Opinion
Rarara’s Invective Barbs: Innuendoes, Body Shaming, and Kano Politics
Abdallah Uba Adamu
For the past 43 years that I have been a researcher, there were two areas I stay clear of: politics and religion. If you see my hand in any of these two, then the entry point is popular or media cultures. For instance, I have recorded a lot of Kano Qadiriyya’s Anfasu zikr, not as a devotee, but as an ethnomusicologist – focusing on the body percussion and movements (after studying the wonderful works of Margaret Kartomi on body percussion while in Morocco). Similarly – and to balance things somewhat – I recorded Tijjaniyya zikr sessions at Chiranci in the city of Kano as part of a larger study on religious performances. All my recordings were uploaded to a dedicated YouTube public channel. I was therefore amused when people try to pigeon-hole me either as Qadri or Tijjani. I am neither.
Politically, I am apolitical, meaning I really don’t care who rules the country. I don’t even vote, having done once long time ago (at the insistence of a dear friend), and promised never to do it again. But performance arts brought my attention to protest songs and the prosecution of singers in Kano. The end product was a paper, “Poetic Barbs: Invective Political Poetry in Kano Popular Culture” which I am sure is floating somewhere in a modified form. And I thought that was it.
In 2014 I came across a song that I found amusing. I was playing it on my laptop when someone exhibited surprise that I was listening to the songs of Dauda Adamu Abdullahi Kahutu, with stage name of Rarara. That was the first time I even heard the name. The song was “Zuwan Maimalafa Kano.” It attracted my attention in two ways. First, its lyrical construction as well as delivery was just amazing. Rapid fire. He should have been a rapper, a genre of music I am totally besotted on (old school DMX, 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, Ice Cube, Queen “The Equalizer” Latifah, y’all). It was clear Rarara was singing off cuff, not reading from a setlist or lyrical sheet. Second, it was the most detailed invective song I have heard in Hausa Afropop music genre. I started digging and latched on him and his songs. So, for the last seven years or so, I have been following every song he released using the invective matrix.
So, what is an invective song? Invective is the literary device in which one attacks or insults a person or thing through the use of abusive language and tone. If you like, “zambo/shaguɓe”. Invective is often accompanied by negative emotion. Invective can be divided into two types: high and low invective. High invective requires the use of formal and creative language, while Low invective, on the other hand, makes use of rude and offensive images. From 2010, Rarara became a master of popular Hausa invective oral poetry. He used his skills to abuse, insult and body shame anyone he was paid to insult. Including former masters and associates.
A pattern evolved. His switchbacks. Chronologically, his earliest non-invective song was “Saraki Sai Allah” (in honor of then Governor Ibrahim Shekarau’s turbaning as Sardaunan Kano in 2010 by the late Emir of Kano, Alhaji Ado Bayero). In 2011 – barely a year later – when Shekarau failed to anoint Rarara’s ‘master’, Deputy Governor Abdullahi T. Gwarzo to succeed him, Rarara became ballistically invective – and established a career in body shaming, abuses and innuendoes against various previous masters. Shekarau bore the blunt of colorist abuses – often a case of the kettle calling the pot black. No one was spared his invective barbs. Deeply cut. Insulting. Spread over 39 songs, from 2014’s “Malam Ya Yi Rawa Da Alkyabba”, to 2023’s “Tangal-Tangal.”
I have seen social media calling Rarara out on his not being a Kano indigene, getting rich in Kano through his songs, and yet insulting Kano’s leaders. This is all true. However, ‘da ɗan gari a kan ci gari’ (enemy within). Only about three songs in my analytical corpus by Rarara were free-standing (i.e., unsponsored). All the others were commissioned and paid for – by politicians from Kano, to abuse other politicians from Kano. Rarara always acknowledges his sponsors in the opening doxology of his performances.
Rarara was a highly unprincipled and unethical businessman. Show him the money, and he will praise his closest friend and abuse the friend’s enemy. Show him more money, and he will insult the same friend he praised, and heap praises on the enemy he insulted. Does anyone remember that the glorified “Ɗan Ƙaramin Sauro” (irritating mote) was part of the demeaned “Banza Bakwai” (Bastard Seven)? The bromance did not end well, did it? Business unusual.
