Sokoto Caliphate

By Abdulrahman Sani

I went to Sudan to study Arabic. That was the beginning, simple and deliberate. But in truth, Arabic was only the surface. Sudan offered more than language. It stirred old questions I had carried with me since adolescence. Questions about memory, exile, and what remains after collapse.

My first encounter with the Sokoto Caliphate’s legacy wasn’t through archives or oral traditions. It was through theatre. I was in secondary school when I read Attahiru by Ahmad Yerima. The image of the Caliph fleeing colonial forces, defiant to the end, burned itself into my mind. I didn’t fully understand the politics then, but I felt the tragedy. That single text became a spark.

Later, I found the writings of Dr. Usman Bugaje, measured and searching. And then came Muhammad Shareef, the African American founder of Jamaa’at Danfodio in the United States, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing [here: https://youtu.be/_5Uj1S0lXQM?si=1BpJ9vusnW2HqWf4]. His writings were rich, wide-ranging, and full of overlooked geographies. It was through him that I first read about Maiurno, a small village in Sudan that held the echoes of Sokoto’s fall.

The very idea of it intrigued me. Remnants of the Caliphate had not only survived but also resettled, rebuilt, and renamed. I wanted to know what happened after Burmi. I wanted to know what exile looked like, generations later.

I mentioned this to my friend Malam Hassan, and soon after, we were on our way — me, him, and our guide. Before Maiurno, I spent some time in a Hausa village in Sudan. The familiarity was immediate. I saw areas named after Illela, heard idioms that sounded like home. It was as though Sokoto had sent a whisper into the desert, and it had echoed back in Sudanese tones.

Maiurno came into view quietly, without ceremony—a flat, sun-beaten village, carrying itself without fanfare. But history rarely announces itself. You feel it in the silences.

We made our way to the Sultan’s palace early in the morning. As we approached, an elderly man greeted me in Fulfulde. I hesitated, then responded in Arabic, admitting I didn’t understand. It was one of those quiet humiliations. A Fulani, abroad, unable to answer in the language of his own people. He smiled politely and said nothing.

We waited. There were others before us, people from another town in Sudan who had come to report a case. In the meantime, I noticed the crocodiles. Yes, crocodiles. They lay in their enclosure like royal guards, unmoving. It felt surreal but somehow fitting. The Sultan was no mere figurehead. He was the acknowledged leader of Hausa and Fulani communities in Sudan, a man of both presence and authority.

When he finally emerged, he received the guests before us. He listened without interruption or impatience. Then he settled their matter with a wisdom that didn’t need to explain itself. That kind of clarity is rare.

Then he turned to me.

I told him why I had come. I said I was interested in the Fodiyawa manuscripts said to be preserved in Sudan. He nodded with understanding, but explained that the key lay with the Sardauna of Maiurno, a scholar of great standing who, ironically, had travelled to Nigeria, my own country.

The Sultan was fluent in Hausa, Arabic, and Fulfulde. He spoke with the calm rhythm of someone used to being listened to. He smiled and said, “I know in Sokoto your Fulfulde doesn’t go beyond Balinjam.” It was said lightly, but it landed with accuracy.

He spoke of his relative, Professor Mukoshay, the author of the Fulani-Hausa dictionary. Then, briefly about Hayat ibn Sa‘id, a name that deserves more telling than time allowed. Before long, I realised I should be recording this. I asked his permission. He agreed with grace.

He began narrating how their ancestors had come to Maiurno after the fall of the Caliphate, how they had built their homes, mosques, and memory on Sudanese soil, and how they still kept contact with their families in Nigeria. He spoke too of the Jamaa’at Danfodio in America with quiet admiration, amused by how history had found new shapes and tongues.

After the conversation, he did something unexpected. He asked, gently, for my contact. I gave it. We shook hands, and I took my leave.

What struck me wasn’t just the story. It was the clarity with which he carried it. My visit to Maiurno took place in 2019. At the time, the country was in a fragile transitional moment, unsure of what lay ahead. But even then, the Sultan stood out–quiet, composed, and principled. In later years, during the war with the RSF militia, I would hear that he remained steadfast and stood with the state when others hesitated. The president himself visited to thank him.

Maiurno wasn’t just a trip. It was a quiet, necessary crossing, from curiosity to memory, from story to place. The Sokoto Caliphate may have fallen in Burmi, but it lives on. In names. In speech. In places like Maiurno, where its sons still remember.

