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Kano’s midnight kingdom | By Lasisi Olagunju

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Today, those whose ancestors snatched Kano are fighting each other over the city and their spoils. The Yoruba would look at their drama and sing for them the song of Ambrose Campbell/ Ebenezer Obey: Eni rí nkan he tó fé kú torí è/ Owó eni tó ti so nù nko? I won’t translate this!

Their victims are taking sides. I shake my head for them. May I never be found on either side of siblings feuding over whose turn it is to loot me.

“Emir Sanusi II should be referred to as the 59th Emir of Kano (and) not the 16th – unless the history of Kano started after Dan Fodio’s Jihad and imposition of Emir Sulaimanu in 1807.” With these words, Journalist Jafaar Jafaar on Friday started an online war which is still raging as I write this. So, two wars are being fought simultaneously on and over Kano. The first is the game of thrones between brother and brother over the city’s kingship and its pricey palace. The second war is on social media being fiercely fought between a conquered people and their conquerors over when the history of the city started.

Jafaar, a Hausa, maintained that “from King Bagauda in the 10th century to Muhammadu Alwali in 1805, there were at least 42 Habe/Hausa rulers documented by history that ruled Kano.” He went on to claim that most of the symbols of authority of today’s Emir of Kano predated the Jihad and the ascendancy of Fulani rulership of the city. The charge and the pushback have been enormous online. Whatever is the fate of the Hausa of Kano today was foretold and it is recorded in their history.

Kano’s monarchy has a very well documented history. The best known by historians is ‘The Kano Chronicle’ – a list of rulers of Kano since the establishment of the Bagauda Dynasty in 998 AD. Long before Bagauda and his tribe of adventurers entered Kano, history says the founding ‘chief’ was a man called Barbushe. He was credited with enormous strength and spirituality – a man who could look very far and see tomorrow. The Kano Chronicle describes this strange man’s own ancestor, Dalla, as “a black man of great stature and might; a hunter who slew elephants with his stick and carried them on his head about nine miles…”

One day, spirit-possessed Barbushe told his people that in the coming years they would lose everything they had to a stranger.

“A man shall come to this land with an army and will gain mastery over us,” he told the people of Kano.

If it was today, those people would snap their fingers over their heads and reject the prophecy. Barbushe’s people did not snap any finger, but they voiced their rejection in their own way. They told him: “Why do you say this? It is an evil saying.”

The seer kept his peace; he ignored them. Then continued. He told the people that if their conqueror “comes not in your time, assuredly, he will come in the time of your children, and will conquer all in this country, and forget you and yours and exalt himself and his people for years to come.”

The Kano Chronicle said the people were exceedingly downcast because they knew their leader told the truth of a future of slavery awaiting them. They believed him and asked: “What can we do to avert this great calamity?”

He replied them: “There is no cure but resignation.” Then “they resigned themselves” and have remained in that state of resignation till today.

It is a long story. My source is H.R. Palmer’s ‘The Kano Chronicle’ published in 1908. The prophecy is on page 64. You may read that portion and others and match that history with whatever is happening to these people today.

I remembered Barbushe’s prophecy when I saw the Hausa journalist and his online army asking questions and referring to their own ancestors as the ‘Habe’ rulers of Kano. The 19th century Fulani (and their successors) called any people they conquered ‘Habe’.

The Hausa think the altered, contemporary king list of Kano city is rigged against their ancestors. They think it robs them of their royal and cultural essence. The people who enslaved them reset the calendar and the clock of their history. Their existence started with their defeat. Their fate is classic in how not to surrender to fate. Could the 1804 Jihad of Dan Fodio and its spread to Kano be the fulfillment of that promise of eternal subjugation; a rulership which history predicted would misgovern them “till they become of no account”? The prediction, and everything around it, even its myth and legend, appear to have come with a fatal ring of prescient finality wound around these people. Their resignation is proof that there is no medicine against destiny and no armour against fate.

