ABBA KABIR YUSUF: FROM PROTÉGÉ TO TURNCOAT

Does loyalty count in Nigeria’s politics? asks KALU OKORONKWO

I first met Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf some years ago at the Maitama residence of the National Leader of the New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP), Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso. It was a tense evening. The election tribunal had just annulled the victory that brought Yusuf to office. He sat quietly, visibly shaken, while his mentor remained composed, steady, reassuring, and resolute. Kwankwaso calmly assured everyone present, including some principal members of the Kano State House of Assembly, that justice would prevail.

Watching from a distance that night, I drew a lasting conclusion: true mentorship is about shielding the mentee from the hawks while guiding them through the storm. That was the bond between Kwankwaso and Abba Kabir Yusuf, a bond forged in sacrifice, tested in adversity, and ultimately vindicated when the Supreme Court set aside earlier rulings that sought to overturn the governor’s mandate.

Politics is often described as a game of interests, but history remembers it as a theatre of character. Power may change hands and alliances may shift, but the true test of leadership lies in how loyalty, mentorship, and sacrifice are honoured. It is against this moral backdrop that Abba Kabir Yusuf’s political journey must now be examined, not merely as a party defection, but as a troubling transition from protégé to turncoat.

Abba Kabir Yusuf’s rise was neither sudden nor accidental. In 1999, he was appointed Personal Assistant to Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso during Kwankwaso’s first tenure as Governor of Kano State. He retained that role when Kwankwaso became Minister of Defence in 2003. In 2011, when Kwankwaso returned as governor for a second term, Yusuf was appointed Commissioner for Works, Housing, and Transport. Each stage of his ascent reflected deliberate political grooming and trust.

In 2018, Kwankwaso endorsed Yusuf to challenge the incumbent governor, Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, in the 2019 gubernatorial election under the platform of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP). Yusuf lost and challenged the outcome at the election tribunal, but his petition was dismissed. Undeterred, Kwankwaso again stood by him. In 2022, Yusuf moved to the NNPP, where he was once more endorsed by Kwankwaso to contest the 2023 gubernatorial election, this time against Nasir Yusuf Gawuna of the APC. He was declared winner on 20 March 2023 and received his certificate of return on 29 March.

That victory was immediately challenged. The All Progressives Congress filed a petition at the Governorship Election Petition Tribunal, which, on 20 September 2023, controversially declared Gawuna the winner and sacked Yusuf. The ruling attracted intense national and international attention. The Court of Appeal upheld the tribunal’s decision, but the Supreme Court, on 12 January 2024, overturned both rulings and affirmed Abba Kabir Yusuf as the duly elected governor of Kano State.

For decades, Yusuf’s political identity was inseparable from Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso. This was no casual alliance of convenience; it was a painstakingly built mentorship rooted in trust, shared struggle, and loyalty. Kwankwaso did not merely endorse Yusuf; he defended him in moments of adversity, invested immense political capital when the odds were hostile, and stood firm when institutions and interests aligned against him. In Yusuf’s darkest moments, Kwankwaso’s resolve steadied the ship. That faith was ultimately vindicated by the Supreme Court’s judgment.

Through the Kwankwasiyya Movement, a grassroots political force that reshaped Kano’s political landscape, Kwankwaso nurtured a generation of ideologically grounded and battle-tested loyalists. Abba Kabir Yusuf was among the closest of this inner circle. He worked closely with Kwankwaso, absorbed the ethos of the movement, and rose through its ranks until he became governor. His growth was not accidental; it was mentorship in action.

Defection, in itself, is not a crime in politics. Democracies allow for ideological realignment and political evolution. But when defection occurs without conviction, principle, or respect for the ladder that made the climb possible, it crosses from strategy into betrayal. What makes Abba Kabir Yusuf’s defection particularly painful is not the party he chose, but the values he appeared to abandon.

This moment sends a chilling message: that loyalty expires once power is secured; that mentorship is useful only until ambition matures; that gratitude is optional in the face of convenience. It reinforces a dangerous culture in which people are treated as tools used, discarded, and forgotten once their purpose is served. In such a system, sacrifice becomes foolish, patience is mistaken for weakness, and trust becomes a liability.

The implications of this act may yet prove unfavourable to the governor. Political history is littered with examples of protégés who turned against their benefactors, only to discover that betrayal is a poor foundation for lasting power. Trust, once broken, rarely returns. Allies grow cautious, support bases fracture, and today’s reward for disloyalty can become tomorrow’s punishment.

Across history, betrayal has often been fatal politically and sometimes personally. In modern democracies, turncoats rarely control the consequences of their actions. They are welcomed briefly, used strategically, and discarded when convenient. Power respects strength, not ingratitude. Those who betray once are forever suspected of betraying again.

For the youth watching closely, the lesson is even more corrosive. Nigeria already grapples with deep political cynicism among young people, many of whom believe politics is devoid of integrity and that ideals are merely decorative language. This defection appears to confirm their worst fears. It teaches them that ideology is cosmetic, loyalty is naïve, and today’s mentor can become tomorrow’s obstacle. When leaders behave this way, they do not merely change parties; they poison the moral imagination of the next generation.

Beyond personalities, the broader damage is institutional. Societies are sustained not just by laws, but by trust, trust in leadership, in process, and in shared values. When betrayal is normalised at the top, it cascades downward. Friendships weaken, mentorship loses meaning, collective struggle evaporates, and politics becomes purely transactional. Everyone looks out only for themselves, and the nation pays the price.

Leadership is more than electoral success. It is consistency between words and actions. It is fidelity to those who stood firm when standing firm was costly. It is the courage to honour yesterday’s sacrifices even when today’s temptations beckon loudly. When power is pursued at the expense of character, the victory, however immediate is hollow.

History is rarely kind to turncoats. Political advantages may be enjoyed in the short term, but moral judgments endure far longer than electoral cycles. Time strips away propaganda and exposes motives. What remains is the record: who stood for principle, who honoured loyalty, and who chose expediency over conscience.

Abba Kabir Yusuf’s name now sits at a crossroads in Nigeria’s political memory. One path tells the story of a man lifted by mentorship, protected by loyalty, and sustained by collective struggle. The other tells a harsher story of ambition unmoored from gratitude, of power gained but trust lost, of a protégé who turned away from the very values that made his rise possible.

In the end, this is not just about Abba Kabir Yusuf or Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso. It is about the kind of politics Nigeria chooses to reward, whether loyalty still counts, whether mentorship still matters, or whether power must always come at the cost of principle.

Kwankwaso’s role in this story is not merely that of a wounded mentor; it is that of a political loyalty, structured grooming, and standing by one’s own in adversity. To betray such a figure is to betray more than a man; it is to betray an idea: that politics can still be anchored in gratitude, consistency, and trust.

Leadership is not defined by how quickly one adapts to power, but by what one refuses to abandon because of it. When loyalty is discarded for convenience, power may be gained, but something far more valuable is lost. Credibility erodes, moral authority collapses, and history takes notes.

In time, the noise will fade and the justifications will thin. What will remain is the record. And that record will ask a simple, unforgiving question: when the moment came to choose between loyalty and power, which did Abba Kabir Yusuf choose?

For now, the answer is written plainly in the sands of Kano politics, a cautionary tale of how the ultimate betrayal is not only against a mentor, but against the values that make leadership worth following.

History will decide, but it will not forget.

Okoronkwo is a communications strategist, a leadership and good governance advocate