Mocking the Dead: A Governor’s Dance While His People Die.

Dr. Dikko Umaru Radda (Executive Governor of Katsina State), Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu, GCFR (President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Federal Republic of Nigeria), Senator Uba Sani (Executive Governor of Kaduna State), and Dr. Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, OFR (National Chairman, All Progressives Congress; Former Executive Governor of Kano State).

It’s hard to put this into words without trembling in rage.

Just days ago, President Bola Tinubu visited Katsina State—a place that has, for years, become synonymous with bloodshed, banditry, and tears. A place where mothers bury their sons, where fathers are kidnapped or slaughtered, and where children grow up knowing the sound of gunfire more than lullabies.

And yet, in the middle of this storm, what did we see?

We saw the governor of Katsina—yes, the same Katsina that’s mourning every day—dancing. Laughing. Clapping. Publicly swaying to a song by Rarara, like it was some festival. Like his people weren’t being slaughtered just kilometers away. Like the blood on the soil didn’t matter. Like the cries in the villages never reached the ears of the city.

What sort of heartlessness is this?

Is this what leadership has become in the North? A parade of smiles and music while your people die in silence? Where is the empathy? Where is the fear of God?

Have they forgotten the oath they swore?

They placed their hand on the Qur’an. They swore to protect. To serve. To lead with justice and dignity. But do they even remember what they swore with? Do they know the weight of that sacred book? Or was it just a formality—a ritual with no meaning?

In Islam, leadership is an amana—a trust. The Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said, “Each of you is a shepherd, and each of you is responsible for his flock.” Leadership in Islam is not for show. It is not for dancing. It is not for applause. It is a burden. A responsibility that will be questioned severely on the Day of Judgment.

Umar ibn Al-Khattab (RA), one of the greatest leaders in history, said:

"If a dog dies hungry on the banks of the Euphrates, I will be held responsible for it."

And today, our people are not just going hungry—they are being butchered. And our leaders? They are dancing.

What are we becoming as a people?

The silence of the elite is deafening. The insensitivity is unbearable. Our leaders are so detached from the pain of their own people that they see no shame in performing while their state mourns.

We are losing not just our lives, but our soul as a region.

We don’t need public dances. We need action. We need seriousness. We need leaders who feel the pain of their people and move with urgency—not music.

This is a message to every public servant in the North: your people are watching. History is watching. And most importantly, Allah is watching.