Students of Kano history would have no problem identifying successive emirs of the city as snacks of power. In some cases, governors munch, chew, and swallow them. Some other times, they try and fail. On January 1, 1954, Premier Ahmadu Bello installed his “close personal friend”, Muhammad Sanusi, as emir of Kano. The man succeeded his father, Abdullahi Bayero. But in August 1963, the friendship was over. Sanusi was dethroned even despite opposition from the federal. On June 8, 2014, Sanusi’s grandson, Lamido, became emir despite opposition from Abuja and its forces. He was there for six years and was dethroned by a governor who was deputy governor when he was enthroned. Last week, Lamido’s destiny brought him back to the throne even in the face of a blitzkrieg from federal forces.

Emirs are riverside reeds, precarious at all times. In 1982, Governor Abubakar Rimi had a big issue with the Emir of Kano and, in an interview, he described the emir as “nothing, nothing, nothing but a public person.” He said the emir was “holding a public office” and was “being paid from public funds” and his “appointment is at the pleasure of the governor of the state.” He said the emir “can be dismissed, removed, interdicted, suspended if he commits an offence.” Rimi said there was “nothing unique about Ado Bayero, the Emir of Kano… believe me, if he commits any offence which will make it necessary for us to remove him, we will remove him and we will sleep soundly.” His listeners shivered. The PRP governor proceeded from there to plot the sack of the emir “for failing to fulfill government orders or to show due respect to the State Governor.” There was opposition from the streets with thousands shouting: “we don’t want the governor; we want the emir.” Ado Bayero survived that coup and soon ate the exit cake of Governor Rimi. The opposite appears to be the case now with Bayero’s son, Aminu.

Perhaps, more importantly, the Kano case has just confirmed to us that the country now has judges without borders; they sit anywhere -in the air and at sea, in their wives’ beds and on their concubines’ laps. They work 24 hours; they operate with the speed of light such that cases can be filed at 11pm and judgment delivered at 12 midnight while the other party is sleeping. Whatever they do is valid. It stands. There is no control again; the steering wheel is rusted and stiff. The state backs its carefully selected judges with everything it has –guns, threats, excuses, lightning and thunder.

The case should strengthen us to double down on our insistence that Nigeria is a federation and must be so governed. A Nigerian Federal High Court sat in the United States of America and plunged a knife into the tendons of Kano chieftaincy. And we are excusing the perfidy with lexis and structure of e-judiciary. You would think under our laws, chieftaincy matters are state and local government matters. That is what our law says but the offshore judge did not think it was necessary to respect that law. Popular comedian, Mr Macaroni, would ask: “Are you normal?” We are not.

Section 251 of our constitution clearly states what areas the Federal High Court has jurisdiction over. The section has three subsections. Subsection 1 gives that court jurisdiction on matters relating to the revenue of the government of the federation and allied matters. It lists those matters. Subsection 2 gives it “jurisdiction and powers in respect of treason, treasonable felony and allied offences.” Subsection 3 gives the court powers to hear cases “in respect of criminal causes and matters in respect of which jurisdiction is conferred by subsection (1) of this section.” Nowhere in that section or anywhere in the constitution is the Federal High Court empowered to sit over chieftaincy matters. Yet, a judge who was not even in the country, assumed jurisdiction under the cover of midnight darkness in the Kano emirship tussle and, aided by candies of impunity, signed an injunction. That judge is, very soon, going to the Court of Appeal on promotion. One day, he will become the Chief Justice of Nigeria.

