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Ahmed Abdulkadir, Katsina (2025)

01/09/2025

Beyond the Infographic: Why the Lagos vs. North-West Budget Debate Misses the Point

When a colourful chart began to circulate online showing Lagos as the biggest winner of federal projects under President Bola Tinubu, the outrage was instant. Commentators repeated the numbers with glee: Lagos, they said, had swallowed ₦3.9 trillion in just two years. For many Nigerians outside the South-West, it felt like confirmation of long-standing fears that the city at the coast was monopolising national resources.

But inside government, officials told a very different story.

The Director-General of the Budget Office, Tanimu Yakubu, pushed back hard. According to him, the viral chart was built on a misclassification. “Bundle together national corridors and highways that merely pass through Lagos, and you create the illusion of Lagos gluttony,” he argued. Once those projects were disaggregated, Lagos’ “exclusive” bucket fell to about ₦1.2 trillion, while the North-West emerged as the true heavyweight with ₦5.97 trillion worth of commitments.

That figure, if correct, would place the North-West far ahead of the South-South’s ₦2.41 trillion, the North-Central’s ₦1.13 trillion, and the modest tallies for the South-East and North-East.

Yakubu cited examples: the revival of the 255MW Kaduna Power Plant abandoned for years, the ongoing AKK gas pipeline, and the Kano–Maradi rail line which government says is nearly two-thirds complete. In his telling, these are not footnotes but evidence of a deliberate North-West-first strategy — a mix of continuity, gratitude, and infrastructure balance.

Yet one line repeated in defence of this argument does not add up. Some reports claim that ₦5.9 trillion equals “40% of the budget.” That math is shaky. Nigeria’s 2025 budget is about ₦47 trillion; ₦5.9 trillion is closer to 12–13 percent, not 40. If “40%” refers to a smaller basket of big projects, the denominator was never disclosed. Presenting it as “40% of the budget” is misleading.

So which version should Nigerians believe: Lagos at ₦3.9 trillion or the North-West at ₦5.97 trillion? The truth is that both are half-right. It all depends on how you count.

If you treat every project that touches Lagos as a Lagos project, then the city looks like a bottomless pit of federal money. If you classify highways, bridges, and rails as national arteries serving multiple zones, Lagos’ figure shrinks while the North-West balloons. Both lenses are legitimate, but they answer different questions. One measures location, the other measures function.

That is why two narratives can run in parallel, each looking convincing, yet each incomplete.

What this debate really exposes is not Lagos greed or North-West privilege, but the absence of transparent, auditable data. Nigerians do not have access to a project-level ledger that shows line items, geo-coordinates, contract sums, releases, and completion rates. Instead, they must rely on duelling interpretations: government press releases on one hand, media aggregations on the other.

Until such a dataset exists, budget politics will remain a battle of charts and spin. Lagos will be painted as the glutton today, the North-West tomorrow, and another zone the day after. Citizens will be left to argue over narratives rather than facts.

For now, one conclusion seems safe: the Lagos-versus-North debate tells us more about how projects are classified than about who actually benefits. And unless Nigeria embraces true transparency, the fight over “who got what” will never end.

Nigerian President, Bola Ahmed Tinubu When a colourful chart began to circulate online showing Lagos as the biggest winner of f...

01/09/2025

A Tribute to Mallam Nasir Ɗanladi Bako, Ph.D., OON, Kogunan Sokoto, on His 68th Birthday

On this day, September 1, 2025, I join countless others in celebrating a remarkable leader, mentor, and role model — Mallam Nasir Ɗanladi Bako, Ph.D., OON, Kogunan Sokoto — as he marks his 68th birthday.

My relationship with him began when he was my very first Director General at the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC). Indeed, it was he who employed me into the Commission. What makes that moment unforgettable is the way it happened: unlike many others who attached letters of introduction from ministers, senators, and other powerful figures, I submitted my application without a single recommendation. Yet, Dr. Ɗanladi Bako looked at my credentials and simply wrote, “Please shortlist.” That single act of fairness and merit changed the course of my professional life. Out of over seven thousand applications, only a little above forty of us were eventually employed.

