One Of The Enduring Lessons I Learned From Kashim Shettima

With Kashim Shettima as one’s boss, friend, associate, or even casual acquaintance, a person is almost certain to become a better gentleman and a more patient fellow.

From the very first meeting, however brief, he leaves an impression of genuine warmth and an unspoken bond that one instinctively wishes would endure for a lifetime. His broadminded and large-hearted worldview is immediately apparent. He conveys the quiet assurance of a man who will watch your back and stand firmly by you, even if it means taking the bullet on your behalf.

I have known and related with him for two and a half decades. Although he is just four years my junior, he has always demonstrated a natural willingness to address me as “Sir,” irrespective of his own steady and remarkable rise through public life.

From his days as a University Lecturer, a bank manager, a Commissioner, Governor of Borno State to his time as a Senator and now as Vice President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, Kashim Shettima has taught me many lessons that have shaped my outlook and changed the way I respond to life’s defining challenges. One particular episode remains firmly etched in my mind.

While he was still a Senator, I once visited his residence in Abuja. As was our usual practice, we shared a meal and settled into a long, free-flowing conversation about Nigeria, its politics, and its many challenges. He has always possessed a superior intellect and an impressive grasp of both national and global affairs. Our discussion was, as ever, laced with his characteristic humour, and we laughed heartily throughout.

In the middle of this exchange, word came from the gate that two men had arrived with two rams sent as Sallah gifts by a well-known personality whose name I shall withhold. Shettima invited me and one other visitor to accompany him outside so that he could receive the gifts and, in keeping with custom, offer the messengers some token of appreciation.

What greeted us outside were two very small, skeletal rams held by the rope by the two messengers. The moment I set eyes on them, I could not suppress a quiet sigh of disbelief. These animals could not possibly have been the original gifts from a man of the sender’s standing. My colleague shared the same unspoken surprise.

We neither scolded the men nor openly expressed any disapproval. Yet it was clear in our minds that the messengers had either substituted cheaper animals or sold the original ones and replaced them with these skinny rams for personal gain.

To my astonishment, Kashim Shettima looked genuinely pleased. He thanked the two men warmly for their trouble and immediately placed a call to the sender. The moment the call was answered, he began expressing deep gratitude for the “very big rams.” I heard him tease, with his usual humour, that the animals were so large one could easily have mistaken them for cows. Switching to Hausa, he added with a laugh, “Kamar in hau ɗayan in yi sukuwa da shi” — as if one could mount one of them and race with it.
He appeared truly delighted. Turning to the messengers, he reached into his pocket and gave them a sum large enough to purchase at least four rams of the size they had brought.

When we returned indoors, I could no longer contain my curiosity. I asked him why he had reacted in that manner when it was obvious that the two men had been dishonest. He laughed so heartily that I briefly wondered what could possibly be amusing about such clear misconduct.

Then he spoke words that have stayed with me ever since: “Never ever be the reason for anybody to lose his means of livelihood. You expect me to scold them or to call their Oga and report them? That would have been very unbecoming of me.”
He went on to explain, with characteristic calm, the need to understand human nature, particularly when dealing with people of small means. Most of them, he said, have families to feed, school fees to pay, hospital bills to settle, and debts hanging over their heads. Going about matters in that way to solve personal problems was certainly uncharitable and somehow unacceptable, he acknowledged, but they must have been doing it for some time without being caught by their principal. “Don’t ever allow such people to be caught through you,” he concluded.

That encounter and the quiet lecture that followed changed the way I see life. I became slower to anger and far more indifferent to being short-changed by those struggling simply to survive.

Looking back at how Shettima laughed the matter off, kept his composure, deliberately looked away from an obvious indiscretion, and still gave far more than he had received, I understood a profound truth: life is largely what we make of it. One loses nothing by exercising patience with others. Indeed, one grows larger in stature by remaining calm and generous in the face of what many would regard as unpardonable behaviour from those at the lower rungs of society.

In that single moment, Kashim Shettima demonstrated not only personal magnanimity but a deep, practical understanding of leadership, empathy, and the quiet dignity of allowing the weak to retain both their livelihood and their face. It remains one of the many habits of the heart that those privileged to know him closely cannot help but absorb.

Yakubu Ahmed BK is the Commissioner of Information and Culture, Kebbi State. August 5, 2026