Opinion
Murtala Ramat Mohammed: power with a conscience
Lamara Garba Azare
There are men who pass through power, and there are men who redefine it. Murtala Ramat Mohammed belonged to that rare breed who carried authority lightly and conscience heavily. He was a comrade in uniform, a patriot in spirit, a true son of Africa whose love for this nation was not performed for applause but proven through action.
He rose to lead the most populous Black nation on earth, yet power never altered his posture or polluted his character. He remained simple in conduct, measured in speech, and humble in lifestyle. He never allowed the office to swallow the man. While others might have embraced sirens and spectacle, he chose restraint. His convoy moved without blaring horns. He obeyed traffic lights like every other citizen. He respected traffic wardens as custodians of public order.
There is that unforgettable moment when a traffic officer, having recognized his car, stopped other motorists to allow him to pass. The General was displeased. The warden was punished for denying other road users their right of way, and his driver was sternly warned for attempting to drive against traffic. In that simple but powerful incident, he taught a nation that no one is above the law—not even the Head of State. For him, leadership was not exemption from rules but submission to them.
His humility went even deeper. Often dressed in private attire, he would visit markets quietly, blending into the crowd to ask about the prices of food and daily commodities. He wanted to feel the pulse of ordinary Nigerians. He wanted to understand how families were coping. He believed policies should not be crafted from distant offices alone but shaped by lived realities. That simple habit revealed a leader who listened before he acted and measured governance by the condition of the common man.
When he assumed power in 1975, he did so without plunging the country into bloodshed. In a continent where coups often left painful scars, his intervention was swift and calculated, aimed at correcting a drift rather than destroying the state. It reflected firmness guided by restraint. He was a soldier, yes, but one who understood that strength without humanity is weakness in disguise.
In barely six months, he moved with an urgency that startled the establishment. Files that once gathered dust began to move. Decisions were taken with clarity. He restructured the civil service in a bold attempt to restore efficiency and discipline. He initiated the process that led to the relocation of the capital to Abuja—a decision born of foresight and national balance. He confronted corruption without apology and made it clear that public office was a trust to be guarded, not an opportunity to be exploited.
His voice on the continental stage was equally resolute. When he declared that Africa had come of age, he was not uttering rhetoric; he was announcing a shift in posture. Nigeria, under his watch, stood firm in support of liberation movements and insisted on African dignity in global affairs. He believed that the continent deserved respect earned through courage and self-confidence.
Then, just as the nation began to feel the rhythm of disciplined governance, tragedy struck on February 13, 1976. Bullets interrupted a vision. A country stood still in shock. Africa mourned one of its brightest sons. He had ruled for only a short season, yet the weight of his impact surpassed the length of his tenure.
Perhaps if he had remained longer, Nigeria would have charted a different course. Perhaps institutions would have grown around principle rather than convenience. Perhaps accountability would have become a culture rather than campaign language. We can only imagine. But what cannot be imagined away is the moral clarity he represented.
Today, when citizens speak about abandoned ideals and weakened standards, his memory returns like a measuring rod. When convoys roar past traffic lights with entitlement, his quiet obedience becomes a silent rebuke. When policies lose touch with the marketplace realities of ordinary people, we remember the Head of State who walked into markets in simple clothes to ask the price of garri and rice.
He was not perfect, but he was purposeful. He did not govern to decorate history books; he governed to correct a nation. He detested corruption because he understood the damage it inflicts on the weakest citizens. He valued humility because he knew that power is fleeting, but accountability before Almighty Allah is eternal.
Nigeria lost more than a leader. Africa lost a rare gem whose patriotism was sincere and whose heart beat for the dignity of his people. We pray that Allah grants Murtala Ramat Mohammed Aljannatul Firdaus and illuminates his resting place. We pray that his sacrifices count for him in the hereafter. And we pray that Nigeria rediscovers the discipline, courage, and sincerity that defined his brief but remarkable stewardship.
Some leaders occupy office; others transform it. Murtala Ramat Mohammed transformed it. His six months continue to echo across five decades because they were anchored in conviction and service.
Until Nigeria fully embraces integrity in leadership, until Africa truly stands in the maturity he proclaimed, his story will remain both our inspiration and our challenge. His life reminds us that greatness is not measured by duration in power but by depth of impact—not by noise but by noble action, not by privilege but by principle.
He came, he led, and though he left too soon, he still speaks through the standard he set.
Lamara Garba Azare, a veteran journalist, writes from Kano.
Opinion
Ramadan Fasting: An Open Letter to KEDCO
Isyaku Ibrahim
It has become increasingly apparent that whenever the holy month of Ramadan approaches, the Muslim community begins to experience severe electricity outages.
Despite repeated assurances by the relevant authorities year after year, the situation continues unabated. The current circumstances clearly demonstrate this troubling pattern, imposing additional hardship on residents at a time when the community is only hours away from commencing the sacred month-long period of worship.
