If Kano Falls, the North Pays the Price By Hassan Yakubu
Allah ya kare but follow me!
Growing up as a young truck mechanic in my father’s garage in the 90s and early 2000s, there was no state in the Northwest we didn’t travel to with him or one of my senior colleagues to repair broken trucks. Sometimes the trucks stopped deep inside thick forests where they loaded wood, sometimes by the roadside in strange villages, and sometimes in the middle of nowhere. In many cases, we slept in the bush without fear.
I have spent days in Kuyallo, Kaya, Damari, Mai Kujeri, Unguwan Yako (sadly now called Sambisa), Tsafe, Kwatarkwashi, Falgore, Muriga Mai Yan Mata, Kuriga, Batsari, Malumfashi, and parts of Sokoto and Kebbi States with our two eyes closed — nothing like the fear and tension we have today.
Even back then, there were early traces of banditry but the government was never proactive. We called them barayin daji. You would see them in markets like Kuyallo, Damari, etc. That was the period a praise singer, Gambu Mai Wakar Barayi, openly sang for thieves and recorded it. They didn’t hold sophisticated weapons like today, but I believe that era planted some of the seeds of the crisis the Northwest is battling now.
And while I agree that addressing root causes and using non-kinetic methods is important, this argument that “the state abandoned them” should not become a blanket excuse for the violence they now unleash on equally abandoned citizens. Once we begin to rationalise terror this way, every criminal will find a grievance to justify taking up arms.
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In a discussion with my old man last week — he is 94 years old — I told him that many of the villages we once slept in peacefully, such as Unguwan Yako and Mai Kujeri, have now been completely sacked, with some allegedly serving as bandit camps. Research groups and humanitarian organisations have reported that more than 200 villages across the Northwest have been displaced in the last few years, and if care is not taken, more will follow.
Beyond the sacked villages, there is also the bigger question of how we think about the forests around us. In searching for solutions, no neighbouring forest — including Falgore — should be assumed to be “far away” or automatically safe simply because it houses training facilities. The truth is that our forests are vast, and this size alone demands more security presence and coordinated monitoring. Even Afaka villages in Igabi LGA of Kaduna State suffered repeated attacks some years back despite being close to major training grounds for different security forces. The point is not about blaming anyone, but about recognising that forests require serious attention, patrols, and investment in security infrastructure.
It is at this stage that I will call on Abba Kabir Yusuf, the Governor of Kano, and other influential Kano leaders to tighten security at all levels and stop the kidnappings and killings at this early stage. It is likely that these criminals penetrate through vulnerable Katsina border villages, attack Kano communities, and retreat the same way. History has shown that once small villages like Tsanyawa or Shanono are pushed out, they convert such places into camps and launching pads for wider attacks.
One of the biggest mistakes the state can make is to assume that the recent banditry attacks are merely politically motivated. Such assumptions may distract from deeper investigation and timely action — especially at a time when Kano is receiving developmental projects more than ever before. When a state is developing at this pace, the last thing it needs is to underestimate a threat that requires full attention.
We cannot allow this chain reaction to take root in Kano, especially because any instability in Kano’s economy at this moment will create ripple effects across the entire economy of Northern Nigeria and Nigeria at large.
Hassan Yakubu is the Convener, Kada SMEs Boot-Camp and Co-founder, Hauwal Consulting [email protected]
