Across the farmlands of Kano, Katsina, Jigawa, and much of Northern Nigeria, the end of the rainy season has always carried a familiar rhythm, a time of relief, laughter, and gratitude. It is the period fondly called Kaka, the harvest season, when barns overflow with grains, millet, groundnuts, and maize; when the scent of roasted corn fills the air, and families celebrate the fruits of their labour.
But this year, the joy that once defined Kaka feels subdued. The songs of harvest are fading, replaced by silence, worry, and a deepening sense of hardship.
In Kano’s bustling Dawanau Market, traders sit beside mountains of produce, their faces marked by frustration. “People come, they look, they ask, but they don’t buy,” said Kabiru Muhammad, a grain merchant of 20 years. “Before, I wouldn’t even have time to rest at this time of year. Now we are counting hours, not money.”
Once, Kaka was the season when families breathed again after months of scarcity — debts were paid, marriages planned, and children returned to school in new uniforms. This year, however, the rhythm has broken. Prices of staples may have dropped slightly with new harvests, yet many households say they cannot afford even the cheaper food items.
“Food is everywhere, but there is no money,” said Hajiya Zainab, a mother of four in Kano’s Yankaba area. “Even to cook tuwo da miyan wake, you think twice before buying groundnut oil.”
Not a Bumper Harvest
In villages stretching across Katsina, Jigawa, and Sokoto, farmers recount similar stories of disappointment. They survived high fertilizer prices, insecurity, and transport costs, only to face a market that no longer rewards their effort.
“Last year, we prayed for rain. This year, we got it. But now we are praying for buyers,” said Alhaji Isa, a millet farmer in Bichi. “My barn is full, but my pocket is empty.”
In Badume, Kano State, onion farmer Musa Dan’Isa sounded defeated after selling a sack of onions for N10,000 to N11,000. “After paying for fertilizer, labour, and transport, I made almost nothing,” he said. “If things continue like this, I don’t see any reason to farm next year.”
What should be a season of gratitude has turned into one of despair. Many farmers say the harvest no longer guarantees survival, let alone celebration.
Economy Struggling to Breathe
Economists say the problem reflects a broader crisis of liquidity and weak purchasing power across the country. Inflation has eroded household income, and the removal of fuel subsidies has sent production and transport costs soaring.
“Harvest season should naturally stimulate local economies,” said Dr Ibrahim Umar, an economist based in Kano. “But what we have now is a liquidity drought. People simply don’t have money. Even when food is available, purchasing power has collapsed.”
Money that once flowed freely between farmers, traders, and transporters now stalls at the top of the chain. “The stream has dried up,” said Dr Umar. “Only a few benefit, while the rest struggle to survive in a system that no longer circulates wealth.”
Losing the Spirit of the Season
Beyond the economic toll, the cultural essence of Kaka is also fading. Once a period of thanksgiving marked by music, laughter, and communal sharing, the harvest now feels hollow.
“Our parents used to say Kaka is God’s mercy after hard labour,” said Aisha Abdullahi, a teacher in Hadejia. “Now it feels like we are working only to survive. The joy of the season is gone.”
In many communities, gatherings that once marked the end of the harvest — with songs, storytelling, and feasts — have been replaced by quiet evenings and whispered worries about the next planting season.
A Season of Reflection
The fading joy of Kaka tells a larger story of how economic hardship is reshaping traditions and daily life in Northern Nigeria. It reflects the struggles of people who have always relied on the land — now battling forces far beyond their control: insecurity, inflation, and declining social safety nets.
While Northern farmers remain resilient, their resilience is being tested. Until they can once again taste the sweetness of their labour, Kaka will remain a season remembered for its promise — not for its peace.
From Kano to Katsina, Sokoto to Bauchi, the question echoes across the North:
Will Kaka ever return to what it once was — a time when the harvest brought relief, laughter, and the comfort of enough?