Dr. Bako’s leadership style was one that recognized and rewarded excellence. He never overlooked hard work, no matter how quiet or unassuming the worker might be. He had an extraordinary memory for people — whether a security guard in Uyo, a cleaner in Lagos, a gardener in Akure, or even a newspaper vendor in Maiduguri. He valued everyone under his care and could call them by name.

I experienced this firsthand when, just months into my service as Chief Public Affairs Officer, he selected me — a newcomer — to accompany him on a courtesy visit to Governor Ahmad Muhammad Maƙarfi of Kaduna State. To my astonishment, he introduced me to the Governor by my full name and designation. That moment captured who he truly is: a leader who notices, remembers, and uplifts people.

Dr. Bako was also remarkably generous. He cared for staff in both big and small ways. I still recall when I managed to buy a car years into my service. Upon hearing about it, he stepped out of his office, inspected the car himself, and handed me ₦10,000 to buy fuel — a substantial gift in the year 2001.

Beyond generosity, he was deeply invested in our growth. When he discovered I had not been given enough responsibility in the Public Affairs Unit, he personally ensured I was assigned meaningful duties. He encouraged me to write articles about the Commission and publish them, and he made sure those efforts were recognized through commendation letters.

Long before our paths crossed in person, I knew him as a household name from the 1980s when he produced the popular NTA Sokoto programme Request Time. His flawless command of English, eloquence, and professionalism left a lasting impression on me as a young student of English. In fact, he was one of the influences that inspired me to pursue English at the university. His creativity, hard work, and versatility — producing and presenting up to five programmes a week, and winning multiple awards for Best Producer, Best Presenter, and Best All-Round Staff — were already legendary.

Years later, fate brought us together again when he was Commissioner of Information in Sokoto, while I served as Zonal Director of NBC Sokoto Zone. Our working relationship remained as cordial and inspiring as ever.

Today, as I reflect on his life at 68, I see a trailblazer who has left indelible footprints in broadcasting, public service, and mentorship. His life is a testimony that integrity, merit, and humanity can coexist with excellence and authority.

Happy 68th Birthday, Mallam Nasir Ɗanladi Bako! May Allah grant you long life, good health, and continued fulfillment. You will always remain my mentor, role model, and an inspiration.

Mallam Nasir Danladi Bako, Ph.D, OON, Kogunan Sokoto, former DG, NBC On this day, September 1, 2025, I join countless others in...

30/08/2025

Governor Radda Launches Special Schools Admission Scheme, Reaffirms Commitment to Universal Education in Katsina

In a bold stride toward educational equity, Governor Dikko Umar Radda of Katsina State has unveiled a transformative admission scheme for newly established special schools across the state. The initiative, designed to ensure that every child—regardless of socioeconomic background—has access to quality education, marks a significant milestone in the administration’s education reform agenda.

A total of 2,172 students from all 361 wards in Katsina State will sit for entrance examinations, with 996 students set to begin studies at the special schools located in Radda, Jikamshi, and Dumurkul. Each ward will nominate six students—two each from Primary 6, JSS1, and JSS2—ensuring fair representation and merit-based selection.

Governor Radda emphasized the integrity of the process during a high-level education stakeholders’ meeting at the Government House in Katsina, attended by commissioners, local government chairpersons, education secretaries, and development officers.

“Every selected student will receive full government sponsorship, including uniforms, computers, internet access, 24-hour electricity, accommodation, and highly qualified teachers,” Radda stated.

The governor highlighted the disparity between children from affluent families who attend private schools and those from rural communities who lack access to basic learning resources. The special schools aim to close this gap by offering top-tier education to gifted children from underprivileged backgrounds.

“We want the child of a farmer to have the same opportunity as the child of a wealthy businessman. These schools will produce future leaders who will transform Katsina State,” he affirmed.

