From Facebook to Aso Rock: The Power of Voice and Destiny -By Zayd Ibn Isah

I was having a conversation with my good friend, Comrade Mahmud Muhammad, who currently serves as Personal Assistant on Domestic to the President, office of the Vice President. Out of curiosity, I asked him how he first met his boss, the cerebral Vice President, Kashim Shettima, GCON.

I must confess, I expected the usual answer, perhaps that a prominent political figure facilitated the introduction, or that it happened through the intricate web of political connections that often defines access to power in our country. But to my utmost surprise, Mahmud told me he met the Vice President through Facebook.

Yes, Facebook.

According to him, he had long been an ardent admirer of Kashim Shettima’s leadership, dating back to his days as Governor of Borno State. At a time when the state was grappling with the devastating impact of insurgency, Mahmud took it upon himself to consistently write about the governor’s developmental strides and resilience in the face of adversity.

His writings were not driven by the hope of recognition or reward, but by genuine conviction and belief in a leader he felt deserved acknowledgment.

As fate would have it, his efforts did not go unnoticed.

Whether it was the Vice President himself or someone within his circle who drew attention to the young man’s consistent advocacy, Mahmud soon received an invitation to the Government House in Borno State. He was subsequently appointed as Special Assistant to the Governor, a moment that marked the beginning of a life-changing journey with Kashim Shettima, from the Government House in Borno to the Presidential Villa in Abuja.

It sounds almost like a script straight out of a movie.

Yet, it is real. And it is inspiring.

Beyond the serendipity of Comrade Mahmud’s journey lies a more profound lesson, the immense power of social media in shaping destinies.

In today’s digital age, platforms like Facebook are no longer mere spaces for casual interactions; they have evolved into powerful tools that can either make or mar an individual. A single post, a consistent voice, or a defined perspective can open doors to unimaginable opportunities, or close them just as quickly.

Mahmud understood this, perhaps even without fully realizing it at the time. He chose to use his platform not for hostility or empty noise, but for thoughtful engagement. He identified leadership he believed in and articulated his views with clarity, consistency, and respect. That decision, simple as it may seem, set him apart.

This, however, is not to suggest that social media should be reduced to a marketplace of praise-singing. Far from it. A healthy society thrives on constructive criticism. Leaders must be held accountable, and citizens must never lose their voice.

But there is a difference, clear and undeniable, between constructive criticism and corrosive bitterness. While one seeks to build; the other is only concerned with tearing down.

And while one is driven largely by a desire for improvement; the other feeds on a toxic diet of anger, bias, and even sheer mischief.

We must learn to strike that delicate balance: to criticize without malice, to question without contempt, and to disagree without descending into abuse. Even as we point out flaws, we must also find the honesty to acknowledge what is working. That is the mark of maturity, both as individuals and as a society.

Comrade Mahmud’s story also serves as a quiet warning to those who hide behind anonymity or digital distance to attack, insult, and demean others without provocation. The truth is simple: no one knows where their destiny helper will come from.

The person you dismiss today might be the same person who holds the key to your tomorrow. The world, as they say, is a small place, but in the age of social media, it has become even smaller. Words travel faster, impressions last longer, and reputations are built, or destroyed, in real time.

I’m always reminded of the story of Ory Okolloh. She was a young Kenyan lawyer and blogger who, in the aftermath of Kenya’s disputed 2007 elections, used her platform to document the violence and chaos unfolding across the country. When fleeing Nairobi became necessary for her own safety, she continued writing from abroad, refusing to let the story die. Her consistent, unflinching digital documentation eventually caught the attention of Google, which brought her on as Policy Manager for Sub-Saharan Africa. This was a role that placed her at the intersection of technology, governance, and public life, where she has since gone on to shape policy conversations across Africa.

May our digital footprints and online efforts justify the sort of opportunities that further enable us to make positive impacts in our little corners of the world.

In a way, Comrade Mahmud’s story also demystifies the long-held belief that in Nigeria, one cannot rise without “knowing someone who knows someone.” It is a powerful reminder that consistency, passion, and sincerity can open doors that even influence sometimes cannot.

The late elder statesman, Aminu Kano, once famously said that Nigeria would not truly know peace until the son of a nobody can become somebody without knowing anybody.

In many ways, Mahmud’s journey is a quiet but profound testament that such a Nigeria is not only possible, it is already unfolding, one story at a time. Mahmud’s story lends credence to a timeless truth that cuts across all faiths and all ages: the hand that is diligent finds its way, eventually, to the courts of kings.

Mahmud found his. His story is not just about luck, it is about intentionality. And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of all: that in a world where everyone has a platform, how we choose to use ours may very well determine how far we go.

Zayd Ibn Isah
Lawcadet1@gmail.com