Feature/OPED
Nature has been Sending us Signals. Our Farmers Read Them First
By Mannir U. Ringim (PhD)
Long before the satellite forecasts and the seasonal advisories, the African farmer learned to read the sky. He watched the colour of the clouds, the behaviour of the birds, the first scent of rain on hot ground, and he planted accordingly. For generations, that knowledge was reliable enough to feed nations. Today, it is faltering not because the farmer has forgotten how to read the signs, but because the signs themselves have changed. The rains that once came in April now arrive in May, or not at all. The harmattan lingers. The river that once flooded every decade now floods twice in five years. Nature is still sending its signals; they have become harder and crueller to read.
Today, the world marks World Environment Day. This year’s theme, “Inspired by Nature. For Climate. For Our Future,” will be examined in Baku and echoed in boardrooms and headlines across the world. It is a worthy conversation, but the people who live that theme most literally will not be in any of those rooms. They are the smallholder farmers of northern Nigeria and the wider Sahel, the rice growers of the Niger basin, the cassava, cocoa, and oil palm households from Cross River to the forests of the coast. It is a Nigerian story, but not only a Nigerian one: the same signals are being read across West Africa, and in the last decade, the reading has grown harder.
I want to make a single argument on this day of World Environment Day, and although it begins in the field, it ends in the boardroom: in our part of the world, agricultural finance is climate finance. The most direct, most local and most consequential form of climate action available to the region’s financial sector is not a distant carbon market or an offset scheme negotiated abroad. It is the decision to put serious, patient and intelligent capital into the hands of the people working the most climate-exposed asset we possess — our land. Get that decision right, and we address food security, rural livelihoods and climate resilience in a single motion. Get it wrong, and we will keep treating three faces of one crisis as though they were unrelated problems.
The signals from the land
To understand why this matters, it helps to travel the land as those of us in business banking do. Across the Sahel, the desert is not a metaphor; it advances year upon year over farmland that fed families in living memory. Lake Chad — once one of Africa’s great freshwater bodies, shared by Nigeria, Niger, Chad and Cameroon — has retreated to a fraction of its former size, carrying fishing and farming livelihoods with it. In the middle belts, the rains have turned violent and unpredictable, and a single night of flooding can erase a season’s labour and a year’s income. Along the coast and the eroding river valleys, gully after gully swallows farms, homes and roads. These are not isolated misfortunes; they are the local expressions of a global phenomenon, and the people absorbing them first are the people who feed everyone else.
This is the part of the climate story we too often misfile. We log the late rains under “agriculture,” the flood under “disaster relief,” the rising cost of a meal under “the economy,” and we reserve the word “environment” for tree-planting campaigns. But these are not separate ledgers. The farmer who cannot plant because the rains failed, the trader who charges more because the harvest shrank, the young person who leaves the village because the farm no longer pays — all are responding to the same signal. In our region, climate change announces itself first as an agricultural event. We will not manage it as an environmental one until we are willing to finance it as an economic one.
A paradox of capital
Here lies a contradiction we have tolerated for far too long. Agriculture employs more people than any other sector in Nigeria and across much of West Africa, and contributes a substantial share of national output. By any honest measure, it is the foundation of the real economy, and yet, for decades, it has drawn only a single-digit share of total bank lending, which is a fraction of its weight in jobs, in food, and in stability. We have built financial systems that are, in effect, under-invested in the very sector that sustains them.
The reasons are familiar to every banker. Agriculture has long been judged too risky, too seasonal, too informal and too hard to collateralise. A farmer’s income arrives once or twice a year, not monthly; his balance sheet consists of a few hectares, some livestock, and a great deal of practical knowledge. No conventional credit model was built to value it. So, capital did the rational short-term thing: it stayed away, or lent briefly and expensively, on terms that suited the lender’s calendar rather than the crop’s. That caution made sense in a stable climate. In a changing one, it is self-defeating because the farmer who cannot borrow cannot adapt. He cannot buy the drought-tolerant seed, install the modest irrigation that frees him from relying on a single rainy season, or afford the storage that keeps a good harvest from spoiling before the market. We have been asking our most climate-exposed citizens to face the hardest conditions in memory with the least capital available to them. That is not prudence; it is a slow failure of both economics and adaptation, and the bill arrives at every table as more expensive food.
