Of Gov Sani’s Humanist Programmes in Kaduna

Lawrence I. Okoro writes about the various interventions of Governor Uba Sani’s in the lives of an average Kaduna resident in the areas of education, health and other infrastructural facilities since he assumed office over two years ago.

T

he first light of dawn spills gently over the rooftops in Zaria. Aisha, just 15 but already dreaming beyond the narrow streets of her neighbourhood, adjusts her schoolbag and skips toward the classroom that now stands proudly at the end of her street.

Just two years ago, her mornings were harsher. Two hours of dusty roads, tired feet, and a weary walk to a crumbling school miles away. Today, a freshly painted junior secondary school, one of 62 built in the past year, stands within reach. “I used to walk miles,” she says, her eyes bright with quiet determination. “Now I study close to home. I want to be a doctor.”

Aisha’s story is not an isolated one. It is the story of Kaduna, a state once burdened by fear, weighed down by crumbling infrastructure, and scarred by economic stagnation, now rediscovering its promise under a governor who chose to put people first.

When Uba Sani took the oath of office on May 29, 2023, Kaduna was a state in search of healing. The air was thick with uncertainty. Bandit attacks had hollowed out communities, roads were broken, and public confidence in government had sunk to historic lows. But the new governor, a former senator and human rights advocate, brought something different to the table. 

Empathy, steadiness, and an audacious vision called SUSTAIN. It was more than a plan. It was a promise to rebuild Kaduna from the ground up, with ordinary people at the centre.

Education became the first frontier. At the time, nearly 680,000 children were out of school. For every child, a deferred dream. Today, that number has dropped by 44 percent. Across Kagarko, Kachia, and dozens of other communities, classrooms hum with activity. Attendance is rising, dropout rates are falling, and in the quiet discipline of morning lessons, the future is being rewritten.

For Fatima, a young woman from a modest home in southern Kaduna, the transformation is deeply personal. She had once resigned herself to ending her education after secondary school. But a 40 percent cut in tuition opened the doors of the university to her. Holding her nursing textbooks close, she says softly, “I am the first in my family to go to university. I will make them proud.”

The digital divide too is narrowing. Through innovative e-learning platforms, more than 50,000 students, many in the most remote corners of the state, are now part of classrooms they could only imagine a year ago.

Healthcare tells its own story of renewal.

In Soba, Zainab still remembers the fear that gripped her as labour pains began. She thought of the old clinic, barely functioning, and the risks of traveling miles on rough roads to find better care. But this time was different. The primary health centre in her community, one of 255 upgraded across the state, was ready. She rocks her new-born now, whispering, “I did not lose my baby or my savings.” Maternal mortality has fallen by 15 percent, a quiet but profound victory for thousands of families.

Technology is bridging gaps here as well. Hassan, a farmer managing hypertension, used to spend small fortunes traveling into Kaduna metropolis for consultations. Now, telemedicine brings care to him. “I see my doctor on a screen,” he says with a chuckle. “It is like the city came to me.”

As a Nigerian resident in Benin looking from outside in, across Kaduna, the physical transformation is impossible to ignore.

In the metropolis, the once abandoned Kabala – Costain – Aliyu – Makamabridge now hums with traffic, saving traders precious hours on their daily commutes. 

In Igabi, new roads stitch villages to markets, cutting costs and opening access to opportunity. And after years of scarcity, clean water now flows again. The result of a N100 billion investment that restored steady supply to more than a million households. For families that once spent a painful share of their income buying water from vendors, the relief is quiet but deeply felt.

In the fields, the rhythm of prosperity is returning. Under the unrelenting Igabi sun, Ibrahim watches as his soya beans are loaded for processing. “This year, I doubled my income,” he says, unable to hide his smile. Free fertilizer, modern irrigation tools, and access to revived processing plants have turned farming from a struggle into a sustainable livelihood. The new N80 billion soya bean refinery produces half a million litres of oil daily, employing 1,500 people and supporting thousands more.

Inside government offices, old frustrations are fading. Endless queues, under the table demands, and sluggish service are giving way to efficiency and trust. With 70 percent of services digitized, residents process documents and pay taxes from their phones. Citizens flag problems that are now resolved in days rather than months. Transparency is no longer a political slogan. It is a lived reality.

Perhaps the most profound change, however, is in the collective heartbeat of the state. The quiet but undeniable return of peace.

Governor Sani’s approach blends firmness with dialogue, strategy with empathy. 

Patrol vehicles and motorcycles crisscross rural communities, and a trained corps of 7,000 vigilantes stand as guardians of safety. Incidents of banditry have fallen sharply. For the first time in years, the state has recorded zero ethno-religious crises. In Birnin – Gwari, a place that once lived in the grip of fear, markets are open again. “We sleep without fear now,” says Musa, a trader. “Peace is priceless.”

Walk through Kaduna metropolis today and you notice the quiet details of change. Clean, well-kept streets swept daily by a 2,400 strong team. Tree lined roads where children now play. Parks where families gather. 

The health impact is measurable. Waterborne diseases are down, and hospital bills are lighter for thousands of households.

Jobs too are multiplying. 

Over N152 billion in new investments have created more than twenty-one thousand jobs, from a lithium plant in Kangimi to agro processing hubs spread across the state. Even with over one trillion naira in inherited debt, the administration has refused to mortgage the future. No new loans, salaries paid on time, and billions saved through disciplined, transparent governance. It is why Kaduna today is often cited as a model of fiscal responsibility.

And yet, what resonates most with the people is not just the infrastructure or the statistics. It is the governor himself.

In markets in Kafanchan, in the farms of Giwa, in the neighbourhoods of Kaduna metropolis, people repeat the same phrase. “Governor Sani listens.” He is present in the villages, on the streets, at the heart of their everyday lives. To the people, he is not just a leader. He is their governor.

President Bola Tinubu calls him a game changer. The people of Kaduna call him something simpler. Hope, made real.

From classrooms filled with laughter to clinics where mothers cradle healthy babies, from bustling markets to quiet neighbourhoods where peace has finally returned, Kaduna is rewriting its story. 

No longer defined by fear or decline, it is becoming a state where resilience meets opportunity, where leadership is measured not by power but by service.

This is more than governance. It is a quiet revolution. One led by the people, for the people. And as Kaduna rises, it offers the rest of Nigeria a simple but profound lesson. When leaders place people first, transformation follows.

–Okoro writes from Benin, Edo State capital