In any event, Rarara’s invective braggadocio came back to hit him hard on 5th April 2023 when his opponents used his mother’s picture in unflattering terms and splattered it all over social media and gave her a feminine variation of an insulting name he used against one of his targets. Apparently when the shoe is on the other foot, it pinches.
Thus, instead of focusing on political ideology and promises of creating a better life for the electorate, often politicians in Kano (and I think Kano, as usual, is the only state that uniquely does this) would pay more attention to denigrating, shaming, and condemning opposing candidates, creating an unfavorable imagery of the politician to prevent his being voted. Rarara was a perfect malleable puppet in this process. He has the same emotional value to Kano politicians as an alien from Saturn. Despite his lyrical brilliance and acerbic wit, he was expendable. How many singers from Kano can you recall doing the same invective insults as Rarara to Kano politicians? Two? Three? Their corpus is not as extensive as that of Rarara. Conversely, how many politicians from Katsina pay Rarara money to insult other Katsina politicians? I can only remember one.
Wary of possible legal action against direct defamatory speeches, politicians often find it easier to engage what I call ‘political drones’ to communicate their defamatory messages through the popular medium of singing. In this way, when push comes to shove, it is the singer who would face legal – or in some cases, physical – wrath in one way or other. Unethical singers like Rarara – who was arrested, but not charged in 2014 over “Zuwan Maimalafa Kano” – were willing to pay the price in exchange for the stupendous amount of money they will receive. At least they will have enough for medical care when their houses were wrecked, assaulted and incapacitated to continue singing.
And the politician who caused it all? He can’t even remember the song that made him popular, having moved on to greener political pastures. Until the next election cycle when he will latch on another expendable drone to help him heat up the polity through more invective songs using campaign words he does not have the guts to utter himself.
Rarara’s defense of not uttering specific names in his invective taunts and body shaming do not stand up to scrutiny under Nigeria’s defamation laws, and demonstrates that while he was a brilliant lyricist, he needs to understand the law. This is because his invective defamation in the form of his songs is publicly available (indeed, he made them so), created a narrative about individuals that are easily identifiable either by their physical appearance or public behavior, created a negative impression on the person being so targeted, and was not misquoted as Rarara’s utterances (from his songs) were publicly available and subject to an only interpretation as intended. A clever prosecutor would have enough to jail Rarara on listening to any of his invective songs, if someone complained hard enough.
Invective songs can often have their positive sides in the sense of making politicians – or their targets – aware of public perception of their misdemeanors, or at most, errant behaviors. Rarara’s invective narrative in the selected songs I analyzed, however, do not demonstrate their oversight functions in public accountability for politicians. Regardless of whether explicit names were uttered or not, their narrative was focused on kicking them when they are down, and subjecting them to public ridicule. This questions the artistry of Rarara as a purveyor of aesthetic values of the Hausa oral arts.
Academicians ignore Rarara and his art – and I think that’s a mistake. True, some would argue that his songs have no aesthetic, intellectual or ideological value. On the contrary, they do. In their own way. They are beautiful as lyrical discourses. His delivery is truly artistic, even if the content is inelegant. Unlike other songs in the repertoire of political communication, his are not protest songs, and thus lack ideological focus. They neither educate, illuminate or illustrate any aspect of political culture. They only entertain – at the expense of the dignity of the people he attacks. His songs synthesize Hausa rural lexicon overlayered with abusive, often self-constructed urban jargon to enhance general appeal – and act as rabble rousers for politicians who think like him. It is a unique, if unadmirable business model in the performing arts.
