By Auwal Sani

Stories have a curious way of finding the places we pretend no longer exist. A few nights ago, I settled in to watch Saheeba, the ongoing Hausa mini series that has quietly earned a place in the hearts of many viewers. I expected to follow the lives of its characters. Instead, somewhere between the pauses, the longing, and the things left unsaid, I found myself confronting a story I have been carrying since 2018. By the time the episode ended, I was no longer thinking about the people on my screen. I was thinking about the quiet spaces within me.

I have always loved love stories. Not because they always end happily, as many of them do not, but because they reveal something profound about the human heart. It is perhaps the only part of us that refuses to become entirely logical. It believes after disappointment, hopes after silence, and waits even when waiting appears unreasonable. Love stories remind us that the heart possesses a resilience that the mind often struggles to understand.

There is a kind of loneliness that rarely announces itself. It is not the loneliness of being surrounded by no one. Rather, it is the loneliness of having family, friends, meaningful work, and personal achievements, yet still sensing that one important space remains unoccupied. It quietly accompanies you to weddings, birthdays, and ordinary evenings. It reminds you that some places within us cannot be filled by ambition, success, or the passage of time.

That has been my reality since 2018.

People often say that time heals all wounds. I have come to believe otherwise. Time, by itself, does not heal. It simply teaches us how to carry what has not healed. Over the years, I have questioned myself more than I have questioned fate. Perhaps my expectations of love are unrealistic. Perhaps I desire too much in a generation that seems increasingly comfortable with temporary connections and convenient relationships. Or perhaps I simply long for a kind of love that still believes commitment is worth choosing every single day.

What I know with certainty is that love has always been my greatest vulnerability. I have never learned the mathematics of guarded affection. I do not know how to give ten percent when my heart insists on giving everything. It has always seemed ironic to me that we encourage people to pursue their dreams without reservation, yet advise them to ration kindness, vulnerability, and love. More than once, I have discovered that not every heart knows what to do with genuine affection. Some admire it, some misunderstand it, and others receive it without ever intending to give anything in return.

Perhaps that is why love remains such a mystery. We write poems about it, compose songs because of it, and build entire futures around the hope of finding it. Yet no definition has ever been large enough to contain all that it is. Those who understand love most deeply are not always those who found it. Sometimes, they are those who have lived through its absence. They know what it means to smile while carrying invisible disappointments, and they understand that loneliness is not merely the absence of people, but the absence of the one person with whom silence would have been enough.

Watching Saheeba reminded me that love is rarely sustained by grand declarations or dramatic sacrifices alone. More often, it survives through patience, consistency, understanding, and the quiet decision to keep choosing someone even after the excitement has faded. The series is still unfolding, and perhaps that is why it resonates so deeply with me. Like life itself, its ending has not yet been written. Every episode quietly reminds us that uncertainty is part of every meaningful journey.

The human heart has an astonishing ability to survive what should have broken it. It remembers tenderness after betrayal, imagines tomorrow after years of unanswered prayers, and continues to believe long after experience suggests it should stop. There was a time when I considered hardening my heart because it seemed safer. After all, disappointment cannot wound a heart that no longer expects anything. But I eventually realised that the opposite of heartbreak is not peace. It is indifference. And indifference is far more frightening because it asks us to stop feeling altogether. I would rather carry hope than become indifferent.

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson Saheeba has offered me. Not that love is guaranteed, or that every story reaches the ending we imagine, but that there is quiet courage in remaining emotionally available despite life’s disappointments. To continue believing after years of waiting is its own form of resilience. Hope is not weakness. It is evidence that the heart has refused to surrender.

So I still love love stories. Not because they promise happy endings, but because they remind me that every ending is also the possibility of another beginning. They remind me that hope is never foolish, and that the heart’s willingness to believe again is one of the quiet miracles of being human.

Perhaps the greatest miracle is not finding love. Perhaps it is refusing to let disappointment convince us that love is no longer worth finding. And maybe, just maybe, the most beautiful chapter of my own story has not been written yet.

