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Kizz Daniel, stars’ buga and the curse of stardom

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Asked to write an essay in professor of psychology, Scott Allison’s “Heroes & Villains” class at the University of Richmond, Virginia, Corinne Devaney chose Bob Marley. Marley was a mulatto born in a crime-centric slum neighbourhood of St. Anne in Jamaica. He was a product of a liaison between a black mother, then 18-year-old Miss Cedella Malcolm, and Norval Sinclair Marley, a white father from Crowborough, East Sussex, UK. The older Marley was then about 60 years of age. Sinclair and Cedella had met and later married while she was working as a supervisor on a Jamaican plantation. Norval later abandoned both Cedella and her son after his less-than-illustrious second world war military expedition to Jamaica and died in 1955 while Bob was 10 years old.

In spite of the horror of his upbringing, Marley made a heroic transformation from the slum to the pinnacle of stardom, becoming one of the global best-selling artists of all time. His signature was a queer assortment of unkempt dreadlocks. This was sauced by an anti-imperialist, pan-Africanist, asceticism-prescribing Rastafari religion that venerates despotic Ras Tafari Makonnen, otherwise known as Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia as “King of Kings, Lord of Lords and Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah”. This was woven around an obsessive fascination with smoking marijuana as a religious sacramental object of worship. Marley died in May of 1981 while battling melanoma cancer.

While the Rastafari religion, whose major precepts are taken from the Ethiopian Orthodox Church’s liturgy, tempered Jamaican musical stars from manifesting weird traits associated with musical stars all over the world, it is not the same elsewhere. Rising from rejection in an audition by the London Decca Records company on January 1, 1962, after performing 15 songs in about an hour, Decca’s assessment report was that the guitar group, The Beatles, was not up to standard. Indeed, Decca said they couldn’t see a future in the group. However, a few years after, The Beatles became world-famous, ruling the world. It sold 1.6 billion singles in the United States, 177 million albums, and 600 million albums in the world, with 21 number one “Billboard Hot 100” which was recorded to be “the most any band has ever”.

Apparently basking in the euphoria of this stardom, John Lennon, a member of the band, during an interview with an Evening Standard reporter, Maureen Cleave, in March 1966 had remarked: “Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink … We’re more popular than Jesus now – I don’t know which will go first, rock and roll or Christianity”. Not long after, the rock and roll group, made up of himself, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr got separated and Lennon himself got shot on the evening of December 8, 1980. He was fatally wounded in the attack which occurred at his New York residence by Mark David Chapman who claimed to have been incensed by his lavish lifestyle and the unconscionable 1966 comment about Christ attributed to him.

The recent spat between celebrated hip-hop Nigerian musician and Buga hit song-maker, Oluwatobiloba Daniel Anidugbe widely known by his stage name, Kizz Daniel, and organisers of the Summer Amplified Show in Tanzania last Sunday has opened the byzantine world of musical stars for examination. Daniel’s absence had courted the ire of the Tanzanian fans who thronged the venue to see his widely admired eclectic performance. Irked by this act, the show promoter, Steven Uwa, had to report his absence to the police. Uwa, who claimed to have expended about$300,000, with a booking of the musician for $60,000, said that the “flimsy” excuse offered by Kizz Daniel was that his baggage containing his gold chain was not brought on time by the airline he flew with.

Stardom as a feature of popular culture has been explored severally by scholars. One of the issues that engage research works on it is whether stardom is innate or artificial, what leads to it and its impact on society. Issues of explanation are sought around the way stardom valorizes the identity of its holders and shoots them to celebrity status, while opening and closing doors for them. Is stardom natural or predestined? This has provoked an examination of that famous statement, “a star is born” with questions arising as to the probability of attainment of star status without the input of the individual.

In December 2020, with the piece I entitled ‘Ayinde Barrister: In memoriam of a musician who peaked by Ayinla Omowura’s graveside’, I naturally ruptured the ice of that divide between predestination and the natural progression of stardom. With it, I provoked the bile of fans of famous Yoruba Fuji music star, Sikiru Ayinde Barrister. Barrister was a known protégé of late Apala music star, Ayinla Omowura, who was killed in 1980 in a barroom squabble. At Ayinla’s departure, Barrister generously filched songs sang by Ayinla at live performances without acknowledgement of their ownership. So when I stated in the said piece that if the Omowura had not pre-deceased, the Ibadan-born Fuji musician, Barrister would not have garnered the kind of cult-like stardom he got at death, hell was let loose. The African Studies Association (ASA) has asked me to come and articulate the claim I adumbrated at its November conference in Philadelphia in a paper I entitled ‘Between Ayinla Omowura and Ayinde Barrister: Conflicting notions of stardom in Apala and Fuji’.

