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I Will Sell My Cows For You To Become a Pilot”: The Incidence of Babar Mai Fura, Hausa Women and International Women’s Day

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Professor Abdallah Uba Adamu

 

His name was Sadik. Perhaps about 11 years old. He walked into my newly allocated office in the old Mass Communications building of Bayero University Kano (Nigeria) in 2013. I was startled. He was a tiny boy, deep dark skin, beautiful face with intense eyes and dolphin smile. He asked if I wanted to buy Fura (steamed millet balls blended in cow milk, often used as dessert, although could stand on its own as a nutritious meal). He did not look like any of the usual urchins who thronged the corridors of the building look for odd jobs – run errands, empty trash, sweep office when those officially charged – and paid – to do so did not. Intrigued, I ordered one. He disappeared and returned some twenty minutes later with the Fura in a transparent plastic bag. I paid him and that was that.

He returned the following day. When I declined to buy as I don’t feel like drinking the Fura, he insisted I should buy for other people. When I asked why, he simply retorted that I appear richer than other staff because first, I was a professor, and second my office was larger. I was amused by his evaluation of my finances based on my position. And true, my office was the largest for staff, but I was new bride in the Department – having been wedded to Mass Communication after an amicable transfer from the Department of Science and Technology (thus the ‘double’ professor tag) and all stops were pulled to make me welcome. Based on his logic of having a larger office, if not deeper pocket, I bought about ten and asked him to distribute to colleagues.

Sadik was to become a regular fixture in the corridor. Always after 2.00 p.m. One day he came with a blue checkered school uniform. Mentally, I thanked the boy who gave him the ‘hand me down’. The uniform was from Musa Iliyasu College, located along Gwarzo Road a few kilometers from New Campus of Bayero University Kano. This was a private and prestigious high school in Kano, attended by the children of the well-to-do.

I was told, however, that the uniform was his own, and that he was indeed a student at the famous prestigious college. Curious about the human aspect of this development, I decided to delve further. What I found was what I want to share with you regarding the world of Hausa women.

Sadik did not come from an elite home. He was from a large Fulani family living in a ruga (a Fulani cattle encampment) near Janguza army barracks in Kano – itself a few kilometers from Bayero University Kano new campus, along Gwarzo freeway. The unit was a father, three wives and eighteen children. Sadik was the eldest in his mother’s room. They were herders. Indeed, Sadik was born near Tamburawa along Zaria Road in Kano when the family was on the move in 2002. They camped near Janguza Barracks where they located their ‘hometree’.

The mother was the one selling the Fura at Bayero University Kano new campus that Sadiq marketed. She had a ‘stand’ near the Faculty of Engineering. She had a lot of customers, in all categories of the university community. After all, even professors love Fura. Her interaction with the university community enabled her to develop interest in education and she wanted to get Sadiq to attend a school and eventually a university. She did not want Sadik to follow the family herd. His father, however, wanted the child to join the family herding tradition. The mother then engaged one of her customers, a professor, to drive to the ruga and convince the father to allow the child to attend school, which he reluctantly agreed. The mother then took over the process of educating the child.

She enrolled him in a local private primary school inside the Janguza Barracks. After he finished, she inquired which was the best high school around, and Musa Iliyasu came highly recommended. She enrolled him there. An exclusive private school. Paid for from the proceeds of her Fura business. She bought a bike for Sadik to make it easy for him to attend the school, some five kilometers from their tent. His legs could barely reach the pedals, but he was enthusiastic about learning. After school, he would go to her Fura stand, park the bike and then trample all over the BUK mega building advertising his mother’s Fura (even boldly entering the Vice-Chancellor’s office to market the Fura), all the way till 6.00 p.m. when they close ‘office’.

I interacted with Sadik for three years. He was so curious, bold, confident and always lifting up books on my desk, trying to read them, asking endless questions, his eyes always darting and roving all other office. He was truly an inquisitive and intelligent child.

In 2016 I temporarily relocated my place of work to Abuja and that was the last I saw of Sadiq. I did not fully return to Bayero University till 2022. In the intervening period, I had wistfully thought of Sadik, and finally decided to find out what happened to him when I returned. It was a massive success story of doggedness by a traditional woman.

