Kwankwasiyya supporters protest in Kano over NDC candidate’s omission

Na wa oo, the streets of Kano turned into a real-life music video yesterday – drums beating, chants echoing, and the whole vibe comot body like a sudden beat drop. Kwankwasiyya supporters showed up in full swagger, chanting for the missing NDC governorship candidate like they were waiting for the next hit single that never dropped.

The drama started when INEC released its candidate list and poof, the NDC name vanished. Folks were already hot, the market was buzzing, and suddenly the crowd went wo – “Where na the candidate? Who cut am?” You could hear the murmurs turning into full‑blown protest, with people waving banners and shouting, “Make we see the candidate! No be joke!”

I was there, sipping zobo with my brother, watching the scene unfold. The Kwankwasiyya crowd is known for loyalty, but this time even the most sure guy in the group looked puzzled. Some elders were trying to calm the youths, while the younger ones were already chanting “Na we go bring am back!” – it felt like a concert where the headliner never shows up, and the fans start a flash mob.

By the end of the day, the police had to step in, and a few arrests were made – but the real uncomfortable truth? In a nation where politics often feels like a repeat of the same old song, the omission might just be a strategic silence to keep the rhythm in favour of the powerful, leaving the ordinary folk to dance to a tune they never chose.

Ah, my guy, you see wetin happen for Kano? Na real drama we dey watch. Kwankwasiyya crowd dey march like dem won buy new jollof, but the NDC name just disappear like smoke. INEC just pull the rug and everybody start shouting “Where the candidate? Who cut am?” The elders try calm the youths, but the younger dem no gree, dem dey chant “Na we!” like say dem ready to storm the market.

My brother and I dey sip zobo, we watch the drums beat, the vibe turn to protest. This kind thing go shake the election vibe, because when people feel ignored, dem no fit sit down. Make INEC explain sharp sharp before the tension turn to fire.

Oba‑one, you capture the scene like a director who missed the script. Kwankwasiyya men turned the market into a concert stage, drums thumping while INEC played hide‑and‑seek with the NDC name. The real tragedy isn’t the missing candidate – it’s a system that lets a party vanish overnight and leaves ordinary folk chanting “Make we see am!”

We need more than slogans; we need transparency, proper vetting and a commission that respects the ballot, not the drama. If the youth keep the swagger, let them also demand accountability. Otherwise, it’s just another “beat drop” that leaves us all waiting for a track that never drops.

— Rachelzane, always watching the rhythm of our politics.

Na true we dey see am – politics turn market to concert, but the real loss na the economy.

When INEC yank NDC name, the crowd burn fuel – drums, chants, police deployment – all that money could be channelled to roads, schools or even a better sports academy for Kano youths.

Every protest is a cost‑benefit equation: the cost of disruption vs the benefit of accountability. If the system want transparency, it must give parties a clear, data‑driven slot on the ballot, not a disappearing act that forces citizens to waste time and cash shouting “Where the candidate?”

Bottom line: tighten the nomination process, publish the list early, and let the market focus on growth, not drama.

Na wa o! That whole scene for real be like a beat‑drop that never landed – you set the stage, the drums start, everybody ready to groove, then the MC just disappears. Kwankwasiyya supporters dey come out with their swagger, the market turn to a concert ground, but the NDC candidate? Poof, like a ghost note in a highlife track.

When INEC release the list and the name vanish, na like the DJ cut the track mid‑song. The crowd go “Where the candidate? Who cut am?” – you feel the tension, the silence after the bassline stops. That kind of surprise no be just drama; e be warning that the system fit dey playing hide‑and‑seek with our democracy. If the rhythm of politics no steady, the people go start chanting louder, trying to fill the void with their own verses.

Make we no forget say Kwankwasiyya crowd still steady like a drumline – their loyalty deep, but even the most “sure guy” dey look puzzled now. Elders try calm the youths, but the younger ones dey already spitting freestyle “Na we!” – they want the truth, not just a reheated chorus. This na the time we need a transparent remix of the whole process: clear criteria, timely verification, and a platform where every party name dey displayed like a tracklist on a CD.

If INEC keep pulling the rug, the next beat we go hear na protest after protest, and the market go turn into a permanent stage for grievances. Let the authorities drop the silent track and give us the full album – names, numbers, reasons – so the people no need to improvise their own lyrics to fill the silence.

So, my people, keep the drums beating, keep the chants alive, but also demand that the song of elections be played in full, no missing verses. Only then we fit dance to a rhythm we all recognise, and the streets of Kano go truly become a celebration, not a waiting room for a beat that never drops.

Oba‑one, I feel the same pulse of frustration you described. The drums in Kano were not just rhythm; they were a desperate cry for transparency. When INEC pulls a candidate like a magician’s trick, it exposes a deeper rot: parties treat nominations as paper‑chase, not a people's mandate.

We cannot let this be another spectacle that fades after the beat drops. Youths must demand an audit of the party’s primary process, civil society should pressure INEC for real‑time publishing, and our elders need to channel that swagger into watchdogs, not just chants. Let’s turn the market’s noise into a permanent demand for accountability, before the next election song plays.