Subsequently, Rarara’s songs cannot be compared, by any stretch of imagination, with the classical Hausa protest poets such as Sa’adu Zungur, Mudi Sipikin, Aƙilu Aliyu, Abba Maiƙwaru and Aminu Kano, whose artforms were fueled by educative political ideology, certainly not profit. Mudi Sipikin, for instance. used his poetry to attack the system of colonial rule. Aƙilu Aliyu wrote poems directly attacking the NPC. Abba Maiƙwaru wrote a 10-line NEPU poem for which he and Aminu Kano were arrested in the mid-1950s.
Zungur used his poetry originally to warn the emirs of the north of the necessity for reform, as illustrated in his central work, Jumhuriya ko Mulukiya [Republic or Monarchy]. In this work, he called for political and social problems to be solved on the basis of the existing Islamic institutions, rejecting alien political concepts. He later used his poetry to appeal directly to the common people. In a similar vein, one of the earliest poems written for a northern political party was by Aminu Kano, and called ‘Waƙar Ƴancin NEPU-Sawaba’ [Freedom poem for NEPU-Sawaba], and published in 1953 and put in the final form by Isa Wali. It was one of the earliest statements of Nigerian nationalism.
Despite all these, I argue that as researchers we can’t afford to ignore a current of knowledge flowing right at our feet. But the cold shoulder given to Rarara by our community, opposed to Aminu Ladan Abubakar (ALAN Waƙa) who is a toast to the academic and intellectual community, merely emphasizes the expendable and ephemeral nature of Rarara’s art. Ten years after the release of any ALA song, it will still have relevance. The relevance of Rarara’s songs rarely last to the next song release. Instantly forgettable.
Nevertheless, just as we struggled for the recognition and documentation (if not acceptance) of the Kano Market Literature in the 1990s when everyone was denigrating it, we need to also document the stream of popular culture, including Rarara – warts and all – flowing around us at all times. As far as I could see, only Maikuɗi Zukogi has focused attention on two of Rarara’s songs. More needs to be done.
As soon as I tell myself that I will wrap up the research, he will release a song insulting a former master or associate. Subsequently, I delayed publishing the research until he insults two people, and true to expectations, he did. These were President Muhammadu Buhari (Matsalar Tsaro) and Governor Abdullahi Umar Ganduje (Lema ta sha ƙwaya). With the ‘Hankaka’ barb against Ganduje in the Lema song, my fieldwork became almost complete. His destruction of “ɗan ƙaramin sauro” leaves only the references to be completed. As I argued, based on his corpus, Rarara sells to the highest bidder, with neither conscience or ideology. The huge profit he makes serve as an insurance against future loss of earnings when Kano politicians become mature enough to stop patronizing him to insult each other (and themselves) and utilize his skills in more constructive ways.
My thanks to a team of eager research assistants, headed by my ever faithful and close companion, Hassan Auwalu Muhammad – a former songwriter and lyricist himself. He was the one who mainly, patiently, transcribed the songs which I wove into a narrative going to almost 40 pages! I plan to upload the lot during my Summer break when the children are all here on holiday! By then the threatened wobbling ‘Tangal-Tangal’ had stopped and probably settled for a four-year legal battle.
Adamu is a Professor of media and cultural studies, Bayero University, Kano. He first published this article on Facebook.
Hashim Yusuf Hassan
It is strange how the world keeps turning. The sun still rises, the seasons still change, and people continue to go about their daily lives. But there is now a quiet space in my world, a silence where your voice used to be. It is a silence that has taught me more about love and loss than words could ever express.
I still find myself reaching for my phone to tell you something, seek your advice or simply hear you say, “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” I still see you in the most unexpected places—in a particular shade of blue in the sky or in the way someone leans back in their chair. For a fleeting moment, it feels as though you are still here. Then the moment passes, and the ache reminds me that you are no longer with us.
But here is the truth I am learning to live with: you are not truly gone. You are woven into the very fabric of who I am. I am the person I am today because of the lessons you taught me, not just through your words but also through the way you lived. You taught me what quiet strength looks like. You taught me that integrity means doing the right thing, even when no one is watching. You taught me how to be strong, but, more importantly, you taught me how to be kind.
