Take away from the seat of the Caliphate

By: Comrade Usman Abdulkadir Taleeki 

Jane Austene once remarked that ideas are the only currency that never depreciates. They are the gold reserves of nations. Economies may rise and fall, natural resources may dry up, but when a society learns to cultivate and harness ideas, it lays a foundation that time cannot erode. This is why some nations leapfrog from poverty to prosperity, while others remain trapped in mediocrity. The decisive factor is the ability to recognize brilliance in its raw state, nurture it, and translate it into systems that solve real human problems.

In my this week column, I bring to you a takeaway from my trip earlier this week to Sokoto, the historic seat of the Caliphate, where I attended the IT Compete organized by Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto (UDUS), as part of the activities marking the Golden Jubilee of the institution. The competition was a parade of youthful ingenuity, a reminder that in the minds of our students lie answers to many of the challenges that have defied policy pronouncements for decades. Among the innovations displayed, two presentations stood out for me, not just because of their originality, but because they directly respond to our national realities in agriculture and education.

The first was Sell Harvest, an application designed to bridge the gap between farmers and consumers. Nigerian farmers have for long been prisoners of broken value chains. They are at the mercy of middlemen who dictate prices, with limited access to markets, weather information, or modern farming practices. Sell Harvest provides a simple yet powerful remedy. Farmers can upload their produce, set prices, and connect directly with buyers. Beyond this, it integrates real-time weather updates, crop suitability guides, and step-by-step video tutorials for cultivating specific crops. This is not a mere digital shop window; it is a comprehensive agricultural toolkit that could, with the right support, move our farmers from subsistence to commercial agribusiness.

The second innovation was Schoolarithim, a hardware-driven system created to solve the problem of information asymmetry in scholarships. Every year, millions of dollars in scholarship funds, both local and international, are left untapped, not because Nigerian students lack the merit, but because they lack access to the right information at the right time. Schoolarithim aggregates scholarship opportunities into one platform. Once a student registers and fills in their information, an AI-powered algorithm matches them with suitable scholarships and sends timely reminders before deadlines. In a society where so many dreams are aborted for lack of opportunity, such a tool could democratize access to education and open doors for thousands of young Nigerians.

Both innovations won second and third place respectively. But my concern is what becomes of them after the applause fades. This is where our society often fails. In developed countries, such ingenuity rarely dies a quiet death. Governments, investors, and institutions step in quickly to nurture, scale, and integrate them into national systems.

Take agriculture, for example. In the United States, Farmers Business Network (FBN) began as a modest idea to link farmers and share crop data. Today, it has grown into a nationwide platform that empowers farmers with information, collective bargaining power, and market access. In Australia, AgriDigital transformed grain trading, ensuring transparency and financing options for farmers. In the United Kingdom, Agri-Tech East was deliberately backed as a cluster to connect researchers, farmers, and investors, creating an ecosystem of innovation that now drives British agriculture. These were once sparks of ideas, but deliberate nurturing turned them into engines of national productivity.

Education tells a similar story. Platforms like Fastweb and Chegg Scholarships in the United States, and government portals in Canada and Europe, are today engines powering millions of students into higher education. They started as modest experiments but, with public support and private capital, became institutions in their own right.

In Nigeria, the irony is painful. Sell Harvest and Schoolarithim may remain confined to the laptops of their creators. The university may issue certificates of participation, the winners may post pictures on social media, but the country as a whole will move on, unchanged. We will return to lamentations about poor agricultural productivity and complaints about wasted talents in education. Innovation without follow-up is like planting seeds on rocks; it excites the planter but produces no harvest.

As UDUS celebrates its fiftieth anniversary, the most enduring legacy it can give itself is not merely to recall its past glory but to secure its future relevance. Sokoto, the seat of the Caliphate, has for centuries been a fountain of knowledge, reform, and leadership. The Caliphate tradition was not built on applause but on institutionalizing ideas, whether in scholarship, governance, or social organization. If we are serious about rekindling that legacy, then we must begin to treat innovations like Sell Harvest and Schoolarithim not as campus experiments but as national assets waiting to be harnessed.

My axis; Kebbi, Sokoto, Zamfar, and indeed Nigeria need to understand that in the 21st century, wealth no longer lies in oil wells or fertile farmlands alone. It lies in ideas, in innovation, and in the ability to turn local brilliance into global relevance. That is how nations are built, and that is how real change begins.

That, for me, is the true takeaway from the seat of the Caliphate.