Phone Theft

By Suleiman Musa Yahaya Ikara

The jeopardy of thuggery and phone snatching in Kano State has evolved into a crisis, affecting the lives of students, as well as other residents in Kano. Just weeks ago, a student of Bayero University, Kano (BUK), became a victim during a routine trip in Dorayi.

This mounting violence threatens the safety, security, and well-being of residents, particularly in the metropolitan areas of Kano.

The Bayero University community has been thrown into mourning following the gruesome killing of a 300-level student, Umar Abdullahi Hafiz, by suspected phone snatchers. 

The incident occurred late Wednesday at the student’s off-campus residence in the Dorayi area of Kano metropolis.

Despite the crushing fear that spellbinds communities, remaining silent is not the positive alternative; being silent may simply refer to becoming the next victim of these brutal gangs that prey on the innocent souls.

From the streets of Danbare, Kofar Kabuga, Kofar Mata, Zoo Road, Dorayi, Rijiyar Lemo, Kurna and Gwagwarwa, terrifying reports of violence have become a daily routine. 

Street smashes, stabbings, daylight robberies, and innocent lives traumatised by mobs using axes, stones, and knives have turned these areas into unsafe districts. 

The brutality of these mobs, commonly known as practitioners of “fadan daba”, is more shocking.

Media platforms are flooding with illustrative graphics, videos and images portraying these violent incidents. 

Terrified witnesses film young thugs attacking victims who resist having their phones snatched, with many victims bleeding from multiple stab injuries. 

These vehement encounters are no longer isolated incidents but part of an alarming pattern that threatens the peace and stability of Kano.

Confirming the development in a statement on Thursday, the university’s Director of Public Affairs, Lamara Garba, stated that the institution has initiated a manhunt for the perpetrators in collaboration with security agencies.

“BUK Vice-Chancellor, Prof. Sagir Adamu Abbas, condemned the killing and vowed to work closely with law enforcement to ensure those responsible are brought to justice. He further urged students and staff to remain calm, assuring them of the institution’s commitment to their safety and security”.

Phone snatching has become a daily occurrence in Kano, often resulting in the loss of lives and injuries to innocent residents, just as in the case of Umar Abdullahi Hafiz.

This encounter serves as a sobering reminder of the escalating violence erupting anytime, anywhere, and of course ending in catastrophe in Kano.

This terrible act has ignited outrage across Kano. The fact that a well-known and respected educator could fall victim so brutally sends a clear message that no one is safe in the current climate of violence. 

Despite these efforts, the menace persists, the gangs’ deep-rooted networks rapidly replenish lost members, highlighting the inadequacy of enforcement alone. 

Underlying Political and socioeconomic challenges, including high unemployment, widespread drug abuse, and poor educational opportunities, fuel the cycle of crime and violence.

Need for Holistic Action

Security agencies cannot rely solely on arrests to resolve such enduring crises, which require a community-based approach. 

Strengthening community policing, empowering neighbourhood vigilante groups, improving local surveillance, and fostering trust between residents and law enforcement are critical for restoring safety.

By Isah Dahiru

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Faizah Suleiman

In Kano State, phone theft has become more than a petty crime. It’s a nightmare for residents who can barely go about their day without clutching their phones nervously. From bustling markets to quiet streets, no place seems safe anymore. The once vibrant and lively atmosphere of Kano is now shadowed by fear as criminals prey on unsuspecting victims.

But why has phone theft spiralled out of control, and what can we do about it? For many residents, phone theft stories are no longer distant tales but personal experiences. Abdullahi Musa, a trader at Kurmi Market, recalls how his phone was snatched in broad daylight.

“I was talking to a customer when two men on a motorcycle came out of nowhere. Before I could react, my phone was gone, and they disappeared into the crowd,” he said.

Sadly, Abdullahi’s story isn’t unique. It’s part of an alarming trend that affects students, workers, and businesspeople alike. These criminals are smart, fast, and ruthless, and they’ve turned Kano into a hunting ground. You might wonder why this is happening so often in Kano. Well, the reasons aren’t far-fetched.