Auwal Sani is a Lecturer in the Department of Development and Strategic Communication, University of Abuja. He writes on communication, society, culture, and the quiet experiences that shape everyday life.

By IFEANYICHUKWU PRECIOUS KANU

When news emerged in April 2025 that dozens of migrants had died while attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea from Libya to Europe, the reactions were predictable. Social media erupted with outrage, international organisations renewed warnings about irregular migration, and governments promised to intensify efforts against human trafficking and migrant smuggling. Yet, after the headlines faded, the dangerous journeys continued.

According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), more than 2,300 migrants died or went missing on Mediterranean migration routes in 2024, making it one of the world’s deadliest migration corridors. Thousands of these migrants originated from African countries, including Nigeria, Ghana, Senegal and Eritrea.

This raises an important question: Why do young Africans continue to risk everything despite knowing the dangers?

The answer goes beyond the activities of traffickers. It lies in the widening gap between the aspirations of Africa’s growing youth population and the economic realities they face at home.

In Nigeria, the phenomenon popularly known as “Japa” has evolved from a slang expression into a national conversation. What initially described the migration of highly skilled professionals has become a broader aspiration among students, graduates and young entrepreneurs seeking economic security abroad.

The numbers reflect this trend. Data from the estimates that over 16,000 Nigerian doctors have left the country in the last decade, while the reported issuing more than 15,000 verification certificates in 2023 alone to nurses seeking employment abroad. These figures illustrate a sustained migration of skilled professionals.

Economic conditions help explain this movement. High youth unemployment, persistent inflation, rising living costs and insecurity have made stable livelihoods increasingly difficult. Many graduates spend years searching for employment, while small businesses struggle with rising operating costs and unreliable infrastructure.

At the same time, success stories from abroad dominate conversations. Families celebrate relatives who send money home from Canada, friends post milestones achieved in the United Kingdom, and classmates announce permanent residency in Germany. Such stories spread rapidly through social media, while accounts of exploitation, detention and death receive far less sustained attention.

This information imbalance creates fertile ground for traffickers.

Nigeria’s foremost anti-trafficking agency, the (NAPTIP), has documented numerous cases involving victims lured with false promises of employment, education and better living conditions overseas. Although states such as Edo have witnessed progress through stronger enforcement and awareness campaigns, trafficking networks have adapted by shifting recruitment to digital platforms. Fake recruitment agencies, fraudulent visa offers and carefully managed social media accounts now serve as powerful tools of deception.

The trafficker’s greatest weapon is not violence; it is hope. Victims often believe they are pursuing legitimate opportunities until they become trapped in systems of debt bondage, forced labour, sexual exploitation or extortion.

Libya remains the clearest example of this crisis. Since the collapse of state authority in 2011, the country has become a major transit point for migrants attempting to reach Europe through irregular routes. The United Nations, the International Organization for Migration, and Amnesty International have repeatedly documented abuses including arbitrary detention, torture, forced labour, sexual violence and ransom demands against migrants held by armed groups and criminal networks.

The persistence of this route demonstrates that awareness campaigns alone cannot solve the problem. Many migrants are already aware of the risks. Their decisions are shaped less by ignorance than by the belief that remaining at home offers even fewer opportunities.

For this reason, human trafficking should not be viewed solely as a criminal justice issue. Arresting traffickers and strengthening border controls remain essential, but they address only the symptoms of a much deeper problem.

Effective responses require governments to invest in labour-intensive sectors capable of creating sustainable employment, improve technical and vocational education, expand access to affordable financing for young entrepreneurs, strengthen social protection programmes and improve public confidence in governance. Equally important is expanding safe and legal migration pathways so that desperate young people are less vulnerable to traffickers who exploit irregular routes.

Ultimately, the continued movement of African youth through Libya is not merely a migration story; it is a reflection of unmet aspirations. People do not willingly cross deserts, endure detention camps and risk drowning because traffickers are persuasive. They do so because they believe that dignity, opportunity and security are more attainable elsewhere.

Until African governments create environments where young people can realistically build prosperous futures at home, trafficking networks will continue to exploit hope, and the route from West Africa through Libya to the Mediterranean will remain one of the continent’s most enduring humanitarian tragedies.

