had to be offline. And the news had to travel within a certain social circle.

News of any fancy activity was restricted to fancy neighbourhood kids who had arranged visits to fancy kids’ fairs, amusement parks and the rest of the hullabaloo typical of the elite social classes in their well-laid-out residences.

As for me, living in a neighbourhood of people from different socio-economic backgrounds meant I had to mingle with what was available. The only place where Children’s Day stimulated jubilee was the Western cultured school I attended outside the neighbourhood. This is because a foreigner co-founded it. The school organised march pasts by carefully selected participants who were expected to participate in school for the parade that day. The rest of us were given leave to remain home as a public holiday.

As one of the children staying home on Children’s Day, I vividly have no recollection of any activity significant to the occasion. Both my parents were working-class citizens who were exempted from the break. Nonetheless, any day off school was never a day wasted. Aside from that, the neighbourhood I grew up in comprised families of different social classes. Some with more exposure than others. That was where my home stood.

My Home

I lived in a few places in my childhood right before teenagerhood. But where my earliest conscious and vivid memories sprouted was from the age of five, when we moved to Gyallesu, Makama Road Zaria. There we lived until I became a decade old.

As mentioned earlier, my neighbourhood, Gyallesu, was a mixed neighbourhood of different socio-economic classes of families.

My home, a semi-detached three-bedroom duplex, comprised four families of similar cultural lineage. Like many post-colonial houses, the design had all rooms opening to living and dining quarters. With an indoor kitchen opening to a backdoor. There were also boys’ quarters of tenants of different ethnic groups, many of whom were students of an  FCE nearby. 

There was also a businesswoman who was very fond of me. As a tiringly interrogative child, I would arrest her time immediately when she returned from a journey and eagerly listened to her travelogues while munching on her gifts. She was good company, and I would spend many times in her single bedroom.

The other rooms that housed male student tenants were off-limits on adult orders. I was allowed only polite hellos, and any long conversation had to happen in the compound, under the vast open sky. The reason, which I assume many of you will know. But that is a different topic.

I also had friends within my compound.  The family we shared a wall with had a daughter roughly my age. We would play together in the mix,  attend Islamiyya, and sort out our differences. She was my best friend, and we would explore the neighbourhood outside the confines of our sizeable green-gated compound.

My Neighbourhood

Outside the compound of my home was a street I was not familiar with the name of. This access road ran abreast of my house to the east and west, joining the FCE and Makama roads.

Therefore, my closest neighbours were those along the same access road, on the same and opposite lane. Most houses there were working-class families whose children attended the same school as mine. We would sometimes go together or return the same. On the opposite lane was a polygamous home, a shop, a pharmacy and other homes. The families there were a bit different from ours. Quite content to keep to themselves.

The heart of Gyallesu was the Makama road, which stood perpendicular to one end of our street and was a tarred road bustling with majorly commercial activities. Along it stood provision stores, pharmacies, tailoring shops and a community school. Naturally, children attending the school would face a certain stigma and sometimes object of whispered ridicule by the more affluent kids. But how could the bullies have understood that those kids enjoyed decent education,  closer proximity and cheaper fees?

An essential presence in Gyallesu stood at the end of Makama Road. It was called the Banadeen gate, a security entrance gate to our neighbourhood. One that would be helpful in incidental unrest when the notorious Shi’a leader, also a resident of our neighbourhood, put up personal defences right at the gate. The Shiite presence would pose an internal threat constantly to the residents, yet a comfort during the external invasion. Moreover, the gate would only admit workers after clear identification, an added security point.

So, the neighbourhood contained most of the basic amenities necessary for daily activities. Moreover, security was good, and education was also an integral factor, for at its borders were the Ahmadu Bello University Kongo and the FCE.

One thing was sure. Gyallesu, in the early 2000s, was a very good neighbourhood with room for everyone. Its secure atmosphere allowed children to mingle freely within its streets. In those times, the best memories of my childhood were engraved.

The Chronicles

The choice of the word ‘Chronicle was indeed intentional. For in a child’s mind, the memories that stand out the most were those with the most adventure and mischief.

To say there were many memories of my childhood in Gyallesu is understated. But in the turbulence of these memories, as they filled my head with the sweet nectar of satisfaction, were memories that would corner a smile on my lips for one reason or another. Few among them were our play territories, Quranic learning school, extra-curricular activities and my earliest personal achievements.

1. Play territories

The first thing you should know about children playing in a neighbourhood is that their guardians always set limits or boundaries. The rush, unfortunately, was on breaking them.

Beyond our approved area of play, we would speedily cycle beyond the approved speed limit considered safe by our parents. This violation did not stop at going beyond approved distances but also to dangerous places.

Remember the water hole Simba and Nala went to after being told strictly by Mufasa not to? Yes, we could take our freshly air-pumped bicycles down dangerously steep slopes to go to a river our parents were likely not aware of its existence, spending hours practising jaw-dropping dares.

Thinking of the imagined thrashing we would get if caught was not worthy of stopping us. So we went anyway.

Children will be children.

2. Quranic learning school.

Mischief can be found everywhere, even in the least likely place. My compound friend and I were no exception.

Off Makama Road, we would take the road to our Islamiyya on foot, happily crunching at our remaining break funds we used to buy local delicacies and eat during lessons, which was, of course, frowned upon by teachers.

But the biggest mischief we would put up was finding a reason to race home after lessons. We ensured this by looking for trouble from one person or the other, who clownishly chased us off before my friend’s brother intervened and then threatened to report us back at home. But we would call off his bluff as we thought we also did him a favour by giving him a chance to play the hero of saving us.

We would hide any bruises gained from the ordeal from our parents to prevent further chastise.

3. Extra-Curricular Activities

When I say extracurricular activities, I imagine something productive we would engage in outside school and play.  

For me, this came as a collective effort by the children of my compound to engage in agricultural activities. We all painstakingly participated in planting mangoes and yams for our imagined consumption shortly. But, alas, our dream was to be short-lived as the neighbourhood goat would intervene and eat up our young sprouts, despite our attempts of barbed wire-fencing the young shoots.

This planted anger in our hearts and enacted our intentions for revenge. But, as fate would have it, the accused goat was caught in action. We took turns torturing the goat, which I would not explain. But in the end, it avoided our territory, and we never planted again.

Thinking of the incident brings satisfaction and shame to my now-adult mind. I have learned that the best memories may not always be the strongest but also the worst.

4. Personal Achievements

Above age five, I was beyond being celebrated for milestones. It had to come from something I did in school, at home, or religiously. This memory was from my first attempt at fasting.

At the age of 8, my competitive nature, typical of children, pushed me into attempting 13 hours without food or water.

As a first-timer, the hailing of my siblings and peers got me through the first 10 hours before my biological clock ticked time for protest.

I fought against all pleas and threats to complete the last hour of my fast. Fortunately for me, the Adhan for breaking fast was called just as the silver cup of pap I downed after finishing a plate of Akara touched the table. My mother declared that my fast was valid against the adverse remarks of my disappointed peers.

If you are wondering why I consider this a personal achievement. It is because I think my trial is my most outstanding achievement. The fact that I had not allowed myself to be peer-pressured into my self-prophesied untimely demise was a testament to my strong will and independence.

Conclusion.

Children’s Day may be celebrated differently among different generations. But every childhood is unique per individual.

Now a mother, the childhood I envision for my children is one I hope that someday they remember and cherish the experiences and lessons gained from it.

Happy children’s day to all the children, youth, adults and aged.

Maryam Idris Bappa can be contacted via bappamaryam6@gmail.com.