Abdulrahman Sani can be reached via X: @philosopeace.

By Huzaifa Dokaji

When people reflect on the fall of the Sokoto Caliphate in 1903, they often conjure up images of British soldiers armed with the formidable Maxim gun on the left, juxtaposed with local inhabitants wielding swords, bows, and arrows on the right, fervently chanting “Allahu akbar.” Unfortunately, this portrayal does not align with historical reality. The foot soldiers were mainly Africans, while Europeans primarily served as commanders and strategists rather than frontline combatants. The bulk of the invading forces were drawn from previously subjugated regions, frequently comprising individuals from the target community itself.

As demonstrated by Philip Afaedie’s PhD thesis, The Hidden Hand of Overrule: Political Agents and the Establishment of British Colonial Rule in Northern Nigeria, 1886–1914, individuals such as Adamu Jakada established their reputations and livelihoods by providing valuable intelligence to European forces. In the case of Kano, for instance, Ciroman Kano Abdu Lele, the son of Emir Kano Tukur (reigned 1893–1895), supported the British invasion in exchange for their promise to restore him to the Kano throne, which his family had lost after the Kano Civil War (1893–1895), known as the Basasa (of course they didn’t honour the agreement after the war!). Others, driven by diverse motivations, also aligned themselves with the British cause.

As recounted by Baba of Karo to Mary Smith (see Baba of Karo: A Woman of the Hausa Muslim), people in rural areas, fed up with pervasive political and social corruption, celebrated colonial conquest with a popular song, “Nasara kun dade ba ku zo ba”. The Resident of Kano also noted in an intelligence report to the British acting High Commissioner on July 9th, 1903, that the peasantry embraced British conquest due to their deep-seated resentment towards their rulers. “Nasara kun dade ba ku zo ba” carries more profound implications than its composers may have intended. Scholars like Murray Last (1967), Rudolph Ware (2014) and Paul Lovejoy (2016), along with others, have shown us how and why the Sokoto Jihad was one of the most important political and social revolutions of the 19th century, thanks to the egalitarian nature of its goals. However, Nasara kun dade ba ku zo ba demonstrates how such ideals were lost by the closing decade of the century, prompting common people to seek refuge in the hands of Christians. Nevertheless, the intellectual class remained committed to their quest for an egalitarian society through the Islamic ideological vehicle.

M.S. Umar’s seminal work, Islam and Colonialism: Intellectual Responses of Muslims of Northern Nigeria to British Colonial Rule, has powerfully shown us how such intellectuals reacted to British colonial conquest and the various strategies they adopted to challenge it. They saw it as temporary—God’s wrath upon an erring community. Defining the conquest as a temporary setback, the grand vizier of the Sokoto Caliphate equated it to the shaving of a beard.

In his poems titled Nuzhah and Intisaf, Sheikh Yahya an-Naffakh (b. 1898 and known as Malam) described the British conquest as the ‘triumph of absurdity’ caused by scholars who have replaced ‘the humility of Knowledge with the stupidity of ignorance’ and rulers who have exchanged ‘the wisdom of governance with the arrogance of past glory’. Malam himself came from a family that was a victim of such crass anarchy. The winning side of the Kano Civil War imprisoned his father, who was a legitimist. A young Malam secured his release by writing a petition to the Resident of Kano, Mr. Palmer, advocating against the unjust imprisonment.

Although oral traditions suggest that Dan Fodio prophesied the fall of the Caliphate to European Christians, it is more plausible that news of their encroachment reached Sokoto through traders and pilgrims travelling the trans-Saharan trade routes, ultimately reaching Mecca. For instance, in the early 19th century, the influential Lagos trader Madam Tinubu sent a letter to the Caliph of Sokoto, Bello dan Fodio, informing him of European activities along the coast. Furthermore, Paul Lovejoy’s research on Umar el-Fellati reveals that Fellati witnessed the British occupation of Egypt in 1882 and even acted as a double agent, providing the British with information about the Caliphate while simultaneously reporting on British activities in Northern Africa.

Huzaifa Dokaji is a PhD student and teaching assistant at the Department of History, State University of New York at Sony Brook. He can be reached via huzaifa.dokaji@stonybrook.edu.

