Opinion
Kannywood Trajectories 2: The Magazines
Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu
It is a sign of the high value of literature among the Hausa that magazines to cover the new entertainment medium became rapidly established. Even Nollywood, with more Western educated actors and producers, did not produce the volume the magazines the Hausa did with regards to the film industry.
Thus, in the wake of Sangaya’s spectacular success in 1999, Hausa language magazines sprung up to provide news, information and gossip about the Hausa video film industry soon after the industry started to crystallize. However, the first Hausa video film magazine, Taskira was established in 1996 in Kano, but ceased publication after few issues. Its place was taken by a more successful Tauraruwa (“Star” and inspired by the Hindi film magazine, Stardust, which was extremely popular in urban Hausa northern Nigeria) established by a writer and filmmaker, Sunusi Shehu Burhan which was introduced in 1998 to capture the burgeoning Hausa video film scene. Sunusi, an avid Hollywood and Hindi film enthusiast, coined the term Kanywood for the Hausa video film industry in August 1999 — creating an indigenous label for the industry two years before The New York Times created Nollywood for the Nigerian film industry in 2001. In that period, well over 80% of the production studios as they existed, were located in Sabon Titi, Kano, a wide street that bisected Kano city. Tauraruwa magazine pitched its single office in the area which rapidly became known as “Kanywood Boulevard”.
In March 1999 Fim magazine debuted. Published in Kaduna, it remained the single most consistent source of information about the industry since its first issue. Professionally produced, with an almost academic flair for balance and less sensationalism, it rapidly became the leading and authoritative Hausa video film magazine in Nigeria and beyond, complete with an independent web site (and prefers to use Kaliwud initially instead of Kanywood for the industry, although the industry, in solidarity with Sunusi Shehu who coined the term, prefers Kanywood).
Later, the longevity and tenacity of Fim magazine standardized the coinage to Kannywood from 2002, propelling it into Oxford English Dictionary in 2019 which defines it as “The Nigerian Hausa-language film industry, based in Kano; Kano regarded as the centre of this industry”.
Other magazines that joined in the fray included Annashuwa, Bidiyo, Duniyar Fim, Garkuwa, Gidauniya, Indiyana, Majigi, Marubuciya, Mudubi, Mujallar Sharhi, Mujallar Sho, Mumtaz, Nishaɗi, Sharhin Fim, Shirin Fim, and Tauraruwa. Like the Hausa video film industry itself, competition to establish the magazines, with the exception of the sole survivor, Fim, was motivated by a do-it-yourself journalism ethos and desire to make money, rather than to document the process. This explains why out of about 16 titles established between 1998 to 2005, only one, Fim, survived.
A study of their lifespan indicated varying longevity from just one issue (Mujallar Sharhi), to two (Annur, Sharhin Fim, Indiyana) or four to six (Annashuwa, Majigi, Marubuciya). The rest survived few issues beyond number 10 up to 2004 before folding up.
Indiyana became somewhat unique in that it provided news and information in Hausa about Hindi, rather than Hausa, film industry—which it culled from Hindi film magazines like Fanfare and Stardust, as well as Internet web sites. However, after only two issues, it folded up.
Marubuciya started as a literary magazine, but started to focus on the burgeoning Hausa video film industry after three issues to get a share of the market. Increasing availability of printing presses created more varieties of covering the entertainment industry. Thus, Nishaɗin Mako became the first (18th to 25th September, 2003) initially fortnightly newspaper to cover the industry. It ceased production after that one issue.
The magazines are almost exclusively devoted to video films, trying to keep pace with their rapid expansion, highlighting the appeal of particular films and expanding the number of stars and superstars in the process. And perhaps not surprisingly, regular contact and coverage of the industry provided the magazine publishers with video ideas; for they too entered the video film production business. Thus, Fim magazine produced Gagarabadau, Daren Farko and Artabu, while Majigi (through Shalamar Video film studio in Abuja) produced Honarabul, Illar Gaba and Nafisa–Ta.
