In the symbolic and political nucleus of the Sokoto Caliphate, an imperial, illiberal, power-drunk governor who is held hostage by what seems like politically conditioned rejection-sensitive dysphoria (i.e., unhealthy hypersensitivity to even the mildest, most well-intentioned criticism, often associated with sufferers of ADHD) is oppressing an 18-year-old critic identified as Hamdiyyah Sidi Sharif.
I first became aware of Hamdiyya’s woeful plight in the hands of Sokoto State governor Ahmad Aliyu when respected former Kaduna State governor Colonel Dangiwa Umar (retired) called attention to it in a November 2024 BBC Hausa interview, which caused the Sokoto State Government to launch caustic personal attacks against him in the media.
According to news reports, in November 2024, Hamdiyyah posted a daringly defiant video on TikTok in which she urged internally displaced persons (IDPs) to occupy the governor’s office in Sokoto to protest the unceasingly escalating insecurity in the state and compel the governor act. Her defiance obviously flowed from a deep wellspring of righteous anger and well-justified frustration.
Although only a couple of people saw the video (most IDPs, in any case, have no access to smartphones, much less TikTok), someone or some people comfortably ensconced in the inner recesses of the political power structure in the Sokoto State government saw it.
They were so livid that a teenage girl with almost zero political, cultural, symbolic, or persuasive power dared to ventilate her angst over insecurity in the state that they got the Sokoto Police Command to arrest her and charge her with “use of insulting or abusive language” and “inciting disturbance.”
She was intimidated into deleting the video, issuing a public apology, and retracting her statement. “I wish to retract the statement I made where I advised all the internally displaced people that have no homes to forcefully invade and occupy the government house,” she said on November 22, 2024. “I am very sorry for trying to instigate such a disorder. Nobody has the right to invade the government house.”
She offered “apologies to the governor, his team, and whoever I offended with my unprovoked outburst.” But that didn’t placate the governor and his henchmen.
She was abducted by armed men, beaten, and thrown from a moving tricycle, which caused her severe bodily injuries amid her legal battles in both Sharia and Magistrate courts.
A few days ago, just hours before a scheduled court appearance, Hamdiyyah disappeared again. She was later found in critical condition at Bakura General Hospital in Zamfara State, with security agents present at her bedside.
Her lawyer, Abba Hikima, disclosed during a recent court session that the hostile environment had forced him to request armed police protection, which the court subsequently granted. Additionally, while attending the trial in Sokoto, they experienced stalking at their hotel and were confronted and intimidated by unknown individuals.
“These actions represent an alarming abuse of power and a calculated attempt to intimidate and punish those who speak out for their society and lawyers defending them,” Amnesty International Nigeria said in a statement. “The hostilities being faced by Hamdiyya Sidi Sharif and Barrister Abba Hikima are increasingly making their appearance in court in Sokoto dangerous.”
I am still struggling to come to terms with what threat a poor, frightened, bruised 18-year-old girl poses to a powerful 55-year-old governor. What was it about the girl’s words in the deleted TikTok video that was so profoundly offensive, that couldn’t be placated by her apologies, and that she must be murdered for?
The governor’s reaction bears all the hallmarks of rejection-sensitive dysphoria, a psychological condition marked by an extreme, disproportionate emotional response to perceived criticism or rejection, often associated with people who suffer a neurological disorder called Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).
In this case, the mere reproach of a teenage girl, however mild or grounded in truth, seemed to pierce a fragile, gubernatorial ego wrapped tightly in the trappings of unchecked power.
Instead of brushing off or constructively addressing the concerns raised by Hamdiyya, Governor Aliyu unraveled. He met the girl’s criticism about the mounting insecurity in the state he governs with petty, personal vendetta instead of policy reflection or a reasoned rebuttal.
He mobilized the resources of state machinery not to secure his citizens, but to crush the daring dissent of a girl younger than his children. It is a crying shame. This isn’t governance. Nor is it bravery. It’s emotional fragility and cowardice masquerading as authority.
Governor Aliyu’s overreaction reveals a man for whom public office is less about public service and more about personal validation. The governor, it seems, doesn’t merely dislike being criticized; he experiences it as a threat to his very identity.
And like many with rejection-sensitive dysphoria, he responds not with introspection, but with hostility, seeking to punish the perceived offender rather than confront the uncomfortable truth. In doing so, he transforms a teenage citizen into a political enemy, and a cry for help into a battlefield for his wounded pride.
In Nigeria, our national discourse remains fixated, almost obsessively, on the federal government, often to the neglect of the far more immediate and insidious abuses unfolding at the state level. Yet it is in the states, not Abuja, that the most urgent battles for civil liberties are being waged and lost.
Across many states, dissent is not merely discouraged; it is crushed, often with ruthless efficiency and, in some instances, with fatal consequences. The recent ordeal of teenage activist Hamdiyyah Sidi Sharif at the hands of Governor Ahmad Aliyu of Sokoto is a chilling case in point. Her only “crime” was daring to urge the government to address spiraling insecurity, a plea that, in any functioning democracy, would be met with reflection, not repression.
Instead, she has been subjected to a campaign of vindictive persecution, seemingly designed to make an example of her. The message is Speak out, and you will suffer.
There is simply no moral justification for a sitting governor who is armed with all the powers and privileges of his office to wage a vindictive, even violent, campaign against a teenage girl whose only offense is speaking uncomfortable truths. It is a grotesque abuse of power, made even more disturbing by the stark age and power asymmetry between the accuser and the accused.
Sadly, Hamdiyyah’s case is not an outlier. It fits a distressingly familiar pattern. Consider the fate of Abubakar Idris Dadiyata and Stephen Kefason in Kaduna and Gloria Okolie in Imo. They all ran afoul of state authorities and subsequently vanished or were subjected to extrajudicial abuse. Their stories share the same sequence: public criticism, sudden silence, disappearance, or indefinite detention, and, in too many cases, no resolution.
The silence of the public only emboldens this descent into authoritarianism at the state level. While national attention remains glued to Abuja, state governors have become mini emperors, operating with alarming impunity and crushing dissent in ways that rarely make national headlines.
This is why every person of conscience must speak out clearly, forcefully, and persistently. Hamdiyyah Sidi Sharif must not be left to face this tyranny alone. Her persecution is a national indictment, and her courage deserves protection, not punishment.
As citizens and advocates for justice, we must amplify voices like Hamdiyyah’s and hold our leaders accountable. Silencing dissent undermines democratic principles and perpetuates a culture of fear and repression. It’s time to stand in solidarity with those who risk everything to speak out against injustice.