By Ibrahim Abubakar

In the late 1890s, my great-grandfather narrowly escaped the evil claws of the Mahdi’s hostile and belligerent lieutenant, Rabeh Bn Fadlallah, who had invaded Borno to spread the Mahdist ideology. They sacked the empire’s capital of Kukawa, captured and executed Sheikh of Borno, and enslaved many people. This martial excess sent trembles across the land, and many thought it wise to migrate westward into the Sokoto Caliphate for safety. Among those who migrated to the Caliphate was my great-grandfather, Mamadou. Of its two dozen emirates, Mamadou chose Kano as his refuge.

Kano was the jewel of the Sahel, a centre of trade and commerce with walls 50 feet high and immensely thick, surrounded by a deep artificial gully making it an impenetrable fortress; a marvel to behold! It is this sense of security and opportunity, I believe, that made Kano a desirable place for my ancestors.

During colonial times, Kano increased in its majesty. The British administration modernised trade and industry, built hospitals, schools, and railways and improved the justice system by integrating and superbly implementing strategies that supported the rule of law and ameliorated the superficial old system. Kano’s commercial strategies were carefully designed to produce a positive net economic effect. For example, hide, skin, groundnut, animal feeds, meat and textile were exported to Britain. These export plans were supported by long-term government programmes that continued into post-independence Kano.

According to a World Bank report, Kano State’s mainstay is agriculture. It employs about 60% to 70% of the population producing rice, maize, millet, groundnut, beans, etc. Livestock production is another source of income for the farmers. The industrial output is from oil mills, textiles, tanneries, flour mills, and several others.

As the centre of commerce, Kano handles about 75% of finished goods from Lagos, Ogun, and Oyo industries. These are distributed to all the northern states and the neighbouring states of Niger, Cameroon, Chad, etc. From Kano, the following are exported: semi-finished leather, cotton lint, gum, hibiscus, sesame seeds and other minor items. All of the above have immensely contributed to enhancing Kano’s GDP as one of the highest in the country.

Unfortunately, the contemporary situation is rather bleak. Most of the factories have closed or have reduced their production capacity. Kano had about 30 tanneries producing over 45 million goats and sheep skins for export. In addition, over 7 million cattle hides were processed as finished leather for making shoes and other leather goods. However, there are only a dozen tanneries in production today. As for cattle hides, 90% of it is consumed in southwestern Nigeria as Ponmo or Ganda. In addition, cattle hides are imported from neighbouring countries and Mali, CAR, Sudan, and Saudi Arabia. The last textile to close was Angel Spinning and Dyeing Limited.

It is not a hidden fact that education has crumbled in recent years. Many children in Kano are poorly educated (the lucky ones?) and without a solution in sight. Although I am aware that education has exacerbated globally, for example, my father, 48 years older than me, is better educated in most branches of general learning. Kano is in the top five states in the country with substantial numbers of out-of-school children.

Healthcare facilities across the state are in a deplorable state. For example, the last time I visited the A&E department of a general hospital in Kano, I was sickened by the gruesome sight of accident victims on the floor, literally bleeding to death. In addition, there is an enormous disparity in the doctor-to-patient ratio, albeit not the worse in the country. It is, however, in the top ten states lacking doctors, with a ratio of 1 doctor for every 14,123 persons. To put it into perspective, the UN standard doctor-to-patient ratio is 1:600.

Kano used to be safe. Growing up, very few isolated incidences of theft were heard of in the city. Today, people get robbed in broad daylight. Thieves with sharp knives of all shapes and sizes attack people on the streets to rob them of their phones and other belongings; those who refuse to comply are fatally stabbed without remorse. Rape cases are rising exponentially. This year alone, over 1,300 cases of rape were reported. It is sad to see Kano vitiated.

The Kano of my dreams is the Kano my great-grandfather fell in love with. A Kano where there is opportunity and hope for everyone regardless of gender, ethnicity, or religion. A Kano where I feel safe walking any street at any hour of the day or night. A Kano where women can feel comfortable around men without fearing harassment or misogyny. A Kano with subsidised agricultural products such as fertilisers and an established avenue for creating liaisons with agencies that will be responsible for borrowing funds from the banks of industry and agriculture for the benefit of farmers, and this will increase productivity as well as employment.