In this piece, however, what engages me is why and how stardom has become a very huge graveyard replete with skeletons of once burnished stars whose prematurely killed stardom resulted from their vacuous Buga and indiscretion. This is aside from their inability to manage the glowing fire of their successes. In life and death, Marley transcended that profiling. Upon his rise to becoming one of a coterie of music artists who hailed from the Third World and who achieved international stardom, Marley’s star never dimmed, even 41 years after his demise. This probably was why in his ‘Zion Train’ track, Marley warned superstars not to be lost in the cryptic maze of stardom. “Don’t gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver and gold,” he advised.

Many superstars never heeded this advice and fell into the precipice associated with stardom. Surrounded by the quadrupedal infamies of alcohol, women, cash and glitz, many stars allowed themselves to be driven by the whims of these infamies and down to their ruins. In my piece entitled ‘Our water bottle children are here’, (October 18, 2017) a commentary on the thunderbolt that hit the Nigerian music world as a result of the deaths of musical associates of hip hop musical superstar, David Adeleke, aka Davido, I used the song of another street boy hip-hop star musician, Temitope Adekunle, aka Small Doctor, entitled ‘Penalty’, to illustrate the pestilence of drugs – which I called the water bottle culture – and how drugs crash the stardom of stars.

That week, the water bottle culture was implicated in the deaths of Olugbenga Abiodun, son of the current governor of Ogun state, “Prince Dr Dapo”, aka DJ Olu and Chime Amaechi who were both found dead inside a BMW car in a garage in Banana Island, Lagos. Three days earlier, another Davido’s friend, Umeike Tagbo, had reportedly died on his birthday at a drinking bar located in the Lekki area after an alleged consumption of 10 shots of tequila drug. DJ Olu and Chime’s remains were said to be oozing out blood from their nostrils and mouths. The Lagos police command said preliminary physical examination suggested deaths from a drug overdose. Substances suspected to be drugs were also recovered by the police from the victims.

In faraway South Africa, a star I adored for her nightingale voice, Brenda Fassie, also ended in an unmitigated tragedy due to drug overuse. Fassie, whose Xhosa name was Nokuzola, a feminine name which when translated means “quiet, calm or peace,” was a highly talented South African young lady, so gifted that the great Nelson Mandela was fascinated by her song and danced with her on the dancehall. Born November 3, 1964, in Langa, Cape Town, Brenda was a wonder to watch. Her album, Memeza (Shout), which was released in 1997, is rated as the apogee of her musical success. It went platinum on the first day of its release. After Yvonne Chaka Chaka, arguably no musician from that country possessed Fassie’s waltz and voice. She also made a huge contribution to Miriam Makeba’s Sangoma, as well as Harry Belafonte’s anti-apartheid song, Paradise in Gazankulu. She was once voted 17th in the Top 100 Great South Africans.

Brenda was not only highly talented but possessed the tantrums of divas, so much that Time magazine dubbed her the Madonna of the Townships and fans affectionately called her MaBrrr or The Black Madonna, due basically to her bold stage antics and outrageous dance steps. My favourite of her songs was ‘Wedding Day’. As a rights advocate, she was outspoken and held very strong views against the system, making frequent visits to the poor townships of Johannesburg. Her songs also mirrored her persuasions as she sang about life in townships, thus harvesting her tremendous popularity among the poor people. In 1989, Brenda released the song entitled ‘Black President’, a tribute to Nelson Mandela and deplored her music to oppose the regime of apartheid.

The world, however, began to notice hiccups in Brenda’s life when her weird passion spilt into the limelight. Brenda was found to be a suicidal drug addict and addictively wedged to lesbianism. In 1995, she was found in a hotel room with the remains of her lesbian partner who passed on during their lesbian orgy, gingered with drug consumption. She had died of an apparent heroin overdose but Brenda survived. She must have gone in and out of rehab about 30 times and on one occasion, sure she had overcome drugs, screamed: “I’m going to become the pope next year. Nothing is impossible!” A few years after, Brenda reportedly collapsed in her brother’s arms, flung her last cocaine straw on the kitchen floor of her home in Buccleuch, fell into a coma and died after suffering from brain damage. Before she passed on, on May 9, 2004, Mandela visited her at the hospital. A few days later, a post-mortem examination reported that she was even HIV-positive at death. The fall of that highly beloved and celebrated Nigerian musical star, Majek Fashek was similar to Brenda’s.