Power and its allure rob society of order. In William Golding’s ‘Lord of the Flies’, we see how man with power enjoys the anonymity conferred on him by darkness. We see how control is lost and he strays calmly from goodness to savagery. America’s second president, John Adams, in March 1801, stayed up till midnight of the eve of his last night in office creating courts and signing appointment memos of his friends and supporters as judges to fill his freshly minted courts. US history remembers those judges harshly as “midnight judges.” The court ruling at the centre of Kano’s emirship logjam walked in from the United States at midnight on Thursday. The reinstated emir, Muhammadu Sanusi II, jogged into the palace midnight on Friday. The deposed emir, Aminu Ado Bayero, sneaked into the city under the canopy of darkness before dawn on Saturday. The security forces of the federal government soon filed out and took embarrassing positions. The hinge of their involvement was the tokunbo court order from a midnight judge who sat across the seas. Our courts no longer dread darkness and its forbidden fruits; they have become like hired killers, their fingers stained with the blood of justice.

Yet, the judiciary had seen better days – even in the so-called dark days before the white man came with his civilisation. There was a time in Kano when what distinguished judges were learning and piety. Sulyman, emir of Kano from 1807 to 1819, had a very tough mother and an upright alkali (judge). The emir’s mother was found on a particular day ill-treating a private citizen. She was charged for it at the court of Alkali Yusuf al-Hausi. The court found the queen mother guilty and pronounced corporal punishment. Emir Sulyman could neither shield nor save his mother – she served her sentence. Thirty-six years later, Emir ‘Abd Allah Maje Karofi took over the throne of Kano and was there till 1882. At a point during his reign, the emir bought a horse from a Tuareg and refused to pay despite repeated demands. The Tuareg took his case to court and Alkali Ahmad Rufa’i found the king guilty. The king’s punishment was an order that the emir’s confidant named Kasheka, who represented him in court, be seized and sold into slavery to settle the debt. A shaken Emir Karofi quickly arranged for the money and paid his creditor, the Tuareg. My source for these stories is Professor Tijjani Naniya’s ‘The Dilemma of the Ulama in a Colonial Society’ published in the Journal of Islamic Studies in 1993.

The period of those judgments was a time when kings feared and respected the law. It was an era when judges knew the law and applied it as they should, entertaining neither fear nor favour. Today’s judge would jail the creditor and shout rankadede to the debtor-king. The jungle of our judiciary has matured and the beasts grown in all departments.

In my moments of devotion and meditation, I watch wild animals on TV channels. Right before me is a vulture, hyena and lion sizing one another up over a banquet of skunked meat. What we witnessed between Thursday and Saturday night in Kano was exactly that. Beastly fights over meals are a natural feature of life in the jungle. Bayero was dethroned and Sanusi enthroned. Enthronement and dethronement are not strange with monarchies. It didn’t start today in Kano and elsewhere; it won’t end with this Kano matter. How did Sanusi become emir in June 2014? Was he the favourite of the kingmakers? Aminu Ado Bayero, the dethroned emir, how did he get the throne four years ago? General Ibrahim Babangida once said that the moment you get into power through a coup, you should expect that a coup would be staged against you one day. It is delusional not to accept this. It is like Napoleon thinking his revolution would be the last. Russian writer, Yevgeny Zamyatin, says exactly this in his novel ‘We’ – described by a reviewer as “a prediction of the natural conclusions of totalitarianism.” It was from ‘We’ that George Orwell pinched the whole idea of his monumental ‘1984’. In “We” is the warning to all who stand but who think their stability is forever: “How can there be a final revolution? There is no final one. The number of revolutions is infinite.” One era will be succeeded by another era just as one preceded it. There is no goodnight in power politics. Sanusi is back; Bayero is out, but may yet come back. There is no end to snatching and running away with power.

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Opinion

Beyond Deportations: What South Africa’s Immigration Crisis Reveals About Nationhood and Economic Frustration

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The popular saying that “one good turn deserves another” appears increasingly absent from present-day South Africa’s national consciousness. It is difficult not to ask whether many South Africans have forgotten the history of their country’s liberation and the immense sacrifices made by Nigeria and other African nations in the long struggle against apartheid.

For days, I have been deeply troubled by reports of South Africa’s worsening immigration crisis and the forceful, vigilante-style eviction of African migrants, particularly Nigerians. Beyond the headlines are broken families, shattered dreams and livelihoods painstakingly built over many years. It is a painful development that should concern every African who once believed in the ideals of continental solidarity.

