End of an Era: From the Oldest Struggle for Self-Determination to the Dawn of Mental Slavery in the Land of Freedom in Zaarland.

 

End of an Era: From the Oldest Struggle for Self-Determination to the Dawn of Mental Slavery in the Land of Freedom in Zaarland.

On Tuesday, 20th October 2025, an era quietly came to an end. It marked what many believe to be the closing chapter of the Zaar struggle for self-determination  a struggle that began centuries ago and has shaped the identity, resilience, and consciousness of the Zaar people.

The Zaar struggle for self-determination is not a recent political invention. It stretches back to ancient times  long before colonial boundaries and modern state structures. As far back as the pre-9th century period, during eras of constant tribal wars and territorial expansions by stronger kingdoms over smaller ones, the Zaar people faced repeated disruptions. Raids, forced migrations, and insecurity made it impossible to establish a stable sociopolitical environment.

In search of safety, dignity, and autonomy, Zaar communities moved across regions. Historical traditions suggest shared migration histories with communities in present-day Bauchi State, Southern Borno, and Plateau State. The struggle was not merely about land; it was about preserving identity and independence in an environment dominated by expansionist forces.

The nineteenth century brought another decisive moment. In 1812, after consolidating his campaigns, Usman dan Fodio declared the Sokoto Caliphate. His movement sought expansion across vast territories, including parts of the Middle Belt. One of his lieutenants, Yakubu Bauchi, led military expeditions southward into Bauchi territories.

While some Jarawa communities were subdued, the Sayawa (Zaar) people resisted conquest. Their rugged terrain and decentralized, independent social organization proved difficult to control. Historical accounts note that a friendship treaty was once concluded at Inkil  symbolized by the breaking of bows and arrows  but peace did not endure. Subsequent raids for tribute and slaves reopened hostilities.

Further jihadist campaigns into the Benue and Taraba regions between 1875 and 1895 similarly faced resistance. The Caliphate’s expansion halted where resilient communities defended their autonomy.

It was ultimately colonial intervention that altered the political landscape. In the early 1900s, the British administration merged the Middle Belt into the Northern Protectorate, completing through policy what military expeditions had failed to achieve. In 1916, Zaar land was formally merged into the Bauchi Emirate under British colonial authority  not by direct conquest of the Sokoto Caliphate, but through administrative restructuring under the Native Authority Ordinance.

Yet the struggle did not end.

The introduction of Christianity in Zaarland marked a turning point. Early converts such as Baba Peter Gonto, Samaila Ma’aji, Haruna Samari, Ayuba Gobara, and others embraced literacy and education. Through mission schools, they acquired the tools of reading and writing  tools that would become weapons of intellectual resistance.

In 1945, these early educated elites formed the “Committee of New Rule” (Sabon Mulki), challenging colonial policies that strengthened Emirate authority at the expense of indigenous structures. The pattern shifted: from armed resistance to intellectual and political advocacy.

That model became the modern expression of Zaar self-determination.

However, after the passing of key nationalist figures   Baba Gonto, Baba Kyauta, Dr. Buƙata, Rev. Elejah Bawa, Samu Bitkon, Barrister J.K. Manzo, and others,  Zaarland experienced a leadership vacuum. Transition proved difficult. Political realignments deepened divisions. Among elites in government, academia, business, and politics, unity weakened.

Gradually, disagreement outweighed agreement. Political rivalries multiplied. Rural-urban suspicions intensified. Youth confidence in traditional authority declined. The once unified moral force that placed collective advancement above personal ambition became fragmented.

It was in this atmosphere of vulnerability that, on Tuesday 20th October 2025, Senator Bala Mohammed assented to the Zaar Chiefdom Law with headquarters at Mhrim-Pusji. To some, this represented institutional recognition. To others, it marked the end of a centuries-long struggle for autonomous self-definition  and the beginning of a new phase many describe as mental submission rather than physical conquest.

History teaches that struggles rarely end in silence; they transform. What changes is not always the existence of struggle, but its nature.

My prayer remains that Zaarland will be guided by leadership rooted in integrity, courage, and cultural understanding  leadership that prioritizes the dignity of the people above all else. Without such leadership, confusion may persist, and division may deepen.

May God, the God of majesty and splendour, guide Zaarland toward wisdom, unity, and strength.

*Mental Slavery in the Land of Freedom*.

When we talk about slavery in Zaarland, many people feel offended. Zaar is a land of proud people  who valued freedom long before it became a political slogan.

Our ancestors were farmers, hunters, community builders, not subjects waiting to be ruled. They believed that no man should sit above others without the consent of the community.

The slavery we face now is not the kind our ancestors fought with bows and courage. It comes quietly. It wears official titles. It speaks the language of government and “tradition,” even when it has little to do with our real traditions. It tells us who our leader is, how he should dress, how he should rule, and then asks us to accept it as our own culture.

Zaar leadership was never about one man ruling over everyone else. It was about consultation, balance, and collective voice. Authority came from the people and could be questioned by the people. No crown was above the community. Respect was earned through service, not inherited through imposed structures.

Today, many ordinary Zaar people feel pushed aside. Decisions are taken far away from them. Symbols that do not speak our history are forced on us. When people question this, they are told to keep quiet, to be grateful, or to stop “fighting the state.” Slowly, fear replaces dialogue, and silence replaces participation.

This is how modern slavery works.

What hurts most is that this did not happen only because of outsiders. Some of our own brothers and sisters educated, powerful, influential helped make it happen.

They spoke for us without listening to us. They negotiated our identity as though it were a political bargain. Maybe they thought it was progress. Maybe they thought resistance was useless. But in doing so, they left ordinary people behind.

Our ancestors, without universities or titles, understood something simple: a leader imposed on a people will never truly belong to them. That is why they resisted again and again in 1959, in 1976, in 1991 not because they loved conflict, but because they valued dignity.

Today, we are told this new Chiefdom is tradition. But tradition cannot be borrowed, and identity cannot be worn like a costume. When a system copies emirate patterns and presents them as Zaar culture, it turns our history into something unfamiliar even to ourselves.

This is why many people feel enslaved in a land that once celebrated freedom. Not because there is a throne, but because the people no longer recognize themselves in it.

Freedom is not just about having a traditional ruler. It is about having a voice. It is about being seen, heard, and respected. It is about continuity with our ancestors, not replacement of their wisdom.

Zaarland is not asking for chaos. It is asking for dignity. For a system that grows from its own soil, not one transplanted from elsewhere.

And someday, when emotions cool and history speaks honestly, the question will not be who had the title, but who stood with the people, and who watched as their freedom quietly slipped away.