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Zuru Uhola Festival, Zuru Emirate, Zuru (2026)

06/02/2026

Noblenews special, Zuru, BEYOND CONVOCATION: The Emir of Zuru in Zazzau and the Subtle Art of Royal Diplomacy

16/01/2026

*Sir,*
I had earlier appealed that we should, as a matter of wisdom, sheath our swords internally on this issue and instead project a measured external engagement—one that insulates our state from avoidable embarrassment over a matter that is, by all honest assessment, systemic across the country, much like several other social vices afflicting our dear Nigeria.
The objective of my modest intervention was clearly stated. It was never intended as an outright defence of the Kebbi State Government, but rather as an attempt to broaden the conversation beyond the narrow frame in which it was being prosecuted.
Permit me, Sir, to respectfully borrow your own words: *“Whoever believes that the ten billion naira was released as a loan for the entire 1,300 intending pilgrims can believe anything.”* On this, we are in agreement.
You also rightly observed that it is inconceivable that ordinary citizens would directly approach government for such intervention; equally, no elite—whatever the circumstances—would willingly swallow his pride to seek state assistance to meet a deadline.
*Both assumptions are valid, and both point to a conclusion:* our analysis should not be confined to the convenient *smokescreen of loans to farmers or vulnerable citizens alone.*
If I may, Sir, allow me to share a practical and verifiable experience from a local Hajj financing scheme that operated for decades in Daura, long before I ever set foot in that ancient town.
I served as Personal Assistant to the then Local Government Chairman, the late Alhaji Lawal Shehu. On one occasion, I asked him why his father bore the sobriquet *Danbalas.*
He explained that his father maintained a register for intending pilgrims—mostly rural settlers and Fulani pastoralists. After each market day or harvest, contributions were made, and as they would say, *“sai a yi balance.”* Based on long-standing trust, guarantors were introduced for some pilgrims, and Danbalas would cover their fares, with the understanding that upon return, *“sai aci gaba da balance.”*
In other instances, where a pilgrim fell short shortly before departure, he simply completed the payment, again with repayment continuing afterwards.
Remarkably, my Chairman told me that he had accompanied his father to Hajj while still in secondary school class ONE.
When I remarked that his father must have been a genius, he corrected me gently, noting that travel agencies in Kano had operated similar arrangements even before independence, back when pilgrims travelled by air under far more strenuous conditions.
I relate this, Sir, to establish one simple point: if individuals and private entities have historically augmented pilgrims’ payments out of empathy, trust, and communal responsibility, it cannot be morally outrageous for a state—acting within reason and with safeguards—to do likewise.
*That was why I deliberately add the EXTORTION point in my essay.*
On the finer points of Islamic jurisprudence, as I stated in my first response. I will not tread, being fully aware of the limits of my knowledge.
My appeal for us to collectively counter the external narrative surrounding the state’s loan decision is, in truth, an exercise in damage control, not denial.
It reminds me of our secondary school debates, where our English teachers would deliberately swap us between proposing and opposing the same motion—not because the truth had changed, but to test our capacity to reason from multiple positions.
I have, in the past, vehemently opposed state-backed Hajj loans.
In the essay under reference, *I merely chose—deliberately—to argue from the other side, not to sanctify the policy, but to illuminate its context.*
As in all debates, one presents one’s best case and leaves the verdict to the judges. Some will score you low not on merit, but on prejudice—the geography of your face, your voice, even your name.
In those days, the handsome and the eloquent often won regardless.
*I rest my case, Sir, with utmost respect.*

