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Echoes of Military Coups in Nigeria-Segun Adeniyi

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By Segun Adeniyi

Two important books that speak to the most brutal military era in Nigeria’s history will be publicly presented in Abuja in the coming weeks. The first, on 18 November, is ‘Nine Lives: The Bello-Fadile Memoirs’. A retired Colonel of the Nigerian Army with a doctorate degree in law, Ralph Sixtus Babatunde (RSB) Bello-Fadile was a principal actor of the 1995 “phantom coup” against the late General Sani Abacha. He was arrested, tried and sentenced to death in the tragic saga that implicated dozens of prominent Nigerians, including Olusegun Obasanjo (a General and former military Head of State who would later be elected the first president under the current dispensation), his erstwhile deputy, Major General Shehu Musa Yar’Adua (rtd) who died in Abakaliki prison and Brigadier General Lawan Gwadabe (rtd). In his memoir, Bello-Fadile recounts not only his experience but also the story of his life and career. Former military leader, General Ibrahim Babangida, wrote the foreword.

The second book, ‘Bold Leap’, is the autobiography of Senator Chris Anyanwu. Respected journalist and publisher, Anyanwu was also arrested and tried for the same 1995 ‘foiled coup’, following a publication in her magazine. Accused of being an “accessory after the fact of treason”, Anyanwu was sentenced to life imprisonment which was later reduced to 15 years. Like other survivors, Anyanwu only regained freedom after the death of Abacha. I will be the reviewer of her very insightful memoir (Obasanjo wrote the foreword) at the public presentation in Abuja on December 2.

Of these two books, the one that concerns me today is ‘Nine Lives’. Interestingly, when I sought an advance copy from the author, he wondered what fired my interest. In Anyanwu’s book, she recounted a day she received a new inmate in her detention room named Rebecca Ikpe from Benue State. “Her arrest was part of the madness that descended on Abacha’s government at the time. Ikpe was not in the military. Neither was she a journalist. Her crime was that she was the sister of the wife of one of the accused officers—Colonel Bello Fadile,” wrote Anyanwu who also profiled the officer. And then this: “Fadile’s interrogation was legendary. The story was that he was chained to the wall, upside down at the underground space in Ikoyi cemetery detention. They beat him to pulp…”

Aside his fascinating family story which readers will enjoy, the bigger picture in Bello-Fadile’s book begins with a chronology of coup d’etats in Nigeria (with insights into each), including the 1995 ‘attempt’ against Abacha. It was a precursor to another in December 1997 in which Abacha’s deputy, the late Lt. General Oladipo Diya, and then Chief of Army Staff, Lt General Ishaya Bamayi as well as other Generals including Abdulkareem Adisa and Tajudeen Olarewaju were played against one another. All factors considered, the only conclusion to draw after reading ‘Nine Lives’ is that military regimes are about arbitrariness, intrigue, treachery, powerplays and impunity. With decrees and edicts (including retroactive ones) crimes and punishment can be invented at will to deal with just about anybody who disagrees with those at the helm of affairs.

Meanwhile, Bello-Fadile’s memoir opens with Babangida’s long foreword. “Upon his graduation from Law School in 1978, as the first military trained legal practitioner, he returned to the Nigerian Army for posting and redeployment. I purchased for him the Armoured Corps (Recce) beret, belt, and line yards and requested that he change over from the Infantry to the Armoured Corps,” Babangida wrote about Bello-Fadile. “I was a full Colonel and Corps Commander and Bello-Fadile, a Lieutenant, looked at me and said, ‘Sir, it would be unwise to concentrate all our resources/assets on a single platform—let me remain in the Infantry, the Queen of Battle, while your firepower and manoeuvring is guaranteed in the Armoured Corps’. I could not hold back laughing and saying in Hausa, ‘loya kenan’ (that’s a lawyer for you).” Bello-Fadile’s memoir, according to Babangida, “derives its title from the concept of feline immortality, symbolising the exceptional circumstances in which Bello-Fadile has managed to endure life’s hardships.”