Construction of the Radda campus is expected to be completed within the month, while the Jikamshi and Dumurkul campuses will be ready before year-end. In the interim, all 996 admitted students will commence their studies at the Radda facility.

Entrance exams will be conducted at seven designated centers:

- Katsina College, Katsina

- Government Girls Secondary School, Funtua

- Government Day Secondary School, Daura

- Government Pilot Secondary School, Dutsinma

- Government Unity Secondary School, Malumfashi

- Government Day Secondary School, Kankia

- Government Day Secondary School, Mani

Local government officials have been directed to ensure that nominated students are present at their assigned centers.

Governor Radda issued a stern warning to education officers and community leaders:

“If you betray the trust of the people by selecting unqualified candidates, you will answer to God. But if you act with honesty, you will be rewarded with greater trust and responsibility.”

In a related development, Hon. Abubakar Musa Barde, Chairman of Bakori Local Government, expressed gratitude to Governor Radda for the inclusive nature of the scheme. He pledged that only deserving students from disadvantaged backgrounds would be selected, in line with the governor’s vision.

“This is a golden opportunity for our children. We will ensure fairness and uphold the integrity of the process,” Barde assured.

The special schools initiative is part of a broader reform that has already seen Katsina students sent abroad for advanced studies in medicine, artificial intelligence, and biotechnology—with full government sponsorship.

As Katsina State sets its sights on a future defined by knowledge and opportunity, Governor Radda’s education blueprint is poised to reshape the academic landscape and empower the next generation of leaders.

Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda ✍️ Reported by Adamu Tela Bakori In a bold stride toward educational equity, Go...

30/08/2025

The Thin Line Between Truth and Trouble: Lessons from the Jaafar Jaafar Defamation Case

In the heart of Kano’s political theatre, a single phrase has ignited a legal firestorm: “thieving aide.” It appeared in an article published by Daily Nigerian, a platform known for its fearless investigative reporting. The man described by that phrase, Hon. Abdullahi Ibrahim Rogo, Director-General of Protocol at the Kano Government House, didn’t take it lightly. He filed a criminal defamation complaint against the publisher, Jaafar Jaafar—a name already etched into Nigeria’s media history for exposing high-level corruption.

But this time, the spotlight isn’t on the accused. It’s on the accuser. And the question is no longer just about truth—it’s about how truth is told.

The court’s decision to order a full police investigation under Section 393 of the Penal Code signals something deeper: that journalism, no matter how noble its intent, must tread carefully when reputations are at stake. The phrase “thieving aide” may have been meant to provoke attention, but in legal terms, it implies guilt—a conclusion the courts have yet to reach.

This case offers a sobering lesson for journalists across Nigeria. First, it reminds us that reporting on allegations is not the same as declaring a verdict. When someone is under investigation by the EFCC or ICPC, the language must reflect that status. Terms like “alleged involvement” or “named in an investigation” convey the seriousness of the matter without crossing into defamation.

Second, it underscores the importance of relying on verified sources. Court documents, official press releases, and public records provide a foundation of credibility. They protect journalists from accusations of fabrication and offer a legal shield if challenged.

Third, it calls for restraint in tone. Sensationalism may drive clicks, but it can also drive lawsuits. The facts are often compelling enough—there’s no need to embellish them with emotionally charged language that suggests guilt before trial.

Fourth, it highlights the need for legal literacy in the newsroom. Section 393 of the Penal Code isn’t just a line in a statute book—it’s a real threat to press freedom if misunderstood. Journalists must know where the boundaries lie and how to stay within them.

And finally, it shows that humility matters. If a publication gets it wrong, a prompt apology and retraction can go a long way in defusing tension and restoring public trust. The goal isn’t just to be right—it’s to be fair.

Jaafar Jaafar’s case is more than a legal dispute. It’s a mirror held up to Nigerian journalism, reflecting both its courage and its vulnerabilities. It asks every reporter and editor to consider not just what they publish, but how—and when.

In a country where the press is both a watchdog and a target, the lesson is clear: truth must be pursued, but never presumed. The pen is powerful, but its greatest strength lies in precision, not provocation.