One may recall that during the late President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua’s administration, a minister once vowed upon assuming office to resolve the persistent electricity challenges to ensure that Muslim faithful could observe Ramadan without power disruptions. Unfortunately, that promise ultimately proved to be a pipe dream.
It is both disappointing and painful that a section of the community appears to bear the brunt of these outages during a spiritually significant period, especially in a secular society where public services are expected to be delivered equitably.
Public utility institutions such as the Kano Electricity Distribution Company (KEDCO) were established to serve the collective interest of all citizens, irrespective of religious, ethnic, sectional, or political affiliations. When that core objective is undermined, it creates frustration, erodes trust, and fosters resentment within the broader society.
Ramadan is a period of reflection, sacrifice, and devotion. It is also a time when families require stable electricity for basic needs—especially for preparing meals to break the fast and to sustain worshippers during long days of fasting. The inability to access reliable power during such a critical time deepens hardship and diminishes the comfort of an already demanding spiritual exercise.
As the holy month begins, it is my sincere hope that KEDCO and other relevant authorities will take urgent and practical steps to ensure improved electricity supply. Ramadan should be a time of spiritual upliftment—not avoidable suffering caused by preventable service failures.
Isyaku Ibrahim is a Director in Kano Civil Service.
Opinion
Honourable Murtala Sule Garo: He Who the Cap Fits
Abubakar Shehu Kwaru
Leadership, as scholars have long argued, is neither accidental nor ornamental. It is defined by character, competence and the capacity to unite people toward a common purpose. As an undergraduate at Bayero University, Kano, over two decades ago, I was introduced to the principles of leadership articulated by Henri Fayol — principles that emphasise honesty, discipline, responsibility, hard work, knowledge, exemplary conduct and the ability to inspire unity among subordinates.
Other scholars go further to argue that some individuals are naturally endowed with leadership qualities — charismatic, courageous and selfless — though such individuals are often rare in any society.
My conviction about leadership was further shaped in 2007 when I participated in a Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) youth sensitisation programme organised by the Citizenship and Leadership Training Centre, Abuja. There, we were taught that credible leadership demands sacrifice, vision and unwavering commitment to the public good.
In today’s political climate, a leader with these qualities stands out — sometimes lonely amid the crowd. It is against this backdrop that Honourable Murtala Sule Garo emerges, in my view, as one of those rare figures whose record speaks louder than rhetoric.
Politics, like life itself, teaches us patience. Man may propose, but God ultimately disposes. Ambition, qualifications and popularity do not always translate into immediate outcomes. Destiny unfolds in its own time.
This reality played out during the 2023 general elections when the All Progressives Congress (APC) presented Dr Nasir Yusuf Gawuna and Honourable Murtala Sule Garo as its gubernatorial and deputy gubernatorial candidates in Kano State. Despite their credentials and acceptance, the mandate went elsewhere, as providence favoured the incumbent governor, Engr Abba Kabir Yusuf.
Yet, the choice of those candidates was not accidental. It reflected years of service, political consistency and deep-rooted connections with the grassroots.
Honourable Murtala Sule Garo, fondly called “Commander” by admirers, exemplifies qualities Kano urgently needs in its leadership space — calm strength, courage, inclusiveness and discipline. He is widely regarded as considerate, hardworking, peace-loving and deeply committed to public service.
Born about five decades ago in Garo town of Kabo Local Government Area, Kano North Senatorial District, Garo hails from a respected royal lineage. His late father, Alhaji Sule Galadima Garo, was the Galadiman Garo, a revered traditional title holder. Garo combined Islamic and Western education from an early age before venturing into politics.
His political journey has been both instructive and impactful. He served as State Organising Secretary of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) before being elected Chairman of Kabo Local Government Council in 2013. He later rose to become Chairman of the Association of Local Governments of Nigeria (ALGON), Kano State chapter, during the second tenure of Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso as governor. That role exposed his administrative capacity and leadership dexterity on a broader scale.
In 2015, Governor Abdullahi Umar Ganduje appointed Garo as Commissioner for Local Government, a position he retained in 2019 due to his performance and results-driven approach. As commissioner, he empowered local government chairmen, strengthened grassroots administration and prioritised inclusive governance, irrespective of political affiliation.
These qualities explain why his recent political realignment has drawn attention. In a period when Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has committed himself to transforming Kano into a megacity, the need for experienced, resilient and grassroots-oriented politicians has never been greater.
There is little doubt that a workaholic, seasoned administrator like Murtala Sule Garo would add immense value to any administration. With his political antecedents, loyalty and organisational strength, he represents the kind of stabilising force that allows leadership to function with confidence.
His network of former local government chairmen and political allies — including Honourable Lamin Sani Kawaji, Honourable Ibrahim Ahmad Karaye (Madaki), Mukhtari Ishaq Yakasai, Saleh Kausani, Abubakar Ali and Ibrahim Hamisu Rimi, among others — underscores his influence and capacity for mobilisation.
Good governance thrives when credible, reliable and grassroots-tested leaders are entrusted with responsibility. Kano State, at this critical juncture, needs bridge-builders rather than spectators.