For somebody with his level of education and exposure, it is remarkable that Bello-Fadile is somehow superstitious. But he had his reason for believing that somewhere in Ikoyi, Lagos, there is a haunted (‘jinxed’, as he put it) property. “That house, at No 9A Macpherson Avenue, was at the junction between Bourdillon Road and Macpherson Avenue. It was later rebuilt and housed the Grenadian Mission in Nigeria. The officers who stayed there were, in one way or the other, involved in coup d’etats.” And here goes his explanation: “Of all the officer residents, I am the only one alive today to say something about that house. Those who stayed there were: Lieutenant Colonel Buka Suka Dimka, Major Mike Aker Iyorshe and Lieutenant Colonel Musa Bityong. The four of us were later to be tried (at different times) by the Special Military Tribunal for treason/treasonable felony. We were all found guilty…”

Bello-Fadile indeed had several brushes with death while serving in the army. On 26 September 1992, a Nigeria Airforce (NAF) C-130 Hercules aircraft crashed three minutes after take-off in Lagos, killing all 159 military officers (151 Nigerians, 5 Ghanaians, 1 Tanzanian, 1 Zimbabwean and 1 Ugandan) on board. By his account, Bello-Fadile would have been on the flight. There were several other instances where he cheated death by a whisker. None was as close as the ‘Vatsa Coup’. But the story of his miraculous escape started a few years earlier. At that period, Bello-Fadile had a prominent foe: Major General Muhammadu Buhari (rtd) who would also become a two-term civilian president. The animosity had its origin in a drama that happened when Bello-Fadile was a Captain and Buhari was a Brigadier General and General Officer Commanding (GOC) at Ibadan.

The moment Buhari became Head of State in December 1983, one of his first directives was that he didn’t want to see Bello-Fadile around. But because Buhari’s disdain for the officer was not shared by others, including then Chief of Army Staff, Babangida, efforts were made to shield Bello-Fadile who was merely warned to stay out of limelight and avoid anything that would make Buhari remember him. That warning was heeded until the day Bello-Fadile had to take a message to then Chief of Staff, Supreme Headquarters, the late Major General Tunde Idiagbon. Buhari sighted him! What followed the next day was an encounter with Babangida who asked whether Bello-Fadile did anything to attract Buhari’s attention. When he answered in the affirmative, Babangida told him how his fate had been decided. Let’s take the story from Bello-Fadile:

“The Head of State does not want you in Dodan Barracks. So, to avoid trouble, pick three places and I will post you to one of them,” he (Babangida) repeated. “All right sir, no problem. I can go to Army Headquarters or the Directorate of Army Legal Services or any other places of your choice,” I replied. “The Head of State does not want you in the Lagos area at all,” he responded, without his usual smiling facial expressions. At that point, I knew he was in a very difficult position. So, I said, “It seems to me that the Head of State does not want me in the Army…” He then cut in and said, “But you have your Masters, why not go and do a PhD? With that, I can post you to the Nigerian Defence Academy and tell the Commandant that you were on your way to ABU.” I thanked him as I accepted his suggestion. That was how I found my way to the NDA in Kaduna as an instructor, enroute to ABU, Zaria for a four-year PhD programme in International Law that was fully funded by the Army.

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Bello-Fadile was pursuing his doctorate programme when Babangida overthrew Buhari in August 1985. Five months later, then Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Minister and renowned poet, Major General Mamman Vatsa was arrested for trying to topple the government of his bosom friend. Several other officers were arrested in connection with the foiled coup plot. Bello-Fadile had just returned to Kaduna from a field trip abroad when he received a signal to report in Lagos. One of the officers implicated in the coup asked that he (Bello-Fadile) defend him. This was a routine matter within the military, but the moment Bello-Fadile arrived at the Military Tribunal venue in Lagos, he was confronted with what he didn’t bargain for: As I proceeded, the Brigade of Guards Commander, Colonel John Mark Inienger called me into his office to know what I was doing there. I showed him the signal. He then told me the unimaginable story of my life. He said there had been a manhunt for me, ordered by the Chief of Army Staff, General Sani Abacha. He said four of the accused officers—Major General Mamman Jiya Vatsa; Lt Colonel Bityong, Lt Colonel Mike Aker Iyorshe and Major Tobias Akwashiki—had requested that I should be their defending officer at different locations and times. Based on this, it was concluded that I must be one of them. However, after searching everywhere, they discovered that I was on a scholarship in the University and out of the country on a six-week sponsored studies by the Army.