When I look in the mirror, I see your eyes. When I hear my own laughter, I sometimes hear yours. When I stand up for something I believe in, I feel your hand on my shoulder. You remain the compass that guides me and the voice in my head that says, “You can do this.” You are the reason I know what it feels like to be truly and unconditionally loved.
I will not pretend that I have no regrets. I wish I had called you more often. I wish I had listened more. I wish I had told you “I love you” one more time, or a thousand more times. I wish you could see all that I have accomplished and the person I have become. But I choose to believe that, somehow, you know. I choose to believe that you are proud of me.
Grief, I have learned, is simply love with nowhere to go. And my love for you is an ocean. Now that you are gone, it has nowhere to land, so it washes over me, sometimes in gentle waves and sometimes in a tide that threatens to pull me under. It is the price of having loved you so deeply, and it is a price I would gladly pay a million times over.
Thank you, Baba, for everything, for the laughter, the lessons, the protection and the love. You were my first hero, my protector and my safe place. Even now, you remain my anchor.
I miss you more than words can ever express. I will carry you with me in every step I take, in every choice I make, and in every moment of joy and sorrow. I will strive to live a life that would make you proud. I promise.
Allah Ubangiji Ya yi maka rahama.
Your son, forever and always.
Hashim Yusuf Hassan.
By Dr Dahir M. Hashim
Outgoing Commissioner for Environment and Climate Change and Commissioner for Water Resources, Kano State.
Looking back on my time at the Kano State Ministry of Environment and Climate Change, one of the achievements I value most is the growing recognition of environmental protection as a shared responsibility and a critical component of public health, community wellbeing, livelihoods and the future of our state.
Over time, environmental issues became more prominent in public discourse, with more residents participating in government programmes, supporting interventions and demanding accountability. This growing public engagement remains one of the most rewarding aspects of our work.
For this, I am deeply grateful to the people of Kano State.
My journey at the ministry began on January 6, 2025, when His Excellency, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, entrusted me with the responsibility of leading the Ministry of Environment and Climate Change.
I assumed office at a time when the sector faced significant challenges. Public facilities had deteriorated, existing policies required updating, enforcement mechanisms were weak, and frontline workers were owed outstanding payments. However, the governor recognised the enormous potential of the ministry and provided the political backing and institutional support needed to begin the process of rebuilding it.
Rebuilding environmental infrastructure
One of the areas where we recorded significant progress was the restoration of government-owned tree nurseries. Eight previously non-functional facilities were fully rehabilitated, restoring the state’s capacity to produce seedlings locally and sustainably.
Building on the administration’s three-million-tree planting programme in 2024, the initiative expanded to five million seedlings in 2025 and ten million in 2026. Significantly, all the seedlings were raised in government-owned nurseries.
Beyond the impressive numbers, the achievement represented the revival of public infrastructure and the restoration of the state’s capacity to sustain its environmental programmes without depending entirely on external sources of seedlings.
We also prioritised the restoration of the Kano State Pollution Control Laboratory. The facility was renovated, equipped and recommissioned, providing the state with renewed scientific capacity to test and monitor pollution, generate environmental data and strengthen regulatory enforcement.
To consolidate these efforts, we operationalised the Environmental Pollution Control Law and developed the Environmental Pollution and Waste Control Regulations, providing a stronger legal and institutional framework for environmental protection.
Improving waste management and flood control
At the Refuse Management and Sanitation Board (REMASAB), we introduced reforms aimed at improving the coordination of waste collection, evacuation and disposal. These interventions made waste management operations more organised and responsive, supporting the evacuation of approximately one million metric tonnes of waste.
We also restored the Dorayi Compost Plant to operation, reviving its capacity to convert organic waste into useful compost. Beyond addressing waste disposal challenges, the facility offers opportunities for investment, employment and the development of a circular economy.
Recognising the recurring threat of flooding in several communities, we undertook drainage construction, clearance and erosion-control interventions across flood-prone areas.
The stormwater harvesting intervention in Toranke and the development of the Kano State Drainage Master Plan were particularly important components of our broader strategy to strengthen flood management and move towards more sustainable urban drainage planning.
