 in Katsina State has quietly, perhaps nervously, sat back to){kind=link}
@Ahmed Abdulkadir
Katsina State Governor, Malam Dikko Umaru Radda
Two years down the line, and the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) in Katsina State has quietly, perhaps nervously, sat back to watch the curious spectacle of its own governor — Malam Dikko Umaru Radda — governing as though the party that carried him to power was nothing more than an unwanted in-law at a village wedding.
From the very first day, Gwagware (the simple man) made it clear that he was no apprentice in the act of governance. Unlike the APC trademark style of setting up committees to plan the formation of sub-committees that will suggest when to think about appointing a cabinet, Radda assembled his team within weeks. No long tales, no cries of “we met an empty treasury,” no ceremonial dusting of files or pointless probe panels shouting “Bincike muke!” He hit the ground running — to the confusion of his party men who are more used to the sluggish, wait-and-see style.
Even more bizarre — some might say scandalous — is that the governor seems to actually care about the people. What a shocking betrayal of the APC tradition of lofty promises followed by excuses about insecurity, dwindling resources, and “ghost workers” everywhere. Rather than bragging at rallies about things he intends to do, Radda spent his time doing them — and in the process dragged governance out of the realm of theories into real life.
Take education for instance — the sector that politicians usually kiss at campaigns only to abandon after elections. Radda declared a state of emergency on education, rehabilitated hundreds of primary and secondary schools, and paid attention to the forgotten almajirai system. Even their tsangaya schools got a facelift and curriculum upgrade. Teachers got training instead of transfer threats. Pupils got learning materials instead of prayer mats. How dare he?
In the health sector, instead of waiting for federal allocations or blaming the past government, Radda upgraded over 300 Primary Health Care centers across the state, stocked drugs, and recruited health workers — actually making hospitals do what hospitals are meant to do. Pregnant women in rural Funtua or Kankia now give birth under proper care instead of under mango trees. Again — very un-APC-like.
Even the youths — the beloved political thugs during campaigns — were not left behind. Rather than abandoning them to idleness and street corner grumbling after elections (the APC way), Radda empowered thousands with vocational training, agricultural starter packs, soft loans, and business skills. Suddenly, the state’s “Jangali boys” began dreaming of starting poultry farms and mechanic workshops, not chanting rented slogans at rallies. The insult to APC culture is monumental.
Women, too, were surprised to see real inclusion — not just the usual “we have given them the position of Special Adviser on Women Affairs and Market Matters.” Under Radda, thousands of women got small-scale business support and capacity building — from tailoring, rice processing to goat rearing. To think that APC politicians would usually remember women only for “matching ground” and campaign jingles!
In terms of security — the one excuse the APC has mastered as a shield for failure — Radda shocked even the opposition. He created the Katsina Community Watch Corps, KCWC, and recruited hundreds of youths to defend their community. Vigilante groups were properly trained, security architecture was digitized, local intelligence improved, and the farmer-herder conflicts reduced in many places. He even met with security agencies and traditional leaders regularly — something previous APC governments postponed endlessly while giving press statements blaming “unknown gunmen.”
And as for civil servants, they — of all people — couldn’t believe their luck. Regular salary payments. Prompt gratuity settlements, running into billions of naira. Promotion strictly on merit. What’s happening? Is this still APC rule or some Swedish social democracy experiment?
But perhaps the biggest anti-party crime was this: Radda governs with humility. He attends public events without excessive fanfare, walks among market traders, visits IDP camps, responds to social media outcry within hours — all direct affronts to the APC handbook that teaches governors to rule by convoy and distance.
No wonder the opposition, not the APC, is singing his praises! They can’t believe their luck. Many of their members now flirt openly with the governor’s camp — not because they love the APC but because they see real governance happening. They whisper in corners about “DSG” (Doctorate of Street Governance) — the new popular acronym they hope will translate into votes in 2027.
Meanwhile, the APC itself seems confused. Do they campaign against him? Impossible — he is their only selling point. Do they campaign for him? Embarrassing — it would mean admitting he’s succeeding by ignoring their old ways. Maybe, just maybe, the party will have no choice but to cling to the “anti-party” governor to survive the next election. The hunter has become the hunted.
In 2023, Gwagware rode on APC’s tired back to power. In 2027, the APC may find itself hitching a desperate ride on the broad shoulders of Radda’s performance to avoid political extinction.
What a fine case of governance by anti-party!
Abdulkadir is a veteran journalist and resides in Katsina
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