Similarly, the Kano of my dreams will create an investment agency to secure funds from the Bank of Industry for the closed tanneries/factories and companies at low capacity. This will enhance business activity and employment. Furthermore, the Kano of my dreams will utilise Tiga Dam power generation to supply electricity to the industrial areas of the state and set a good precedence for the future supply of power to the entire state, either through hydroelectricity, solar energy, or thermal power.

The Kano of my dreams is a Kano where children are given quality education regardless of the social and economic status of the family they come from. A Kano where children do not go around begging for food on the streets. The Kano of my dreams is a Kano where hospitals are abundant, and doctors, nurses and other healthcare workers have all the needed equipment to make their jobs easier. A Kano where the large, proposed sports complex at Kofar Na’isa is turned into a colossal state-of-the-art medical centre to cater for the entire country. A Kano where neighbours assist one another.

I dream of a Kano where the rich invest more in local small-scale industries to boost production and employment rather than holidaying abroad and boosting the economy of the colonial order neglecting their brothers and sisters at home languishing in abject poverty. Lastly, the Kano of my dreams will have excellent and selfless leaders that genuinely care about the advancement of the state and will put in their utmost to see to it becoming the gem that it was, if not better than it was in days of yore. In sha Allah!

Ibrahim Abubakar won the 2^nd position in the 2022 “The Kano of my dream” writing competition jointly organised by Muhsin Ibrahim, PhD, and The Daily Reality online newspaper. He can be reached via ibrahimabubakhr@gmail.com.

By Dr Raji Bello

The past few years have witnessed a gradual emergence of references in public commentary and social media to a potential or actual rupture of relations between Hausa and Fulani groups in the Northwest geopolitical zone of Nigeria. Prior to this, the two groups had enjoyed a largely harmonious relationship for much of their history which was only punctuated during the period of the establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate.

Since Nigeria came into being at the turn of the 20th century, conflict between the two groups was limited to occasional farmer/herder disputes. While the region has distinct Hausa (majority) and Fulani (minority) communities in the rural areas, the urban centres tend to have mostly mixed populations united by the Hausa language and Islam, which eliminates the possibility of ethnic conflict.

The idea of Hausa/Fulani antagonism began to emerge several years ago in the commentaries of individuals from outside the North like Femi Fani-Kayode and Nnamdi Kanu who relished in promoting it as a potential tool for undermining northern hegemony, as they saw it. But recent developments in the Northwest like the emirship succession in Kano and Zazzau, and the violent conflict between rural Fulani and Hausa vigilante groups as well as the wave of banditry against local communities by Fulani elements has created narratives of Hausa/Fulani conflict among northerners themselves.

As we acknowledge this new reality, it is also important to recognise that there are two strands of these narratives out there and the motives of those who articulate each of them are different. I will group them into non-extremist and extremist narratives.

Non-extremist narratives

These are propagated by ordinary Hausa citizens who are concerned by what they see as the continued suppression of Hausa identity and prestige as well as threats to the security of Hausa communities in parts of the Northwest as a result of banditry. They hold an unfavourable view of the existence of exclusively Fulani traditional ruling dynasties in Hausa-dominated emirates like Kano, Katsina, and Zazzau which were established when the Sokoto Caliphate came into being over 200 years ago. They object to the references that are often made to the Fulani heritage of the emirs (although I believe that this is not done out of ethnic chauvinism but because of a need for historical accuracy). These are concerns that the state governments in the Northwest can engage, with a view to introducing reforms that would assuage negative feelings and lead to a more harmonious society.

Traditional institutions play a vital role in preserving our heritage but for some segments of society, they may also be permanent reminders of an unpalatable past. It is the responsibility of modern day governments to ensure that they strike a balance between the two i.e. preserving heritage while not alienating some segments of society.

Reforms could be introduced that would formally recognise and integrate the legacies of the pre-Caliphate Hausa emirs. Like a contributor Aliyu Ammani has suggested in a Daily Trust article, Hausa ruling houses could be included as contenders during succession to the emirships; our governors are fond of creating new emirates where they didn’t exist before and therefore, they should not find it difficult to create new ruling houses within the existing emirates. The Sokoto state government may also consider elevating the status of the Sarkin Gobir of Sabon Birni – the ancient Hausa kingdom of Gobir being the epicentre of the Sokoto Jihad.