Risk is also a design problem
If there is good news here, it is that much of what we call “agricultural risk” is not a law of nature. It is a design problem, and design problems can be solved. The past few years have produced a genuinely more sophisticated toolkit, and the institutions willing to use it are finding the sector far more bankable than the old assumptions allowed. It begins with lending that fits the farmer rather than forcing the farmer to fit the facility: cash-flow facilities structured around the crop cycle, disbursing at planting and falling due after harvest. Value-chain and anchor-borrower models, in which a credible off-taker sits between the bank and thousands of smallholders, solve the scale, collateral, and market access problems at a single stroke. Warehouse-receipt systems let stored grain serve as collateral, so a farmer need not sell everything at harvest, when prices are lowest, merely to raise cash.
Around that core sits an expanding set of instruments: input and mechanisation finance to lift yields; irrigation finance to break the dependence on the rains; cold-chain and storage finance to attack the staggering share of what we grow that is still lost after harvest, losses that are, in their own quiet way, as much an environmental cost as an economic one, since every wasted tonne is water, land, fuel and labour spent for nothing. Weather-index insurance can pay out automatically when rainfall falls below a threshold, turning an uninsurable risk into a priced one, and the spread of mobile technology and farm-level data — satellite imagery, mapping, digital payment histories — is finally giving lenders an evidence-based way to assess the smallholder they once treated as invisible. None of this is theoretical; each instrument is already in use somewhere in the region today. The task is not to invent new tools but to deploy the existing ones at scale, and with discipline.
Here, agricultural finance and the climate agenda converge, because the instruments that make farming bankable are, almost without exception, the ones that make it resilient. Irrigation is an adaptation. Drought-tolerant seed is an adaptation. Healthier soils, smarter water use, agroforestry that holds back the desert, storage that wastes less — these are not optional “green” extras; they are the difference between a farm that survives a harsher climate and one that does not. The point lands with particular force in West Africa, among the most climate-vulnerable yet least climate-financed regions on earth. The global conversation has turned decisively to climate finance — Azerbaijan, this year’s World Environment Day host, carried that agenda as president of COP29 — but climate finance is not only something that happens at altitude. Its most grounded form, for us, is the facility that enables a cooperative to drill a borehole or build a warehouse. The local reality is how the global ambition gets delivered.
Shared risk, shared frontier
None of this can rest on the banks alone, and it should not. The risks are real, and the most durable way to manage them is to share them among the actors who each hold a piece of the solution. Governments set the frameworks, build rural infrastructure, and provide the guarantees that make long-tenor lending viable. Development finance institutions, the African Development Bank chief among them, with their long-standing ambition to feed the continent, bring the patient, blended capital that crowds in commercial lenders rather than out. Insurers price the weather risk that banks should not carry alone. Agritech firms and aggregators supply data and market linkages. Banks bring structure, reach, governance and capital. Nigeria has tried versions of this before — the Agricultural Credit Guarantee Scheme and the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme among them, and the experience taught us both the promise of public-private agricultural finance and the discipline it demands: such partnerships work only when they are designed with rigour, governed transparently, and judged by outcomes rather than by money disbursed.
For those of us whose responsibilities include the public sector, the most valuable role a bank can play is often not as lender of last resort but as honest broker, aligning the ambitions of government, the capital of development partners, and the needs of the farmer into structures that actually move money to the field, and the prize is larger than risk management. It is tempting, faced with advancing desert and shrinking water, to speak of the Sahel and the rural North only in the language of crisis. However, that language is incomplete and self-fulfilling. The same regions hold vast arable land, established value chains in grains, livestock and horticulture, and one of the youngest workforces on earth. When a young person can finance an irrigated dry-season crop, or a women’s cooperative can secure inputs and a guaranteed buyer, agriculture stops being a fallback and becomes a future. That shift — from relief to investment, from managing decline to financing growth — is the single most powerful contribution finance can make to the regions on the climate front line. It is also good business: the young and the underserved are not a market to be pitied, but the largest growth opportunity in African banking.
Where we choose to stand
At Union Bank, this is not a new conviction. An institution that has banked Nigerian communities for more than a century has watched the relationship between people and land change in real time and has come to regard agricultural finance not as a niche or an act of charity, but as national infrastructure — and, increasingly, as climate infrastructure. The question we put to ourselves is not whether agriculture is worth financing, but how to finance it in a way that builds resilience rather than extends credit, and how to do so at the scale the moment now demands.
