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What a crowd filled the conference hall! It was packed with senior and junior lawyers, some attending with their families and others alone. Off to the side, in a special seating area, were representatives of international NGOs that advocate for the rights of persons with disabilities and work to ensure equal rights, inclusion, and opportunities for people with special needs.
Although the hall was not particularly large, it was overflowing with attendees. Many were not there just to celebrate her recent appointment but came out of sheer curiosity — to see her in person, to confirm the rumors they’d heard about her health, and to witness the woman who had become a celebrity within Nigeria’s disability rights community. Her name had become widely recognized across media and social platforms. Her voice, long familiar to many as a staunch advocate for the rights and dignity of physically challenged people in Northern Nigeria, was now matched with a face.
Others came simply after seeing the invitation on social media, drawn by her popularity — yes, she truly was beloved by all. The organizations that champion the rights of persons with disabilities were the ones who organized this meet-and-greet event to celebrate her appointment as the head of the Nigerian Bar Association.
These organizations stood by her because of her unyielding commitment to defending the rights of disabled people in Northern Nigeria, her dedication to their development and education — including that of their children — in alignment with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), and her choice of career in defending the rights of the voiceless and the physically challenged.
Besides being an SDG Advocate, she is also an independent lawyer, focusing mainly on serving the less privileged — people who cannot afford legal representation or who have been violated due to their disability. She is a frontline defender of the rights of disabled individuals across the North.
When she entered the hall — radiating elegance and confidence — her hand gently held in his, they walked slowly to the front where they were to stand. The crowd rose in respect. Many, upon seeing her in person, whispered to themselves, “Indeed, Hauwa, seeing you surpasses hearing about you!”
Even though she wore her signature dark glasses, they couldn’t hide her graceful presence, refined beauty, and impeccable style.
After everyone settled, she took the microphone and began by expressing her heartfelt gratitude to all attendees — to her fellow distinguished lawyers, and to the organizations that put together this crucial meet-and-greet. These were the very groups that ensure people with special needs are not left behind in society, thanks in part to her work within the SDG framework. She thanked them again for persuading her to come out today — to show the world her face, which had until now been known only by her voice through the media. They asked her to share her story, hoping it might inspire others going through similar experiences.
The organizations involved included:
AGILE (a disability rights and development group)
Sight-Savers
Action Against Hunger
PERL (Partnership to Engage, Reform and Learn)
She also thanked journalists from BBC Radio, led by their Kano correspondent, and from VOA, under the leadership of Hamza Mustapha Mawonmase.
Above all, she said, “I thank the father of my children — whom I call my Pace-Setter.”
Her powerful voice rang through the speakers — a voice long familiar to many, now made even more vivid by the reality of her physical presence. As she began:
> “As everyone knows, my name is Hauwa-Kulu. Hauwa was the name they used when sacrificing the ram to name me.
Sometimes, especially when the breeze hits my face or during moments of reflection and joy, I beat my chest and tell myself:
No one had a sweeter childhood than I did!
I always believe I enjoyed my youth more than anyone of my generation. Why? Because I grew up in a time when peace reigned in our country, especially in the northern states. Both of my parents were alive and present, especially my mother, who showered me with affection. I enjoyed the blessings of parental love in a modest home typical of any ordinary family in Kano.
> I spent my childhood during a historic period in Nigeria — the late 1980s — when the military overthrew civilian government and took power from President Shehu Shagari.”
She continued, explaining how life then was simple, cooperative, and peaceful — a stark contrast to today. “I, Hauwa-Kulu, spent my youth during the regime of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida.”
> “In those days, the greatest wealth was peace of mind. People didn’t compete for wealth the way they do today. God granted us the luxury of inner peace and contentment — blessings far more valuable than today’s material riches, especially in a time so devoid of tranquility.
> In Kano, even the poorest could live modestly without despair. Hunger was rare. There was no obsession with fancy meals, sugary drinks, or expensive clothes. The difference between rich and poor wasn’t stark. Everyone shared food, wore similar clothes, and showed compassion to one another.
> Back then, we weren’t tormented by domestic terrorism or ruthless leadership. That’s why society was calm and satisfied. Crime like kidnapping for ransom was nonexistent, and there was no wild competition over flashy cars, tall buildings, or luxury fashion among women.
> That was the world I, Hauwa, grew up in — a time when life was soft and smooth.”
She concluded by emphasizing that, in those days, people didn’t live off bank loans. They earned their living through honest work that sustained them without debt or anxiety — unlike today, where borrowing to survive has become the norm, often leading to depression and other mental health issues. People were self-sufficient, joyful, and had enough to eat. Even the poorest could afford three meals a day — local staples like gurasa, tuwo, dumame, kunu, koko, and kosai.
> “In short,” she said, “even if you were the poorest of the poor, back then, you’d still never go hungry.”
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