REPORTER’S DIARY: A Day at Kasuwan Bacci, Kaduna’s “Sleeping Market” By Haleema Hassan Abubakar
The sun had barely kissed the morning sky when I stepped into the legendary Kasuwan Bacci. Tucked in the heartbeat of Kaduna, this market is not just a place of trade — it is a living, breathing organism pulsing with human hustle, determination, and the shared aspirations of thousands.
From the laughter of hawkers to the hum of sewing machines, every corner of Kasuwan Bacci tells a story that is both ordinary and extraordinary. Kasuwan Bacci – loosely translated as “Sleeping Market” – is anything but a once-a-week affair.
It is Kaduna’s most populous and economically significant trading post. It is where ambition wears aprons, dreams are sewn into fabric, and survival is hawked in sachets.
At the center of this bustling community is Alhaji Bala, the market’s chairman — a man whose life is practically woven into the fabric of Kasuwan Bacci itself.
His story begins humbly: a young boy threading his first stitches as a tailor while still in Primary 6. He would go on to sell ready-made clothes, then venture into textiles and blouses. Today, he presides over thousands of traders.
“When the demolition came under Governor El-Rufai, it felt like we had been uprooted,” he said, seated beneath a makeshift canopy.
“But we endured. I became the Vice Chairman and later the Chairman, not because I asked for it, but because I had walked this journey with the market.”
Bala’s voice carried the wisdom of experience and the weight of responsibility. Kasuwan Bacci, he told me, used to operate 24/7 before the demolition. Its security, powered then by community vigilance, was unmatched.
“Even now,” he said, “we work closely with KADVS — the Kaduna State Vigilante Service — to keep our traders and buyers safe.”
But what makes Kasuwan Bacci more than just another open-air market is its dynamic blend of commerce and craftsmanship. “This is not just a trading post,” Bala said proudly.
“Shoes are made here. Clothes are sewn and embroidered here. Young boys and girls are trained in tailoring, right within the walls of the market. That is what makes this place different.”
A Market Rebuilt, But Not Whole
After the redevelopment, stalls increased from 3,600 to 3,886. But only Phase 1 has been completed. Many traders still do business on the fringes, renting small spaces outside the market or squeezing into corners.
Electricity remains a pressing issue — for over a year now, the market has been in darkness.
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“No electricity. No light. For tailors, that is a nightmare,” Bala said, frustration lining his voice. “Many of our people are forced to operate outside the market where they can find power. That’s not how we build an economy.”
He also called for better integration of roadside traders. “Bring them in. Let us organize the flow of goods and people. This market can be more efficient and more beautiful if properly structured.”
The Old Guard Speaks
Not far from Bala’s stall, I met Muhammad Bello Adam, a stoic figure who has watched the market evolve for over five decades. Once a tailor himself, he now trades fabrics.
“Business is slow,” he admitted, eyes scanning the half-filled corridors of the new stalls. “The rent is too high. Many have left because they simply cannot keep up.”
Adam remembers a more vibrant Kasuwan Bacci, one where sales kept stomachs full and spirits high. “We are still here because this market raised us. We are not just fighting for our stalls — we are fighting for our legacy.”
A Woman’s Struggle and Hope
On another aisle, I met “Mommy Adam”, a recent retiree from KADPOLY who now runs a modest provision shop. Her corner was lined with everyday essentials — milk, sugar, sachets of beverages — yet she wore a frown born from unmet expectations.
“Sales are bad,” she said bluntly. “Some days, I do not make up to five thousand naira.” The rent, she said, is enough to break the will of any small-scale trader.
She believes the solution is simple: reduce the rent, bring electricity, and give small businesses the oxygen they need to breathe. “If this happens,” she said, “people will return, and the market will live again.”
Kasuwan Bacci: The Soul of Kaduna
Despite the economic fog surrounding it, Kasuwan Bacci still stands. A giant whose shoulders carry families, apprentices, and artisans.
It is a place where transactions go beyond naira and kobo — where community, learning, and survival intermingle in a beautiful, chaotic dance.
The market’s pulse may have slowed, but it has not stopped. Traders like Alhaji Bala, Adam, and Mommy Adam are its heartbeat, its memory, and its resistance. They refuse to let it die — not while it still serves as a furnace for dreams and a lifeline for Kaduna’s economy.
If policymakers and stakeholders pay attention — if electricity returns, rent becomes reasonable, and structure replaces chaos — then perhaps Kasuwan Bacci will not just recover. It will thrive.
Because this is not just a market.
This is Kasuwan Bacci.
This is Kaduna’s pride.
Haleema Hassan Abubakar is a Mass Communication student at Maryam Abacha American University of Nigeria (MAAUN), Kano