The campaign behind this year’s World Environment Day speaks of the signals the Earth is sending us, and the signals we choose to send back. It is an apt frame for a banker. For too long, the signal our financial system sent the farmer was a quiet, discouraging one: you are too risky, too small, too far away to be worth our capital. The farmer heard it clearly, and many of his children left the land. We can now send a different signal.
“For Climate” and “For Our Future” are not phrases to be admired from a distance. For Nigeria and its neighbours, there are decisions to be made at home in how we price risk, where we direct capital, and whether we are finally willing to stand behind the people who have been reading nature’s signals all along. The most meaningful climate commitment our financial sector can make this World Environment Day is not a statement; it is a willingness to finance the land that feeds us, intelligently and at scale. The moment, as the campaign rightly insists, is now. Now for climate — and, just as urgently, now for the farmer.
Mannir U. Ringim is Executive Director, Business Banking at Union Bank of Nigeria, with responsibility for the Public Sector and the Bank’s Northern, South-South and South-East businesses.
He is versatile in spearheading new business development, cultivating partnerships,
and fostering healthy stakeholder relationships, with a focus on driving business growth and achieving revenue milestones.
Mannir’s educational qualifications include a PhD in Economics (focus on Financial Inclusion) from Bayero University, Kano, and Bachelor of Science and Master of Science degrees in Economics from the same institution. He also holds executive certifications from INSEAD Business School in Singapore, Kellogg School of Management in Chicago, and Euromoney in London, reflecting his dedication to continuous growth and excellence. Mannir has been an Honorary Senior Member of the Chartered Institute of Bankers of Nigeria (HCIB) since 2015.
By Blaise Udunze
The Heritage Bank’s banking license was revoked, and it was ordered into liquidation on June 3, 2024. This remains one of the most controversial and widely debated events in Nigeria’s financial sector.
The lingering concerns, even though official reasons have been given as regulatory breaches, inadequate capitalisation, and persistent financial distress, many people remain unconvinced or believe there are broader issues that deserve closer scrutiny. Surprisingly, to concerned Nigerians, this marks the first time a Nigerian bank has been allowed to fail in over a decade. Despite the passage of time, one question refuses to disappear. Mind you, this is not a rhetorical question: Does the failure of a bank in Nigeria reflect only the institution’s weaknesses or should it also raise questions about the effectiveness of regulatory oversight and the influence of broader systemic or political factors?
Again, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) actually may have explained that its decision to revoke Heritage Bank’s licence was based on the institution’s persistent financial weakness, its inability to meet prudential requirements and the absence of a credible path to recovery. Yes, and undisputedly, those reasons fall squarely within the regulator’s statutory mandate to protect depositors and safeguard financial system stability.
Understandably, the legal basis for the action was clearly stated; even at that, the truth is that the decision has continued to provoke debate because of the broader question of regulatory consistency. If prudential weakness alone determines whether a bank survives, why have seemingly comparable institutions been treated differently?
This question deserves examination not through conspiracy theories or unsubstantiated allegations but through the lens of institutional accountability, governance and the relationship between politics and business in Nigeria.
The Heritage Bank story presents a contradiction. No doubt, one would not be wrong to say that the Nigerian banking industry is one of the most tightly regulated sectors of the economy. This is because the banks operated and still function under continuous supervision by the CBN. Also, the Nigeria Deposit Insurance Corporation (NDIC) is well known to exist primarily to protect depositors and ensure financial system stability. Routine examinations, prudential guidelines, capital adequacy monitoring, liquidity ratios, stress tests and early intervention mechanisms are designed precisely to prevent sudden institutional collapse.
One critical question that comes to mind is, if these safeguards function effectively, why should a licensed commercial bank deteriorate to the point of liquidation? That question extends beyond Heritage Bank. It touches the credibility of Nigeria’s financial architecture itself.
The truth be told, no regulator anywhere in the world can guarantee that every bank will survive. This is because over time, history has shown that banks can fail due to poor corporate governance, insider abuses, weak risk management, fraud, macroeconomic shocks or prolonged insolvency. Nigeria is no exception.
However, regulators are expected to detect distress early, enforce corrective actions and minimise losses to depositors and the economy. That is the essence of prudential regulation.