Anti-immigrant sentiments in South Africa are not new. For more than two decades, campaigns against foreign nationals have been fuelled by high unemployment, widespread poverty, rising crime and frustration over inadequate public services. Many South Africans believe undocumented immigrants compete with them for jobs, housing, healthcare and social services, thereby denying citizens access to these basic necessities.

Yet, available evidence tells a more complex story. Research has consistently shown that immigrants alone cannot be blamed for South Africa’s economic and social challenges. Reducing such deep-rooted problems to the presence of foreign nationals oversimplifies a crisis that has been decades in the making.

What is often overlooked is the country’s structural economic reality. A significant skills mismatch, coupled with weaknesses in the quality of education, has left many job seekers ill-equipped for the demands of an economy increasingly driven by technology, innovation and specialised skills. This challenge is not peculiar to South Africa. Across much of sub-Saharan Africa, thousands of graduates enter the labour market every year without the technical, vocational and digital competencies employers now demand.

Beyond this, crime, insecurity, systemic corruption and poor governance continue to weigh heavily on South Africa’s economy. The country has one of the highest youth unemployment rates in the world. Persistent violent crime discourages investment, while corruption and the mismanagement of public resources have weakened service delivery, slowed infrastructure development and eroded investor confidence.

Equally significant is the enduring legacy of apartheid. More than three decades after democracy, inequalities in education, housing, infrastructure and economic opportunities remain deeply entrenched. Many Black communities still live with the consequences of decades of institutional discrimination and economic exclusion.

Against this backdrop, blaming undocumented immigrants for South Africa’s economic difficulties amounts to little more than scapegoating. It is a convenient narrative that diverts attention from the country’s more fundamental governance and developmental challenges.

The recurring xenophobic attacks against Nigerians and other African nationals make the situation even more painful. The recent killing of Emeka Iroegbu and Musa Yunana Joe on June 28, 2026, amid rising anti-migrant tensions, is a tragic reminder of how dangerous such sentiments can become.

One cannot help but ask: Is this the same South Africa for which Nigeria and many other African countries stood firmly during the anti-apartheid struggle?
I vividly remember growing up in the 1980s, listening to songs such as Free Mandela and Stop Apartheid in South Africa by iconic Nigerian musicians, including Majek Fashek, Onyeka Onwenu and Sonny Okosun. Those songs dominated the airwaves on NTA and became powerful symbols of African solidarity.

As a child, I even believed Nelson Mandela was Nigerian because Nigerians embraced his cause with such passion.
Mandela was released from prison in 1990 and became South Africa’s first Black President in 1994, bringing an end to decades of institutionalised racial segregation and apartheid. Today, just over three decades later, many Africans who once stood shoulder to shoulder with South Africans in their darkest hour are treated as unwelcome strangers.
History can be painfully ironic.

Perhaps, then, the saying that one good turn deserves another does not always reflect reality. Human beings are capable of repaying kindness with hostility. It is an uncomfortable truth, but one that life repeatedly teaches.

At a personal level, this reminds us to live with fewer expectations and strive for greater self-reliance. A heart that expects little, even after giving much, is less likely to be broken.

At the national level, however, the lesson is far more profound. Nigeria must build a country where its citizens can thrive without feeling compelled to seek survival elsewhere. Studies have shown that the overwhelming motivation behind the Japa phenomenon is the search for better opportunities and improved living conditions. If those opportunities existed at home, many Nigerians would gladly remain and contribute to national development.

The experience in South Africa—and, indeed, recent developments in the United States—demonstrates that immigration policies are shaped by changing political realities. No foreign country offers permanent guarantees.