With that information, Bello-Fadile knew he was treading dangerous ground. In his interactions with Vatsa and others at the Tribunal venue, he could only offer encouraging words after hearing their stories. Throughout his time with the accused officers, according to Bello-Fadile, the words of Inienger echoed in his head. During tea break, a man he described as his military Guardian Angel showed up. He was none other than then Director of Military Intelligence, Colonel Haliru Akilu, who told him: “You are the one who wants to defend those who want to kill Oga? Better go to Dodan Barracks and explain yourself to Oga now!” 🤣

The rest of the story, as recounted by Bello-Fadile:

I headed straight to Dodan Barracks to report myself with the signal, requesting me to come down to Lagos for defence duty, in my hand. On arrival at the office of the Aide-de-Camp to the President, we greeted, and I told him what happened at the venue of the Special Military Tribunal. He then asked me to go and sit in the waiting room of the President. This was shocking to me because I normally sit in the ADC’s office and have coffee, snacks and groundnuts, while waiting to see the president. That day was strange, and I started thinking I had gotten into a very big problem. I could see and felt the tension in the ADC’s face and indeed the entire office. I went out and turned left into the waiting room. There I waited to be called to go upstairs to see the President. It did not happen for hours. I kept waiting, until I looked up and saw Mr President coming down. I stood up and went close to the open door and saluted. With his beret in his right hand, he looked at me and said ‘Fadile’, then turned right and headed towards the residence. Of course, that was it—the end of the day, and we all followed him to his residence. He sat down in the main living room and removed his shoes. After about five minutes, he stood up and said, “Good day gentlemen” and disappeared into his room.

We all returned to the ADC office. Then he asked, ‘have you finished your research work in London?’ To which I replied in the negative. He then brought out some money and gave it to me. He advised me to proceed to London through Kano airport to finish my research work. He also gave me someone’s number in London to call and said that the person would give me some pounds to spend for the duration of my stay in the city. With thanks to him, and glory to the Mighty One, I went back to Kaduna the following day. A day after I arrived Kaduna, I packed my load and headed to Kano for my flight to London 🤣. That was how I ‘escaped’ possible death by firing squad, just for being picked as a defending officer by four known fellow officers of the Nigerian Army. I was still in London when the news broke on 5 March 1986 that Vatsa and his co-travellers had been found guilty of a coup attempt and executed by firing squad…

As Accused Number One, it is no surprise that the central issue in Bello-Fadile’s memoir is ‘The Enterprise’ as he dubs the 1995 ‘coup’. He provides rare insights as he recounts how he was “handcuffed and chained to a steel cabinet while standing” and how Gwadabe was “tortured almost to the point of death”. Some of the people who played negative roles in that episode, by his account, include Major General Felix Mujakperuo (rtd), who is now the Chairman of Delta State Council of Traditional Rulers and the Orodje of Okpe Kingdom, Major Hamza Al-Mustapha, the all-power Chief Security Officer to the late Abacha, who regularly invited top traditional rulers in the country to watch ‘coup videos’ with hefty envelopes as their ‘pop corns’. He, of course, is now a politician. There were many others within the military establishment at the time and Bello-Fadile named them. But he also remembers with glowing admiration the late Dr Beko Ransome-Kuti whose fax message to London, received by then British Prime Minister, John Major, may have saved him and other convicts from being executed by Abacha.

Overall, Bello-Fadile’s book sheds light on military rule in Nigeria, and it is important for a time like this. Last month, the presidency had an altercation with The Guardian newspaper over a publication deemed to be inciting mutiny against President Bola Tinubu, a charge the newspaper has dismissed. The Special Adviser to the President on Information and Strategy, Bayo Onanuga, had rehashed the story’s introduction which he described as coup-baiting: “Nigerians were exhilarated with the return of democracy in 1999, but 25 years on, the buccaneering nature of politicians, their penchant for poor service delivery, morbid hatred for probity, accountability, and credible/transparent elections, among others, are forcing some flustered citizens to make extreme choices, including calling for military intervention in governance…Deep despondency permeates every facet of the polity consequent upon soaring cost of living.”