Disclaimer:

This article is intended for informational and analytical purposes only. It does not constitute legal advice, nor does it seek to influence or prejudice any ongoing judicial proceedings. All commentary is based on publicly available information and reflects fair journalistic analysis. The author does not assert the guilt or innocence of any individual mentioned herein.

In the heart of Kano’s political theatre, a single phrase has ignited a legal firestorm: “thieving aide.” It appeared in an art...

29/08/2025

Radda’s Return: Leadership in the Mud of Mantau

When Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda, cut short his three-week medical leave, it was not politics that drove him home early, but tragedy. The massacre at Unguwar Mantau had shaken Katsina to its core, and a governor who had gone abroad for treatment following a road accident knew that his place was with his people. That decision alone spoke volumes: it showed a leader willing to endure his own pain to share in the pain of those he serves.

The journey to Mantau was no smooth motorcade. It was a battle with the elements—one hour and forty minutes on a road that barely deserved the name, with stretches of mud so deep the governor himself had to alight, slogging through the dirt as his vehicle was tugged free. It was symbolic of his resolve: if his people had to walk through mud to survive, then he too would walk through mud to console them.

When he finally arrived, he was not the distant politician behind tinted glass. He listened. He stood face to face with the Imam who had been leading prayers when bandits stormed the mosque. Seventeen killed inside. Eight more outside. Homes reduced to ash, families shattered, lives permanently scarred. Some reports even put the number higher—thirty-two dead, over twenty houses burned, and dozens kidnapped before the Air Force intervened. But statistics, as brutal as they are, never capture the raw grief on the ground.

Radda did not stop at sympathy. He pledged to rebuild the mosque. He promised that every family would receive ₦500,000 in relief. He committed to rebuilding homes, constructing a school, and bringing a hospital to a community that had long been left behind. And he ordered the Ministry of Works to fix the road to Mantau—because development is not only about comfort, it is about survival.

Beyond the village, he convened lawmakers, local government chairmen, traditional rulers, and stakeholders to forge a collective front against insecurity. He vowed to take the state’s case to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, insisting that Katsina needed urgent federal support. He appealed even to the opposition to drop partisanship and contribute ideas, reminding everyone that security is about humanity, not politics. His words carried the weight of sincerity: “We do not have a monopoly on knowledge. If you have superior ideas, bring them. If they work, we will adopt them.”

And yet, amid the compassion and bold promises, a painful truth remains. Governor Radda admitted that his government had received intelligence reports of the Mantau attack and reported to the security agencies more than fifteen hours in advance. Another SOS went out three hours before the bandits struck. Nothing was done. The security agencies did not act. And this raises a haunting question: what does it really mean for a governor to be called “chief security officer” of a state when he cannot command a single police unit or mobilize troops without Abuja’s approval?

This tragedy reignites the debate on state police. For years, the argument has lingered: should governors have their own police formations, trained and accountable at the state level, to respond swiftly to threats? Opponents fear abuse, warning of governors turning such forces into instruments of political persecution. But what is the greater danger—the misuse of state power, or the helplessness of leaders who watch their people die while waiting for orders from distant headquarters?

Unguwar Mantau is not just a story of loss; it is a reminder of the limits of Nigeria’s centralized security structure. Governor Radda showed empathy, resilience, and action. He walked in the mud, sat with the grieving, opened the state’s wallet, and promised development. But even the most responsive governor remains shackled by a system that gives him responsibility without authority.

Katsina’s tragedy should therefore be a national wake-up call. If we truly expect governors to protect their people, we must give them the tools to do so. Otherwise, they remain little more than caretakers of grief, condemned to offer condolences where prevention should have been possible.

Governor Radda has shown how a leader should respond in the aftermath of bloodshed. The bigger challenge now is ensuring that he—and other governors—have the power to stop such carnage before it happens again.

Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda When Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda, cut short his three-week ...

