​By Dr. Shamsuddeen Ahmad Aliyu (Haido)

​Agriculture remains the economic backbone of Sokoto State. According to recent data from the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), the sector contributes roughly 42% of our state’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP), with over 70% of our population actively engaged in farming. Yet, despite this massive demographic involvement, our agricultural potential remains largely uncommercialized. We remain primary producers of raw materials, while the immense wealth generated from processing and industrial optimization happens outside our borders.

​To shift this paradigm, we must look closely at our existing, underutilized industrial assets. The most prominent symbol of this untapped potential sits right in our backyard: The 250,000 Metric Tonne (MT) per annum Dangote Rice Mill in Kware.

​The Feedstock Dilemma: Why the Mill Sits Idle

​When the Dangote Group constructed its ultra-modern rice processing facility on a 27-hectare site in Runji Village, Kware Local Government Area, it was a data-driven investment. Designed to process 32 metric tonnes of paddy per hour, the mill possesses the capacity to process a quarter of a million metric tonnes of rice annually, making it one of the largest industrial food assets in West Africa.

​Yet, despite its completed infrastructure, the mill has faced challenges operating at full commercial capacity. The reason is not a lack of market demand for rice, but a structural fragmentation in the upstream supply chain.

​Industrial processing plants are capital-intensive and risk-averse; they require a continuous, predictable, and uniform pipeline of clean paddy. The current localized production model—characterized by fragmented smallholders, lack of access to certified seeds (like Faro 44/52), high post-harvest losses, and the absence of a structured corporate aggregator—means the mill faces a structural feedstock deficit.

​Resolving this deficit requires moving away from traditional, ad-hoc administrative interventions and implementing a sophisticated, business-to-government (B2G) structural framework.

​The Macroeconomic Impact: Keeping Wealth Inside Sokoto

​Activating a major asset like the Kware mill changes the economic landscape of the entire state. At current market rates, a metric tonne of high-quality industrial rice paddy sits at roughly ₦350,000 to ₦400,000. Delivering an initial baseline of 100,000 MT of paddy per year to the mill represents a direct capital injection of ₦35 Billion to ₦40 Billion moving into our state’s agricultural ecosystem annually.

​Because this model prioritizes direct institutional off-take from local farming clusters, this capital skips exploitative middlemen and flows straight into our rural economies. This injection accelerates the velocity of cash in our local markets, stimulating the retail, construction, and service sectors, and organically expanding the state’s Internally Generated Revenue (IGR) base without increasing the tax burden on citizens.

​Furthermore, industrial processing introduces a high-value secondary economy. The Kware mill generates thousands of tonnes of rice husks and rice bran as by-products. Rice husks serve as a valuable biomass fuel source for energy and manufacturing plants, while rice bran provides the primary raw materials needed to establish a commercial livestock and poultry feed-mill industry within the state.

What Full Operation Means for the Citizens of Sokoto

​At the microeconomic level, turning on the machinery at Kware creates immediate, sustainable livelihoods:

​Lifting 20,000+ Farming Households: To generate 100,000 MT of paddy systematically, we must organize and support at least 20,000 hectares of farmland. Under a structured, high-yield input framework, a local farmer cultivating two hectares can achieve a yield of 4 to 5 tonnes per hectare. This translates to an estimated ₦3.5 Million in gross seasonal revenue per household, structurally elevating thousands of rural families into commercial sustainability.

​The Logistics and Service Boom: Transporting 100 million kilograms of grain from field to factory requires an extensive logistical network. This translates into roughly 10,000 heavy-duty truck trips per year along our internal transport corridors. The ripple effect means immediate, year-round business for local transport unions, haulage companies, mechanics, fuel stations, and youth-led loading crews.

​The Blueprint for Immediate Takeoff

​To get the Dangote Rice Mill up and running, we must position our agricultural sector as an active, de-risked commercial partner. Look at recent sub-national agricultural playbooks in Nigeria, where major corporate off-take frameworks succeeded because the state acted as a credible institutional guarantor via a structured corporate vehicle.

​To achieve this in Sokoto, a precise four-part strategy must be deployed:

​

The Strategic Framework for Agricultural Takeoff

Establishment of a State-Backed Agribusiness Vehicle

Step 1

The state must incorporate Sokoto Foods Limited (SFL) as a public limited liability company under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) framework. By holding a minority 25% equity stake and transferring controlling 51% operational ownership to a reputable private agribusiness managing partner, we eliminate civil-service bureaucracy. SFL will serve as the single corporate buffer to execute a long-term Paddy Supply Agreement directly with the Dangote Group.