Consequently, whenever a licensed bank ultimately collapses, scrutiny naturally shifts beyond management failures to regulatory effectiveness. Did supervisors identify warning signs early enough? Were intervention tools deployed in time? Were recovery options exhausted before liquidation became inevitable? Could alternative resolutions have preserved confidence while protecting depositors?
The Heritage Bank case naturally fuels these questions because Nigeria’s regulatory history demonstrates that liquidation is not the only available resolution mechanism. Different institutions have, at different times, received different supervisory responses.
Throughout former CBN governor Godwin Emefiele’s leadership, several banks, including Skye Bank (later Polaris Bank), Keystone Bank, Union Bank, and Heritage Bank, faced severe financial challenges but were bailed out by the central bank instead of being allowed to fail. These banks continued operations until they were eventually sold off, with one currently distressed bank still operating despite negative shareholders’ funds.
For instance, Unity Bank was not widely regarded as financially stronger than Heritage Bank on several traditional indicators. Its 2023 audited financial statements reflected a negative capital adequacy ratio of -76.14 per cent, accumulated losses, and the external auditors drew attention to a material uncertainty regarding the bank’s ability to continue as a going concern. Despite these severe weaknesses, the regulatory response was not an immediate licence revocation. Instead, the CBN facilitated a merger with Providus Bank as a resolution strategy and approved a pivotal financial bailout package, reportedly worth N700 billion.
Likewise, First Bank of Nigeria is not left out of this trend; owing to its systemic importance and larger market presence, the institution later faced regulatory capital pressure following the withdrawal of regulatory forbearance in 2025. Another concern is that rather than withdrawing its licence, the regulator permitted the bank to remain operational under a recapitalisation programme supported through supervisory measures.
These examples do not necessarily suggest that the banks were identical in their financial positions, nor do they prove that Heritage Bank deserved the same outcome. Each institution presents unique circumstances, regulatory assessments and systemic implications. Nevertheless, on common ground, they raise a legitimate policy question. What specific factors determine when the regulator opts for recapitalisation, merger, restructuring or liquidation? One fact the regulators should know and take into cognisance is that greater transparency around these decisions would strengthen public confidence in the consistency and predictability of financial regulation, as this remains sacrosanct.
Of course, the case of Heritage Bank’s liquidation has generated a broader conversation because of Nigeria’s history, where business fortunes have sometimes intersected with political transitions, elite rivalries and shifting centres of influence, which is more troubling.
The common truth is that across decades of experience, Nigerian businesses have occasionally found themselves flourishing under one political environment only to struggle under another. Consistently, this has always been a trend that changes in government have often altered regulatory priorities, access to public sector business and investor confidence. While correlation does not establish causation, the perception that politics influences commercial outcomes remains deeply entrenched. This perception becomes even more significant when examining businesses that occupy strategic sectors.
Banks are strategic institutions. Telecommunications companies are strategic institutions. Energy companies are strategic institutions.
Government actions affecting such businesses inevitably attract public scrutiny because their operations extend far beyond shareholders to millions of citizens.
One may be moved to ask what the direct connection is. The controversy surrounding MultiChoice Nigeria offers another example of how commercial disputes can quickly assume political dimensions in public discourse. The direct connection may remain a puzzle to so many.
A thorough search revealed that over recent years, especially around the time the Heritage Bank licence was revoked, it was clear that MultiChoice faced regulatory sanctions, tax disputes, consumer protection battles, pricing controversies and legal confrontations with Nigerian authorities. Come to think of it, at different points, observers speculated that sustained pressure on the company reflected broader political or economic interests rather than purely regulatory concerns.
It is important to distinguish speculation from verified fact. Nigerian authorities consistently maintained that their actions against MultiChoice were based on compliance with tax, competition and consumer protection laws. MultiChoice similarly defended its commercial decisions through legal channels.
Well, at this point, Adewunmi Ogunsanya, a Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN), has direct ties to both organisations through his executive leadership and corporate board appointments. Is it a mere coincidence that his connection to both entities became a major financial focal point following the liquidation of Heritage Bank?
Let it be known that, despite all, the public conversation often framed the disputes as evidence of an underlying power struggle between government institutions and a dominant private enterprise, and this may remain undisputed.
Whether accurate or not, such perceptions matter because markets respond not only to facts but also to confidence. Confidence is the currency upon which banking survives.
Unlike manufacturing companies that own factories or oil firms with physical reserves, banks fundamentally operate on trust. Depositors leave their money because they believe regulators will ensure the institution remains safe.