The Guardian has defended its October 25 lead story, ‘Misery, harsh policies driving Nigerians to desperate choices’, and I do not see anything in the report that suggests the presidential imputation. Besides, most of the senior people at The Guardian were around during military rule so nobody can lecture them on that. I once shared my own experience. I was arrested at 3am by truckloads of soldiers who were evidently shocked that their victim was just a “small boy” (they told me themselves, because they didn’t even know the crime I was supposed to have committed or what I was doing for a living until I told them, and they became very sympathetic). The bullying and threats by Colonel Frank Omenka in the name of interrogation that lasted five days at the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI) dungeon in Apapa, Lagos still ring in my head. But I was fortunate. Not many people survived DMI to tell their stories while for some, the scars (physical and emotional) of that era will follow them to their graves.

My take-away from Bello-Fadile’s book is the arbitrariness of military rule and that soldiers have no magic solution for dealing with complex socio-political problems. It is also clear that coup d’etats (whether they succeed or fail) are products of the political environment in the country. “Like most human follies, military coups sound good at the time; and always fail” according to a January 2006 edition of the ‘Economist’ magazine, following a coup d’etat that toppled a corrupt civilian leadership in Bangladesh. “They sound good because what they replace is usually bad: riotous civilian leaders, corrupted institutions, stolen elections. They fail because beneath the chaos are political problems that soldiers cannot unpick…”

As I stated last year, I am aware that the only government most Nigerians (given our demographics) have experienced is the current civilian dispensation now 25 years old. But it is important for our young people to understand the danger that comes with coup d’etats. Under a military regime, the first thing to be suspended is the Constitution and the rights and liberties it confers on citizens. Suppression of the media will be automatic, and the courts will lose the limited powers they have to adjudicate over those freedoms. Interestingly, most Nigerian politicians (especially those for whom public office is about ‘eating’) will always find easy accommodation with the military. It is the media and civic space that would be under attack. For more on this, interested readers can download free copies of my book, ‘The Last 100 Days of Abacha’ from my web portal, olusegunadeniyi.com, for glimpses of what transpired when the resources and institutions of state were pressed into the service of one man and his political aspiration.

However, while a military coup offers no solution to socio-economic challenges, our politicians also cannot continue to assume indefinite immunity against the things that provoke such in other countries, especially within the subregion. Nor can they be under any illusion that the tide of violent rejection of substandard governance that we see elsewhere cannot happen here if they continue to live large at the expense of the people. What those in power today must never forget is that such disruptions are never scripted. Nor are they ever advertised ahead. They are usually spontaneous actions that most often result from innocuous things, especially when the people are pushed to the wall. That’s why memoirs like Bello-Fadile’s are another reminder of that time-tested admonition: Those who have ears…

**You can follow me on my X (formerly Twitter) handle, @Olusegunverdict and on www.olusegunadeniyi.com**

Opinion

2027 elections and Misinformation Ecosystem: Why Alkalanci work matters

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By Ahmad Muhammad Danyaro

As Nigeria moves toward the 2027 general elections, the information environment is becoming more complex—and more dangerous.

The rise of artificial intelligence, deepfakes, coordinated propaganda networks, and politically motivated disinformation tricks means that falsehood can spread faster than ever before.

The recent workshops, organized by Alkalanci (a reputable Hausa focused fact-checking platform ) in Kano and the Sokoto States, highlights a critical truth: fact-checking and media literacy organizations are no longer optional, they are essential pillars of democratic stability.

Although fact-checking is a relatively new concept, the goals of fact-checking have been evident in earlier journalistic ventures, especially in the 1980s and 1990s. Today, and starting with the creation of FactCheck.org in 2003, the number of fact-checkers around the world has more than tripled, increasing from 44 to 149 since the Duke Reporters’ Lab first began counting these projects in 2014 — a 239 percent increase. And many of those fact-checkers in 53 countries are also showing considerable staying power.

Alkalanci, a Hausa fact-checking platform christened “The Arbiter” focuses primarily on fact-checking claims on health, politics, and many other topics in the Hausa language.The platform was established to be fact-checking pictures and videos to enlighten the Hausa readers in Nigeria, Niger Republic, Cameroon, Ghana, and beyond about misleading claims or false pictures and videos.

The Alkalanci Platform has since its debut in 2024 remained a reputable and first Hausa Fact-checking platform, given the widespread use of photo editing software and Artificial Intelligence (AI) to create deceptive ‘deepfake’ images and videos.