Although the U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled against President Donald Trump’s executive order seeking to abolish birthright citizenship on constitutional grounds, the episode illustrates that even long-established policies can become subjects of political contestation. A constitutional principle that has existed since 1868 could still become a matter of national debate. That alone should remind us that every nation ultimately prioritises its own interests.
The enduring lesson is simple: no country can offer Nigerians greater long-term security than a well-governed Nigeria.

Nigeria’s greatest asset remains its people. Sustainable national prosperity can only be built through visionary leadership, accountable institutions, respect for the rule of law and responsible citizenship. When government creates an enabling environment and citizens embrace innovation, productivity and accountability, Nigeria can become a destination for investment rather than a source of economic migration.

As dozens of Nigerians return home following their repatriation from South Africa, government must move beyond sympathy and symbolic gestures. Some have returned with nothing more than the clothes they wore and a single travelling bag, leaving behind businesses, investments and years of hard work. Their return is not merely a journey home; for many, it is the painful collapse of dreams painstakingly built over decades. They deserve meaningful support to rebuild their lives and contribute productively to the nation’s economy once again.

History teaches that nations are strengthened not by chasing away strangers but by creating opportunities for their own citizens. Nigeria must therefore draw the right lessons from South Africa’s painful experience. Rather than exporting its brightest minds in search of survival, it should become a country where talent is rewarded, enterprise is encouraged and hope no longer requires a passport. Only then will Nigeria become not merely the giant of Africa by population, but by the quality of life it offers its people.

 

Olusegun Hassan, Ph.D
Public Policy Analyst and Social Commentator

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An Open Letter to Northern Leaders: Arewa Is Bleeding. Who Will Answer the Call? 

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I write this letter with a heavy heart to the sons and daughters of Arewa, particularly those entrusted with leadership and influence, concerning the painful reality confronting our region today. Once united in purpose and driven by a shared vision, Arewa now appears to be living in the shadow of its glorious past.

Our forefathers built this great region with one voice, setting aside differences of ethnicity and religion. They understood that unity was our greatest strength and that our diversity was not a weakness but a blessing. Their legacy was one of peace, mutual respect, visionary leadership, and collective progress.

Today, it is heartbreaking to witness how far we have drifted from those ideals. This letter is a sincere call for reflection, reconciliation, and a renewed commitment to rebuilding the unity, security, and prosperity that once defined our beloved Arewa.

Arewa Under Siege

Northern Nigeria has become widely known as a hotspot for multiple forms of insecurity. From the Boko Haram insurgency to widespread kidnapping, armed banditry, and violent attacks, fear has become part of everyday life. People no longer feel safe in their homes, workplaces, on their farms, or while travelling on the highways. Every journey is undertaken with uncertainty, with no guarantee of arriving safely.
Even more troubling is the perception that these security challenges have become normalised. Reports of abductions, killings, and attacks have become so frequent that they often receive far less attention than they deserve. This perceived indifference from those in positions of authority has contributed to a growing public belief that criminal groups now operate with confidence and relative impunity.

Consequently, many residents feel abandoned, while public trust in the government’s ability to protect lives and property continues to erode.

Addressing this crisis requires a coordinated and sustained response through stronger security operations, improved intelligence gathering, greater support for affected communities, and genuine accountability. Without decisive action, the cycle of violence and fear will continue to undermine the region’s stability, economic development, and the well-being of its people.

Beyond Insecurity: A Crisis of Leadership

The North’s challenges are not accidental. Poverty, insecurity, and underdevelopment are the cumulative consequences of long-standing structural failures, weak governance, and policy choices that have compounded over decades.

Responsibility is shared across different segments of society—including the political elite, the educated class, and the business community—many of whom have possessed both the influence and the opportunity to intervene more decisively than they have.

Rather than being the result of a single coordinated agenda, what is evident is a persistent pattern of neglect, weak accountability, and recurring governance failures that have allowed social and economic conditions to deteriorate. These failures have contributed to rising unemployment, declining educational outcomes, inadequate healthcare, and the expansion of insecurity across much of the region.