25/08/2025

Should We Ever Write Rejoinders? My Reflection as a Journalist

There is an old saying in media circles that writing a rejoinder is like pouring petrol on fire—it brings more attention to the flame. The argument goes that once you respond to a negative article, those who had not even noticed the original story will now rush to look for it, and worse still, many will end up believing the original version more firmly.

I have often found myself in the middle of this dilemma. In journalism, it is not a theoretical matter; it is a real choice one must make when a story comes out that is inaccurate, damaging, or outright false. Do you let it pass? Or do you confront it head-on with a rejoinder?

In my experience, the first version of a story frames the narrative. Readers absorb it as truth, even if it is incomplete or misleading. Later corrections rarely carry the same weight. That is why fake news so often outruns clarifications.

I remember vividly how the 2014 campaign unfolded. Early reports about the Chibok abductions were framed in ways that made many Nigerians skeptical, even dismissive. When government voices later tried to issue denials or cautious responses, the damage was already done. The first story had taken root, and everything else was treated as “damage control.”

There have been times when I saw rejoinders backfire spectacularly. During the Goodluck Jonathan years, for instance, his media team—people like Reno Omokri and Reuben Abati—were constantly issuing rejoinders to critics. Each time they did, Nigerians went back to read the original accusations more carefully. The rebuttals often sounded defensive, and instead of calming the storm, they kept controversies alive.

Even outside the presidency, I’ve observed the same pattern. A good example was when the Nigerian Army clashed with Amnesty International over human rights reports. Each rebuttal the military issued—denouncing Amnesty as biased—sent people rushing to read Amnesty’s original report. For some, the vehemence of the army’s denials only reinforced the sense that the allegations were true.

Yet, I have also seen the danger of silence. If a damaging story is left unchallenged, it becomes the only record available.

When President Muhammadu Buhari fell ill in 2017, rumors quickly spread that he had died in a London hospital. The Presidency initially tried silence, hoping the gossip would fade. Instead, that silence gave life to conspiracy theories—including the wild story about a “Jubril from Sudan” body double. By the time photographs and official statements were released as a form of rejoinder, the silence had already cost the government credibility.

Another example I recall was in 2018, when Daily Trust published a hard-hitting report on the Nigerian military’s failures against Boko Haram. The army’s rejoinder was harsh, accusing the paper of undermining national security. Did that response bring more attention to the original story? Certainly. But it also ensured that history would not record only one side. Without that rebuttal, the narrative of a military in total disarray would have stood unchallenged.

What I have learned is that the answer is not to avoid rejoinders entirely, as some ineffective spokespersons always advise, but to issue them with care. A rejoinder should never begin with a flat denial, because that only repeats and reinforces the original claim. It is far more effective to lead with the truth. For example, instead of saying, “It is false that we squandered funds,” the better way is to state clearly what was received and how it was spent.

Equally important is evidence. Readers do not trust mere denials; they trust facts, figures, documents, and verifiable records. Without these, a rejoinder sounds like noise.

There is also the matter of framing. If you respond only within the critic’s narrative, you remain trapped. A more successful rejoinder shifts the conversation entirely. When accused of waste, for instance, the wiser move is to highlight tangible results and the broader context.

And finally, not every accusation deserves a rejoinder. Some stories collapse under their own weakness and disappear if ignored. Others, however, are too damaging to be left unattended. The skill lies in knowing which battles to fight.

So, is the belief correct that rejoinders are always inadvisable? I would say it is a half-truth. Yes, they sometimes revive old fires and risk amplifying baseless accusations. But silence, in many cases, is worse—it allows falsehood to harden into accepted fact.

As a journalist, I have learned that every rejoinder must be weighed like a surgical strike, not fired like a loose cannon. When crafted with evidence, clarity, and a reframing of the narrative, a rejoinder is more than a defense—it is a tool for accountability and truth-telling.

In the end, what matters is not whether you respond, but how you respond.

There is an old saying in media circles that writing a rejoinder is like pouring petrol on fire—it brings more attention to the ...

