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Opinion

Girmamawa Is Not a Prefix-Habib Sani Galadima

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By Habib Sani Galadima

In 2021, I attended the wedding dinner of my friend Jamilu Ibrahim Lawan. I was seated close to the front, on a white plastic chair wrapped in gold fabric. Before me, the table was neatly set: a plate of Jollof rice, definitely not Nigerian, soft meat, and chilled drinks.

Then the emcee began his greeting: “Malam Alhaji Dr. Musa, Hajiya Barrister Halima, distinguished guests…” The crowd responded with approving nods. The roll call was not mere protocol. It was a performance of hierarchy, identity, and cultural choreography; compressed into names.

Last week, I was at another gathering with my brother. We both wore beads, but his was longer and more ornate. I casually called him by his marketplace nickname “Ustaz”. Minutes later, someone suggested he should lead the zuhr prayer. I cannot say the title alone earned him that role, but I am certain it tipped the scale. In Hausa society, a name does not just identify, it calibrates power. Every title is weighed by a specific cultural logic.

Whether it is ‘Malam’, ‘Alhaji’, ‘Ustaz’, ‘Engineer’, or ‘Sarki’, each one signals something; scholarship, pilgrimage, class, inheritance, or even self-promotion. To outsiders, they may sound interchangeable. To insiders, they map power, piety, education, and ambition.

Understanding Hausa titles is not about translating words. It is about interpreting what they signify, how they command trust, confer legitimacy, or inflate status.
Ask a Hausa child who taught them how to read Qur’an, and the answer is often the same: “Malam.” But today, that word travels far beyond the Tsangaya.

Originally from the Arabic ‘mu’allim’, meaning teacher, ‘Malam’ once marked someone rooted in Islamic knowledge, versed in tafsir, guardians of moral clarity, respected in both mosque and marketplace. A ‘Malam’ was more than a scholar. He was a compass.
Now the title is elastic. It applies to schoolteachers, lecturers, civil servants, even radio presenters with confident diction. In classrooms, it confers authority. In markets, it softens tone. Sometimes it is just what you call a man whose name you do not know. And on social media, Malam can shift from respect to ridicule, used to mock someone who parades borrowed wisdom.

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This stretch reflects Hausa society’s deep reverence for learning, but also its evolving standards for what counts as knowledge. Malam no longer guarantees scholarship. It signals the appearance of learning, genuine or not.

Still, the word carries weight. It opens doors, commands silence, curates tone. Whether whispered by students or shouted from campaign stages, Malam remains a title that balances between reverence and performance. Between earned wisdom and social display.

Once upon a time, calling someone ‘Alhaji’ or ‘Malam’ was enough. Today, it is Alhaji Engr. (Dr.) Chief Sani, and the wedding card has not even listed his full name yet.
Across Northern Nigeria, title stacking has become a performance of prestige. What began as distinct acknowledgments of religious devotion (Alhaji), scholarly authority (Malam), or traditional office (Waziri, Sarki or Galadima) now mingle with Western academic and professional badges like Pharm., Barr., or Engr. One name carries five honorifics.

How did we go from single titles to full-length prefixes? The answer lies in both competition and code-switching. In a society where jobs are scarce and respect is fiercely guarded, titles become symbolic currency. They signal arrival. They fend off dismissal. A stacked name becomes shorthand for success, even when its credentials are uneven.

But it is more than vanity. Hausa speakers navigate overlapping systems of esteem; Islamic virtue, traditional nobility, colonial bureaucracy, and global credentialism. The title stack tries to contain them all: faith, lineage, modernity, merit, compressed into one string of prefixes.

The cost is semantic overload. At some point, ‘Dr. Alhaji Barr.’ says less about your knowledge than about your insecurity. It clutters public introductions and invites satire, as comedians mimic “Comrade Chief (Dr.) Honourable Mallam Digital Strategist…” to lampoon inflated self-worth.

Still, the inflation persists. Because in a culture where ‘girmamawa’ is armor, each new prefix feels like one more layer of protection.

In Hausa culture, titles matter. But girmamawa (respect) runs deeper.
An old man in a village, never called Alhaji or Malam, may command more silence in a gathering than someone with ten honorifics. Why? Because Hausa society has always known the difference between a name and a reputation.

Titles like Dr., Hajiya, Malam, or Waziri can open doors. They invite polite speech, they soften refusals, they protect ego. But respect is built slowly: through action, humility, and how one treats others when no one is watching.