Breaking this cycle requires more than assigning blame. It demands institutional reform, accountable leadership, strategic investment in human capital, and a renewed sense of public responsibility.

Where Are the Northern Elite?

This brings us to the most difficult question: Where are the Northern elite? Where are the governors, ministers, lawmakers, business leaders, scholars, and other influential voices? Many command enormous influence, considerable private wealth, and extensive international networks, yet too often appear unable—or unwilling—to meaningfully confront the conditions that continue to leave large parts of the region insecure, impoverished, and politically weakened.

Why does this gap persist?

Part of the answer lies in proximity to power. In political environments shaped by patronage, speaking boldly may threaten access, while silence preserves influence. Over time, self-preservation begins to resemble strategy.

Unfortunately, the cost is borne not by those in positions of privilege but by ordinary communities far removed from the rooms where decisions are made.

Reviving the North’s Industrial Legacy
Northern Nigeria was once the industrial powerhouse of the country. Cities such as Kano and Kaduna were thriving centres of manufacturing, commerce, and employment. Today, much of that industrial strength has faded.

This is, therefore, a respectful appeal to two of Nigeria’s most accomplished industrialists—Aliko Dangote and Abdul Samad Rabiu. Many people continue to ask why there is limited visible large-scale industrial reinvestment in Kano, your home state, and across Northern Nigeria.

As a Kano indigene, and to the best of my knowledge, neither Aliko Dangote nor Abdul Samad Rabiu currently operates major manufacturing facilities actively producing in Kano. Several facilities associated with their businesses are widely reported to have become inactive or to function primarily as warehouses rather than active industrial plants. For example, along Tafawa Balewa Road, two BUA facilities that previously operated flour and vegetable oil mills are reported to have ceased production. Likewise, several Dangote industrial sites stretching from Mai Malari Road to the Sharada Industrial Area are also widely reported to be inactive or operating far below capacity.

Kano and Kaduna, once renowned for their vibrant manufacturing sectors, have experienced decades of industrial decline, resulting in widespread unemployment and underutilised infrastructure. At the same time, a significant share of new private-sector industrial investment appears to have been concentrated in other parts of the country, particularly the South-West. This naturally raises important questions about balanced national development.
Philanthropy remains valuable and deeply appreciated. Scholarships, donations, and humanitarian support undoubtedly improve lives. However, charity cannot replace sustainable industrial development.

What the North urgently needs is long-term investment that revives manufacturing, creates employment, strengthens local supply chains, develops skills, and rebuilds industrial ecosystems across Kano, Kaduna, and neighbouring states. Strong factories build strong communities, while sustainable industries create lasting prosperity. The expectation, therefore, is not charity but a renewed commitment to the economic transformation of the region where many of Nigeria’s greatest industrial success stories first began.

The Responsibility of Business Leaders

The Northern business elite have watched insecurity, poverty, and displacement deepen while economic activity has increasingly concentrated elsewhere.

Insurgency, banditry, and weakened rural governance have disrupted agriculture, trade routes, and local markets. Investment naturally gravitates towards safer and more predictable environments. Yet public advocacy from many influential business leaders has often remained muted, constrained by commercial interests, political relationships, and regulatory considerations.

The region risks becoming divided into two realities: one integrated into national wealth and opportunity, and the other left to bear the consequences of persistent insecurity, economic stagnation, and neglect.

Business leadership extends beyond generating profits. It also entails helping to create an environment where enterprise can flourish, jobs can be created, and communities can prosper. Sustainable economic growth depends not only on private investment but also on the willingness of influential stakeholders to advocate policies and initiatives that promote stability, security, and inclusive development.

The North’s business community has historically played a significant role in shaping the region’s economic fortunes. That tradition of leadership remains essential today. While governments bear primary responsibility for governance and security, the private sector also possesses the capacity to influence development through strategic investments, partnerships, innovation, and constructive engagement with public institutions.