IFEANYICHUKWU PRECIOUS KANU
200 Level, Department of Development and Strategic Communication
Abuja, Nigeria

By Aminu Mubaraq

The recent increase in petrol prices following the removal of fuel subsidy has changed the way Nigerians think about transportation and energy consumption. In cities like Abuja and Lagos, where transportation costs have become a major concern for many citizens, the search for a cheaper and more sustainable alternative has become necessary. One solution that has gained public attention is Compressed Natural Gas (CNG). Considering Nigeria’s large natural gas reserves, the introduction of CNG appears to be a reasonable step. However, the major question remains whether the initiative is truly solving Nigeria’s energy challenges or whether it is an idea that still requires more preparation before Nigerians can fully benefit from it.

CNG agencies, especially the Presidential CNG Initiative, were created to encourage Nigerians to move away from complete dependence on petrol and diesel. Their responsibilities include promoting awareness, supporting vehicle conversion programmes, developing CNG infrastructure, and training technicians who can handle the conversion and maintenance of CNG-powered vehicles. These activities are important because the success of any energy transition does not depend only on introducing a new system but also on convincing people to trust and adopt it.

From a strategic communication perspective, the way these agencies communicate with the public is one of the most important factors determining the success of the programme. Many Nigerians are interested in cheaper fuel options because of the pressure caused by high transportation costs. However, some people still have concerns about safety, availability, and whether CNG will actually provide long-term benefits. This means that government agencies must go beyond announcements and create continuous communication channels where citizens can ask questions, receive accurate information, and understand the realistic advantages and limitations of CNG.

Another important area of CNG activities is partnership with different stakeholders. Government bodies, private investors, transport unions, and vehicle owners all have roles to play in making the transition successful. Expanding conversion centres and increasing access to refuelling stations require cooperation between these groups. Public awareness campaigns through traditional media, social media platforms, and community engagement can also help Nigerians understand how CNG works and why it is being promoted.

Despite the potential benefits, the CNG transition still faces several challenges. The number of available refuelling stations remains limited compared to petrol stations, and the cost of
converting vehicles can be expensive for many Nigerians, especially commercial drivers who depend on their vehicles for daily income. There is also a need for more public education because some citizens still have doubts about the safety and reliability of using gas-powered vehicles. These challenges show that introducing CNG is not enough; proper planning and effective communication are required to make the initiative successful.

The possible impact of CNG adoption in Nigeria is significant. Economically, it can help reduce transportation expenses by providing a cheaper alternative to petrol. This could reduce the financial burden on commercial drivers, businesses, and commuters. Environmentally, CNG produces fewer harmful emissions compared to traditional fuels, making it a cleaner energy option. However, these benefits can only be achieved if the necessary infrastructure is developed and citizens have confidence in the system.

The importance of CNG agencies goes beyond providing another fuel source. The initiative represents an opportunity for Nigeria to take advantage of its natural resources, reduce dependence on imported petroleum products, and improve energy security. It can also create employment opportunities in areas such as vehicle conversion, gas distribution, equipment maintenance, and technical services. For strategic communication professionals, the CNG programme highlights the importance of public relations, transparency, and maintaining a strong relationship between government institutions and citizens.

Although CNG is not a perfect solution to Nigeria’s energy problems, it remains a valuable step towards achieving a more affordable and sustainable energy system. The programme should continue, but improvements are necessary. More investment in infrastructure, better public awareness, and clearer communication strategies will determine whether CNG becomes a practical solution or another government initiative that fails to reach ordinary Nigerians.

In conclusion, the success of Nigeria’s CNG transition depends on more than the availability of natural gas. It depends on effective planning, public trust, and the ability of relevant agencies to communicate their goals clearly. If properly managed, CNG can contribute significantly to reducing energy costs and improving Nigeria’s transportation system. However, without addressing current challenges, the initiative may struggle to achieve the impact it promises.

Aminu Mubaraq Asuku

Department of development and strategic communication
University of Abuja