People admire the man who settles disputes without shouting. The woman who feeds orphans without posting about it. The trader whose word is stronger than a receipt. These are the quiet architects of girmamawa.

The tension is real. A person can be called ‘Alhaji Barrister’ and still be mocked behind their back if they abuse power. On the other hand, someone with no title might be described as ‘mutumin kirki’ (a person of upright character) and be trusted with community secrets or village leadership.

Hausa proverbs capture this wisdom. One says, “A bin da ya fi ado, shi ne hali”, meaning, (character is greater than decoration).

The lesson is simple: titles may impress, but they cannot replace trust.

Opinion

Beyond the Godfather’s Shadow: Why Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf Chose Kano Over a Provincial Presidential Quest

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​By Kabiru Sani Dogo Maiwanki

​The recent pronouncements by Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso regarding Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf’s strategic political recalibration have finally stripped away the façade, exposing the profound ideological fissures within the NNPP hierarchy. In a caustic address delivered Saturday evening, the Senator characterized the Governor’s newfound autonomy as a “betrayal” of a far more egregious nature than that of his predecessor, Abdullahi Ganduje. However, in this vitriolic attempt to cast himself as the victim of political infidelity, Kwankwaso inadvertently betrayed a disconcerting truth: he viewed the incumbent administration not as a sovereign executive entity, but as a subordinate instrument of his personal political estate.

​Senator Kwankwaso remarked that, as a presidential hopeful, his fundamental expectation was that the administration he purportedly “installed” would function as a geopolitical centrifuge—a financial and logistical catalyst designed to project the Kwankwasiyya hegemony into neighboring Northwestern territories. He expressed profound chagrin that, over two years into this mandate, the machinery of the Kano State government has not been weaponized to “conquer” even Jigawa State for his political brand. This revelation is remarkably candid; it implies that the Senator’s patronage of the current administration was never rooted in the socio-economic advancement of the Kano populace, but was instead a cynical stratagem to treat the state’s commonwealth as a private war chest for a singular, ego-driven presidential odyssey.

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​By resisting this role, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has committed what Kwankwaso perceives as an unpardonable “sin,” but what objective observers must recognize as a courageous act of institutional integrity. The Governor’s refusal to allow the Kano State treasury to be cannibalized for regional political expansion is a resounding victory for fiscal prudence and administrative transparency. It represents a principled rejection of the archaic practice where public commonwealth is weaponized to bolster the narrow political interests of a singular godfather at the expense of the citizenry.

​The depth of the Senator’s desperation is now laid bare for all to see. In a striking reversal from his usual posture of absolute authority, Kwankwaso has been reduced to making public appeals for reconciliation. His recent plea—openly asking anyone with access to the Governor to “beg him to come back”—reveals a leader who has finally grasped the magnitude of his loss. It is the sound of a man who realizes that the “innocent aide” he once underrated has not only secured his independence but has taken the soul of the movement with him.

​It is therefore essential for Kwankwaso and other political leaders who pride themselves on their political stature to realize that there is a limit to how long they can continue to deceive and exploit their followers. Respect must be reciprocal; whether between a leader and the led, there is a definitive limit to the amount of insult, manipulation, and contempt any person can endure.

Whenever you push a supporter to the brink and their patience finally runs out, the consequences of their anger will certainly be unpleasant for those in power.
​For the well-meaning people of Kano, this is a moment to offer unalloyed commendation. Governor Abba deserves praise for his steadfastness in protecting the state’s allocations and for prioritizing the welfare of the masses over the expansionist agenda of a political empire. Abba Kabir Yusuf has chosen to be the custodian of the people’s trust rather than a puppet for personal ambition, and in doing so, he has redefined the essence of leadership in Kano.

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Opinion

From Zamfara roots to national vision: Aliyu Muhammad Adamu, seasoned media leader, returns home to serve his people.”

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Aliyu Muhammad Adamu was born on 29th December 1982 in Tsafe Local Government Area of Zamfara State, into the respected Adamu Joji family.

He hails from a lineage that includes notable family members such as Alhaji Sanda Adamu Tsafe (Sarkin Yakin Tsafe), Alhaji Aliyu Adamu (Danmadami), Alhaji Sani Adamu, Hajiya Khadija Adamu (Gwoggo Dala), and Hajiya Amina, among others.

His father, Muhammad Adamu (popularly known as Nata’ala), later relocated to Kano State in pursuit of business expansion. As a result, Aliyu and his siblings were raised in Kano, where he began his early education at Da’awa Primary School, Kano.

