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 our shared and genuine fear. Yet the response from government quarters has been both telling and tragic. Instead of engaging with the grave issues of banditry, kidnappings, and the palpable fear gripping our communities, government-sponsored agents and officials resorted to the lowest form of debate: personal attacks and body-shaming.

They attempted to divert attention from the bleeding wounds of our state to the person sounding the alarm. This is the oldest trick in the handbook of failed leadership: when you cannot defend your record, you attack the critic.

Someone even forwarded a rejoinder from a commissioner, Dr. Aliyu Isa Aliyu, attempting to defend his principal’s government — yet he ended up saying nothing of substance. The rejoinder was laughable, a hollow attempt to deflect from the real issues. Security is not measured by press releases or displays of hardware; it is measured by what citizens experience daily. Today, the experience of most Kano residents is bleak.

The fear in our villages, abandoned farmlands, and families fleeing their homes — these lived realities cannot be erased by dropping links to newspaper articles or celebrating superficial “achievements.”

My critics, comfortably posting from secure locations elsewhere, have a place to run to if Kano collapses. I do not. For me, this is not an abstract political argument; 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 while the government downplays a crisis threatening to erase the Kano we know and love?

On security, any responsible government must work hand-in-hand with traditional rulers, who are closest to the people in rural communities. The previous administration understood this. One of Ganduje’s strategic masterstrokes was the creation of additional emirates bringing governance and security oversight closer to the grassroots and ensuring no community was left on the margins.

But what has the current government done? In a move that reeks of political vendetta and disregard for stability, it deliberately created fadan masarauta — a needless royal feud. It suddenly announced the dethronement of 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 remains before the court — a self-inflicted crisis that continues to breed tension and division. Kudos to the police and the federal government for maintaining peace in the metropolis despite this provocation. But how does any leader expect to achieve peace and security while simultaneously dismantling the very traditional structures meant to uphold them?

The Governor’s alienation of security agencies is another textbook failure. It is customary for newly deployed security heads in Kano to pay a familiarization visit to the Governor, the state’s chief security officer.

Yet Governor Yusuf has not created an atmosphere conducive to such crucial collaboration. Instead of building bridges, we hear him publicly calling for the removal of the Commissioner of Police — a move that bewilders every security analyst and fosters a toxic, unproductive environment. This lack of synergy is not a minor oversight; it is a fundamental failure of governance.

Sometimes I am left utterly bewildered by the Governor’s judgment. Why is a state as great and strategically important as Kano employing individuals who make a caricature of his government?

These people — 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. It forces an 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 collaborate with security agencies, its destabilization of traditional institutions, and its reliance on 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 Gari 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 who will act decisively.

Therefore, I reiterate my call: Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, stop the politics. Dismiss the caricatures and hire competent professionals. End the public feuds with security chiefs, restore the dignity of our traditional institutions, and prioritize meaningful 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.

 Ahmad writes from Kano.
Hadizanasir00@gmail.com