Biometric Cooperative Mapping and Input Credit Loops

Step 2

SFL will biometric-map and cluster thousands of smallholder rice farmers into highly disciplined cooperatives. Instead of distributing open-ended subsidies, SFL will operate a closed-loop input provision system—supplying premium certified seeds, calibrated fertilizers, and mechanized ploughing services directly to farmers, with costs recovered strictly via paddy write-offs at the scale house during harvest.

Infrastructure Maximization and Dry-Season Irrigation

Step 3

Sokoto’s distinct edge lies in dry-season cultivation, which yields higher-grade paddy with lower moisture content. We must focus state capital on de-silting and expanding secondary canals at the Goronyo, Shagari, and Kware irrigation networks, paired with the mass deployment of solar-powered tubewells to farming clusters along our riverbanks.

Fiscal Incentives and Industrial Zone Declaration

Step 4

To completely lower the operational overhead of the facility, the 27-hectare Kware mill corridor should be designated as the Sokoto Agric-Industrial Revitalization Zone (SAREZ), granting a 5-year holiday on state-levied commercial taxes, accompanied by a dedicated, uninterrupted power evacuation corridor from the nearest electrical substation.

Conclusion

​Economic self-reliance is not achieved through seasonal government handouts; it is achieved by building the institutional scaffolding that allows our people to generate wealth through their own productivity. By transforming our state from a passive observer into a sophisticated commercial facilitator, we can turn a quiet industrial giant into the heartbeat of Nigeria’s rice production. The infrastructure is ready, our land is fertile, and our farmers are determined. With the right business acumen and structured policies, Sokoto is fully capable of driving an industrial takeoff that will rewrite our economic history.

​….Dr. Shamsuddeen Ahmad Aliyu (Haido) is the

NDC Gubernatorial candidate for Sokoto State

By Adinoyi Ukpa

As the horses trotted majestically through the streets of Ijebu-Ode and social media erupted in admiration of flowing agbadas, expensive beads, celebrity appearances and the splendour of the 2026 Ojude Oba Festival, a different Nigeria was unfolding far from the cameras.

In the forests of Oyo State, schoolchildren and teachers abducted by bandits remained in captivity, their families trapped in anguish, uncertainty and fear. While millions of Nigerians debated fashion statements and celebrated cultural pageantry, parents waited anxiously for news of children who had simply gone to school and never returned home.

The contrast was not merely ironic. It was an indictment.
It revealed a nation that appears increasingly comfortable celebrating itself while its children languish in the hands of criminals.
This is not an argument against Ojude Oba. Far from it.

The festival is one of Nigeria’s finest cultural exports. It represents history, identity, community and pride. It is a testament to the enduring strength of Yoruba culture and deserves its place among Africa’s great cultural celebrations.

But culture cannot become an escape from conscience.
What should trouble every Nigerian is not that Ojude Oba was celebrated. What should trouble us is that the kidnapping of schoolchildren no longer possesses the power to interrupt our celebrations.

We have become accustomed to horror. A nation that once recoiled in shock at the abduction of a handful of schoolchildren now treats such incidents as routine news items. We express outrage for a few days, issue statements, offer prayers, blame security agencies, and then move on to the next political controversy, celebrity event or cultural festival.

The children remain behind.
The parents continue to suffer. The kidnappers continue their business.
The country carries on as if nothing has happened.

The Oyo abduction should have triggered a national emergency. Reports from Oriire Local Government Area indicated that armed men attacked schools and communities, abducting pupils, teachers and residents. One teacher reportedly lost his life in captivity. Families have endured days and weeks of agony while awaiting the safe return of their loved ones.

Yet the incident never generated the level of sustained national outrage that similar kidnappings attracted in the past.
Perhaps that is because Nigeria has become desensitised. Perhaps we have seen too many kidnappings. Perhaps we have become too accustomed to headlines about bandits, terrorists and ransom demands. Or perhaps we simply no longer value human life as much as we claim.

The tragedy in Oyo inevitably invites comparisons with earlier school abductions that shook the nation.

In June 2021, armed bandits invaded Federal Government College, Birnin Yauri, in Kebbi State, within the Zuru Emirate. The attack sent shockwaves across Nigeria. Students and teachers were seized and marched into the forests.
The response was immediate and relentless.

