Opinion
A reply to Dan’uwa Rano’s from makafi to awakai: the display of blind plotics and political idolatry
Ibrahim Bello-Kano
I’ve read Danuwa Rano’s post as a trained and professional critic of prose works, both fictional and non-fictional (the kind of writing in which the writer and the narrator are the same person, and in which there is a direct mode of address to the purported reader of the writing, the text). Thus, my response to this post, shared on this platform, is three-fold.
1. The writer, Danuwa Rano, is a well-known member or sympathiser of the APC in Kano and a supporter of an aspiring APC candidate for the position of the Gov. of Kano State, despite his critical yet digressive comment on the Gov of Jigawa, Namadi, Abubakar Rimi, and Aminu Kano, to cite just those three. In my academic field, we train our students in the literary criticism of non-fictional texts to look for the writer’s MOTIVE for writing. Usually, in this kind of writing, the writer does not reveal his motive (which is usually hidden) for writing directly but takes detours, digressions, and other textual strategies of establishing some nuggets of “authenticity”. Just a ploy to deceive the unsuspecting or the gullible reeader, to say the least. If and where the writer is well known, we also seek to read his previous works, including his podcasts, interviews, or open attitudinal-ideological stance in relation to public discourse.
2. We also probe the text for its linguistic “unsaids” or “non-saids”, namely its TONE and the perspectival presentation of events and people (we call this reading or interpretive strategy “symptomatic reading”). It’s interesting that the writer himself reveals that his text was inspired by a previous one critical of Kwankwaso and the Kwankwasiyya movement, written by Auwal Anwar.
3. After a thinly veiled ideological bad faith on the part of Danuwa Rano, he delves into a moralistic discourse, namely that God/Allah has created human beings with dignity and with self-worth, higher than those of the animals such as “goats”; and much more integrative than the blind (“makafi”). But Danuwa Rano is clearly not very educated in how language, in this case Hausa and English, work. In language, in Hausa, we call or regard someone that is a maestro, a highly gifted person, in any vocation or an endeavor, as, or by describing him as “shege” or “maye” in or about something that we admire or value (masterly). Why is that? Language has both DENOTATION and CONNOTATION. In any Hausa dictionary, the denotation of “Shege” would be “bastard” (illegitimate within the marriage-kinship and cultural system). But when used in the context of connotation, “Shege” describes someone with admirable skills, in appreciation of his or her skills, mastery, and distinguished capacities. Alas, this is what Danuwa Rano has missed. So, in every linguistic comminity, symbolism, figuration, and emblematic descriptions are never far away from the symbolic sphere of experience. Here’s another example from the English language. Expressions such as “evil genius” and the Latinate “maestro” exist because symbolisation or figural descriptions are creative, a way of coming into the undecidable space of appreciation and appropriation, including the anxiety about what we denote in the cultural-linguistic game, and in our unconscious.
4. Rather bizarrely and crudely, perhaps even maliciously, Danuwa Rano fails to see, blinded by his ideological moralism, that whenever the Kwankwasiyya people call themselves “makafi” and “awaki” they are, in fact, ENGAGING IN the SYMBOLIC PARODY of their opponents, that is, those who criticise them for being resolute and committed political agents in a certain way. To borrow a metaphor from Michel Foucault, it is the Kwankwasiyya people’s way of “self-presentation” in the political and democratic arena. Indeed, it was the same process at work when the British Workers called themselves “Chartists” (based on their Charter of Demands). But we know that a group of human beings cannot be a List or a Charter. Rather, in language, any group can identify with a colour (“Red” for communists and Marxists; Green for Muslims; or with emblems (the Crescent Moon, The Cross, or the Hammer and Sickle, or just an Effigy; a country’s or a state’s “coat of arms”). Should we assume, then, that the Kwankwasiyya followers are physically, intellectually, or ideologically blind? But if they were, they would not work for someone, Senator Kwankwaso (RMK), that they couldn’t have literally “seen”.
5. Danuwa Rano is such a poor writer, such a poorly educated person on how language and symbolisation actually work, that he mistook a figural statement as intransitively real and factual. What a pity! In fact, I am tempted here to cite the famous argument of the German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, that language as such is only a doxa (opinion) rather than (a) truth (episteme). In this view, language is a kind of rhetoric and thus inherently rhetorical. For example, in the Hausa “Kirari” system, any one can call themselves a lion, a mouse, an elephant, or even a fox, or even, indeed, a “merciless killer”, one who does not and would not spare his enemies. I recall, in my youth, my father admiringly calling my mother “uwar garke” (“the mother of the herd”, his herd) but does that mean she was a cow, the female head of a herd of cows? Certainly not!
6. It is a mark of Danuwa Rano’s ideological project that he mistakes linguistic and symbolic parody for the literal thing. Hence, his weak, unconvincing, and flat moralistic attacks on RMK and the Kwankwasiyya people. The latter are saying that they are deeply committed to their political projects, that they are not the typical political opportunists, fortune chasers, and the “fair weather people” that one finds in the Kano APC. In addition, the Kwankwasiyya “Makafi” are also saying that they see clearly where their principled allegiance lies.
7. If Danuwa Rano were a careful, perceptive thinker or writer of political innuendo, he would have seen something prevalent in the history of Kano since the 18th century, namely the tradition of following religious, sectoral leaders, as seen in the mass of committed followers in Kano of the Tariqa, the Shia, and the Izala, to mention just those three. It’s hard not to find a Kano man or woman that is not openly oriented to those three groups.
8. It is, without a doubt, the same temperament that one still finds in the secular political sphere in Kano. Expecting otherwise in the political sphere of the community is either short-sighted or willful blindness or sheer ignorance, all all three. Or, one might ignore all this in furtherance of his un-stated ideological-political agenda.
9. Let me reiterate a point that I have always argued in public: Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso is, without a doubt, a veritable political leader for many reasons. There is not one politician in Kano today who has the deep and wide charisma as to draw a huge crowd of enthusiastic supporters, with the charm and grace that can score, or in fact has scored, over one million votes in Kano State in the elections. His party’s candidate for Governor scored well over a million votes in the 2023 elections. Even Tinubu lost in Lagos in the 2023 elections (only scored anout 600, 000 votes). For that reason and many others (RMK’s cosmic patience, personal Promesean and Sysipusian endurance, his political sagacity and capacity for brilliant and moving political oratory— the “Ma-a-ha chant”), he is the target of disgruntled enemies, the object of deep malice but that is obscured or hidden as “objective analysis”.
10. But hate him or love him, despite Kwankwasiyya movement or not, one must accept that RMK is simply the modern expression of the new politics that is gripping the imagination of young people and that of perceptive, politically committed intellectuals, those who know what is at stake in the political future of Kano State and Nigeria as a whole.
11. Imagine a political leader, the one whose previously opportunistic followers had deserted when he left office, the man who stayed out of power and elective office for eight years, the man who founded a political party within eight months to the national elections, and yet him and his party swept the board, won virtually all the elective offices, including the Govenorship. I daresay such a man, RMK, is naturally the target of malice, envy, and bruised political egos. Danuwa Rano’s virtuperations on RMK and the Kwankwasiyya movement is one more example of crudely malicious, badly conceived, poorly written attacks on modern Kano’s most successful person and his movement.
Ibrahim Bello-Kano.
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
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.
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