When the time comes, pairing experience with vision will be essential. Honourable Murtala Sule Garo, by record and reputation, fits that role. He has consistently demonstrated that leadership is about service, not self; about unity, not division. Indeed, if leadership were a cap, it would sit firmly on his head.
Abubakar Shehu Kwaru is a seasoned journalist who writes from Mandawari Quarters, Gwale Local Government Area, Kano State.
Opinion
Bauchi at Fifty: A State That Learned to Become
Lamara Garba Azare
Bauchi was not born in silence. On the third day of February 1976, it arrived with the quiet dignity of history unfolding, carved out of the old North Eastern State, not merely as a political entity but as a promise. A promise that people mattered. A promise that governance could be closer to the heartbeat of the land. A promise that a place shaped by savannah winds, ancient footsteps, and resilient souls deserved its own name and destiny.
In those earliest days, the founding leaders stood before an unformed canvas. There were no clear roads, only directions. No settled institutions, only intentions. Men like Mohammed Bello Kaliel and the first set of military administrators did not inherit comfort. They inherited responsibility. With discipline and restraint, they laid the skeletal framework of a state yet to find its voice. Ministries were formed, the public service took its first breath, and order was introduced where uncertainty once loomed. Their service was not loud, but it was consequential. They held Bauchi together when it was most fragile, and history must remember them not for what was absent, but for what they preserved.
Then came the gentle dawn of civilian rule, and with it the reassuring presence of Abubakar Tatari Ali. His leadership spoke directly to the soul of the people. Roads stretched outward as symbols of connection, farms rose as declarations of self-belief, industries emerged as statements of confidence, and Bauchi began to imagine itself beyond survival. He governed with faith in possibility and left behind a lesson that development is not only measured in concrete and steel, but also in hope restored and dignity affirmed.
The years that followed were long and demanding. Military administrators came and went, each carrying the weight of stewardship in difficult times. Mohammed Sani Sami, Chris Abutu Garuba, Joshua Madaki, Abu Ali, Wing Commander James Yana Kalau, Rasheed Adisa Raji, Theophilus Bamigboye, and Abdul Adamu Mshelia each, in their own seasons, kept the machinery of governance alive. These were years of holding the centre, completing water projects so thirst would not prevail, strengthening hospitals so lives could be preserved, and nurturing sports and social cohesion so the human spirit would not be crushed. Bauchi learned patience during those years. It learned that progress does not always arrive with celebration, but often through quiet persistence.
The brief return of democracy in the early 1990s under Dahiru Mohammed rekindled hope, only for it to be interrupted again. Yet, the idea of civilian choice never died. It waited patiently in the consciousness of the people. And when it returned in 1999, it came back with purpose.
Ahmadu Adamu Mu’azu’s era marked a turning point that still echoes across the state. Schools multiplied, classrooms filled, enrolment soared, and Bauchi found itself counted among Nigeria’s strongest performers in education. Roads stitched communities together, water flowed where scarcity once reigned, electricity reached villages long forgotten by the grid, and healthcare gained renewed attention. His leadership proved that when people are placed at the centre of policy, development responds naturally. Many families still live within the outcomes of those years, sometimes without knowing the names of the policies that made them possible.
Isa Yuguda and Mohammed Abdullahi Abubakar governed during periods shaped by complexity. Economic pressure, national uncertainty, and rising security concerns tested the limits of leadership. Yet governance continued. Roads were maintained, institutions were sustained, and the state remained standing when the ground beneath Nigeria often felt unsteady. Their stewardship reminded the people that leadership is not always about expansion, but about preservation — ensuring that the house does not collapse while waiting for renovation.
Today, under Bala Mohammed, Bauchi speaks again in the language of renewal. Roads are being rebuilt not just as infrastructure but as arteries of opportunity. Schools are being restored, health facilities revived, urban spaces reimagined, and economic empowerment extended to women and youths who for too long stood at the margins. Investment summits invite the world to see Bauchi differently — not as an afterthought, but as a land of promise. His leadership reflects a belief that governance must listen, that peace must be cultivated, and that development must remain people-centred.
As Bauchi marks fifty years, this is not merely a roll call of leaders. It is a collective tribute — to those who laid foundations when there was little applause, to those who governed in difficult seasons without surrender, to those who expanded opportunity and those who protected stability. It is also a tribute to civil servants who kept institutions alive, teachers who shaped minds in overcrowded classrooms, farmers who planted hope in stubborn soil, and communities who believed that this state belonged to them.
As Bauchi steps into the future, it does so with memory in its hands and hope in its eyes. The past has spoken through sacrifice, the present breathes through responsibility, and the future waits for courage. What remains certain is this: Bauchi has never been defined by the ease of its journey, but by the strength of its will. From those who laid the first stones to those who now carry the torch, the story continues — not as an echo of yesterday, but as a call to tomorrow. And as long as its people believe in the dignity of service, the power of unity, and the promise of becoming better than before, Bauchi will not merely endure. It will rise again and again.
Lamara Garba Azare, a veteran journalist, writes from Kano.