One indisputable fact is that the moment confidence evaporates, even a fundamentally solvent bank can face severe liquidity pressure, which has occurred in the past.
This is why central banks across the world routinely rescue distressed institutions, not necessarily because every management deserves saving, but because preserving confidence is often more valuable than punishing failure.
Nigeria demonstrated this principle during the 2009 banking crisis through recapitalisation, management changes, the establishment of AMCON and structured resolution mechanisms rather than the outright closure of several distressed institutions. That experience confirmed that regulators possess a range of tools beyond licence revocation.
The Heritage Bank case therefore naturally invites debate over why liquidation emerged as the chosen option.
Could recapitalisation have remained feasible? Could acquisition have produced better outcomes? Could bridge-bank arrangements have preserved value? Could additional restructuring have protected jobs and investor confidence?
These are questions policymakers should openly address, not simply to revisit the past but to strengthen future crisis management. The implications extend beyond one institution.
Foreign investors closely observe how governments and regulators manage corporate distress. Let it be known that predictability is one of the strongest attractions for investment. When investors perceive that outcomes depend primarily on transparent rules, confidence grows.
When they perceive uncertainty, whether arising from inconsistent regulation, political transitions or muddy decision-making, they demand higher risk premiums or redirect capital elsewhere.
Nigeria cannot afford either perception. The country’s ambition to become Africa’s leading investment destination and to build a $1 trillion economy requires regulatory consistency that transcends political cycles.
Businesses must believe that success or failure depends principally on compliance, competitiveness and sound governance, not changing political winds.
This is equally important for regulators themselves. Institutions such as the CBN and NDIC derive legitimacy from public confidence. This is to say that absolute confidence increases when regulatory decisions are accompanied by clear, detailed and transparent explanations that address public concerns effectively, which would not give room for doubt.
Where communication gaps exist, the simple truth is that speculation inevitably fills the vacuum. And worse still, in today’s digital environment, silence often becomes fertile ground for misinformation. Transparency therefore serves not merely public relations purposes but financial stability itself.
The Heritage Bank episode also exposes another challenge confronting Nigeria’s economy, as this can be tied to the growing fusion of politics and perception.
Even where regulatory decisions are technically justified, public trust weakens if citizens increasingly interpret every major corporate action through political lenses. That should concern policymakers.
An economy where investors suspect political motivations behind regulatory outcomes ultimately discourages entrepreneurship, weakens market confidence and slows economic growth.
The solution is not to avoid difficult regulatory decisions. Poorly managed institutions should still face appropriate sanctions. More importantly, financial discipline remains indispensable.
It must be ensured that whilst this is done, enforcement consistently demonstrates fairness, proportionality and procedural transparency. Equally, corporate leaders must recognise that sustainable institutions cannot depend on political proximity.
History repeatedly shows that businesses built primarily on access rather than competitiveness become vulnerable whenever political landscapes change. Strong institutions survive governments because they are anchored in sound governance rather than political patronage.
Perhaps the greatest lesson from Heritage Bank is not merely whether politics influenced events, something that remains unproven in the public domain, but whether Nigeria’s institutional framework has become sufficiently trusted that such questions no longer dominate public discourse.
That is the real challenge. A mature regulatory environment should inspire confidence that decisions arise from objective evidence rather than perceived political calculations.
Until that confidence is universally shared, every major corporate failure will continue generating political interpretations regardless of the underlying facts.
Nigeria’s economic future depends not only on stronger banks but also on stronger institutions. The CBN, NDIC and every financial regulator carry responsibilities extending beyond enforcing compliance. They must also preserve public confidence through transparency, consistency and accountability.
Heritage Bank should therefore become more than another chapter in Nigeria’s banking history. It should become an opportunity for honest national reflection.
Not on how to rescue failing banks indefinitely, but on how to build regulatory systems so credible, so predictable, and so independent that no bank failure, however justified, will immediately trigger suspicions of hidden political battles.
For investors, depositors and ordinary Nigerians alike, that confidence may ultimately prove more valuable than any financial bailout.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
By Sani Abdulrazak, PhD
The late Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto and Premier of Northern Nigeria, envisioned that the true measure of a society’s progress lay not just in the roads it built, the markets it opened or the wealth it accumulated, but in the education of its people.