When Sadik finished Musa Iliyasu College, he told his mother he wanted to be a pilot. She asked him to find out how much it would cost. Off he went to Nigerian College of Aviation Technology (NCAT), Zaria, where he learned the fees could be as much as ₦7.5 million. He informed his mother who immediately asked him to continue the process of getting admitted. She would pay the entire sum – after all, with the large herd she had, she was already a millionaire. She earmarked the number of cows to sell to raise the pilot school fees. Sadik did the entrance exams, but did not scale the final test. So, he was not admitted.

He then applied BUK with his JAMB score of 201 for Computer Science, but did not meet the Post-UTME requirements for the program. Again, he faced rejection. It was his mother who initiated the process of getting him alternative university admission and was advised to take him to Al-Qalam University, a non-profit Islamic university in Katsina. He went there and inquired about the admission process and the fees. With his results, he was admitted. His mother sold two of her cows for ₦450,000 and gave him the money to pay for the school fees in Computer Science and his accommodation in Katsina. He enrolled and started his program.

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When he relocated to Katsina, she sent him money every day. She eventually gave him ₦200,000 with which he started a Fura packaging business, employing his co-tenants in the house he was renting. Soon, he had established a small business employing other students. Eventually he vied for, and succeeded in becoming the Vice-President of the Computer Science Students Association of Al-Qalam branch.

Sadik became a dedicated student with consistently high CGPA which could eventually lead to either a good second upper or a first in Computer Science. He was eventually elected the President of the Computer Science Students of his university chapter. One day, the officers of the Association came to Kano on a function during a school break and decided to see his house, especially after he told them he lived in a ruga. They were astonished to discover he was telling the truth – their respect for his modesty raised higher.

In January 2023, I was in my office at the Faculty of Communication BUK when someone walked in. I was bent on my laptop but did notice the guest removing his shoes and coming and standing in front of my desk, waiting for pause in my typing.

I looked up at a tall well-built young man. I immediately knew it was Sadik. At 21 years, everything about him has changed, of course, but not his dolphin smile. He told me he learnt I was asking of him and decided to come and greet me. I was so happy to see him and it was he who related to me what I have written so far. I immediately connected him to Sunusi Ahmad Baffa Dawakin Tofa, Chairman, Kano State chapter of the Fulfulde Development Association of Nigeria (FULDAN) of which I was a patron. They promised to come together and see how Sadik could be part of community mobilization awareness and role model, especially for youth. Sadiq owes his success so far to his mother.

***
Sadik’s mother was not an educated entitled, privileged woman. She did not go to school. Her class was the hard knock of life. As a young girl she missed going to school with lunchboxes and rucksacks festooned with stickers from the Marvel Cinematic Universe – Spiderman, Hulk, X-Men, Fantastic Four. She did not attend a privileged landscaped school, with paintings of Micky Mouse and Donald Duck on their walls. She had no driver to chauffer her to school in an airconditioned SUV. No TV to return to after school hours in a nice airconditioned living room. No iPads to play with. No Netflix to relax her hard stressful day. No extra lesson teacher (Uncle John, or Auntie Funmi) to ensure she passed those horrible subjects such as Mathematics.

Her contemporaries who lived such life finished successfully from their expensive private schools (of course, no private school would allow mass failure, especially from children of the privileged), had gatekeepers to ensure they got admission into juiciest disciplines in the university of their choice. If at all in Nigeria – otherwise it would be off to Ukraine (before it became too hot), some obscure countries in Eastern Europe, India, Cyprus, UK or preferably, Malaysia.

When such contemporaries return, they had cushy jobs waiting for them and a relatively easy path to the top. Eventually, they are celebrated as women of substance – given awards (which they don’t need) and celebrated in academic papers and opinion pieces as role models of female achievement and doggedness in a patriarchal society. I don’t mind their high profile visibility. I just believe the accolades are wrongly placed or at the very least, the Point of View (POV) should sweep around.

My female heroes? Those I will be celebrating today, being the 2023 International Women’s Day? Let’s start with Sadik’s mother. And hundreds of others like her. I am sure you know one or two in your locality. They are women, often widowed, left alone, with little or no inheritance, and who with the little they have, were able provide much appreciated services in their communities and keep a tight hold on their families. They don’t engage in endless and fruitless debates about gender identity or reproductive rights; nor about women representation in political representation and their share of hegemony. Rhetoric. Talking loud and saying nothing. As my main Man sung, “Like a dull knife / Just ain’t cutting / Just talking loud / Then saying nothing”. (James Brown, 1970).