Beside the magazine as vehicles of a media process, new linguistic terms rapidly appeared which became the lexicon of the industry, essentially introduced by the younger spectrum of the business, and reflected their globalized adaptation of English words to Enghausa. Thus, some of the popular terms that emerged included shutin (shooting), lokashin (location), artisaye (set rehearsals), industiri (industry), kastin (casting) sina-sinai (scenes), selinface (selling face), rol (role), camama (low budget, i.e., cheaply, produced videos, popularized by Ɗan Ibro franchise), Kan-ta-waye (rookie, greenhorn, fresh Executive Producer, especially a woman with more money than sense, to produce a film). They reflect the new lexicon of Hausa urban film folk and sophisticates.
Indeed, as shown by Yusuf Adamu, a whole new videospeak language, bulungudu was created principally by a seasoned actor, Hussaini Ƙoƙi in 1994. This new created language was first used in Qarni, a film by Hafizu Bello in collaboration with Abba Lawan in 2003. Bulungudu echoes the Klingon language, known as Klingonese or tlhIngan Hol, which was first introduced in “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” in 1979.
By 2005 the Hausa video film had established itself as a perfect example of globalization of popular culture in a traditional society. The darkness fell in the noon of 2007 with a private phone video clip.
Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu
Is a Professor of media and cultural studies in Bayero University, Kano.
This was first published on his Facebook account.
Opinion
Farm Centre Under Siege: Kano Must Reject Political Violence Before 2027
Comrade Abbas Ibrahim
By all standards, the recent violent invasion of Kano’s bustling GSM Farm Centre Market by suspected political thugs is a dangerous development that must be condemned in the strongest possible terms. What transpired on Monday, April 27, 2026, was not merely an attack on traders and innocent citizens; it was an assault on public peace, economic prosperity, and the very foundations of democratic engagement.
Farm Centre is not just another market. It is one of the largest mobile phone and information technology hubs in Northern Nigeria, attracting traders, investors, and customers from across the country and neighbouring nations. Its vibrancy has made it a critical contributor to Kano’s economy and a symbol of the state’s commercial strength. Any attack on such a strategic economic centre is, by extension, an attack on Kano itself.
The scenes were deeply disturbing. Shops were looted, while vehicles and motorcycles were vandalised, and many innocent people sustained injuries. Traders—many of whom are still struggling to recover from previous devastating fire outbreaks—have once again been thrown into uncertainty, pain, and financial hardship.
Even more troubling is the fact that the Kano Passport Office is located within the vicinity. Such brazen violence near a sensitive federal facility raises serious security concerns and presents an unfortunate image of Kano to both local and international visitors.
Although the politician allegedly linked to the incident has denied involvement, the episode underscores a much larger and more troubling reality: the growing recklessness of political actors and their inability or unwillingness to restrain their supporters.
As the 2027 general elections approach, Kano cannot afford a return to the dark days when political contests were settled through violence, intimidation, and destruction. Democracy thrives on ideas, persuasion, and the ballot—not on thuggery, fear, and bloodshed.
Political leaders must understand that they bear both moral and legal responsibility for the actions of their followers. Silence in the face of violence is complicity, while ambiguity only emboldens criminal elements who exploit political rivalries for personal gain.
While the swift intervention of the police—including the deployment of teargas and the arrest of six suspects—helped restore order, the incident has once again exposed glaring limitations in the security architecture around Farm Centre. The police division is evidently overstretched and unable to respond effectively to large-scale disturbances in such a densely populated commercial area.
This is why the Kano State Government must immediately strengthen the operational capacity of the Kano State Vigilante Group and, more importantly, fully leverage the Kano Neighbourhood Safety Corps.
Established with an initial strength of 2,000 personnel drawn from all 44 local government areas, the Corps was specifically designed to complement conventional security agencies. The law establishing it wisely insulates it from partisan politics, ensuring professionalism, neutrality, and community trust. Under the capable leadership of retired Lieutenant Colonel Aminu Abdulmalik, the Corps possesses the discipline, structure, and local intelligence needed to provide rapid response and preventive security.
The time has come for its strategic deployment to critical economic hubs such as Farm Centre.
