AFTER months of dallying and endless speculations, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State finally broke ranks with Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, his in-law, mentor and political godfather.
Yusuf had been in Kwankwaso’s shadow for nearly two-and-a-half decades, serving in various roles, including an executive portfolio as commissioner in Kano State, until 2023, when Kwankwaso nominated him as governor over more prominent and visible aspirants.
Yusuf followed his godfather, Kwankwaso, from PDP to APC, then back to PDP, then to NNPP. It has been a tried-and-tested companionship – the type that only politicians can toss aside and still recover from the shock in little or no time.
The Road To Manhood
On Monday, January 26, Yusuf returned to the vomit both he and his godfather had skirted when the outgoing Governor Abdullahi Ganduje, another long-term ally who had earlier dribbled Kwankwaso, and dumped the red cap.
Since winning his disputed election victory in a Supreme Court verdict in January 2024 – a verdict that overturned the tribunal and Appeal Court rulings – followers, admirers, and instigators began whispering to the governor to drop the feeding bottle and stand on his own feet.
In hindsight, it must have been a make-or-break decision for Yusuf, popularly known as ‘Abba Gida-Gida.’ A Catch-22! But finally, he crossed the Rubicon, breaking free from what many had considered his in-law’s third term in the Kano Government House.
Echoes Of Rome
In what sounded like the echoes of ancient Rome, Kwankwaso declared January 23, the day Yusuf defected, the World Day of Betrayal. If Kano were Rome, would Yusuf be the new Julius Caesar and Kwankwaso its Pompey? Like Caesar, the governor has defied warnings not to cross the Rubicon River, which in ancient Rome was the ultimate act of war.
Yet with the winds of power in Yusuf’s sails and Kwankwaso, in his Pompey’s winter, the governor has chosen the most vulnerable moment to strike.
Uneasy Calm
Surprisingly, Kano is quiet – for now. The fanatical Kwankwasiyya Movement – a red-capped brigade for whom Kwankwaso is a cult figure and his red cap an emblem of loyalty, seems to have taken Yusuf’s treachery like they took Ganduje’s – biding time with uneasy calm.
In the shark-infested world of politics, self-survival is the first law. What’s in it for me? Is there a pathway to a second term, especially with rumours that Deputy Senate President Barau Jibrin is interested? Or is safe passage guaranteed for me? The elite settle themselves first, and only afterwards are the followers’ interests negotiated.
What next, Kano?
What next? Kano often defies gravity. Its politics is sophisticated, dangerously contrarian, yet consequential. That explains why Aminu Kano’s NEPU defeated the pro-establishment NPC, and why PRP consistently beat NPN. In 2003, Ibrahim Shekerau’s ANPP defeated Kwankwaso’s nationally dominant PDP, only for Kano to birth a red-cap movement that is fanatical even without a cause, eight years later. Now, with the possible realignment of Yusuf, Ganduje, and Shekerau on one side against Kwankwaso on the other, the die is cast.
“Nonsense!” a Kwankwaso confidant said. “Should Kano act to type in the 2027 gubernatorial elections, then Yusuf’s defection might well nail his political coffin. The assumption that being in the ruling party is a sure bet might turn out to be fatalistic, not just for him but for many governors who have defected.”
Read My Cap
Almost instant upon his defection, it is being announced that Yusuf has the automatic APC governorship ticket to run in next year’s election. He had the right of first refusal to the NNPP ticket before he bolted. And he still has his red cap on.
Already, a blend of the red cap with the Tinubu trademark has emerged. Is Yusuf coming along with Kwankwaso to the APC? No one should be surprised if this happens despite the hue and cry about betrayal. Politicians hardly mean what they say.
What lies ahead promises to be both fascinating and intriguing.
- Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the book, Writing for Media and Monetising It.
Re: Russian Embassy’s Fuss Over Azu’s Article on Putin – By Richard Akinnola
Reading through the rejoinder of the Russian Embassy to the column of Azu Ishiekwene in the January 23 issue of LEADERSHIP, to borrow the phrase of inimitable Patrick Obahiagbon, the “Igodomigodo,” I was “maniacally bewildered.”
The Russian Embassy’s response appears to have missed the point by a wide margin.
Azu, in his usual flowery and didactic prose, had sought to excoriate the modern-day Hitler in the person of Donald Trump, who, in my opinion, exhibits traits of a combination of a sociopath and psychopath.
In his attempt to draw a parallel between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, who hitherto had been severally lacerated for his expansionist proclivities in Crimea and Ukraine, Azu had painted Putin in a more saintly light than the tyrant in Washington.
I was therefore at a loss as to what the fuss of a rejoinder by the Russian Embassy was, in an article that seemed to deodorise Putin more than the psychotic occupant of the White House.
The article titled “We Owe Putin an Unreserved Apology” was not, despite its literal reading, a plea on behalf of President Vladimir Putin, nor an exercise in recycling “Western stereotypes” about Russia or its leadership. It was satire, precise, deliberate, and sharply aimed at the US President Donald J. Trump, whose dangerous precedents, words, and actions could normalise bullying in global affairs.
Anyone who reads beyond the headline would see this almost immediately. The column walks readers through an exaggerated, irony-laden comparison in which Trump’s expansionist fantasies, from annexing Canada to seizing Greenland “by any means,” to play-acting regime change in Venezuela, are used to expose the collapse of restraint, logic, and moral consistency in international politics. Putin appears in the piece not as the object of attack, but as a rhetorical mirror, a counterpoint through which Trump’s excesses are laid bare.
Far from excusing Russia’s actions in Ukraine, the article painstakingly restates them: the annexation of Crimea, the full-scale invasion, the staggering human cost of the war, and the absence of any credible justification under international law. These are not glossed over. They are presented plainly, even grimly. The satire lies in the uncomfortable question the article forces the reader to confront: if Trump can openly fantasise about territorial conquest, intimidate allies, ridicule multilateral institutions, and still be indulged, massaged, or excused, on what moral ground does the world stand when it condemns others?
This is not an argument that Putin was “right.” It is an argument that the rules are being shredded selectively, and that Trump’s behaviour accelerates that decay.
Invoking President Putin’s 2007 Munich Security Conference speech does not resolve this contradiction. That speech is well known, widely debated, and frequently cited. But acknowledging its existence does not negate the reality that followed: war, occupation, and immense human suffering. The column does not deny Russia’s grievances; it questions the global system’s growing inability, or unwillingness, to apply its principles consistently, especially when power and ego take centre stage in Washington.
Satire, by its nature, often sounds like praise when it is doing the opposite. Azu’s piece belongs squarely in that tradition. To read it as a straightforward essay is to strip it of context, tone, and intent.
If anything, the article is a warning: when the most powerful leader in the world treats international law as optional and conquest as transactional, he lowers the bar for everyone else. That is neither an attack on Russia nor its defence. It is an indictment of a world drifting back toward a Hobbesian free-for-all, where might increasingly makes right.
Disagreement with this argument is fair. Mischaracterising it is not. A serious conversation about global order, double standards, and the consequences of reckless leadership deserves careful reading, not headline-level reactions.
- Akinnola, the Executive Director of the Centre for Free Speech, is a journalist, lawyer and author. He writes from Lagos.