Mainly restauranteurs, these local women build people and impact their communities. With their business – restaurant (ƙosai, koko, tuwo, ɗanwake, wake da shinkafa, alkubus, gurasa, ƙashin rago, etc.), public transport (Keke NAPEP, buses, Acaba/Okada, Ƙurƙura), estate (properties, rental apartments, plots of land) – they are the role models who should be celebrated. They don’t feel entitled and are privileged in the peace of mind they have and the mentoring they do in their communities. They have no PAs, SAs, fierce dogs at the gates of their solar-powered villas and mansions, no frowning ‘maigad’ to intimidate and scare away panhandlers.

They have no SUVs as the cost of one could serve as capital for a whole year for their business. They don’t even have cars, despite some owning a transport business or so. They do not take their holidays in London or Dubai – they have no time for holidays as they are busy serving their communities. They marry off their daughters, not in grand style with furniture imported from IKEA in China, but with furniture from local makers – thus contributing to local economies.

So, what should be the concerns for women on the International Women’s Day? For me, with a focus on Muslim Hausa women living in traditional communities, how about integrating them into the modern sector digital economy? Instead of empty rhetoric about gender representation, why don’t we focus on enabling them acquire skills such as mobile phone repairs and POS services – at the comfort and safety of their homes? Many women now are engaged with mobile phones and online trading and payments. Muslim Hausa women feel unsafe in approaching service centers where clusters of men provide these services. Empowering them to be skilled digital knowledge in the lungu and saƙo (alleyways) of our communities works better than hot air rhetoric, and genuinely can make a difference.

On this day, I therefore award accolades to Sadik’s mother, Hajiya Mai Ƙashin Rago Fagge (with a whole street named after her), and countless others that I am sure Jaafar Jaafar knows more. They are truly women of substance.

Today, being the International Women’s Day, please locate any in your community, go right up to her and appreciate her. Celebrate her, her achievements and her silent but visible impact in the community as the REAL woman of substance.

And here is Sadik.

Features

Why I want To Rewrite Kannywood’s Playbook – Dan Hausa

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Kamilu Danhausa

 

By Saif Ibrahim, Kano

Who is Dan Hausa?

I am Kamilu Ibrahim born 31 years ago, but most people know me as Dan Hausa. I was born in Fagge, Kano State, and from the very beginning I knew I wanted to tell stories that reflect the realities of my people. I trained at the High Definition Film Academy in Abuja, SAE Institute, and also took part in the U.S. Embassy’s Filmmaking for Impact program. I join the fikm making industry and started directing in 2017 because I wanted full control over how my stories are told.

Can you tell us a bit about yourself and your journey into film directing?

My journey began with a love for storytelling—I started as a scriptwriter, then worked closely with experienced filmmakers before directing my first film. Over the years, I’ve learned that directing isn’t just about cameras and lights, but about understanding people, culture, and the power of narrative.

Growing up, I saw how films could educate and inspire people. In Arewa, cinema is more than entertainment—it’s a mirror of society. I wanted to use that mirror to reflect our values, challenges, and hopes. That desire to make meaningful films pushed me into directing.

What sets your work apart in today’s Kannywood?

For me, it’s about merging modern cinematic techniques with our Hausa cultural identity. I love bold visuals and tight storytelling, but I never want to lose that traditional heartbeat of my origin. My goal has always been to raise our production quality to international standards while staying true to our roots”, proof of that is clear in my current and biggest project, “Wata Shida.

How would you describe your directing style?

I like to call my style “realism with purpose.” I focus on authenticity—every scene, every performance, every frame must feel true to life. But I also ensure that there’s always a message, something the audience can take home and reflect on.

Can you highlight some of your notable works?

Sure, there is Wata Shida which is currently airing and has an overwhelming response from the public and the likes of Lulu Da Andalu a myth-inspired adventure series showing on AREWA24 and YouTube. YouTube pushed us to think bigger in terms of story and production. Mijin Hajiya earned me Best Director at the 2024 Kano Entertainment Awards, while Tataburza made waves at film festivals. Earlier films like Bakon Yanayi (2019) and my debut Kulba Na Barna (2017) helped me define my style. My latest project, Amaryar Lalle, starring Rahama Sadau, premieres August 2025 on Sadau Pictures TV. Each project is a step forward in showing what Kannywood can achieve.

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What awards and recognitions have you earned?

I have also been recognized by the Arewa5050 Awards and Kaduna International Film Festival (KIFF) for Lulu Da Andalu, which even won Best Indigenous Hausa Film. There’s also an AMVCA nomination for best Africanindigenous language , which is exciting because it means Hausa stories are getting wider attention.”