Suffice it to say that ever since the beginning of its works, the platform has corrected misconceptions and/or false claims that otherwise could have cost the populace dearly. Alkalanci’s works do not stop at correcting social media deepfakes and misinformation, it involves pragmatic efforts to address the menace through every stakeholder.

This is evident in the recent workshop organised by Alkalanci, a Hausa-language fact-checking and media literacy organisation, brought together Islamic clerics and imams in Kano and later in Sokoto to address the growing problem of misinformation on social media. During the Kano session, the Chairman of the Kano State Council of Ulama, Sheikh Ibrahim Khalil, declared that creating and spreading fake news is prohibited in Islam.

Alkalanci’s co-founder and Editor, Alhassan Bala, noted that misleading narratives spread rapidly online and can create division and social tension. And because clerics have strong influence over their communities.

Bala encouraged them to ensure that their sermons and messages are factual, beneficial, and based on verified information.

The editor, a thoroughbred expert in the field, with an international experience, also warned that even respected community leaders can unintentionally spread false information, highlighting the need for critical thinking.

Traditional and media leaders also emphasised the dangers of fake news. The Emir of Kano, Muhammadu Sanusi II, represented at the event, urged clerics to always fact-check information before sharing it with their followers. Similarly, Freedom Radio Group Managing Director, Alhaji Abbas Dalhatu stressed the powerful role of social media in shaping public opinion and warned that misinformation can have serious and dangerous consequences.

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The outcome of the training opened up the space even more as the critical role of such education was appreciated beyond Kano.

The workshop’s train later proceeded to Sokoto, where clerics learned about modern digital threats such as artificial intelligence, deepfakes, and manipulated videos or audio.

Government officials and experts described misinformation as a potential security risk capable of provoking fear, hatred, and violence. Participants were introduced to basic fact-checking tools and encouraged to question sources and verify digital content before sharing it.

The broader goal of the programme is to build a network of informed religious leaders who can help stop false information and promote peace and truth within their communities.

In previous Nigerian elections, false reports of violence or fake announcements have triggered panic as well as an unquantifiable rumour spreading.

It is against these backdrops that as Nigeria inches closer to the decisive 2027 general elections, coupled with AI-generated content becoming more sophisticated, the risk is even greater. And more than ever before, the need of an “arbiter” to educate and enlight Nigerians about the tricks and complexities of this phenomenon becomes necessary.

Without credible fact-checkers, lies can shape public opinion before truth has a chance to respond.
Elections thrive on informed choices. When voters act on manipulated videos, fake endorsements, or fabricated violence reports, democracy suffers. Fact-checking platforms like Alkalanci investigate viral political claims, debunk fake results and doctored materials, clarify misleading campaign narratives and counter foreign interference and coordinated influence operations.

Nigeria’s social fabric is deeply influenced by religion and ethnicity. A single false message framed around religious identity can inflame tensions rapidly.

As highlighted by Kano and Sokoto States participants, misinformation is not always accidental—it is often deliberate and strategic.

Alkalanci and Fact-checking agencies must continue to strive to identify divisive narratives early, provide verified counter-information, equip community leaders with tools to question digital content and promote responsible information sharing.

By training clerics and grassroots influencers, organizations like Alkalanci strengthens the “first line of defence” against instability.

Artificial intelligence has changed the misinformation landscape.Today, it is possible to create: fake speeches that sound real, altered videos of political candidates, fabricated images of violence and cloned voices of respected leaders. Even educated audiences struggle to detect these manipulations.

Alkalanci and sister Fact-checking agencies come handy as they use forensic tools to analyze digital content, teach reverse image searches and metadata checks, provide public education on AI risks and publish transparent verification processes.

Another instructive move by Alkalanci was its focus on this vast geographical axis, where Hausa language holds sway.

Much misinformation spreads in Hausa-language via WhatsApp groups and informal networks where English focused fact-checks may not reach. Before its advent, such large size of people were in complete darkness of having a verified platform to guide and educate them about these digital falsehoods.

Alkalanci’s focus on Hausa-language verification fills a critical gap. Media literacy must be localized to be effective.

Nigeria’s elections are among the largest democratic exercises in Africa. The scale alone makes them vulnerable to manipulation. With growing social media penetration, expanding AI capabilities, political competition intensifying and foreign actors increasingly active online, the information battlefield will likely be more aggressive than ever. Fact-checking agencies are not just correcting mistakes.They are defending democracy, peace, and social cohesion.