Our approach was not limited to responding to immediate environmental challenges. We also sought to establish a framework for long-term resilience and better management of the state’s environmental resources.
Restoring public parks and recreational spaces
Another area of progress was the rehabilitation of public parks and recreational facilities.
We restored four public parks, with additional facilities undergoing similar interventions. Parks that had suffered years of neglect were given new management arrangements and clearer maintenance responsibilities.
These interventions were designed to restore public spaces where families could relax, children could play and residents could enjoy a healthier urban environment.
The reforms also produced encouraging financial results, with the combined annual revenue generated by the parks increasing from approximately ₦5 million to ₦90 million.
This demonstrated that properly managed public recreational facilities can serve both social and economic purposes while contributing to the state’s revenue base.
Building a stronger policy and climate governance framework
Perhaps one of the most important aspects of our work was the effort to strengthen the policy and legislative foundations of environmental governance in Kano State.
During my tenure, we developed the Kano State Climate Change Policy, alongside its implementation plan and results framework. We also advanced the Climate Change Bill and undertook a review of the state’s Forestry Law, which had remained largely unchanged for more than five decades.
In addition, we developed the Climate Finance Reform Action and Implementation Plan and the Green Bond Framework to position Kano State to attract investment for environmental protection, climate adaptation and sustainable development.
These initiatives were intended to ensure that environmental governance would not depend solely on individual administrations or isolated interventions but would be supported by policies, laws and institutions capable of sustaining progress over time.
Kano State’s third-place finish in the 2026 Climate Governance Performance Ranking and the opportunity to present our work at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, were encouraging milestones.
They demonstrated the potential of consistent institutional support, strategic planning and collective action to improve the state’s standing in environmental and climate governance.
However, such recognition should not be viewed merely as an award or international exposure. It should serve as a reminder of the responsibility to sustain the reforms and deliver tangible benefits to the people.
Putting environmental workers at the centre of reforms
I have always believed that environmental reforms cannot succeed without the commitment and welfare of the people who implement them.
Street sweepers, sanitation workers, environmental inspectors and forest guards constitute the backbone of environmental management. Unfortunately, many of these frontline workers had experienced difficult working conditions and outstanding payment challenges.
With the support of Governor Yusuf, we cleared nine months of salary arrears owed to 2,369 verified street sweepers and doubled their stipends.
We also re-engaged environmental inspectors and forest guards while doubling the stipends of 875 sanitation vanguards.
These interventions were not merely administrative decisions. They were an acknowledgement of the dignity of labour and the indispensable contribution of frontline workers to maintaining a clean, safe and healthy environment.
I remain grateful to these men and women whose daily sacrifices often go unnoticed but whose contributions are essential to the wellbeing of our communities.
A legacy of collective responsibility
As Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf restructures the ministries and appoints a new Commissioner for Environment and Climate Change, my overriding feeling is one of gratitude.
I am particularly grateful to His Excellency for the confidence he reposed in me, the opportunity to serve and the support he provided throughout my tenure. His willingness to listen to proposals and support difficult but necessary decisions made it possible for us to undertake many of the reforms highlighted in this account.
I also appreciate the staff of the ministry and its agencies, community leaders, development partners, civil society organisations, young volunteers, private-sector operators and residents who contributed to our work.
Their participation, constructive criticism, patience and cooperation helped shape our interventions and improve their implementation.
I must emphasise that these achievements are not the accomplishment of one individual. They are the product of collective effort, institutional commitment and the contributions of many people who believed that Kano deserved a cleaner, greener and more environmentally sustainable future.
To the incoming Honourable Commissioner, I extend my congratulations and wish you success in this important responsibility. I also assure you of my willingness to offer any necessary support to sustain the progress already made and advance the environmental agenda of our dear state.
Public service is ultimately about the people and the institutions we build to serve them. Positions may change, and responsibilities may be transferred, but the obligation to contribute to society remains.