Governments have a duty to recognise and preserve heritage holistically; the heritage of some segments of society should not be elevated over those of others in a post-Caliphate and post-colonial nation state. This is a recipe for entrenching communal tension and possible conflict. The Northwest governments should collectively nip these emerging issues in the bud and not allow them to fester and grow into major problems in the future.

I expect some readers to either say that these suggestions are too radical or that they will be impossible to implement. I’m used to hearing this from reform-shy Nigerians who like things to remain just as they are even when the existing situation is pushing us towards the edge of the cliff.

The second cause for concern is, of course, the ongoing wave of banditry against local Hausa communities in many parts of the Northwest in which Fulani elements are major actors. However, this is not primarily an ethnic conflict; if communities that have lived in peace for generations are now locked in violent conflict we need to scratch below the surface to find the actual causes.

The banditry is a symptom of the failure of governance at various levels. Even a report commissioned by the Zamfara state government (the MD Abubakar-led committee) has alluded to that by indicting former governors, top government officials, traditional rulers and members of the security services. There are chronic issues with agricultural land management, law enforcement capacity, corruption and maladministration by local officials and traditional rulers.

The lack of a long term plan by successive federal and state governments for transitioning nomadic pastoralists to modern and sustainable livelihoods is itself an evidence of leadership failure. While people are entitled to show concern about the apparent ethnic divide in the conflict, it is clear that it is not fundamentally an ethnic one.

Extremist narratives

These are deeply inciting and apocalyptic portrayals of the state of Hausa/Fulani relations in the Northwest which are propagated on the internet by people with no apparent desire for peaceful co-existence. Their aim seems to be to incite a major upheaval in order to undermine the fabric of society. They are a faceless mix of anarchists, genocide entrepreneurs and probably, people with a religious agenda. They often start their narratives by depicting the arrival of the Fulani in Hausa land hundreds of years ago as an invasion, then portray Usman Danfodio as the original Fulani bandit leader before dwelling on their favourite topic of interrogating the validity of Hausa-Fulani as a descriptive term for a segment of the population of the Northwest. They hide behind a veneer of seductive Hausa ethnic nationalism but their true agenda is to engineer maximum disruption in the Northwest which they hope would serve their interests.

There is a YouTube site and a Facebook page dedicated to the project (yes, it does appear to be a well-funded project) and I have viewed a few of their videos. Some of the voices on the videos bear distinct Nigerien accents (with French-influenced pronunciations) and some of their messages give a hint that they are non-Muslim Hausas. One of the voices called for unity among Hausa people of all faiths – Muslim, Christian and pagan to confront the Fulani threat, as they saw it. From my knowledge of northern Nigerians, it is very unlikely that a Hausa Muslim Nigerian would call for unity between Hausa Muslims and Hausa pagans considering how paganism is viewed in Islam. A Hausa individual who makes this call is likely to be a non-Muslim. And if those behind the extremist messages on the internet are non-Muslim Hausas, the question arises about whether they are working for a religious agenda or not. By saying “non-Muslim Hausas” I’m not necessarily alluding to the Hausa Christian community; there are also a small but assertive number of Hausa atheists and modern day pagans who are not necessarily enamoured of the prevailing order in Northwest society. If anyone feels that I’m being alarmist here, they should visit the YouTube channel of Jaruma Hausa Tv and listen to the messages themselves.

Conclusion

Authorities in the Northwest need to face the new reality of tension and misgivings between the hitherto harmonious communities of Hausa and Fulani. There are issues that are germane (the exclusivist Caliphate traditional dynasties in some of the Northwest emirates and the ongoing banditry) behind the new unease in ethnic relations which need to be actively addressed, in order to re-establish harmony. But it should also be recognised that not all those who are currently pushing narratives of Hausa/Fulani conflict or Hausa nationalism on the internet are working for peaceful co-existence. Some of them are merely exploiting contemporary issues in the Northwest to achieve their own dark agenda.

By Kabir Fagge Ali

Almajiri is a system of Islamic education practised primarily in Northern Nigeria. The term is also used to denote a person who is taught or undergoing learning within this system called “Almajiranci.”

Almajiri is derived from the Arabic “Al-Muhajjirun”, an “Emigrant” who migrates from his home to a particular Islamic school in the quest for knowledge.

Over the years, it has been a normal feature, a cultural norm to have seen children roaming the streets in certain parts of (mainly northern) Nigeria, all in the name of seeking Islamic Education through the system of Almajiri.