Michael Jackson was another superstar who failed to understand the ephemerality of the glitz of stardom. An American singer, songwriter and dancer who was labelled the King of Pop, Jackson was regarded as one of the most significant cultural icons of the 20th century. By the 1980s, he had begun to catch the bug of the ills of stardom due to the catacomb of controversies and speculations that surrounded him. He changed his appearance from his delectable black look and sunk into a controversial lifestyle that caught attention for its awkwardness. Then, he lapsed into child abuse. In 1993, allegations of sexually abusing a family friend’s child were appended on him but banking on the lack of evidence against him, he had to circumvent the lawsuit by settling out of court. The same accusation was pelted at him in 2005. He was however acquitted by the court due to a lack of evidence. He later died on June 25, 2009, from an overdose of propofol administered to him by Conrad Murray, his personal physician. In 2011, Murray was eventually convicted of involuntary manslaughter.

Saibu Ayinde Bakare Ajikobi, popularly known as Ayinde Bakare, was another pioneering Yoruba highlife musician who stardom snuffed off the light of his candlestick. Born in 1912 at Okesuna Lafiaji area of Lagos, to a father who retired as a soldier and who hailed from the Ajikobi compound in Ilorin, Kwara state, Bakare luxuriated as a juju musician beginning from 1935 after his apprenticeship to the then famous Tunde King and Alabi Labilu. He was rumoured to have been the first juju musician to make use of an amplified guitar in 1949. Bakare was the king of bandstands and was extremely popular in the social circle of Yorubaland, especially in Lagos and Ibadan in the 1950s and 1960s. His sobriquet was ‘Mr Juju’. In 1957, Bakare toured the United Kingdom and in 1968, released an album recorded in Britain entitled ‘Live the Highlife’.

However, as the words in the tribute done for him posthumously by Ayinla Omowura say; “when one is as lowly as to be able to afford to eat only an ordinary vegetable for dinner, they have to be as watchful and mindful of danger as the man who is rich – b’eyan nje’fo sun ko sora, belentase eni l’owo l’owo“. Those who sought to extinguish Bakare’s shining star found out his Achilles heel – voracious consumption of the flesh of a species Wole Soyinka referred to as ‘Daughters of Discord’. In 1972, Bakare had gone to perform at a party in Lagos. When the band took a mid-performance break, a sultry damsel he had been ogling during play literally summoned him backstage. That was the last anyone saw of him. Police found a floating body three days later on the Lagos Lagoon which it buried as an unclaimed body. When tracing by the family led to his burial ground, he was exhumed and a coroner’s inquest concluded he died by drowning. Two members of his band who had earlier complained of being underpaid were suspected but police had to set them free them due to the absence of irrebuttable evidence of their involvement in his murder.

Naira Marley, Hakeem Okikiola (the Zah Zuh Zeh crooner), Burna Boy and many of Nigeria’s musical stars have been accused at one point or the other of going the Brenda route or living a violence-propelled life. This must have been due to their huge overestimation of their star status. Recently Burna Boy was accused of getting enveloped in a violent scandal in a club while the earlier two embraced Brenda with abandon. Omowura got killed in a squabble over an okada.

There are so many music stars who though did not die as a result of their inability to study the nuances of stardom, got dragged down and into infamy by naivety. The Achilles heel of some of them is their inability to appropriately appropriate the gains of stardom leading to regrets when stardom which will wane at some point eventually does.

Some musical stars complain of being unfavourably and excessively singled out by society for demonization. Must you be a musician to fall into disrepute? They ask. The attention on them and the over-concentration of what I earlier called quadrupedal infamies of alcohol, women, cash and glitz force them to have their lives driven by the whims of these infamies. This leads to the plastic and unreal lives they live. While Daniel Anidugbe aka, Kizz Daniel, has effectively acquitted himself of blame in the Tanzanian show fiasco, he and all stars – whether musical, showbiz, the wealthy, famous, etc – should take a lesson from the aphorism of the Yoruba which says; “the man who carries a bucket full of palm oil should be wary of the stony ground – epo ni mo ru, oni yangi, ma ba temi je“. Most of the superstars take cognizance of the wealth and fame surrounding them but are oblivious of the huge responsibility to tread the ground softly placed on their shoulders.

 

 

Dr. Festus Adedayo, a columnist, journalist and lawyer writes from Ibadan, Oyo State

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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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