Rebuilding confidence in Northern Nigeria requires collaboration among government, businesses, civil society, and local communities. A more secure and prosperous region ultimately benefits everyone, creating new opportunities for investment, employment, and long-term economic growth.

A Message to Political Leaders

To the political leadership of Northern Nigeria: the contradiction has become increasingly difficult to ignore. The region remains one of the country’s most significant in terms of population and political influence, yet it continues to lag behind on key development indicators such as education, healthcare, infrastructure, employment, and security.

When communities are attacked, farmers are displaced, and schools are forced to close, silence from those entrusted with leadership is seldom interpreted as restraint. More often, it is perceived as detachment. Leadership is measured not only by electoral success or political influence but also by the willingness to confront difficult realities with courage, empathy, and decisive action.

The expectations of citizens go beyond promises. They seek visible commitment, practical solutions, and sustained engagement with the challenges affecting their daily lives. Rebuilding public confidence requires leadership that is accountable, responsive, and focused on the long-term development of the region.

A Message to the Educated and Professional Class

To our academics, professionals, and intellectuals: the evidence is neither hidden nor difficult to find. Reports, research, and lived experiences consistently reveal widening gaps in human development, education, healthcare, and security.

Yet, too often, expertise remains confined within institutions and professional circles that discourage open engagement with entrenched power. Knowledge should not merely describe problems; it should help solve them. Research should inform policy, enrich public debate, and contribute meaningfully to sustainable solutions.

Every society depends on courageous thinkers who are willing to engage constructively, challenge complacency, and place the public interest above personal convenience. The North possesses no shortage of intellectual talent. What is needed is a stronger connection between knowledge and action.

A Message to Cultural Influencers

To our musicians, artists, writers, actors, and other public figures: throughout history, art has served as a powerful instrument of truth, reflection, and social transformation. Cultural voices have inspired movements, preserved history, and given hope to communities during difficult times.

Yet, when economic survival becomes closely tied to political or commercial interests, critical voices often become subdued. Society benefits when its cultural figures speak with honesty, empathy, and a sense of responsibility. Their influence extends beyond entertainment; it helps shape public values, inspire civic engagement, and amplify the concerns of ordinary people.

A Shared Responsibility

Ultimately, this is not solely a Northern Nigerian problem. It reflects a broader question confronting societies everywhere: what happens when elite interests become disconnected from the well-being of ordinary people?

When access becomes more valuable than accountability, and proximity to power outweighs responsibility to the public, silence is rarely accidental—it becomes institutionalised.

The result is a widening emotional and political distance between leadership and the people. Unless that distance is narrowed through meaningful investment, principled advocacy, and courageous leadership, the same questions will continue to resonate:

Who speaks? Who benefits? Who bears the cost?

History will judge every generation by how it responds to the challenges of its time. Northern Nigeria possesses enormous human potential, entrepreneurial talent, agricultural resources, and a rich cultural heritage.

What it requires now is leadership marked by vision, courage, integrity, and an unwavering commitment to the common good.

This letter is not intended to condemn but to encourage honest reflection and meaningful action. The future of Arewa depends not only on government but also on every leader, businessperson, scholar, professional, artist, and citizen willing to place the region’s long-term prosperity above personal or political interests.

May we find the wisdom to rebuild what has been weakened, the courage to confront uncomfortable truths, and the determination to restore Northern Nigeria to its rightful place as a region of peace, opportunity, and shared prosperity.

 

Abba Dukawa writes from Kano and can be reached at abbahydukawa@gmail.com.

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2027: Why Oyo APC Should Close Ranks Behind Sarafadeen Alli | By Adeniyi Olowofela

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Since the emergence of Senator Sarafadeen Alli as the governorship candidate of the All Progressives Congress (APC) for the 2027 election in Oyo State, I have listened to and read numerous reactions from party members and stakeholders. While some of his co-contestants have expressed disappointment, such feelings are understandable in every keenly contested democratic process.