Ahead of the 2027 elections, their work may determine not just who wins—but whether communities remain peaceful, informed, and united. Hence the need for election stakeholders to continue to bolster and support them as they now become a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Truth, especially in election season, is not automatic. It must be protected by all and sundry.

Danyaro is a Media and Communications Specialist at Brand-Age Media Consult and can be reached via: adanyaro202@gmail.com

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Opinion

Honouring the Elderly, Securing the Future in Jigawa State

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_How the healthcare reforms of Governor Umar Namadi Danmodi are restoring dignity to the aged while protecting the youngest generation._

By Lamara Garba Azare

In every society, the true character of leadership is revealed not in grand speeches or towering structures, but in how it treats those who can no longer compete in the rush of daily survival. In Jigawa State, a quiet but meaningful transformation is unfolding, one that places dignity, compassion, and human wellbeing at the centre of governance.

Through the J Basic Healthcare Services for Vulnerable Citizens, the administration of Governor Umar Namadi Danmodi has woven a protective safety net around those who often struggle in silence. At the heart of the programme are elderly citizens aged sixty five years and above, men and women whose lives of labour and sacrifice helped build the very communities they now inhabit.

For many elderly citizens, the passage of time often brings not only wisdom but also frailty. The body grows tired, the bones lose their strength, and the cost of maintaining good health begins to rise beyond what many can afford. Years spent cultivating farms, trading in markets, and serving society sometimes end with fragile health and limited financial resources. Yet these are the same men and women who nurtured families, preserved traditions, and sustained the social fabric of their communities.

By guaranteeing free access to healthcare for them, Jigawa State is restoring dignity to ageing. It sends a powerful message that the twilight years of life should not be overshadowed by fear of hospital bills or untreated illness. Instead, they should live with the comforting knowledge that society remembers their contributions and values their presence.

The scale of the initiative reflects both ambition and fairness. A total of 143500 beneficiaries have been enrolled across the state, drawn from all 287 political wards. Each ward accommodates 500 individuals within the programme, ensuring that the benefits reach every corner of the state. Among these beneficiaries are elderly citizens who now have guaranteed access to treatment in primary and secondary healthcare facilities without the burden of financial strain.

This policy goes far beyond the provision of medical services. It represents a redefinition of the relationship between government and the governed. A society that cares for its elderly is one that understands continuity. Elders are not merely older citizens; they are custodians of memory, guardians of tradition, and living bridges between the past and the future. Protecting their wellbeing strengthens the moral foundation upon which communities stand.

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Governor Umar Namadi has consistently emphasized that the programme is not an act of charity but a duty of leadership. When elderly citizens receive the healthcare they deserve, families become more stable and communities become stronger. Healthy grandparents remain sources of wisdom and emotional support within households, guiding younger generations with the lessons of experience.

The programme also extends its protective embrace to another vulnerable group, children under the age of five. This thoughtful balance between caring for the oldest and protecting the youngest reflects a deep understanding of social development. Early childhood is a delicate stage of life when illness can shape the course of a child’s future. Access to free healthcare during these formative years can mean the difference between fragile beginnings and healthy growth.

By safeguarding children at the dawn of life while protecting the elderly in their later years, Jigawa State is nurturing the full circle of human existence. It is a reminder that development is not merely about roads and buildings but about the health and wellbeing of people across generations.

The J Basic Healthcare programme was carefully designed to ensure transparency and inclusiveness. Community leaders, civil society organisations, and healthcare workers played key roles in identifying beneficiaries. This grassroots approach not only ensures fairness but also strengthens public confidence in the programme’s implementation.

Beyond this initiative, the state government continues to invest in broader health sector reforms. Primary healthcare centres are being revitalised across communities, new general hospitals are under construction, and specialised services such as free dialysis treatment for renal patients are being provided. Together, these efforts form a comprehensive strategy aimed at improving public health and expanding access to quality medical services.

At a time when rising healthcare costs continue to push many families into poverty, the Jigawa initiative offers a refreshing example of what compassionate governance can achieve. It demonstrates that public policy, when guided by empathy and foresight, can shield vulnerable citizens from hardship while strengthening social stability.