Who are your key collaborators?

Filmmaking is teamwork; TY Shaba has been a creative partner on several projects, especially on Lulu Da Andalu. I have WORKED with Rahama Sadau on Amaryar Lalle has been fantastic; she brings so much energy to the screen.”

What themes do you explore in your films?

I like telling stories where modern life clashes with traditional values—family conflict, cultural identity, gender roles. These are real issues in our society, and I try to explore them honestly but cinematically. I believe film should make people feel and also think.”

What is your next project?

I am working on Wata Shida Season 2, a story about a woman who enters a six-month sham marriage to protect her inheritance. It’s socially meaningful but also very entertaining. I will also continue with season 2 of “Amaryar Lalle.”

Can you tell us a little about your latest project?

This project is very close to my heart. It follows a young girl fighting to get an education in a society full of obstacles. Through her eyes, we see how family, tradition, and resilience collide, and how hope can survive even in the harshest situations.”

What inspired you to make this story?

Growing up, I saw so many bright young girls whose dreams were cut short just because they were girls. I felt a responsibility to tell this story—not as fiction, but as a mirror of what is happening around us.

How do you balance tradition and modernity in your work?

A: It’s about respect. I respect our traditions, but I also embrace new technology and ideas. In my films, I make sure traditional values are represented truthfully, while using modern techniques to improve production quality.

 

What challenges do you face as a director in Kannywood?

Budgets are often limited, and resources can be scarce. But the biggest challenge is sometimes societal misunderstanding of what we do as filmmakers. People forget that film is also an art form and a tool for change, not just entertainment.

Can you tell us your favourite project

Every project has its own special memory, but I’m proudest when a film sparks conversation or impacts people’s lives. For example, one of my recent films about youth unemployment led to community discussions and even small initiatives to help young people. That’s when I feel film is doing its job.

What advice would you give to aspiring directors?

Learn the craft—don’t rush. Watch films, study scripts, spend time on set even if it’s just to observe. Most importantly, stay humble and focused. Filmmaking is about patience, teamwork, and vision.

What should audiences expect from your upcoming projects?

Expect more powerful stories rooted in our culture, with better technical quality. I’m working on projects that tackle real societal issues, and I believe they’ll resonate with audiences not just in Arewa, but globally.

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Features

Antenatal Care: Why some women misses several sessions

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By Aisha Muhammad Rabiu

 

In many parts of Northern Nigeria, antenatal care is a vital step in ensuring the health of both mother and the unborn child. Yet, an increasing number of women are neglecting this crucial stage of pregnancy, putting themselves and their babies at serious risk, hence the high infant, mother mortality rate.

 

Health experts have been warning that antenatal visits help detect pregnancy complications at its early stage, provide essential supplements for healthy mother/child development, and educate mothers on safe delivery practices. But for some women, they find antenatal care as a burden either due to poverty or lack of awareness based on cultural practices and beliefs. As such antenatal remains a neglected priority.

 

 

In Kadawa, Fatima Sani, a 28-year-old expectant mother, admits she has not attended a single session of antenatal since the start of her pregnancy. she said “It’s not that I don’t want to go, but the clinic is far from my house, and my husband says we should save the transport money for delivery day. I just pray Allah protects me and my baby.”

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From Dan Bare, Shago Tara precisely, Khairat a mother of 4 shares her reasons for not attending antenatal session even though she is fully aware that the session is very important to pregnant women. She said “I feel healthy, so I don’t see the need to go for antenatal. My mother gave birth to all her children at home without any clinic visits, and they all survived.”

 

In Rijiyar Zaki, Hadiza Mukhtar recalls her previous pregnancy, where she skipped antenatal visits entirely. “The nurses were rude to me when I first went. I decided I would not return. This pregnancy, I haven’t gone at all,” she confesses.

 

For Usaina Muhammad of Kurna, the problem is financial. “I can’t afford the registration fee, and I also have other children to feed. I know antenatal is important, but survival comes first.”

 

Meanwhile, Maryam Lawan of Layi Kaji reveals that misinformation has influenced her decision. “Someone told me that the iron tablets they give at the clinic make the babies grow too big, making delivery harder. So, I decided to avoid it altogether.”

 

Medical professionals emphasize that skipping antenatal care increases the risk of complications such as anemia, high blood pressure, infections, and even maternal or infant death. Dr. Ibrahim Musa, a gynecologist in Kano, warns: “We see many emergencies that could have been avoided if the mother had attended antenatal. Most of these cases arrive late, making it harder for the doctors to save lives.”