The Federal Government mobilised security agencies. Intelligence operations were intensified. Meetings were held at the highest levels of government. Traditional rulers became involved. The issue dominated national discourse for months. Every release of students generated national headlines. Every development was closely monitored.

The process was long and frustrating, but one thing was unmistakable: the country refused to look away.

The victims remained at the centre of national attention until they regained their freedom.

The same pattern was evident in Niger State.

Whether in Kagara, Tegina, Pandogari, Papiri or other communities ravaged by bandit attacks, successive mass abductions provoked urgent responses from both state and federal authorities. Governors convened emergency meetings. Security deployments were increased. Community leaders were engaged. The media maintained pressure. Public attention remained focused on the fate of the victims.

No one could accuse the government of indifference, even where outcomes were delayed.

The nation understood that schoolchildren in captivity represented a direct challenge to the authority of the Nigerian state.

That understanding appears to be fading. Today, the kidnapping of students struggles to compete with entertainment, politics and social media trends. This is dangerous.

Banditry thrives not only because of weak security structures but also because of public fatigue. Criminals understand that outrage has become temporary. They understand that Nigerians have developed a short attention span. They understand that after a few days, another story will dominate the headlines.

This normalisation of insecurity is one of the greatest threats facing the country.

A society that becomes accustomed to kidnapping is a society that has begun surrendering its moral foundations.

The consequences extend beyond the immediate suffering of victims. Parents begin to fear sending children to school. Teachers become reluctant to accept postings to rural communities. Educational outcomes decline. Economic activities suffer. Communities become isolated. Trust in government erodes. Most importantly, citizens begin to lose faith in the state’s ability to perform its most fundamental responsibility: protecting lives.

There is another uncomfortable dimension to this conversation.

Nigeria’s political elite often appears more visible during celebrations than during tragedies.

Photographs from Ojude Oba featured politicians, government officials and influential figures eager to associate themselves with a prestigious cultural event. There is nothing wrong with attending such occasions. Public officials are citizens too. The problem arises when citizens perceive greater enthusiasm for festivals than for confronting national emergencies. Leadership is as much about symbolism as it is about policy.

At moments of national trauma, leaders must demonstrate urgency, empathy and focus. They must ensure that victims know they have not been forgotten. They must convince citizens that government machinery is fully engaged. Anything less creates the impression that public relations has become more important than public safety.

The lesson from Birnin Yauri, Kagara, Tegina and numerous other school abductions is clear: sustained public attention matters.

Governments respond more aggressively when citizens refuse to look away. Security agencies perform better when subjected to scrutiny.
Political leaders become more accountable when public pressure remains constant.

That is why Nigerians must resist the temptation to normalise the Oyo tragedy.
The kidnapped children and teachers deserve more than fleeting sympathy. They deserve national attention.
They deserve sustained advocacy. They deserve a government that treats their captivity as a matter of utmost urgency. And their families deserve to know that the country has not abandoned them.

Ojude Oba will come again next year. The horses will return. The colourful attire will return. The music, festivities and celebrations will return.
But for the parents waiting for news from Oyo State, every passing day feels like a lifetime.

Long after the photographs from Ijebu-Ode disappear from social media timelines, those families will still remember the nights spent praying for the safe return of their children.

That is why the real question confronting Nigeria is not whether Ojude Oba should be celebrated. It should.

The real question is why a nation facing an epidemic of school kidnappings appears increasingly capable of celebrating everything except the urgency of rescuing its children.

Until we answer that question honestly, every grand festival will carry an uncomfortable shadow. Because somewhere beyond the music, beyond the glamour, beyond the pageantry and prestige, frightened children are still waiting to come home.
And no nation should be comfortable dancing while that remains true.

***Ukpa a public affairs analyst writes from Okene, Kogi State.

By Adinoyi Ukpa

Philip Shaibu walked into the National Institute for Sports (NIS) at a difficult time for Nigerian sports administration. Once conceived as the engine room for producing coaches, referees, sports scientists and administrators, the institute had for years become a shadow of its mandate, weakened by poor funding, weak infrastructure, outdated programmes and institutional neglect. When President Bola Tinubu appointed the former Edo State Deputy Governor as Director-General in May 2025, many saw the assignment as both a test of administrative capacity and a rescue mission.