A philosophy it was, born from the conviction that the most enduring obelisk any generation can leave behind is not one hewn in stones, but one etched into the minds of its children. Decades later, that timeless belief still resonates across Northern Nigeria, a reminder that every investment in education is, unquestionably, an investment in today and tomorrow.
Truth is, failure to educate a child is synonymous with condemning the next generation; it is amplifying an already debilitating multidimensional poverty, it is fuelling the flames of insecurity. Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna state shares this belief, and three years later under his watch, the state’s education sector tells a promising story that gives every resident of the state reason to hope…to believe.
A school is indeed more than bricks and mortar; it is a place where the future is quietly assembled. Sadly, countless classrooms across Kaduna reflected neglect rather than hope. Governor Uba Sani’s administration chose to change that narrative. Within three years, 736 new classrooms have been constructed and 2,326 renovated, while 30,742 pupils’ desks and 3,704 teachers’ tables and chairs have been supplied.
The government also completed 62 new secondary schools, with another 50 under construction. Through the School Access Project, between 102 and 104 additional schools are being established so that no child travels more than one kilometre to access education. Furthermore, six science secondary schools that had remained abandoned for over a decade have been completed and reopened by the present administration. Today, they provide quality science education to over 2,000 students.
Rising tuition fees by the previous administration had placed higher education beyond the reach of many families in Kaduna and beyond. The administration responded with a 50 per cent reduction in tuition fees across Kaduna State-owned tertiary institutions, including Kaduna State University and Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, reportedly increasing enrolment by over 200%. Kaduna State Government also paid approximately ₦407.94 million, equivalent to 247,235.84 United States dollars, to settle outstanding tuition for Kaduna-sponsored students studying abroad, while investing over ₦1 billion in scholarships, student loans and educational support programmes.
It is indeed true that education is only as strong as its custodians, the teachers. Recognising this, the administration recruited 10,000 teachers and trained more than 33,000 education personnel in modern teaching methods and digital learning. These investments are already yielding results, with students obtaining five credits and above in WAEC, NECO and NABTEB examinations increasing from 54 per cent to 67 per cent.
Nothing illustrates the measure of progress of this administration’s investment in education better than the decline in out-of-school children. Through expanded school access, improved infrastructure, tuition support and enhanced security, the number reportedly fell from about 580,000 to approximately 182,000, giving hundreds of thousands of children another chance at education.
Believing that education must ready young people for employment and enterprise, Kaduna State Government established three Institutes of Vocational Training and Skills Development in Soba, Rigachikun and Samaru Kataf, offering practical skills in ICT, renewable energy, mechatronics, welding, plumbing, fashion design, carpentry and automotive technology. The administration has also advanced inclusion through the nearly completed Special School for Gifted Children and the expansion of the Tsangaya Bilingual Schools Project with specialised teacher training.
Binding these educational reforms together is sustained investment. Between 2024 and 2026, Kaduna consistently allocated between 25 and 26.14 per cent of its annual budget to education, making it the state’s highest-funded sector. More than a budgetary decision, it is a declaration that Kaduna’s future will be built not only with roads and buildings, but with educated minds.
There is an African proverb that says, “The child who is carried on the back today may carry the nation on his shoulders tomorrow.” Make of that what you will, but only education will give the child the shoulders to do so. Generational chapters and eras are defined by battles won or lost, sometimes by monuments raised or conceived.
However, the most discerning write their legacy upon the minds via education, for no monument endures longer than an educated generation. Who’d better write us this chapter than the proverbial Lannister of our time, Governor Uba Sani? A leader elected because the people of Kaduna State knew he would be a reformist, and now he is shifting the tectonic plates of education…of governance in the state.
Even though a lot of work remains unfinished, the road ahead is anything but smooth. What is beyond doubt is the direction the state is heading towards. Should these reforms endure under the SUSTAIN Agenda, Kaduna may one day look back on Uba Sani’s first three years not merely as an era of educational reforms, but as the moment when the state chose to invest in the one sphere that time cannot diminish: the education of its people.
