SOKOTO: Casting A Backward Eye on Tambuwal’s Misses
By Sai’du Sani
The most viral disease in Nigeria today isn’t cholera or Lassa fever—it’s selective amnesia. And it’s spreading fast, especially among political jobbers and self-styled defenders of failed legacies. This mental fog, often voluntary, is quickly becoming the bane of our national growth. It’s the only plausible explanation for why anyone, in good conscience, would draw a comparison between the failed administration of the former governor of Sokoto State, Rt Hon Aminu Waziri Tambuwal, and the fresh, yet promising leadership of his successor, Governor Ahmad Aliyu.
If you’re wondering what memories fuel such reckless comparisons, the answer is simple: sycophancy. Perhaps there are bootlickers and political hangers-on whispering in Tambuwal’s ear that his tenure is remembered fondly. Well, let me burst that bubble: we have never had it worse in Sokoto than during Tambuwal’s eight-year reign. And that’s saying it mildly.
Tambuwal’s administration was a cocktail of missed opportunities, policy inconsistency, and deafening silence in the face of hardship. The most damning of all? His complete and utter failure to resolve Sokoto’s perennial water scarcity problem. For eight straight years, clean water remained a luxury in the state capital and most rural communities. Yet, within months of assuming office, Governor Ahmad Aliyu rolled up his sleeves and tackled the crisis head-on. Today, taps are running in places that have gone dry for years. What Tambuwal could not do in eight years, Aliyu is resolving in record time. That alone should silence comparisons—but when you are dealing with shameless folks.
Tambuwal’s approach to governance was laced with arrogance and a shocking lack of accountability. For a man who rose through the ranks to become Speaker of the House of Representatives, one would expect a greater sense of duty and decorum. But at the end of his tenure, Tambuwal left no handover notes, no blueprint, no continuity plan—just chaos. That singular act of omission speaks volumes about his disregard for institutional memory and his successor. It was less of a transition and more of an ambush. In any serious political culture, this would be regarded as sabotage.
Under Tambuwal’s watch, Sokoto State’s finances were left in tatters. Over N14 billion in unpaid gratuities to retirees and over N195 billion reportedly raked in from the sale of state-owned assets—with little or nothing to show for it. These are not accusations; they are documented realities. Tambuwal’s economic mismanagement is not just a blot on his legacy—it is a weight Governor Aliyu must now carry and correct. And to his credit, Aliyu has begun offsetting those liabilities without taking on a single new kobo in debt. That is stewardship. That is leadership.
While Aliyu governs with frugality, empathy, and a clear sense of direction, Tambuwal casts shadows over Sokoto’s progress. His minions now roam social media, peddling narratives in his favour, desperate to rewrite history. Instead of showing gratitude to the man cleaning up his mess, Tambuwal appears more interested in waging a proxy war. It’s a dangerous game for a man who once wielded the gavel of the nation’s most powerful legislative chamber. But the speaker’s chair is long gone, and so too is the illusion of his invincibility.
Let’s talk about infrastructure. Sokoto under Tambuwal was a state adrift. Major roads were left undone, rural electrification was nearly non-existent, and basic health facilities were in deplorable conditions. In many primary health centres, patients had to bring their own mats, bedsheets, and even lamps for night-time delivery. This is the Sokoto he left behind—a state stripped of dignity, running on autopilot.
In contrast, Ahmad Aliyu has hit the ground running. From roads to rural healthcare to housing and education, signs of renewal are everywhere. Interestingly, Tambuwal was seen recently blaring sirens and enjoying the new roads constructed by his successor without shame. Teachers who went unpaid under Tambuwal have begun receiving their salaries. Pensioners, long forgotten, are slowly being remembered. You see, leadership is not about occupying a seat—it’s about service, sacrifice, and measurable progress. These are areas where Tambuwal failed spectacularly.
Tambuwal’s defenders often retreat to his “national stature”—his role as a power broker, a seasoned politician, and a party strategist. But Sokoto did not elect a party strategist; Sokoto elected a governor. One whose job was to fix roads, provide water, pay salaries, build schools, and secure lives. On these fronts, he failed. No rhetorical flourish or Twitter campaign can cleanse that legacy.
Why then is Tambuwal struggling to let Governor Aliyu succeed? Could it be envy? Political insecurity? Perhaps he fears the success of his successor may highlight the gaping inadequacies of his own time in office. But this is not just unhealthy; it’s unbecoming. It reeks of the worst kind of political desperation.
And now, he appears to be unleashing attack dogs to do what he no longer has the political capital to do directly. To those in his inner circle, I say this: advise your man to hold his peace. This politics of sabotage, bitterness, and manufactured outrage has lost its sting. The train of that backward politics has left the station, never to return. Tambuwal can either come to terms with that or risk being left behind on the platform of political irrelevance—his greatest fear yet.
Governor Ahmad Aliyu has inherited a broken state, but he is not whining. He is working. The people of Sokoto can feel the difference, see the change, and measure the progress. Let the records speak, not the revisionists. Nigeria may be suffering from selective amnesia, but Sokoto remembers.
And history, no matter how inconvenient, is never forgotten. Indeed, the people of Sokoto never forget. They’ll carry their knowledge of today into 2027 to defend their right to good governance and to defend their governor, notwithstanding what any gathering of vultures would throw at them.
Sani writes from Sokoto.