Recommendations for Immediate Action
First, all political parties and aspirants must publicly commit to peaceful conduct and take responsibility for the actions of their supporters.
Second, law enforcement agencies must thoroughly investigate the incident and prosecute all those found culpable, regardless of political affiliation.
Third, security presence at Farm Centre should be significantly enhanced through a joint task force comprising the Police, Civil Defence, and the Kano Neighbourhood Safety Corps.
Fourth, the Kano State Government should establish a permanent rapid-response security unit dedicated to protecting major commercial centres.
Fifth, political leaders must invest in civic education, teaching their supporters that elections are contests of ideas, not battles for survival.
Finally, traditional rulers, religious leaders, civil society organisations, and the media must intensify advocacy against political violence and promote a culture of tolerance.
A Test for Kano
Kano stands at a critical crossroads. The state can either allow desperate politicians and criminal elements to drag it backwards or rise above violence and preserve its proud reputation as the commercial heartbeat of Northern Nigeria.
The attack on Farm Centre must serve as a wake-up call. Political ambition must never be allowed to supersede public safety. The livelihoods of hardworking citizens must never become collateral damage in the pursuit of power.
Kano deserves better. Its traders deserve protection. Its democracy deserves maturity.
The journey to 2027 must begin with a firm and collective rejection of political violence in all its forms. Anything less would be a betrayal of the people.
Comrade Abbas Ibrahim writes from Kano and can be reached at abbasibrahim664@gmail.com
Opinion
Who will fill the late Ibrahim Galadima’s shoes?
Jamilu Uba Adamu
Last week, while writing a tribute to the late Alhaji Ibrahim Galadima, one question kept haunting me: who will fill his shoes?
Kano, with its long tradition of producing great men across every sector—from business and politics to academia and sports—has never failed to replace its icons.
In sports administration, Kano’s roots run deep. At independence, the Premier of the Northern Region, Sardauna of Sokoto, Sir Ahmadu Bello, appointed the late Alhaji Muhammadu Danwawu of Kano as the Northern Region’s sports administrator. Decades later, in 1991, the state produced the Chairman of the Nigeria Football Association, Alhaji Yusuf Garba Ali.
That tradition was sustained by the immense contributions of stalwarts like the late Alhaji Isiyaku Muhammed, the late Alhaji Usman Nagado, and the late Alhaji Abdullahi Abba Yola—men who served the game with distinction and left footprints in administration, mentorship, and institutional growth. Alongside them were other excellent administrators such as Alhaji Tukur Babangida, Alhaji Ibrahim Abba, Dr. Sharif Rabiu Inuwa Ahlan, Bashir Ahmad Maizare, among others.
Now, with the passing of Alhaji Ibrahim Galadima, a pressing question emerges: *who will fill his shoes?*
Galadima was not just an administrator; he was an institution. As a former NFA Chairman, he brought credibility, order, and dignity to Nigerian football during turbulent times. His shoes are large—not merely because of the offices he held, but because of the integrity, courage, and vision with which he led.
Yet, if history is any guide, Kano’s well of leadership has never run dry. From Alhaji Danwawu at independence, to the era of Isiyaku Muhammed and Usman Nagado, through Yusuf Ali in 1991, and down to Galadima in the 2000s, the state has consistently raised men of character to step into moments of transition. The challenge before us is not whether Kano can produce another Galadima, but whether we can create the environment that allows such leaders to emerge and thrive.
The vacuum is real. The legacy is intact. The question remains: who among the next generation will rise to it?
Adamu writes from Kano and can be reached via jameelubaadamu@yahoo.com
Opinion
A Baby in 1956, A Granny in 2026; An Idol in 2096: Abdalla Uba Adamu’s Yesterday is Tomorrow
Prof. Aliyu Barau
Professor Abdalla was barely 11 years old when the 1967 science fiction film, Tomorrow is Yesterday, written by D.C. Fontana, was released. The film explores the possibility of traveling back and forth in time. I chose this caption with the understanding that science has shaped Abdalla’s trajectory in academia. Even as a child, he vigorously pursued science. He would ride his bicycle to the commercial side of Kano to buy books from the Kano-based missionary bookstore—the Challenge Bookshop—whose worn-out structure I once knew along Niger Street.
