My Stand on Kano: I Will Not Be Silenced While Bandits Knock on Our Door
By Hadiza Nasir Ahmad Esq
My recent article, “Abba Kabir Yusuf Should Learn From Ganduje Before Kano Collapses,” was not written to win a popularity contest. It was a heartfelt alarm, a warning siren from a daughter of Kano who has nowhere else to run. The widespread resonance of that piece among concerned citizens confirms a shared, genuine fear. Yet, the response from the government’s quarters has been both telling and tragic. Instead of engaging with the grave issues of banditry, kidnappings, and the palpable fear in our communities, government-sponsored agents and officials resorted to the lowest form of debate: personal attacks and body-shaming. They attempted to shift the focus from the bleeding wounds of our state to the person sounding the alarm. This is the oldest trick in the book of failed leadership when you cannot defend your record, you attack the critic.
Someone even sent me a rejoinder from one commissioner, Dr. Aliyu Isa Aliyu, defending his master’s government, and the guy ended up saying nothing of substance. The rejoinder was laughable a hollow attempt to deflect from the real issues. Security is not about press releases or distributing hardware; it is proven by what citizens experience daily. Today, the experience of most Kano citizens is terrible. These experiential realities the fear in our villages, the abandoned farms, the families fleeing their homes cannot be erased by dropping links to newspaper articles or touting superficial achievements.
My critics, comfortably posting from their secure bases elsewhere, have a place to flee to if Kano collapses. I do not. This is not an abstract political discussion for me; it is a matter of survival. My property, my family, and my heritage are rooted here. How, then, can anyone expect me to stay silent as the government downplays a crisis that threatens to erase the Kano we know and love?
On the issue of security, any responsible government must work hand-in-hand with traditional rulers, who are the closest to the people in the villages. The previous administration understood this. One of Ganduje’s strategic masterstrokes was creating more emirates, bringing governance and security oversight closer to the grassroots and ensuring no community was left in the periphery. But what has the current government done? In a move that reeks of political vendetta and utter disregard for stability, it deliberately created fadan masarauta a needless royal feud. It woke up one day and claimed to dethrone the widely loved Emir, Aminu Ado Bayero, simply to satisfy the interests of a few, with no regard for the severe security implications for Kano State. The matter is still before the court, a self-inflicted crisis that continues to breed tension and division. Kudos to the police and the federal government for ensuring peace within the metropolis amidst this provocation. How does any leader expect to achieve peace and security while simultaneously dismantling the very traditional structures that uphold it?
The Governor’s alienation of security agencies is a textbook example of this failure. It is customary for new heads of security deployed to Kano to pay a familiarization visit to the Governor, the state’s chief security officer. Yet, Governor Yusuf has not fostered an atmosphere for such crucial collaboration. Instead of building bridges, we only hear him publicly calling for the removal of the Commissioner of Police a move that bewilders every security analyst and creates a toxic, unproductive environment. This lack of synergy is not a minor oversight; it is a critical failure in governance. Sometimes, I am left utterly bewildered by the governor’s judgment. Why is a state as great and strategically important as Kano employing people who make a caricature of his government? These individuals, who are now the face of his media team, seem to specialize in insults and buffoonery rather than competent communication and strategic engagement. This choice speaks volumes. It reveals an administration that prioritizes sycophancy and noise over substance and decorum. One is left with a haunting, unavoidable question: Does this Governor truly have the capacity to govern a complex state like Kano?
My initial piece was not political; it was patriotic. It was not sentimental; it was strategic, pointing to a proven blueprint from the Ganduje administration that kept bandits at bay through proactive coordination. The current government’s refusal to acknowledge this, its failure to foster synergy with security agencies, its destabilization of our traditional institutions, and its decision to empower unprofessional media aides is not just incompetence it is a dereliction of duty. Silence in the face of clear and present danger is not loyalty; it is complicity. I will not be complicit. I will not be silenced. I owe my voice to the villagers in Tsanyawa , Shanono and Ghari who sleep with one eye open. I owe it to the women and girls living in fear of abduction. I owe it to every Kano indigene who sees the warning signs and prays for a leader to act decisively.
Therefore, I reiterate my call: Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, stop the politics. Fire the caricatures and hire professionals. End the public feuds with security chiefs, restore the dignity of our traditional institutions, and prioritize coordination. Empower our security agencies, and learn from the past to secure our future. The attacks on my person change nothing; they only strengthen my resolve. I will continue to speak because the cost of silence is a Kano we may no longer recognize a cost I, and millions like me, cannot afford to pay.
Hadiza Nasir Ahmad writes from Kano. Hadizanasir00@gmail.com