Driven by a strong connection to his roots, Aliyu returned to Zamfara State for his secondary education, attending Unity Secondary School, Gummi. He subsequently gained admission into Bayero University, Kano (BUK), where he obtained both his Diploma and Bachelor’s Degree, graduating in 2010.

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After completing his National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), Aliyu faced the realities of life with resilience and determination, navigating through challenges that shaped his character and leadership capacity. In 2014, he returned to Zamfara State and began his professional career in the media industry with Gamji Television and Radio.

Through dedication, hard work, and professional excellence, he served the organization for nearly ten years, rising through the ranks to become the General Manager of the station, an achievement that underscored his leadership, administrative competence, and commitment to public communication.

In 2023, Aliyu voluntarily resigned from the media organization and relocated to Kano State in pursuit of broader opportunities and personal development. Today, driven by a renewed sense of purpose and a lifelong commitment to his people, Aliyu Muhammad Adamu is preparing to return to his hometown to seek the support and mandate of his people. His aspiration is to represent our parents, brothers, and sisters at the federal level, with a clear vision of contributing meaningfully to the development, unity, and overall progress of Zamfara State.

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Opinion

Opinion:The Anatomy Of A Hoax- Setting The Record Straight On Governor Abba Yusuf

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​By Ahmed Badamasi Tsaure

​The recent wave of political “scoops” regarding the purported defection of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State to the All Progressives Congress (APC) has moved beyond mere speculation into a coordinated campaign of character assassination. Most notably, reports by Daily Nigerian claiming the Governor’s move was “postponed” are masterpieces of fiction, designed to paint a sitting Governor as indecisive and subordinate. As a witness to the political realities in Kano, I find it necessary to dismantle these fallacies with the facts that the purveyors of this rumor have conveniently ignored. In Nigerian politics, defection is a statutory process requiring a formal resignation from one’s current party. To date, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has not submitted any resignation from the New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP). To claim that a “finalized arrangement” for a Monday registration existed is a procedural hallucination; one cannot join a new house without first stepping out of the old one.
​Furthermore, the narrative suggests the Governor’s plans were shelved because he failed to seek the “blessings” of local APC bigwigs. This is a laughable distortion of executive power. History is replete with Governors who defected based on executive conviction without the interference of local APC “big wigs.” We have seen this with the Governor of Delta vs. Senator Omo-Agege, the Governor of Bayelsa vs. David Lyon and Minister Heineken Lokpobiri, the Governor of Rivers vs. Nyesom Wike, and the Governor of Plateau vs. the current National Chairman of the APC. More recently, the defections of Governors like Dave Umahi (Ebonyi), Ben Ayade (Cross River), and Bello Matawalle (Zamfara) proved that when a Governor moves, he does so as the new leader of the party in his state. It is also historically hypocritical to label such a move as “betrayal.” When Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso defected from the PDP to the APC in 2013, he did not seek permission from any person or leadership—he led a rebellion based on his own conviction. If it was “principled politics” for the godfather then, it cannot be “betrayal” for the Governor now.

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​What, then, remains for a Governor who already holds the overwhelming mandate of his people? It is a known fact that Governor Abba Yusuf moves with the ironclad support of almost 95% of the Kano State House of Assembly, 50% of the National Assembly members from the state, all 44 Local Government chairmen, and the entire grassroots party structure. The desperate attempt by the NNPP National Working Committee to dissolve the Kano executive committees is a futile, “too-late” maneuver that only confirms their loss of control. When a Governor commands such total loyalty, he does not ask for permission; he leads. The defection of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf is inevitable if he so wishes, as he carries the entire political soul of Kano with him.
​The theory that the APC postponed this move because Senator Kwankwaso is not coming along simply does not hold water. Kwankwaso’s refusal to join the APC is a settled matter; it is alleged the President offered him a ministerial position or the Chairmanship of the soon-to-be resuscitated Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF), both of which he rejected after his demand to join the Presidential ticket was denied. Using this stalemate as a pretext for the Governor’s “indecision” is a transparent lie aimed at making the Governor look like a political appendage. It is disheartening to see Daily Nigerian abandon objective journalism to frame the Governor as a “betrayer.” If Governor Abba Yusuf chooses to move, he does so as a leader of a massive political movement. The media must stop concocting stories to mislead the public. Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf remains focused on his mandate. These rumors are merely the desperate gasps of those who wish to see Kano in perpetual turmoil.

​Ahmed Badamasi Tsaure writes from Shanono Local Government, Kano State. He can be reached at ahmedtsaure28@gmail.com.

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