24/08/2025

The Governor on Leave, But Governance Continues

I read with keen interest the recent piece by my brother, Abdu Labaran Malumfashi, titled “Holidaying Governor, Come Back!” The passion in his lament is understandable—no one should downplay the tragedy of losing innocent worshippers in Malumfashi. Yet, passion must not cloud judgment. Let us carefully put things in perspective.

First, Governor Dikko Umar Radda did not abandon Katsina for a “holiday selfie.” He formally transmitted power to his deputy, Faruk Lawal Jobe, in line with constitutional provisions. This is exactly how governance is designed to function: continuity, even in the absence of the governor. To suggest that governance halts unless the governor personally sits in Katsina is not only unfair but also belittles the office of the Deputy Governor. If Jobe is “brilliant,” as Malumfashi conceded, then he deserves trust to act in the governor’s stead.

Second, blaming Radda’s medical leave for the bandits’ savagery is misplaced. Banditry in Katsina did not begin with his administration—it is a decade-long national scourge that has defied successive governments. If every governor or president must remain glued to office during crises, then neither Yar’adua nor Buhari would have been entitled to medical trips abroad. Leaders are humans, not superhumans; medical attention is not a luxury but a necessity.

Ironically, Malumfashi himself admits that Governor Radda has been one of the most proactive leaders on the matter of insecurity. He challenged the military high command for alleged compromise, established the Katsina Community Watch Corps, pushed for the death penalty against informants, and even led North-West governors to the US for strategic security consultations. These are not the actions of a complacent leader. To praise such steps in one breath, and then accuse the same man of “choosing the most inauspicious time” to seek treatment, is a contradiction.

Third, some of the claims advanced lack grounding. Was it 13 or 23 killed? Malumfashi relies on “some people claimed.” This is dangerous in sensitive matters. Numbers in security tragedies must come from verified sources, not hearsay. Similarly, citing a trending video of a bandit kingpin who claims “we are working for the government” is problematic. Criminals thrive on propaganda. Repeating their words uncritically gives oxygen to lies designed to demoralize citizens.

Fourth, it is important to separate state from federal responsibility. Constitutionally, security is in the hands of the Federal Government—Army, Police, DSS, Airforce. The governor has no command over these institutions. Yes, he must coordinate, pressure, and innovate at the state level—and he has. But to hang the weight of federal security failures solely on his neck is selective outrage. Even President Tinubu, with all the national apparatus at his disposal, struggles to stamp out insurgency in the North-West. Should we then say he should not travel for international summits?

Fifth, the repeated dismissal of highway protests and the frustration of ordinary people should not be twisted into proof of Radda’s failure. On the contrary, it reflects the depth of a national crisis. If protests alone could solve insecurity, then Nigeria would have been safe long ago. But Radda’s effort to institutionalize responses through the Community Watch Corps is a more sustainable step than ad-hoc road blockades.

Lastly, calling on the governor to “cut short his leave” ignores reality. The Acting Governor is in charge. Security agencies remain operational. And Radda will return. What matters is not his physical location on any given day, but the structures he has built to confront insecurity. On that front, he has shown courage where others preferred silence.

Yes, the killings in Malumfashi are painful. Yes, the people’s anger is justified. But anger should not blind us to facts: Radda is among the few governors who have openly confronted both bandits and compromised officials, while pushing for homegrown solutions. Governance is not theatre—it does not collapse because the governor is abroad for three weeks. The system continues.

So rather than call for his return in panic, let us strengthen the structures he has set in motion, hold both federal and state actors accountable, and avoid spreading unverified tales that only embolden the enemies of peace.

May God console the families of the victims, protect Katsina, and grant lasting peace to our communities.

Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda I read with keen interest the recent piece by my brother, Abdu Labaran Malumfas...

23/08/2025

After Unguwar Mantau: How Katsina and the Federal Government Are Responding to Insecurity

The devastating attack on worshippers in Unguwar Mantau during early morning prayers in Malumfashi Local Government Area sent shockwaves across Katsina State. Official figures vary, with reports ranging from at least 13 to over 30 deaths, while some sources suggested the toll might have reached 50. Whatever the number, it was one of the most painful tragedies in recent memory, leaving families and communities heartbroken.