Almost one year into his stewardship, it is becoming clearer that Shaibu’s tenure is driven by a reform agenda aimed at rebuilding the institution from the ground up. While it may still be too early to pronounce the reforms a complete success, there is little doubt that the NIS under his watch has become more visible, more ambitious and more active than it had been in decades.

The greatest challenge facing the NIS before Shaibu’s appointment was institutional dormancy. The institute had virtually lost its place in the national sports conversation despite being central to talent development. Shaibu himself admitted that he met the institute “at its lowest point,” describing it as a reflection of the wider decline in Nigerian sports administration.

One of the first reforms introduced by the new DG was the development of a comprehensive 10-year strategic plan intended to reposition the institute and redefine its relevance within the sports ecosystem. According to reports, the strategic blueprint seeks to modernise sports education, strengthen research, expand coaching development and decentralise the institute’s operations nationwide.

That long-term planning culture is perhaps one of the strongest indicators that the NIS is beginning to move away from ad hoc administration toward institutional stability. For years, the institute reportedly operated without a clear operational roadmap. Shaibu’s management has attempted to change that narrative by putting structure at the centre of reforms.

Another major achievement recorded under his tenure is the revival of training programmes. Shaibu disclosed earlier this year that the NIS successfully conducted its first three-month coaching programme in nearly 30 years, with participants graduating in Abuja in December 2025.

That development may appear modest on the surface, but it represents a symbolic and practical revival of the institute’s core mandate. Training and certification are the lifeblood of any sports institute. Without active coaching programmes, technical development stagnates and the sports sector becomes dependent on foreign expertise. By reviving structured training, the NIS is gradually reclaiming its role as the nation’s technical sports academy.

Equally significant is the ongoing campaign to sanitise Nigeria’s coaching ecosystem. Shaibu recently announced plans to verify and revalidate coaching certificates nationwide in order to eliminate quackery and strengthen professionalism in sports development. According to him, over 60 percent of so-called coaches operating in schools and grassroots sports are not properly certified.

This reform is important because Nigeria’s sports decline is not merely about athletes failing at competitions; it is also about weak technical foundations. Unqualified coaches at grassroots level inevitably affect athlete development, discipline and long-term competitiveness. By prioritising certification reforms, the NIS appears to be confronting one of the root causes of poor sporting performance.

Another visible policy direction under Shaibu is decentralisation. The establishment of zonal offices across parts of the country represents a deliberate attempt to take sports education and technical training beyond Abuja. Reports indicate that offices have either been established or are being developed in Yola, Kaduna, Jos, Enugu, Abeokuta and Benin City.

This strategy could prove transformational if sustained. Nigeria’s sporting talent is scattered across communities and schools nationwide, but access to structured training has historically been concentrated in a few urban centres. Decentralisation could improve grassroots talent identification and make coaching education more accessible.

Perhaps the most ambitious target announced so far is the plan to bridge what the NIS describes as a “two million coaching gap” within two years. Shaibu has already initiated partnerships with the Nigeria Football Federation and the National Universities Commission to support degree programmes and technical manpower development.

The scale of that ambition reflects a broader attempt to reposition sports as an economic and developmental sector rather than merely a recreational activity. Shaibu has repeatedly argued that sports can become a tool for youth empowerment, national unity and economic diversification if institutions like the NIS function effectively.

Funding, however, remains the biggest obstacle. The NIS leadership has consistently complained about inadequate budgetary support, with Shaibu revealing that capital allocations were not released in the 2025 fiscal year. The push for an increase in the institute’s 2026 budget from ₦2.8 billion to about ₦60 billion reflects the scale of infrastructural and administrative decay inherited by the current management.

Still, there are signs that the advocacy is yielding results. Both Senate and House committees on sports have publicly backed improved funding for the institute, describing it as critical to Nigeria’s sports future.

Ultimately, the success or failure of Philip Shaibu’s stewardship will not be measured by speeches, policy documents or media visibility alone. It will depend on whether the reforms become institutionalised and whether the NIS can consistently produce quality coaches, administrators, researchers and technical personnel capable of rebuilding Nigerian sports from the grassroots upward.

For now, however, the evidence suggests that the institute is no longer stagnant. After years of dormancy, the NIS appears to be rediscovering purpose, structure and direction under Shaibu’s leadership. In a sports sector long plagued by inconsistency and short-term thinking, that alone represents a significant beginning.

…Ukpa, a Public Affairs Analyst writes from Okene, Kogi State