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Murtala Ramat Mohammed: power with a conscience

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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.

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Opinion

Farm Centre Under Siege: Kano Must Reject Political Violence Before 2027

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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

 

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Opinion

Who will fill the late Ibrahim Galadima’s shoes?

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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

 

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Opinion

A Baby in 1956, A Granny in 2026; An Idol in 2096: Abdalla Uba Adamu’s Yesterday is Tomorrow

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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.

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