16/01/2026

*Sir,*
Thank you for your thoughtful, deeply reflective response. I receive it in the spirit of sincerity and intellectual honesty with which it was offered.
*I will respond to this in twofold, sir.*
Your intervention rightly elevates the discourse from administrative mechanics to first principles, particularly the theological foundations that govern acts of worship in Islam.
I do not disagree with your doctrinal exposition. Indeed, the conditionality of Hajj upon istiṭāʿah—ability—is firmly established, and the mercy inherent in deferment where capacity is absent is one of the great moral safeguards of the faith. On this, there is no contest between us.
Where I respectfully seek clarification is in the scope of my intervention. My essay was not intended to redefine worship, dilute doctrine, or advocate state substitution in matters of personal obligation before God.
Rather, it was an attempt to situate the Kebbi State decision within the practical, historical, and political realities that have long surrounded pilgrimage administration in Nigeria—often quietly, inconsistently, and without the benefit of honest public scrutiny.
I deliberately refrained from theological argument because I recognise its weight and the limits of my own competence in that domain.
My concern was not whether Hajj remains obligatory for those without means—it does not—but whether the state’s action, as a temporary administrative intervention, is as aberrant or unprecedented as public outrage suggested.
Your argument correctly reminds us that administrative deadlines cannot override divine boundaries. I accept that fully.
Yet, in practice, governments across time—Islamic and otherwise—have often operated in the grey space between doctrine and administration, not to manufacture obligation, but to manage consequences: the loss of allocated slots, diplomatic quotas, communal expectations, and political realities. My essay sought to illuminate that space, not sanctify it.
I also agree that the ideal and wisest policy path lies in long-term economic empowerment, such that believers undertake Hajj freely, independently, and without debt. On that point, your conclusion aligns perfectly with my own reservations about normalising state involvement in personal worship.
My concern, however, was that the Kebbi episode was being treated as a moral anomaly, rather than as part of a wider, systemic pattern that Nigeria has neither properly confronted nor honestly regulated.
In that sense, my essay was less a defence of the loan itself than a plea for contextual honesty and measured judgment.
*Explaining why something happened is not the same as endorsing it; understanding practice does not equate to suspending principle.*
Your response has enriched the conversation by restoring the theological boundaries that policy discussions often neglect. For that, I am grateful.
If nothing else, this exchange demonstrates that the issue demands both doctrinal clarity and administrative transparency—neither of which should silence the other.
I remain, as always, guided by respect for faith, concern for public prudence, and the hope that our debates—however firm—continue to illuminate rather than inflame.
*With highest regards sir,*
U.S. Machika

16/01/2026

*A Response to U.S. Machika on the Kebbi State Hajj Loan*

U.S. Machika’s essay offers a thoughtful administrative analysis, yet it sidesteps a foundational question that cannot be avoided: the nature of worship itself and the limits of state substitution in acts that are strictly personal before God.

In Islam, acts of worship are not merely regulated activities; they are personal obligations with non‑transferable conditions. This is where the debate over the Kebbi State Hajj Loan must begin, not with deadlines, logistics, or institutional pressures, but with doctrine.

The matter, in principle, is clear: just as no government can fast on behalf of a believer, and no state can pay Zakāt in the name of an individual, so too can no government meaningfully intervene to enable Hajj where personal capacity is absent. Worship does not admit proxies in matters of obligation. Where the Qur’an and Sunnah are silent on state substitution, restraint is the rule.

Hajj is explicitly conditional upon istiṭāʿah, ability. This condition is not cosmetic. It is the moral filter that separates obligation from aspiration. If a believer lacks the means, the law does not accuse him of neglect; it grants him deferment. That deferment is not a problem demanding policy ingenuity; it is a mercy embedded in the religion itself.

This is why the very concept of a “loan” toward Hajj preparation is problematic, regardless of intent. A loan, by definition, introduces debt into an act that is only obligatory in the absence of hardship. Once borrowing becomes the gateway to worship, the spiritual logic collapses. The believer is no longer responding to divine command within capacity but bending capacity to meet an artificial timetable.

Historically, Islamic governance understood this boundary. States secured roads, ensured safety, and administered order. They did not normalize the financing of personal worship. Even where rulers endowed facilities for pilgrims, they stopped short of converting conditional obligations into state‑assisted projects.

In contemporary Nigeria, pilgrim boards and coordination mechanisms are legitimate administrative instruments. But when public funds, temporary or otherwise, are deployed to compensate for individual incapacity, a line is crossed. It shifts the state from facilitator of order to underwriter of devotion, a role neither theology nor constitutional secularism assigns it.

Machika frames the Kebbi intervention as a response to NAHCON deadlines. Yet administrative deadlines do not override theological boundaries. Institutional inconvenience cannot suspend doctrine. The loss of Hajj slots, while regrettable, is not a religious crisis; it is an administrative outcome consistent with the principle that Hajj waits for capacity, not the other way around.

The wiser policy path is not to innovate around worship but to invest in economic empowerment, so that when believers answer the call to Hajj, they do so freely, independently, and without debt. That approach preserves the sanctity of worship, protects public finance, and respects the limits of state power.

Machika’s intervention is useful for stimulating debate. But clarity demands we say this plainly: where God has not imposed obligation, the state has no mandate to manufacture it, loan or no loan.

NB: This response was NOT authored by me. However, I hold the same views as expressed herein.