IN RECENT times, the name Hamdiya Sheriff has dominated discussions across media platforms, both within Sokoto State and beyond. For many, her face is now familiar, her voice clearer than ever. To some, she’s an untrained, outspoken youth; to others, she’s a symbol of the rising consciousness among the younger generation in Northern Nigeria. But whether loved or loathed, one thing is certain: Hamdiya did not set out to be an activist. She is what I would call an accidental activist, thrust into the limelight not by desire, but by circumstance.
Your Excellency, Governor Aliyu, I write this not to undermine your position or downplay the authority of your office. Rather, I appeal to your fatherly instinct, your magnanimity as a leader, and your ability to look beyond the surface of things. I write not to take sides, but to highlight the opportunity before you to transform a moment of conflict into a lasting legacy of compassion.
I have followed the developments surrounding Hamdiya’s now infamous video, where she voiced her opinions on the security situation in Sokoto. Admittedly, her words were laced with strong emotions and perhaps lacked the decorum expected in public discourse. But should we expect otherwise from a girl barely out of childhood? Should a child be punished by the weight of the state for failing to express herself with the polish of a seasoned diplomat?
I had the opportunity to visit Hamdiya recently with the intention of conducting an interview. However, upon meeting her, I was struck by her innocence, her vulnerability. She looked every bit the child that she is, unsure, frightened, yet somehow courageous in the face of a storm she could never have foreseen. I could not bring myself to ask her the questions I had prepared. In that moment, I realised the world may have judged her too quickly and harshly, mistaking the size of her voice for the size of her maturity.
It is my belief, Your Excellency, that had you met Hamdiya face to face, your decision might have been different. You would have seen a young girl who, in any sane society, should be in school, not in court. One who should be under the protection of the state, not battling against it. Her photos and videos on social media may have misled many into thinking she is an adult, but to any parent who takes a closer look, Hamdiya is a child first, before anything else.
The reaction from your supporters to Hamdiya’s words, though understandable, was overly zealous. A firm, fatherly dialogue with Hamdiya would have sufficed. Invite her. Speak with her. Teach her. Enlighten her. Show her the efforts your administration has made in tackling insecurity. Offer her a scholarship if you must. Win her over with wisdom. That, sir, would have been the most honourable response. Instead, what we now see is a child standing trial against the machinery of the state.
Your Excellency, the irony of the matter is that the very attempt to silence Hamdiya has amplified her voice beyond what she ever could have imagined. The legal action has transformed her into an international figure, an emblem of state intolerance in the eyes of many. Where once she was a girl with a phone and frustration, she is now seen as a victim of political persecution. This trial has unwittingly handed her a platform she could never have earned on her own.
There is an African proverb that says, “When the mighty wrestles the small, and wins, there is no honour. But when the small wrestles the mighty and wins, the world dances in celebration.” This is the trap that now lies before your administration. Fighting a perceived underdog never earns admiration. Instead, it fuels public sympathy for the underdog and suspicion toward the powerful.
We’ve seen similar situations before. Take for instance Hajiya Naj’atu Mohammed, a woman known for her fierce criticism of successive governments, including those of President Buhari and President Tinubu. Her words have often been biting, her stance bold. Yet, she was never hounded, never dragged to court in the manner Hamdiya has been treated. Why then should Hamdiya, a child with little exposure and no political power, be subjected to this level of hostility?
Let me be clear, sir. This is not about whether Hamdiya was right or wrong in her comments. This is about proportionality. This is about leadership. True leadership is tested not in how it reacts to praise, but in how it handles dissent, especially from those who do not fully understand the weight of their words.
It is not too late to change course. The damage can still be undone. You have the power to withdraw the case currently in court. You have the power to invite Hamdiya, not as an opponent but as a daughter of Sokoto who erred and deserves correction, not condemnation. You have the power to turn this story from one of state oppression to one of forgiveness, mentorship, and reconciliation.
Your Excellency, it is worth noting that should anything untoward happen to Hamdiya, either during or after this legal battle, the world will not wait for investigations. Fingers will be pointed in your direction. Your enemies, both within and outside politics, may use her as bait. And the burden of explaining your innocence may become a permanent shadow over your name.
Let us not forget: history is not written by those who win every argument, but by those who forgive when they have the power to punish. Great leaders are remembered not just for the battles they fought, but for the ones they chose to walk away from in order to protect the vulnerable.
So, I urge you, Your Excellency, withdraw the case. Sit with Hamdiya. Correct her. Educate her. Sponsor her. Let the world see not just the governor of Sokoto, but the father of Sokoto. Let this moment mark a new chapter of tolerance, of wisdom, and of true leadership.
Because in the end, the voice of a child, no matter how misguided, should never be met with the full force of the state. It should be met with patience, love, and guidance.
- Mairo Mudi writes from Suleja, Niger State and she can be reached via mairommuhammad@gmail.com.