Yet, out of the grief came a swift and determined response. The Katsina State Government, alongside federal security forces, acted quickly to show not only sympathy for the victims but also a firm resolve to restore peace.

Within hours of the attack, Acting Governor Faruk Lawal Jobe directed the Secretary to the State Government, Abdullahi Faskari, to lead a powerful delegation to Unguwar Mantau. The team met grieving families, community leaders, and religious figures, conveying condolences on behalf of the government. Faskari described the killings as “deeply painful and heartbreaking,” assuring residents that government stood firmly with them and would not relent until security was restored.

This was not a one-off gesture. The visit reflected a pattern of compassion in Katsina’s governance. Earlier this year, Governor Dikko Radda, before embarking on medical leave, had personally visited victims of banditry while they received treatment, offering words of comfort, financial assistance, and even support for a rescued woman who gave birth in captivity. The state’s approach has consistently shown that beyond strategies and statistics, the human face of insecurity is not forgotten.

But sympathy alone is not enough. At Government House in Katsina, Acting Governor Jobe convened an emergency State Security Council meeting with military chiefs, the police, civil defence, immigration, customs, and religious leaders. The meeting produced immediate action. He launched eight brand-new Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs), which were swiftly deployed to the state’s vulnerable areas. This boosted Katsina’s security fleet to 43 APCs, making it one of the most fortified states in the North-West.

These reinforcements are part of a wider investment by the administration. Since taking office, the state has committed over ₦36 billion to security. This has gone into procuring Hilux vehicles, motorcycles, drones, trackers, walkie-talkies, combat gear, and allowances for community watch groups. Over 1,100 community volunteers have also been trained, while thousands of ward heads, imams, vigilantes, and community leaders now receive stipends to support the broader security architecture.

When the attackers struck Unguwar Mantau, villagers did not cower. They fought back, forcing some of the bandits to retreat. This resilience echoes Katsina’s vision of a community-driven security model, where local vigilance works hand in hand with formal forces. Programs like the Community Watch Corps and vigilante groups have already secured four frontline local governments—Jibia, Batsari, Safana, and Dan Musa—proving that people are not mere spectators in their own security.

At the same time, Katsina did not stand alone. Recognizing the scale of the challenge, the Acting Governor appealed directly to President Bola Tinubu for federal support. That call was swiftly answered. The Chief of Army Staff scheduled an on-ground assessment visit, while federal troops and air power were mobilized.

In a decisive operation, the Nigerian Air Force struck the notorious Pauwa Hill hideout in Kankara, home to bandit kingpin Babaro—the mastermind of the Unguwar Mantau killings. The precision air raid not only dismantled one of the most feared bandit enclaves but also rescued 76 kidnapped victims, many of them abducted from the mosque attack. Although one child tragically lost his life, the operation underscored the strength of federal-state collaboration. Meanwhile, on the ground, the Nigerian Army neutralized seven armed bandits in Kankara and seized their motorcycles, further weakening the criminals’ grip.

What has emerged in the aftermath of Unguwar Mantau is a clear pattern: a government that responds with empathy, acts with urgency, and coordinates with partners for greater strength. By consoling victims, investing heavily in security infrastructure, empowering local communities, and rallying federal military support, Katsina has shown that its people are not left to face terror alone.

As Acting Governor Faruk Lawal Jobe declared, “The battle against banditry is not over until it is won… Our resolve is firm, and we will continue until Katsina State is safe for all.”

For a state that has endured so much, the path forward is difficult. But the swift rescue operations, strengthened security presence, and the government’s visible compassion have rekindled a sense of hope. Katsina’s message to its people is clear: even in the darkest of nights, the light of resilience and unity will outshine the fear spread by criminals.

The devastating attack on worshippers in Unguwar Mantau during early morning prayers in Malumfashi Local Government Area sent sh...

Ahmed Abdulkadir

01/09/2025

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