The true impact of the programme will not only appear in official statistics. It will be seen in the elderly farmer who can now manage his blood pressure without worrying about medical bills. It will be felt by the grandmother who visits a clinic without depending entirely on her children for financial assistance. It will be reflected in the laughter of a child whose illness is treated early enough to ensure a healthy future.

These quiet transformations are the building blocks of a healthier society. When the elderly are cared for and children are protected, communities become more resilient and families become more secure. Healthy citizens contribute more productively to society, and productive societies build stronger economies.

Governor Umar Namadi’s approach therefore carries a deeper philosophical meaning. It reminds us that genuine progress is not measured solely by economic statistics or physical infrastructure but by the quality of life enjoyed by ordinary citizens. It shows that leadership guided by compassion can shape policies that preserve dignity while creating opportunity.

In the final analysis, the strength of a society is not measured by the wealth it accumulates but by the care it extends to those who once carried its burdens and those who will inherit its future. By protecting the elderly and nurturing young children, Jigawa State is quietly planting the seeds of a healthier and more humane tomorrow.

Under the watch of a caring leader like Governor Umar Namadi Danmodi, governance takes on a deeper meaning. It becomes not merely the exercise of authority but the practice of service. And when leadership chooses compassion over indifference, it leaves behind something far greater than policy. It leaves behind hope, dignity, and a legacy that generations will remember.

Lamara Garba Azare, a veteran journalist, writes from Kano.

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Opinion

Comrade Ibrahim Waiya, Limamin Kano First: The Man Who Turned a Governor’s Vision Into a Governing Philosophy