Serving Kano State as Commissioner for Environment and Climate Change has been a profound privilege. I leave with gratitude for the opportunity, satisfaction in the progress recorded and the hope that the foundations we have laid will continue to support a cleaner, greener and more resilient Kano.
Thank you, Kano State, for the trust and support.
Dr Dahir M. Hashim is the Commissioner for Water Resources and outgoing Commissioner for Environment and Climate Change, Kano State.
Dr Saleh Adamu Kwaru
Adding a staggering $20.52 billion and €1.05 billion to Nigeria’s debt burden is more than an economic miscalculation; it is a source of heartbreak for a nation already brought to its knees. At a time when millions of citizens are struggling to afford a single meal, grappling with historic inflation and watching their futures slip away, the government’s response appears to be to pile yet another mountain of debt on the country. This raises a painful question for every suffering Nigerian: When will our leaders finally acknowledge the pain their decisions inflict, and when will the bleeding stop?
The timing of this massive loan request is particularly troubling. Seeking to secure huge foreign loans on the eve of intense political activity and election seasons, when public anxiety is high and attention is divided, risks depriving citizens of the robust accountability the country deserves. Rather than looking inward, exercising fiscal discipline and improving public revenue management, the government appears to be rushing to mortgage the nation’s collective future. It feels less like responsible governance and more like a desperate attempt to lock in liabilities before the public can challenge them.
Nigeria’s national debt profile is already a ticking time bomb, placing enormous pressure on every sector of society. Every additional dollar borrowed increases the country’s financial obligations and diverts revenue that could otherwise support schools, equip hospitals and protect vulnerable citizens. Adding more than $20 billion to this burden risks pushing the country closer to the brink of a debt crisis, threatening to leave future generations trapped in a cycle of economic dependence. How much more hardship can ordinary Nigerians endure before the consequences of unsustainable borrowing become overwhelming?
We are repeatedly offered the same promises that these loans will transform electricity, roads, healthcare and education. But good intentions without transparency and accountability are not enough. Where is the visible evidence that previous loans have translated into better living conditions for ordinary Nigerians? Instead of seeing the promised improvements, many citizens continue to grapple with rising poverty while the country’s debt burden grows. When projects fail to generate sufficient economic returns to justify their costs, the burden ultimately falls on ordinary citizens through higher taxes, deteriorating public services and deeper economic hardship.
Before anyone commits future generations to repaying billions of dollars in new loans, the government must look Nigerians in the eye and explain how existing public resources are being managed. Why does borrowing appear to be the easiest option while systemic corruption and inefficiencies in public spending remain major concerns? Nigerians are exhausted by a system that leaves them bearing the consequences of decisions over which they have little control.
The country does not need another mountain of debt built on promises alone. It needs leaders committed to transparency, fiscal discipline, prudent resource management and the welfare of the people they have sworn to serve. Any new borrowing must be justified by clear development objectives, independently verifiable benefits and a credible repayment plan.
Nigeria cannot borrow its way out of every economic challenge. The government must demonstrate that it has exhausted reasonable alternatives, established safeguards against waste and corruption, and put the public interest above political convenience. Without these assurances, further borrowing risks deepening the hardship Nigerians already face and transferring an even heavier burden to generations yet unborn.
Dr Saleh Adamu Kwaru, is former staff of Central Bank of Nigeria.
Nafisah Yusuf Hassan, three others recommended for appointment as Kano high court judges
K-SAFE tracks nearly 1,000 education projects in Kano, seeks procurement monitoring role
GSS Army Day Bukavu Wins Maiden Kano Secondary Schools Tug of War Championship
Gov Yusuf Nominates Spokesperson, Sunusi Bature Dawakintofa as Commissioner
One Year Without Baba: A Son’s Tribute to Alhaji Yusuf Hassan
Indonesian scholar proposes waqf model to reform almajiri education in Nigeria
Veteran NTA manager Dahiru Biso loses wife at 58
Two suspected bandits killed, N10m ransom recovered in Kano
Gov Yusuf Joins APC Leaders at Kaduna Presidential Campaign Flag-Off as Kano Delegation Draws Attention