 

Experts and community leaders agree that raising awareness is key in addressing the matter. Antenatal care should be made more affordable, accessible, and culturally acceptable for all women. Religious leaders, health workers, and family members all have a role to play in encouraging expectant mothers to attend regular check-ups.

 

Neglecting antenatal care is not just a personal choice; it’s a public health concern that affects families, communities, and the future of the nation. Ensuring that every mother has the knowledge, resources, and support to seek antenatal care is a step toward a healthier society.

 

Aisha Muhammad Rabiu writes from Bayero University Kano (BUK) and she can be reached at Email: aishatama2020@gmail.com

Phone no.08084273341

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Rano’s Peaceful Legacy: More Than a Slogan, One Tragedy Won’t Define Us

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For decades, Rano Garin Autan Bawo has proudly stood as a symbol of peace and harmony in Kano State. It is a place where neighbors look out for one another, where disputes are settled through dialogue, and where diversity is met with respect—not resentment. In Rano, peace is not just a slogan—it is a way of life passed down through generations.

The tragic incident that recently occurred at the Divisional Police Station in Rano Local Government has deeply shaken our community. Known for generations as one of the most peaceful and united areas in Nigeria, Rano now faces the painful reality of an attack that led to the death of a Divisional Police Officer and the destruction of police property. This senseless act of violence goes against everything our community stands for and must not be seen as a reflection of who we are.

Rano has long been recognized for its peaceful spirit, tolerance, and respect for all. People from different backgrounds, religions, and cultures have lived side by side here in harmony. This didn’t happen by chance—it is the result of years of effort by our leaders, religious figures, and ordinary citizens who believe that our strength lies in our unity and diversity.

Our respect for law and order is deep-rooted. We understand the crucial role that security personnel play in keeping our community safe. The people of Rano have always appreciated the risks and sacrifices made by the police, military, and other agencies to protect lives and property.

Respect for the law here is not just about obeying rules—it’s about a shared belief in justice, fairness, and solving problems peacefully and legally. This belief has helped build a respectful and cooperative relationship between the police and the people.

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What happened at the police station is completely out of character for our community. The individuals who carried out this attack do not represent us. Their actions go against the values that have shaped Rano. We strongly condemn what they did and make it clear that their behavior does not reflect who we are.

The loss of the Divisional Police Officer is not just a blow to the Nigeria Police Force or the Kano State Police Command—it is a loss for all of us. He wasn’t just doing his job; he was part of our extended family. His death is an attack on the peace and security that we all hold dear.

We send our deepest condolences to his family. No words can ease the pain of losing a loved one in such a brutal way. Our thoughts are also with his colleagues in the police force, who have lost a brother and a friend.

We also stand with the Kano State Police Command and the Nigeria Police Force as they face this heartbreaking loss. We understand how much this affects their morale, especially at a time when their work is more important than ever.

Destroying police buildings and equipment is not just an attack on law enforcement—it’s an attack on the very system that helps keep us safe. These facilities belong to the people and serve the entire community. Damaging them harms everyone, especially the most vulnerable among us.

We urge the government and relevant authorities to investigate this incident fully and fairly. Those responsible must be held accountable. Justice must be swift and uncompromised. Our community deserves to see the law upheld and the wrongdoers brought to book.

To our young people—the future of Rano—we ask for calm and reflection. We know that you may be frustrated or angry about many issues. But violence is never the answer. Taking the law into your own hands only brings more pain and setbacks for everyone.

Instead, we encourage our youth to focus on positive, constructive paths. There are peaceful, legal ways to raise your voices and push for change. Use those channels. Help move our community forward.

Rano must now focus on healing, rebuilding trust, and recommitting to the peaceful values that have always defined us. We must come together—young and old, leaders and citizens—to ensure that such violence never happens again.

We call on traditional leaders, religious figures, community elders, youth leaders, and all residents to stand united in promoting peace and respect for the law. Let’s strengthen our partnership with security agencies and support their efforts to keep us safe, while also holding them accountable to serve with respect and dignity.

How we respond to this tragedy will shape our future. Let us choose unity over division, peace over violence, and hope over despair. The actions of a few will not define us. We will protect the legacy of peace that Rano is known for and continue working together for a better tomorrow.

Buhari Abba wrote this piece from Unguwar Liman Rano.

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