What exactly happened in 1956, and what connections does he have with that year? This is interesting because some events of 1956 may have shaped Abdalla into who he is today. For instance, anyone close to him knows of his fascination with the Kingdom of Morocco, which gained independence in 1956, just as Sudan did. I am not certain whether the Professor has any strong connection with Sudan; however, I would not be surprised, given his work in neo-Ajamisation scholarship. If you know his passion for popular culture, then you should also know that 1956 marked the rise of Elvis Presley. He made his debut on The Ed Sullivan Show and topped music charts, fueling the rock-and-roll era. If you wonder why Abdalla has ventured deeply into the worlds of media and communication, consider that the world’s first transatlantic telephone cable was commissioned in 1956. And if you admire the way Professor Abdalla writes and speaks English with a Midlands sharpness, you should recall that Queen Elizabeth II visited Kano in 1956. These moments symbolically map his journey through time since his birth in 1956.
Professor Abdalla is already something of a scholarly “grand old figure,” as even the students of his students became professors a few years ago. I often find it difficult to call him merely a professor; he is more of a mallam in the true sense of the word in Hausaland, and even more a mwalimu in the truest sense of Swahililand.
Like him or hate him, Abdalla Uba Adamu remains one of the most genuinely apolitical intellectual vanguards Kano has ever produced. Whether you acknowledge it or not, no position has ever—and will ever—distract him from true scholarship. Agree or disagree, nothing can rob him of his golden joviality. You may tower over him physically, but he will dwarf you intellectually. What is striking about Abdalla’s scholarship is its velocity—like a supersonic missile traveling at Mach 15 (a hypersonic speed roughly equivalent to 18,500 km/h, or 11,500 mph). I have yet to see any of his students come close to matching his intellectual range, even as age and retirement approach him. Allah ya kara lafiya. Truly, in Abdalla, we have a rare scholar.
Personally, I say with confidence that I share a genuine and natural relationship with Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu. With all humility, I can say that this rare scholar holds me in high regard. Whenever I call him and he misses the call, he always returns it, and I leave the conversation uplifted by his humour. Za mu sha hira. I know the people in his good and bad books. Throughout Bayero University Kano, I doubt there is anyone who has taken as deep an interest in my academic progress as Abdalla. I can proudly say I am among the few he trusted to co-author a journal article, even though we come from different disciplines but share common interests. He constantly tracks my progress, often calling to congratulate me: “I have seen your paper on ResearchGate or Google Scholar. I am happy. Please keep working.” Many people do not know how humble and philanthropic Professor Abdalla is, but Allah knows. May Allah reward his hidden deeds and guide him to Jannah. One example is his remarkable act of building a house for a homeless blind man.
In 2006, Professor Abdalla served as the team lead for Celebrating Arts in Northern Nigeria, a project by the British Council and the Prince’s School of Traditional Arts, London. The project culminated in a visit by His Majesty King Charles III, then the HRH Prince of Wales. Abdalla ensured that Nasiru Wada Khalil and I participated fully in the activities, giving us the opportunity to benefit. He stepped aside to create space for us. When the Prince arrived and engaged with us at the British Council, I seized the opportunity to present him with a copy of my book, Environment and Sustainable Development in the Qur’an (with the approval of the British High Commission). I still remember Abdalla telling me, “Kayi daidai; nima da ina da shi, wallahi da na ba shi.” Just imagine—such humility.
At his retirement, social media was filled with tributes celebrating this rare scholar. I am optimistic that by 2096, long after both Abdalla and I are gone, the Hausa world will be idolising and drawing inspiration from his erudition and service to humanity. Even in death, his scholarship will continue to shape the future. One final lesson I have learned from him is that one should be in the university not for money or political positioning. This is a principle he firmly believes in—and one I also uphold.
Abdalla na Allah. Allah ya sa mu cika da imani. Abdalla conquers yesterday and tomorrow.
Prof. Aliyu Barau teaches at
Bayero University, Kano.
