Politixia
In Northern Nigeria’s political battlegrounds, the loudest attacks don’t always come from campaign podiums. Long before Facebook, TikTok, and WhatsApp turned everyone into a publisher, Hausaland already had its own version of political messaging.
The maroƙi (praise-singer) was more than a singer. He was a storyteller, historian, and public commentator. When a leader did well, he sang yabo, verses filled with praise and the same performer could just easily turn that skill towards humiliation by mocking a rival’s failures, appearance, or character in verses crafted to stick in public memory and it refers to as zambo.
Zambo is a sharp, witty poetry designed to mock, embarrass or expose. It wasn’t always pleasant, but it was part of the culture but the difference today is that zambo has become a political business.
Instead of entertaining a local crowd, one song can now reach millions of people before sunset. A chorus recorded in Kano can be playing in Kaduna, Sokoto, Abuja, and even among Hausa communities abroad within hours.
No one illustrates this better than Dauda Kahutu Rarara. Over the years, he has released songs like Hannun Karɓa, Masu Gudu Su Gudu, Baba Buhari Dodar, Jagaba Shine Gaba, and recently Malam yayi rawa. To his supporters, these are campaign anthems. To his critics, they are political attacks wrapped in catchy melodies. Whatever side you take, one thing is difficult to deny: that people remember the songs long after they have forgotten the campaign speeches and this alone says something about the power of music.
What makes today’s political songs different from the poetry of men like Sa’adu Zungur, Mudi Sipikin or Garba Affa is intention. Earlier political poetry was designed to awaken society, challenge injustice, and educate the people. Much of today’s political music is driven by patronage. A politician hires a musician, the musician praises one side, ridicules the other, and the song becomes another campaign strategy.
Perhaps that is why political music now feels less like public service and more like political advertising. There is nothing wrong with musicians supporting politicians. Every artist has the right to hold political views. The concern begins when entertainment replaces truth and it becomes more influential than verified facts, and when insults travel farther than ideas.
Maybe the bigger question is not why politicians pay musicians. Maybe it is why we, the listeners, remember the insults more easily than the policies.
As another election season approaches, perhaps the challenge is to enjoy the music without allowing the chorus to become our ballot paper. After all, a hit song lasts only a few minutes, but the consequences of the leaders we choose can last for years.
Ibrahim Aliyu Gurin,
Bayero University, Kano
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