WHEN listeners in northern Nigeria tuned into Voice of America last month, they found music playing in place of their regular broadcast — a telltale sign, historically, that soldiers had seized telecoms offices, and even the government.
“Was there a coup in the US?” Babangida Jibrin, a VOA journalist, recalled one worried listener asking, as he and colleagues fielded unending calls after the US-funded station abruptly went off air on Friday.
The station started its West African Hausa broadcast in 1979.
The dismantling of VOA by President Donald Trump’s administration has left a particular dent in northern Nigeria, where a now-shuttered Hausa-language service that Jibrin worked for served tens of millions in Africa’s most populous country.
The radio broadcasts to Hausa speakers across rural Ghana, Cameroon and Niger, where print media is sparse and internet service spotty — was a key resource for those not fluent in official languages like English or French.
“People are now cut off from news, especially international news,” said Moussa Jaharou, from southern Niger, among the many VOA Hausa listeners living in poor areas prone to conflict and jihadist violence who now find themselves further isolated.
Established during World War II to counter Nazi propaganda, VOA expanded amid tensions between the United States and communist countries during the Cold War.
Though backed by US government funding, it was considered in modern times a source of reliable, professional journalism in Nigeria — and an important alternative when other outlets were sometimes seen as too close to the government or business interests.
Trump’s first term, however, saw accusations that the president was politicising the outlet. His second time around, he gutted its funding as part of his administration’s massive budget cuts.
While it’s hardly a death blow to Hausa-language media, which serves an estimated 80 million people and banks on a strong radio culture in west Africa, it represents yet another hit against an already fragile industry, taking out a service with a widespread network of local stringers.
In addition to daily news, VOA’s health programming — including on HIV, and, right as the rainy season starts, malaria — has also come to an abrupt end.
“It’s really, really a shame,” Sadibou Marong, West Africa chief for Reporters Without Borders, said, noting that VOA reported on areas hit by armed groups in Nigeria and Niger, even situations where the military pressured journalists to report favourably on their campaigns.
The dismantling of VOA — currently being challenged in a US court — comes as Radio France Internationale (RFI), including its Hausa service, has been banned by military authorities in Niger. Britain’s BBC was recently hit with a three-month suspension in the country.
The establishment of radio stations in Kano city in 1944 entrenched a strong radio culture across northern Nigeria, which had a low English literacy rate during British colonial rule.
With its syndication across local stations, VOA’s service, established in 1979, could broadcast to millions in otherwise hard-to-reach rural locales.
Nigerian listener Muhammad Mukhtar, who picked up a habit of waking up for the 6:00 am broadcast from his father, said he was not worried about losing out on daily news — there are still plenty of local stations.
But the 50-year-old was worried about the loss of VOA’s in-depth shows, including those on health, Islam in America and a Nigerian political debate programme called “Hot Seat”.
“I still have not come to terms with this shocking reality,” he said.
The service was also known for its “solutions-based journalism,” such as a story on a young inventor in Kaduna who used drones to monitor crop diseases, said Alhassan Bala, another laid-off reporter.
Other times, the network’s stories prompted government investigations, including into concerns over dangerous heavy metal exposure in children from mining operations in Zamfara state.
For the journalists, the decision to shut down the service is heartbreaking.
Recounting the harassment he faced during the junta leader Sani Abacha’s rule during the 1990s, Jibrin recalled through tears that “there are places we used to go where they would address us as CIA agents”.
“So now who will have the last laugh?” he asked, unsure how he will now be able to provide for his family.
Bala received the news while working on a story for his Hausa language fact-checking website, Alkalanci.
“I just said, ‘Oh my God,’” he told AFP. “This is bad.”
Then he went back to his story — reckoning his fact-checking work is now more important than ever.