Feature/OPED
How Governor Uba Sani’s Sustain Agenda is Rewriting Kaduna’s Agricultural Metamorphosis
By Sani Abdulrazak, PhD
Governance ascends into telos when the hands that feed the nation work with sustained hope rather than uncertainty. The farmer is indeed relieved when he no longer gauges the farming season through the prism of survival or rising cost of fertiliser, but by the promise of a better harvest and a pathway to prosperity. Truth is, rural communities are only fundamentally satisfied when their fertile lands marry deliberate government intervention. This government intervention in agriculture is not in mere promises, speeches, or ceremonies, but in flourishing fields, fuller warehouses and improved livelihoods. At the very core of Governor Uba Sani’s SUSTAIN agenda is strengthening the bedrock upon which food security and economic prosperity are built: agriculture. His approach has been less of bombast and more of stewardship, allowing the sector to emerge from years of uncertainty into one of resurgence.
The agricultural sector of Kaduna State over the past three years reveals a government that has chosen investment over rhetoric. Pinpointing agriculture as the oxygen of the state’s economy, the administration has committed unprecedented resources to this very pertinent sector. The agricultural budget rose from barely ₦1.48 billion in 2023 to ₦74.2 billion in 2025, before exceeding ₦100 billion in the 2026 budget, making Kaduna one of the few states committing over 10 per cent of its annual expenditure to agriculture. These allocations represent an explicit declaration that meaningful agricultural transformation begins with deliberate investment. They equally reflect the prudence and resolve to position Kaduna not merely as a producer of crops but as an agricultural colossus. What once appeared a distant aspiration is gradually taking the shape of a tangible renaissance, built not on ephemeral promises but on carefully hewn policies and enduring commitments.
The most conspicuous manifestation of this administration’s intervention has been its direct support for farmers. Admittedly, farming has become increasingly expensive across the country lately, yet Kaduna state responded with one of the largest agricultural support programmes by distributing 15,000 metric tonnes of fertiliser, equivalent to about 500 truckloads, free of charge to over 120,000 farmers across the 23 local government areas. Through the “Tallafin Noma programme”, an additional 69,000 smallholder farmers received improved maize seeds and agrochemicals to increase productivity. These interventions have reduced production costs for thousands of farming households while strengthening food production at a time when food security remains a national concern. Such interventions are not mere statistics; they are a bulwark against rural poverty, a catalyst for productivity and a harbinger of renewed confidence. For many farmers, government support has become the linchpin upon which an abundant harvest now rests.
Governor Uba Sani understands that the true promise of modern agriculture lies not only in cultivation but also in the value created after the harvest. The commencement of the Kaduna Special Agro-Industrial Processing Zone marks an important shift from exporting raw produce to processing agricultural commodities within the state. Complementing this is the construction of Northern Nigeria’s first Agricultural Quality Assurance Centre, designed to certify agricultural produce for local and international markets. Together, these initiatives promise to reduce post-harvest losses, attract private investment, create employment opportunities and improve the competitiveness of Kaduna’s agricultural products beyond Nigeria’s borders. They equally represent a conscious effort to build an agricultural ecosystem, a lasting edifice of productivity whose impact will reverberate far beyond the present generation. The vision is transformative as it is audacious, replacing dependence with self-sufficiency and creating a confluence where farming, industry and commerce intersect.
Mechanisation and rural agricultural support have also received renewed focus. The procurement of tractors and farm implements, the provision of irrigation pumps, power tillers, fertilisers, and crop protection chemicals to farmer cooperatives, alongside continued investment in rural and farm-to-market roads, shows an understanding that productivity improves when farmers are supported with the right tools and infrastructure. Easier access to markets not only reduces transportation costs but also minimises post-harvest losses, ensuring that farmers reap greater value from their labour. These investments have become the fulcrum upon which rural prosperity increasingly turns, replacing archaic practices with innovative solutions and galvanising communities to embrace modern agriculture. They stand as an obelisk of thoughtful governance, a testament to the belief that development flourishes where opportunity is deliberately cultivated.
Superlatives are in short supply when describing Governor Uba Sani’s three years in office, and even more so when one attempts to capture the magnitude of his agricultural revolution. Among the promises he made was to revive agriculture as the engine of Kaduna’s economy, and, as always, he has kept his promise. We’ve always known he would; the challenges, though, are far from over, but every meaningful reform must navigate its own labyrinth of challenges. Yet the administration’s trajectory remains steadfast, its achievements too palpable to dismiss even to the staunch critics. It would be germane to etch in our minds that history, that impartial arbiter of leadership, may ultimately remember this administration as one that rekindled the state’s agricultural zenith and restored dignity to farming for generations to come.
Sani Abdulrazak, PhD, is a writer, researcher and public affairs analyst based in Zaria, Kaduna State