Before the arrival of British colonial masters, a system of education called ‘Tsangaya’ has since prevailed in the Kanem-Borno Empire. It was established as an organised and comprehensive education system for learning Islamic principles, values, jurisprudence and theology.

Established after madrasahs in other parts of the Muslim world, Tsangaya was primarily funded by the state. Islam traditionally encourages charity, so the community readily supported these Almajiri. In return, he (Almajiri) gives back to society through manual labour.

The system also produced the judges, clerks, and teachers who provided the colonial administration with the needed staff. The Almajiri schools provided the first set of colonial staff in Northern Nigeria.

The Colonial masters abolished state funding of Tsangaya, arguing that they were religious schools. “Karatun Boko”, western education was introduced and funded instead. With this loss of support, the system collapsed.

A 2014 UNICEF report put the number of Almajiri in Nigeria at 9.5 million, or 72 per cent of the country’s 13.2 million out-of-school children. Unfortunately, this is a disaster unfolding before our eyes, as some estimates claim that the number of out-of-school children in the country has risen past the 15 million mark, most of whom originated from the North.

Regrettably, the Almajiri culture has since outlived its purpose and has become a breeding ground for child begging and, in extreme cases, potential materials for recruitment into terrorist groups. Moreover, the pupils who were meant to be trained to become Islamic scholars have now had to struggle to cater for themselves, begging rather than learning under the watch and supervision of some semi-literate Quranic teachers or Mallams who themselves lacked the requisite financial and moral support. Hence, the system runs more as a means of survival rather than a way of life.

This is because the Qur’anic schools became hapless, unable to render any help. After all, the head of the school is not also financially stable. This ultimately leads him to enforce a rule that ensures the students get him food or money. The most annoying part is making it mandatory, as punishment is enforced on anyone who fails to turn in what is expected from him.

Deprived of a normal and decent upbringing, Almajiri children, usually little boys between the ages of 4 and 15, may have been direct products of polygamous marriage or broken homes or simply due to economic challenges that hit the family. They lack adequate family cover as children are sent out to the streets under the guise of Almajiri as soon as the family’s resources are overstretched.

The Almajiri grows up in the streets without their parents’ love, care, and guidance; his struggle for survival exposes him to abuse (homosexuality and paedophilia), used as a slave, brainwashed, and recruited for anti-social activities, and used for destructive and violent activities. This is the picture of the pitiful plight of an Almajiri child in Nigeria.

Additionally, Almajiri culture epitomises child abuse, social exclusion, and chronic poverty in all ramifications. Because the system is believed to be rooted in Islamic religion and Fulani cultural practices, many attempts to reverse the trend or end such abuse of humanity have always hit a brick wall.

The fact that Islamic teaching strongly forbids begging, except in exceptional circumstances, which include a man’s loss of properties or wealth in a disaster or when a man has loaned much of his money for the common good, such as bringing peace between two warring parties already proves that Almajiri system as it is being practised today is unIslamic. A child neglected by his parents is vulnerable to diseases and social crimes. To survive, he often has to beg from ‘dusk to dawn’, after which he returns to the Tsangaya (Almajiri school).

For the past years, the Almajiri system has created a cover for criminally minded individuals to abuse Nigerian children through trafficking and expose them to anti-social behaviours such as forced labour and sex slaves.

Even former President Goodluck Jonathan designed a program under which a few Almajiri Model Boarding schools were established, which was aimed at integrating conventional western education into Islamic education, only turned out to be merely ‘removing a spoonful of water from a filled tank’, it wasn’t enough to adequately address the problem. As a result, less than five per cent of the children were captured by the Federal Government’s program meant to remove the Almajiri off the streets.

Therefore, as urgent, the government should take reasonable measures to address the Almajiri system in Nigeria to take them off the streets, even if it means banning the culture.

Unless it is banned or adequately reformed to meet the modern challenges and realities, the problems of underdevelopment, educational backwardness, and mass poverty in (northern) Nigeria will worsen. People will continue to bear children they do not have the resources to cater for, knowing that they could easily push such children out into the Almajiri system.

To conclude that the Almajiri system has deviated from its original purpose and is currently giving Nigeria a bad image in the international community is to admit the obvious.

This problem is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode at any time. And when it does, it will consume us all. But, it is still not late. So, something can be done to stem the tides.