First, economic hardship has pushed many young people into crime. With unemployment rates soaring, some see phone theft as a way to survive. A recent survey showed that 78% of Kano residents feel unsafe using their phones in public. This fear isn’t paranoia. It’s a reality.

Then, there’s the issue of the thriving black market. Places like Sabon Gari are notorious for dealing in stolen phones. These criminals know they can easily sell a stolen phone, often within hours.

Losing a phone isn’t just about losing a device; it’s about losing a lifeline. For many in Kano, their phones hold contacts, bank details, business deals, and even educational materials. A lost phone means a significant setback.

“I saved for months to buy that phone,” lamented Fatima Ahmed, a university student. “When it was stolen, I didn’t just lose my device; I lost my school notes, assignments, and peace of mind.”

It’s a vicious cycle. The more phones are stolen, the more fear spreads, and the more cautious people become, yet the thieves always seem one step ahead.

To their credit, the authorities haven’t been sitting idle. The Kano State Police Command has ramped up hotspot operations, recovering hundreds of stolen phones in 2024 alone. There’s also been a push for awareness campaigns, encouraging residents to secure their phones and activate tracking features like IMEI.

But there’s a problem. Many victims feel the response isn’t fast enough, and even when thieves are caught, they often face light punishments. This lack of consequences only emboldens the criminals.

So, how do we stop this? It will take the collaboration of everyone: government, police, communities, and individuals.

• We need more community policing. Vigilante groups working with the police can monitor neighbourhoods and markets.

• Harsher penalties must be imposed on those caught stealing phones. If the punishment is severe enough, it could deter others.

• The government should clamp down on illegal sales of secondhand phones. If stolen phones can’t be sold, the incentive to steal them disappears.

• As residents, we also have a role to play. We can make a difference by avoiding phone use in crowded areas, enabling phone tracking, and reporting suspicious activity.

Phone theft in Kano is more than just an inconvenience. It’s a threat to our security and peace of mind. It’s time we took a stand. The next time you see someone holding their phone tightly, remember: it’s not just a gadget they’re protecting; it’s a part of their life. Let’s work together to make Kano safe again.

Faizah Sulaiman wrote from Kano via suleimanfaizah01@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam

The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) has revealed that over 25 million phones were stolen in Nigeria between March 2023 and April 2024.

This is according to findings from the bureau’s Crime Experience and Security Perception Survey 2024.

The report highlighted that approximately 17,965,741 individuals experienced phone theft during the reference period, making it the most prevalent crime at the individual level.

It noted that 13.8% of Nigerians reported phone theft, which accounts for a significant proportion of the 21.4% of citizens who reported being victims of crime overall.

The survey further disclosed that seven out of every 10 stolen phones were taken either at home or in public spaces.

Despite this, less than 10% of victims reported these incidents to the police, citing various reasons for their reluctance.

Among those who reported, only 11.7% expressed satisfaction with the police response.

This report underscores the pervasive nature of phone theft in the country, emphasizing the need for improved security measures and better law enforcement responses.

By Muhammadu Sabiu  

A mob reportedly lynched Okolie Ahize, a final-year student from the Department of Civil Engineering at Obafemi Awolowo University, OAU, Ile-Ife. 

Ahize allegedly got hit for stealing a cell phone from the university’s Hall of Residence. It was learned that the student had been tortured and was declared dead upon arrival at the Obafemi Awolowo University Teaching Hospital Complex’s Emergency Medicine Department on Tuesday afternoon. 

A statement by the university’s Public Relations Officer, Abiodun Olanrewaju, reads, “The Administration of Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Osun State, has condemned, in strong terms, the incidence that led to the death of a part 5 student of the institution. 

“Preliminary investigation revealed that the student died of a mob action on the allegation that he stole a phone. 

“Saddened by this ugly development which he described as unfortunate, the Vice Chancellor, Professor Adebayo Simeon Bamire, has set up a committee to unravel the circumstances that led to this incident. 

“The action of the mob, being a violation of the law of the country and of the University regulations, has been reported to the police who have commenced investigations.”