10/10/2026
ENNA YEBO SOKO CLUBU: THE SONG THAT REMEMBERS A GENERATION AND THE DREAM OF A GREATER BIDA
By Abbas Yabagi Yusuf Sani
There are songs we listen to for entertainment, and there are songs that carry the memories of a people, the aspirations of a generation, and the history of a society. The late Hajiya Halima, a veteran Nupe musician, gave us one such piece of history through her remarkable songs, “Enna Yebo Soko Clubu” and “NPN.”
Anyone who listens to these songs with an understanding of Bida's history and the evolution of Kin-Nupe society will appreciate the depth of wisdom, political consciousness, and economic aspirations embedded in their lyrics. To me, these songs are more than musical compositions. They are historical documents preserved in melody, carrying the names, ideas, alliances, and ambitions of a generation that envisioned a greater Bida.
I believe “Enna Yebo Soko Clubu” dates back to the late 1970s, although its precise date deserves further historical verification. The song recalls a generation of Bida's prominent personalities who came together with a shared ambition: to strengthen Bida's social, political, and economic position. Many of the names mentioned were influential figures in the economic and political life of Bida and the wider Kin-Nupe community. Some are remembered as belonging to Bida's founding or origin families, whose contributions helped shape the town's identity and development.
The idea behind Enna Yebo Soko Clubu, as I understand it, was to build a politically conscious and economically vibrant Bida—a community whose people could organise around common interests, mobilise their resources, and work collectively towards development. It was about creating a movement that transcended individual ambitions and gave people a shared purpose.
Perhaps the political circumstances of that period also contributed to its emergence. The decision to locate Niger State's capital in Minna rather than Bida may have intensified the desire among some Bida stakeholders to organise around the town's economic and political future. Whether or not this was the original motivation, the broader aspiration appears to have been clear: Bida must not surrender its developmental ambitions simply because it did not become the state capital.
The movement associated with Yebo Soko Clubu subsequently became connected with the National Party of Nigeria (NPN) and the political landscape of Bida and Niger State. But beyond the party affiliation, what stands out in this historical recollection is the idea of collective purpose. The members appeared to share an understanding of what they wanted for Bida, and their loyalty to the movement, its objectives, and one another became part of the story passed down through oral accounts and music.
What is particularly striking is the way Hajiya Halima's songs preserved their names. When she mentions personalities such as Alhaji Gimba Katako, Alhaji Ndalima Paintin, Alhaji Nma Lochita, Bamisu, Alhaji Kawu, and many others, she does more than identify individuals. She gives listeners a glimpse into a network of people whose lives were intertwined with the political and economic history of their time.
These names provoke questions that go beyond nostalgia. What were their dreams for Bida? What institutions did they hope to build? What economic structures did they envision? What political principles held them together? How much of their vision was realised, and what became of the ideals they championed?
These are questions worth asking because history should not end with remembering the names of those who came before us. It should also help us understand their ideas, assess their achievements, examine their limitations, and learn from their experiences.
It is painful that the movement's broader aspirations appear to have faded from public consciousness. Today, many people may remember these personalities primarily when the songs are played. Their names remain familiar to some, but the ideas and collective ambitions associated with their generation have not been transmitted to younger generations with the same force.
The result is a gradual disconnection between the present generation and an important part of Bida's political and economic memory. We remember the personalities, but how much do we know about their principles? We celebrate the music, but how much of the movement's vision have we documented? We speak fondly of the old days, but what practical lessons have we carried into the present?
Over the years, different individuals and groups may have attempted to revive the spirit of collective action associated with that era. Yet times have changed, political circumstances have evolved, and the social and economic realities of today are different. Recreating the past exactly as it was may neither be possible nor necessary. What matters is identifying the enduring principles that made collective action meaningful and adapting them to the needs of the present.
I have spent considerable time listening carefully to Hajiya Halima's two songs, Enna Clubu and NPN. Each time I listen, I find myself reflecting on the names she mentions. I mentally follow the trail of these personalities, wondering whether the marks of their dreams can still be found in their families, among their children, in their neighbourhoods, in the institutions they supported, and across Bida itself.
When I hear names like Alhaji Gimba Katako, Alhaji Ndalima Paintin, Alhaji Nma Lochita, Bamisu, Alhaji Kawu, and the many others immortalised in those songs, I cannot help but ask myself: Did Bida ultimately become the kind of town these men hoped it would become?
Perhaps some of their ambitions were realised. Perhaps others were overtaken by political changes, generational differences, or circumstances beyond their control. We cannot fairly judge the entirety of their legacy without examining the historical record. But their story presents us with an opportunity to investigate what they built, what they achieved, what they left unfinished, and what succeeding generations can learn from them.
I often imagine what Bida might look like today if the collective vision associated with that generation had been systematically documented, institutionalised, and passed from one generation to another. Could Bida have developed into a model of locally driven economic growth, political organisation, entrepreneurship, and community-led development? Could the collective energy of that era have inspired enduring institutions capable of surviving changes in leadership and political parties?
These questions may remain hypothetical, but they are not without value. They challenge us to think about the relationship between collective vision and lasting development. A movement may begin with influential personalities, but its future depends on whether its ideas become institutions, whether its principles are passed on, and whether succeeding generations are prepared to carry the work forward.
This, perhaps, is the most important lesson of Enna Yebo Soko Clubu.
The song reminds us that there was a time when people could come together around a common vision for Bida. It reminds us that political participation can be linked to economic aspirations, that community identity can inspire collective action, and that a generation can leave behind something more enduring than individual fame.
But it also reminds us of the danger of allowing history to survive only in songs.
The late Hajiya Halima may have given these personalities a place in our collective memory, but it is now the responsibility of historians, researchers, community leaders, families, and younger generations to recover the stories behind those names.
For me, Enna Yebo Soko Clubu is not merely a song about people who once mattered in Bida. It is a reminder of a collective dream whose full story is yet to be told.
Perhaps the real tragedy is not simply that the movement faded. It is that a generation may have left behind a vision whose lessons we have not fully recovered.
A people who preserve only the names of their predecessors, without preserving the ideas that gave those names meaning, risk inheriting the memory of greatness without understanding its foundations.
The question before us is no longer simply who these men were. It is what they hoped to achieve, what they actually accomplished, and what we, as the present generation of Kin-Nupe, intend to do with the legacy they left behind.
The music is still playing. The names are still being called.
The question is whether we are willing to listen deeply enough to understand the history—and courageous enough to build upon it.