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By Sufyan Lawal Kano

The true measure of leadership has never been the grandeur of its proclamations. It has always been the discipline of its follow-through, the unglamorous, daily, often invisible work of converting a compelling vision into institutional reality, of ensuring that the ideas articulated in policy documents and public speeches actually reach the citizens whose lives they are intended to transform. In Kano State today, that work is being done with a consistency and seriousness that deserves far wider recognition than it has so far received. And at the center of that effort, serving as both the strategic intelligence and the public conscience of the Kano First Agenda, stands the Honourable Commissioner for Information and Internal Affairs, Comrade Ibrahim Abdullahi Waiya, whose unofficial but deeply earned title, Limamin Kano First, speaks volumes about the nature and significance of his contribution.
The Kano First Initiative, conceived under the leadership of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf as a governing philosophy that places the welfare, dignity, and progress of Kano’s citizens at the irreducible center of every policy decision, represents something genuinely distinctive in the landscape of Nigerian state governance. It is not merely a development agenda in the conventional sense, a list of projects to be completed and targets to be met. It is, at its most ambitious, an attempt to redefine the relationship between government and citizens, to move from a model of governance as service delivery toward a model of governance as shared civic enterprise, one in which citizens are not passive beneficiaries of government attention but active co-owners of the state’s development trajectory. That is a profound ambition, and it requires, to become real, something that infrastructure projects and budget allocations alone cannot provide: a coherent, credible, and consistently communicated philosophy that citizens can understand, trust, and embrace as their own.
It is precisely here that Comrade Waiya’s contribution becomes indispensable. From the moment he assumed office, he brought to the Ministry of Information a clarity of purpose that distinguished his approach from the reactive, image-management orientation that has historically characterized government communication in this country. His mission, as he has articulated it through his public engagements, his institutional reforms, and his personal conduct, has been to build a communication architecture that serves not the government’s convenience but the citizens’ understanding. That is a subtle but enormously consequential distinction, and it is one that has shaped every significant decision he has made since taking office.
Among his earliest and most consequential institutional actions was a systematic engagement with the state’s major government media organizations, including ARTV, Radio Kano, Triumph Publishing Company, and the Kano State Printing Press. These engagements were not ceremonial visits. They were strategic assessments, aimed at understanding the capacity, the constraints, and the potential of the institutions through which government communicates with its citizens, and at beginning the process of revitalizing that machinery so that it could serve its proper democratic function: to inform, to educate, and to create the conditions for genuine public understanding of government policy. A government whose communication infrastructure is weak or dysfunctional cannot build the public trust that effective governance requires, regardless of the quality of its policies. Waiya understood this, and he acted on it.
Equally significant was his investment in human capacity at the grassroots level. The decision to organize training programs for information officers from all forty-four local government areas of Kano State reflected an understanding that strategic communication cannot be confined to the state capital or to the national media. It must penetrate to the ward level, to the market and the mosque and the community meeting, to the spaces where the overwhelming majority of Kano’s citizens actually encounter government and form their judgments about its intentions and its performance. By building a stronger grassroots communication network, Waiya created the infrastructure for the kind of citizen-level engagement that the Kano First philosophy demands but that no amount of press releases or social media content can substitute for.
His engagement with the media profession itself has been another dimension of his work that deserves particular recognition. Recognizing that the quality of public discourse in Kano is inseparable from the quality of its journalism, Waiya has invested consistently in building relationships with journalists, broadcasters, and communication professionals, not to manage their coverage or to cultivate favorable reporting, but to foster the kind of professional standards and development-oriented journalism that a society serious about its own progress requires. His consistent message to media practitioners, that responsible, accurate, and constructive reporting is not merely a professional obligation but a civic contribution, reflects a sophisticated understanding of the media’s role in either deepening or undermining public trust in institutions.
Perhaps the most important philosophical contribution Waiya has made to the Kano First discourse, however, is his insistence that popularizing the agenda is not a political act but a civic duty. This reframing is, in the context of Nigerian political culture, genuinely radical. In a political environment where almost every public initiative is immediately read through a partisan lens, where support for a government programme is routinely interpreted as political allegiance and skepticism as opposition, the assertion that the Kano First Agenda belongs not to the political party or to the Yusuf administration but to the people of Kano is a claim that cuts across the grain of established political behavior. It is also, if it can be made to stick, extraordinarily powerful, because a civic philosophy that transcends partisan boundaries is one that can survive electoral cycles and accumulate the kind of broad, durable public support that transforms individual administrations’ programmes into lasting institutional culture.
The evidence that this reframing is beginning to take hold is visible, if not yet definitive. Citizens across the state are demonstrably more informed about the administration’s policies and the philosophy that underpins them. Public conversations about development are increasingly framed in the language of collective responsibility and civic ownership rather than purely in terms of government performance and political judgment. Community leaders, professional associations, civil society organizations, and youth groups are engaging with the Kano First framework in ways that suggest a growing recognition that the initiative speaks to something real in the shared aspirations of Kano’s people, something that predates the current administration and will, if properly nurtured, outlast it.
None of this diminishes the central role of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, whose personal commitment to the Kano First philosophy provides the political authority and executive backing without which no communication strategy, however brilliant, can translate vision into action. The governor’s record of progress across infrastructure development, education, healthcare, youth empowerment, and social welfare initiatives is the material foundation on which the Kano First narrative is built. Without that foundation, the most skillful communication would eventually ring hollow. With it, skillful communication becomes the bridge between government achievement and public understanding, between what is being done and what citizens know and believe about what is being done. That bridge is what Waiya has been building, patiently, consistently, and with considerable skill, since the first day he took office.
What observers of his ministry most frequently note is not any single achievement but a quality of presence and commitment that is, in Nigerian public life, genuinely unusual. Waiya engages, consistently and seriously, with the full range of stakeholders whose participation the Kano First philosophy requires: journalists and community leaders, professional bodies and civil society organizations, youth groups and traditional institutions, media practitioners and policy analysts. He does not manage these relationships from a distance or through intermediaries. He shows up, he listens, he explains, and he follows through. That combination of intellectual seriousness and personal accessibility is, in the world of governance communication, a rare and valuable combination, and it is one that has earned him a reputation that no amount of political positioning could manufacture.
As Kano State continues to navigate the complex terrain of development, democratic consolidation, and social renewal, the work of the Limamin Kano First remains as urgent as it has ever been. The Kano First Initiative is still in its formative stages. Its ultimate success will depend on the quality of its implementation, the consistency of its leadership, and above all, the willingness of Kano’s citizens to claim it as their own rather than leaving it to government alone. Comrade Ibrahim Abdullahi Waiya has done the foundational work of making that claim possible. He has given the governor’s vision an intellectual architecture, a communication infrastructure, and a civic philosophy robust enough to withstand the pressures of a complex political environment. The rest, as it must always be in a genuine democracy, belongs to the people.
Sufyan Lawal Kano is a public affairs writer and civic commentator based in Kano State.
Contact: sefjamil3@gmail.com

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