Silencing the Drums of Ramadan: Inside Kano’s Tashe Ban and the Battle Between Culture, Security
Hussaini Ibrahim 
Hausa children performing Tashe drama during Ramadan
KANO, NIGERIA – The streets of Kano during Ramadan have long echoed with the laughter of children, rhythmic chants, and improvised theatre performances that define Tashe, a centuries-old Hausa tradition that turns neighbourhoods into stages of communal celebration.
But this year, the familiar sounds are fading.
In a controversial move, the Kano State Police Command has suspended the traditional Tashe performances in parts of the state, citing security concerns. The decision has ignited a wider debate across northern Nigeria: How far should authorities go to protect public safety if it risks silencing cultural heritage?
For many residents, the issue is not simply about entertainment. Tashe represents identity, education, and the living memory of Ramadan in Kano.
Yet security agencies warn that criminal groups have begun exploiting the gatherings — transforming what was once a symbol of community into a potential security risk.
As Ramadan unfolds, Kano now finds itself confronting a delicate question: Can tradition survive in a climate of rising insecurity? Hussaini Ibrahim, writes.
A Tradition Written in the Streets
For generations, Tashe has been woven into the fabric of Ramadan life among the Hausa people.
The practice dates back centuries, emerging from the unique blend of Islamic devotion and Hausa cultural storytelling that characterises northern Nigeria. Traditionally, children and teenagers gather in groups during the fasting month to perform short plays, songs, humorous sketches and folk narratives.
Moving from house to house after Tarawih prayers, they transform quiet streets into lively stages.
Residents reward the young performers with small gifts, snacks or coins — a gesture that reinforces community ties and encourages participation.
Over time, Tashe evolved beyond entertainment. It became an informal training ground where children develop confidence, storytelling ability, teamwork and public speaking skills.
For many families, the performances mark a cherished moment in Ramadan evenings.
“Tashe is part of our childhood memories,” many residents say. “It teaches our children how to speak, act and interact with elders.”
More importantly, the performances reinforce cultural values — respect, cooperation and humour — passed down through oral storytelling.
Why the Police Pulled the Plug
Authorities, however, say the festive gatherings are no longer as harmless as they once were.
In a press statement issued on February 28, 2026, the Kano State Commissioner of Police, Ibrahim Adamu Bakori, explained that the suspension was necessary to prevent criminal infiltration.
According to the police, recent intelligence reports indicate that some individuals have used Tashe gatherings as cover to commit crimes ranging from petty theft to drug-related offences.
“We are not against culture, but public safety must take precedence,” Bakori said.
“Parents and guardians must guide their wards and cooperate with security agencies.”
The police also encouraged residents to report emergencies through designated hotlines or the NPF Rescue Me app, part of efforts to strengthen community policing.
For law enforcement officials, the decision reflects a broader reality: Nigeria’s security landscape has changed, and public gatherings — even cultural ones — are increasingly vulnerable to exploitation.
Faith Leaders Seek a Middle Ground
While many acknowledge the security concerns, religious leaders argue that banning Tashe entirely could produce unintended consequences.
Mallam Ibrahim Shehu, Imam of Yan Kaba Mosque, believes the tradition still holds deep educational and spiritual value.
“Tashe is not only a cultural activity; it is an informal platform where children learn discipline, public interaction, and religious values,” he explained.
“Preventing them from participating completely may disconnect them from positive social engagement.”
Instead of banning the practice, Shehu advocates for supervised performances coordinated by community leaders and mosque committees.
Such oversight, he says, could ensure the gatherings remain safe while preserving their cultural significance.
Guardians of Memory
Elders across Kano echo similar concerns.
For Alhaji Musa Abubakar, a respected community elder in Kofar Nasarawa, Tashe represents a living archive of Hausa traditions.
“Tashe has been part of our Ramadan for decades,” he said.
“Our communities use it to bond, teach children etiquette, and celebrate faith.
“Security measures can coexist with culture if there is coordination between the police and local authorities.”
Abubakar believes controlled performances — combined with curfews and adult supervision — could allow the tradition to continue without compromising safety.
To him, losing Tashe would mean losing a piece of Kano’s cultural soul.
Youth Feel the Silence
Among the young performers themselves, the suspension has sparked disappointment and confusion.
Aminu Sani, a 17-year-old who has participated in Tashe since childhood, says the performances were one of the highlights of Ramadan.
“It is disappointing to see our performance stopped after so many years,” he said.
“Tashe is how we celebrate Ramadan together.
“We understand the need for safety, but we hope authorities can find a way to let us perform without fear.”
His words reflect a broader sentiment among young people who view the ban as a disruption of a cherished cultural rite of passage.
Parents Caught Between Safety and Tradition
Parents, meanwhile, find themselves navigating a difficult balance.
On one hand, they share the police’s concerns about safety. On the other, they worry about losing a tradition that helps shape their children’s social development.
Hajiya Aisha Usman, a mother of three, says the benefits of Tashe are undeniable.
“We want our children to enjoy Tashe safely,” she said.
“With elders, teachers, and police working together, I believe we can keep the tradition alive without risking their safety.”
Her perspective highlights the growing call for collaboration rather than prohibition.
A Cultural Heritage at Risk
Historians warn that suspending Tashe could have long-term cultural consequences.
Dr. Fatima Lawal, a historian at Bayero University Kano, describes the tradition as an important channel for preserving Hausa folklore and oral storytelling.
“If Tashe disappears from the streets, we risk losing a critical channel for cultural education,” she said.
“It teaches children about cooperation, respect, and community values.”
Lawal believes authorities should combine security enforcement with cultural education programmes to safeguard the tradition.
Without such efforts, she warns, future generations may inherit a Ramadan stripped of its cultural vibrancy.
Human Rights and Cultural Expression
Civil society groups have also entered the conversation.
Ahmed Bala of the Kano-based Centre for Civic Education says the issue reflects a broader tension between security and cultural rights.
“Communities must have space for cultural expression, but security agencies cannot ignore credible threats,” he said.
“Dialogue, regulation, and oversight are key.
“Banning Tashe outright may undermine the rights of children to participate in cultural life.”
Bala suggests creating structured guidelines — including designated performance areas, supervision and security presence — to ensure the tradition continues safely.
Lessons from Other States
Observers point to neighbouring states as possible models.
In places like Sokoto and Kaduna, local authorities have adopted regulated approaches rather than outright bans.
Security personnel patrol areas where Ramadan performances occur, while community leaders oversee participation.
These systems aim to strike a balance: protecting citizens while preserving tradition.
For many analysts, Kano could adopt a similar strategy.
The Road Ahead
As Ramadan progresses, Kano remains caught between two powerful imperatives: security and cultural preservation.
The debate over Tashe reflects a broader national challenge — how to protect communities without erasing the traditions that bind them together.
Experts, religious leaders and residents largely agree on one point: the issue is not whether Tashe should survive, but how it can survive safely.
If the drums of Tashe fall silent permanently, Kano risks losing more than a Ramadan performance.
It risks losing a cultural language — one spoken through laughter, stories and shared memory across generations.
And in a city were tradition shape’s identity, that silence could echo long after Ramadan ends.
About the Author
Edino Chubiyo Cornelius 
Otamere Gladness 
Korede Abdullah