Interestingly, many people have attempted to draw Senator Teslim Folarin into the controversy surrounding the party’s choice. However, he has remained silent. In my view, that silence is deliberate. I believe Senator Folarin understands the direction taken by the party’s national leadership regarding the choice of candidate.

Anyone who believes Senator Folarin was unaware of Senator Sarafadeen Alli’s governorship ambition does not fully appreciate his political experience. Senator Folarin is a strategic politician. In the 2023 governorship election, he pursued victory with determination and commitment. Personally, I had hoped he would emerge victorious, and I remain convinced that he gave his all in that contest.

Former Minister of Power, Chief Bayo Adelabu, also contested the 2023 governorship election on the platform of the Accord Party. Although I disagreed with that political decision, democracy guarantees every citizen the freedom of association and political choice.

Following the election, he was appointed into the Federal Executive Council, a development many interpreted differently based on their political perspectives.

Today, Chief Adelabu commands a substantial political following built over several election cycles. His support base remains significant, and if APC is to present a formidable front in 2027, Senator Sarafadeen Alli will undoubtedly benefit from the goodwill and backing of Adelabu and his loyalists.

Similarly, former Minister of Communications, Barrister Adebayo Shittu, has consistently demonstrated interest in Oyo State’s governorship over the years, even though he did not purchase the APC nomination form this time. His political experience and network remain valuable assets that should not be ignored.

My sympathy also goes to those aspirants who invested as much as ₦50 million each to purchase the APC governorship nomination form. That is no small sacrifice. Nonetheless, politics demands sacrifice in the collective interest. The pendulum could easily have swung in favour of any of them. Had that happened, the rest of us would equally have appealed to others to rally behind the eventual flag bearer.

I recall an incident during the 2022/2023 party activities when an official from Abuja, sent to supervise APC affairs in Oyo State, passionately appealed to stakeholders to embrace consensus. His message remains instructive. He warned that continued division within the party would only prolong its stay outside power and ultimately hurt everyone.

That warning remains relevant today.
For seven years, the APC has remained outside government in Oyo State. Can the party afford another four years in opposition? I do not think so.

This is why the task before us goes beyond the personal ambition of Senator Sarafadeen Alli. It is a collective struggle for every APC member, especially the foot soldiers who have remained loyal through difficult times. The Federal Government alone cannot provide opportunities for everyone. Regaining power in Oyo State is essential if the party hopes to broaden opportunities for its members at both the state and federal levels.

The challenge before us, therefore, is to build a larger political platform that accommodates everyone.
Senator Sarafadeen Alli is no political novice. Over the years, he has built relationships across virtually every ward in Oyo State. His political structure and grassroots appeal are undeniable. If party members unite behind him, APC stands a strong chance of returning to Government House.

Realistically, the 2027 governorship contest in Oyo State is shaping up to feature three major political forces. First is Senator Sarafadeen Alli of the APC, representing arguably the state’s most established political platform. Second is Hon. Bimbo Adekanbi, who many believe enjoys the backing of Governor Seyi Makinde and is expected to fly the flag of the APM. Third is Alhaji Hazmat Oriyomi of the Accord Party, whose growing popularity among many grassroots supporters cannot be dismissed.

The eventual winner is likely to emerge from one of these three political blocs. That reality alone should remind APC members that victory is far from guaranteed.

The surest path to success is unity.

This election should not be seen as Senator Sarafadeen Alli’s personal battle. It is the collective responsibility of every APC member who desires the party’s return to power in Oyo State.

The time has come to bury personal grievances, close ranks and work together. Only through unity can APC reclaim Oyo State in 2027.

 

Prof. Adeniyi Olowofela, former Chairman of the defunct Alliance for Democracy (AD) in Oyo State, former Chairman of Ido Local Government, former Commissioner for Education, Science and Technology in Oyo State, and former Federal Commissioner representing Oyo State at the Federal Character Commission (FCC), writes from Abuja.

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