By Dr Ramadan Ali PhD.
In the theatre of life where many chase titles, positions, and applause, some men choose to walk quietly through the back door of history, carrying nothing but the weight of compassion on their shoulders.
Among such rare men stands A.A. Zaura, not adorned with the ornaments of office, nor shielded by the cloak of political immunity, but wrapped in the humble garb of service the kind that needs no microphone to echo.
While many climb the ladder of influence with power-hungry hands, Zaura has chosen to lift others with market-worn palms the hands of a businessman who never allowed profit to replace purpose It is said that “a tree is known not by the noise it makes in the wind, but by the fruit it bears.
A.A. Zaura has borne fruit in silence. From the bustling corners of Kano’s marketplaces, where traders bargain over tomatoes and textiles, to the silent alleys where lost youths dance with addiction and crime, Zaura’s money moves not towards building mansions in cities of gold, but towards rebuilding lives that society has written off.
His profit, earned honestly through the sweat of commerce, has become a weapon against ignorance, a shield against poverty, and a bridge for the hopeless.
Where others chase contracts, he chases change. Where some see the people as burdens, he sees them as the backbone of a better tomorrow.
There’s an African proverb:“The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.”
Zaura heard the silent screams of these forgotten children the drug addicts, the street boys, the phone snatchers whose lives are but twisted poems of a broken system and instead of turning a blind eye like many politicians do, he turned his heart toward them.
Not with condemnation, but with compassion. Not with judgment, but with justice. And he does this not from the comfort of an air-conditioned government office or a convoy of bulletproof vehicles. No he does it with his own hard-earned money, carved from the toil of market stalls and business deals.
He funds sensitization programs in slums, organizes reformation drives in public schools, sponsors enlightenment seminars about the dangers of drug abuse, and works with local mentors to snatch the youth from the jaws of destruction.
Ask the mother whose son was lured from the street and enrolled into a skill acquisition center sponsored by Zaura she will tell you, “He is a father to the fatherless.”
Ask the reformed street boy who once wielded daggers in the dark but now holds a pen in the light he will whisper, “Zaura did not give up on me when even my family did.” This is the measure of the man.
Not in the number of television interviews he grants, but in the lives he silently lifts. Not in how often he appears in newspapers, but in the neighborhoods he transforms.
They say “he who carries the people’s burden without being asked has already proven he can lead them.” And in that, A.A. Zaura has passed the test many elected officials continue to fail.
While others wait to be sworn into office before they start serving, Zaura serves without being sworn, loves without being lobbied, and uplifts without being urged.
The irony is deafening: those in power sit idle while the powerless do the real work. This man this son of the market, this unsung architect of peace has shown that leadership is not a seat; it is a sacrifice. And he makes that sacrifice every day.
“When the drumbeat changes, the dancer must also change his steps.” Nigeria is dancing dangerously close to the edge. Our youth are slipping.
Our morals are fading. Our streets are crying. The time has come for a different kind of leader not a title-bearer, but a burden-bearer. Not a noise-maker, but a nation-healer.
If character still counts… If selflessness still matters… If service still outweighs speech… Then the question must be asked: If not A.A. Zaura, who else? Who else has used his wealth not to build walls, but to break chains? Who else has taken profit from market stalls and turned it into purpose in forgotten streets? Who else has lived among the people, walked their pain, shared their silence, and turned it into strength?.
The answer is loud in its simplicity. A.A. Zaura is not just a name he is a necessity. A voice we did not expect, but desperately need. A flame flickering in the wind, yet refusing to go out. It is time. Not to reward him.
But to release him into leadership. Into higher service. Into the place where empathy meets power and where his passion can protect even more lives.
A shepherd does not need to be crowned before he protects his flock.” But sometimes just sometimes the flock must crown him, not for his gain, but for their survival.
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