Fagge is a student of Mass Communication at Skyline University Nigeria. He sent this via faggekabir29@gmail.com.

By Lawi Auwal Yusuf

I have been keenly following the recent raging altercation aroused by the hard-hitting comments of Nafisa Abdullahi. Many people have voiced their diverging opinions; some took an affirmative position while others came out against her. However, there is a consensus between the different parties that Almajiris are in a dire condition. Hence, no one would like to see his son in such a critical situation.

Though everybody has the leeway to express his mind, why are we wasting our energies on arguments that will come to nothing? These children are clamouring for justice, not a palaver over their plight. Such wrangle will never let us escape from the shackles of mutual antagonism. I believe that this issue is beyond mere accusation and counter-accusation. On the contrary, we have to go the extra mile. We have to give it our best shot to mark a turning point in this issue. Thus, we must debate matters that will help us clinch a victory over the problem. Put another way, it is more important to shift our attention from pointing accusing fingers at each other and focusing on the solution. This tendency to emphasise the problem rather than the solution is deeply entrenched in society and ravages our daily lives. Instead, it is more logical to put the solution above the issue.

Concentrating more on the problem will put us on a road that goes nowhere. It will keep us going around in circles, remain coasting and yield no helpful result. It will always go against us while our efforts remain in the doldrums. If you think this is the right way to ward off the problem. Indeed, you are living in a dream world. It is time to stop the dispute, draw a line under the issue and face reality, as this intractable desertion is getting out of hand.

Those on the same wavelength with the actress should know that not all the children they see on the street begging are actually Almajiris. Many children from impoverished homes disguise themselves as Almajiris to beg for food or scavenge through garbage, looking for valuable materials to sell for a living.

Furthermore, I want to remind those lilliputians that ridicule the Tsangaya that immensurable successes had been achieved through the system. It was the only institution that catered to the educational needs of our people before the inception of Western education. It was the bedrock of our ancient civilisation that paved the way for modern civilisation. It was the institution upon which the foundation for the development of society rested. It was attended by both the nobles and the commoners.

The Sultans of the Sokoto Caliphate, emirs of its semi-autonomous city-states and other members of the aristocratic class all went to Tsangaya. Also, they received their leadership skills training there and trained other administrators who served in different capacities. Moreover, Tsangaya scholars designed the constitution used to govern such a gigantic empire effectively. In addition to all these, it rolled out the khadis (Shari’a court judges) that administered justice, the Imams that led prayers, and Muftis that issued verdicts to guide authorities and the people on both their spiritual and worldly affairs. They also served then as the think tank.

Similarly, great scholars impart knowledge, herbalists that cure ailments, astrologists that determined praying times, crescent sighting, weather forecasts and navigation routes came from such a school system. On this basis, Northerners were proud boastfully that they were literates with a systematic way of life even before the imperialists invaded the region. So, we must be grateful for that.

On the other hand, those who take an unfavourable position from the Kannywood model should understand that the system now doesn’t go; it has a lot of issues and needs momentous changes. It is not what it used to be before. It has taken a different dimension in the last decades. We can’t keep going like that. The Tsangaya must be radically renewed, and these downtrodden children must be liberated from such bondage. Their future must be secured. They need to be under the vehement supervision of their parents, accompanied by their affection, psychological support and care. They have to enjoy the comfort of their homes and the bond of kinship ties, as we have all enjoyed. They deserve a decent life.

Lastly, politicians that have been dilatory in dealing with this problem and wash their hands on the matter must back away from such attitude. They must show genuine commitment to eradicating this menace. We must help these children to salvage the country because we have no other country than Nigeria. IT’S OURS!

Lawi Auwal Yusuf wrote from Kano, Nigeria, via laymaikanawa@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam Imam

President Muhammadu Buhari congratulates the leader of Nigerian Muslim Ummah and chairman of Nigerian Supreme Council of Islamic Affairs (NSCIA), His Eminence, the Sultan of Sokoto, Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar (III), as he marks 15 years on the throne.

The statement signed Tuesday by the Senior Special Assistant to the President, Malam Garba Shehu, disclosed this, describing the Sultan as a “peacebuilder and a true embodiment of commitment to service”.

The statement also added, “Sultan Sa’ad has remained a leader who dedicated his life to the welfare of the people.”

