by Mohammed Bello Doka
History has a way of repeating itself—especially when courage rises where silence has become fashionable. In today’s Nigerian politics, Hannatu Musa Musawa has emerged as that rare figure: a woman who spoke truth while powerful men looked away. In doing so, she has assumed a role many never expected—but the North desperately needs—a modern Queen Amina of Zazzau.
Beautiful, tall, educated, articulate, and fearless, Musawa did what an army of Northern Muslim political elites in power failed to do: she spoke plainly, publicly, and without apology. She reminded the All Progressives Congress (APC) of an inconvenient truth—that power in Nigeria is negotiated, not inherited, and that removing a Hausa, Fulani or Kanuri Muslim from the presidential ticket in 2027 would come at a steep political cost.
For this honesty, she was attacked.
The loudest critics have not come from the opposition. They have come from the same pro-government social media machinery that markets the “Emilokan” administration, many of whom openly believe that 2027 is a Yoruba birthright and Tinubu’s entitlement—no questions asked, no negotiations allowed.
That is where the hypocrisy becomes impossible to ignore.
These same voices defended the Muslim–Muslim ticket in 2023 with religious zeal. They lectured Nigerians that elections are won by numbers, not sentiments. They mocked concerns about balance. They proudly reminded the country that Northern Muslim votes were decisive—and indispensable.
Now, barely one election cycle later, the tune has changed.
Suddenly, being Muslim is the problem.
Suddenly, Kashim Shettima must go—not for incompetence, not for disloyalty, but simply because he is Muslim.
Suddenly, the same people who dismissed religious balance as “noise” have discovered it as a convenient excuse.
That is not political evolution. That is political fraud.
What makes this moment even more damning is the silence of Northern Muslim men in positions of power. Governors, ministers, senators, party elders—men who owe their relevance to the same Northern constituencies now being treated as expendable—have largely chosen to whisper in private and smile in public.
It took a woman to speak.
It took Hannatu Musawa to do what titled men with security details and access to Aso Rock could not—or would not—do. Like Queen Amina of old, she stepped forward not because it was safe, but because it was necessary.
Her critics accuse her of playing identity politics. But identity politics did not start with her. It started when power was claimed with the slogan “Emilokan”—a declaration of entitlement rooted in region, sacrifice, and turn-taking. To celebrate that logic yesterday and condemn it today—only when the North invokes it—is not principle. It is selective morality.
Musawa did not insult the President. She did not threaten the party. She did not call for rebellion. She simply warned against arrogance—the kind that assumes votes will always follow, loyalty will always endure, and silence will always be guaranteed.
History shows otherwise.
In moments like this, nations remember who spoke and who hid. The North, in particular, will remember that when its relevance was being quietly negotiated away, a woman stood up—clear-eyed, fearless, and unbought.
If courage had a face in today’s APC, it would look a lot like Hannatu Musa Musawa.
And if silence had one, it would look uncomfortably familiar.
Abuja Network News
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