“Greetings to His Eminence, the Sultan on his 15th year on the throne of his fathers. On behalf of my family and I, the government and the people of Nigeria, I wish you many more years in the position and working tirelessly to promote inter-religious and inter-communal harmony throughout the federation.

“It is very reassuring to have such leadership at these challenging times. My prayers are for your long and healthy life,” said the president.

By Abdullahi A. Lamido

The renowned Muslim human rights activist and Director of the Muslim Rights Concern (MURIC), Prof. Ishaq Lakin Akintola, has called for exempting the Sultan of Sokoto from the “Deposition Clause” in the Nigerian laws.

Speaking as the keynote presenter at the formal opening ceremony of the 15th Anniversary of the 20th Sultan of Sokoto, His Eminence, Alhaji Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar CFR mni, Akintola noted that Sultan Sa’ad as the head of the Nigeria Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs (NSCIA) means well for Nigeria and his council has the potentials of solving several problems that Nigerian Muslims are bedevilling with.

“By the nature and composite of the NSCIA, anyone who occupies the position of governor in Sokoto State has the power to depose the Sultan. Unfortunately, the removal of the Sultan has the bandwagon effect of removing the President General of the NSCIA. This is because, Section 6 Cap 26 of the Laws of Northern Nigeria empowers state governors to depose the Emirs and this includes the Sultan”, he said.

Akintola stressed that in addition, Article 7 of the NSCIA constitution stipulates that the Sultan of Sokoto shall be the President General of the NSCIA. “Here lays the dilemma facing the Ummah. The governor of a single state can depose the Sultan and leader of all Nigerian Muslims. This situation is capable of causing unmitigated embarrassment. It also has the capacity to trigger a religious crisis of unimaginable dimension”.

He pointed to the fact that: “Whereas even the president of Nigeria cannot interfere in the affairs of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), [but unfortunately] a state governor can interfere and even depose the Sultan and President General of the NSCIA. This has far reaching comparative disadvantage vis-a-vis the bargaining power as well as pressure group influence of Christians and Muslims in Nigeria.”

The solution to this dilemma according to Akintola is to secure immunity from deposing the Sultan. “The onus is therefore on the Sokoto State House of Assembly to set the machinery in motion for the repeal of Section 6 Cap 26 of the Laws of Northern Nigeria in such a way that it will exclude the Sultan from the governor’s exercise of the power of deposition. It is a simple exercise which may not go beyond a motion in the House seeking to insert the phrase ‘except the Sultan of Sokoto’ in the dethronement clause.”

He reiterated that this is not about the present Sultan but about the progress of the Ummah and the freedom from undue executive influence.

Commenting after the speech, the Chairman of the Occasion, His Highness, the Emir of Argungu Alhaji Samaila Muhammadu Mera, stressed that this matter raised by Akintola is a serious one and Nigerian Muslims should give it utmost attention. The Sultan is the leader of the Muslims not of Sokoto. He is not the Sultan of Sokoto State but of the Sokoto Caliphate. As the leader of the entire Nigerian Muslims, the office of the Sultan deserves special provision in a manner that safeguards the overall interest of Muslim leadership.

Muhammadu Sunusi (II) was the recent emir in Northern Nigeria to be deposed by the Kano State Governor, Dr. Abdullahi Umar Ganduje by alleging that the deposed emir interfered into the state’s political matters that almost caused him to lose his second election in 2019.

By Abdurrahman Muhammad

His Eminence, Sultan Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar MNI, has honoured a Keke Napep rider, Malam Akilu Gangare in Jos, with the sum of NGN500,000, for returning NGN500,000 left in his Keke Napep to its rightful owner.

A passenger boarded Malam Akilu’s Napep to a particular place. After reaching his destination, the passenger hurriedly alighted leaving his back behind. A little while longer, Malam Akilu sighted the bag in his Napep after his passenger has disappeared. He opened the the bag out of curiosity only to see a large sum of money NGN500,000 inside.

Malam Akilu quickly turned back in search of the passenger. After he located him, he handed him back the bag with his money intact.

On receiving the news, His Eminence the Sultan made the necessary investigation and the information turned out to be true.

Yesterday, Saturday, 23-10-2021, His Eminence rewarded Malam Akilu in Jos with the sum of NGN500,000. The exact amount he honestly returned to the owner.

For His Eminence, this is not the first time of doing this kind of great gesture. He has done it several times before. It is his way of rewarding honesty and encouraging people to be good citizens.