Mobility At A Standstill: The Struggle For Kano’s Disabled, Amid Rising Tricycle Costs
The rising cost of Persons With Disabilities (PWD) tricycles in Kano State has forced many disabled children to drop out of school, because of the inability to afford the crucial mobility aid needed to continue their education.
Stallion Times reporter, Stephen Enoch explores this crisis in-depth, focusing on one of Kano’s oldest tricycle manufacturing mini-factories, now on the brink of collapse, and how its potential shutdown could severely impact the disabled community without urgent intervention.
Zaliha Ahmed’s dream of becoming a doctor was as bright as the sun over Dan Amale, a small village in Rimin Gado Local Government Area (LGA), 53 kilometers from Kano.
Born into a family of seven children, Zaliha stood out, not only because she was the firstborn but also because of her kind heart and deep sense of responsibility for her younger siblings.
Her parents, recognizing this potential, sent Zaliha to live with her aunt in Kano’s Brigade suburb in Nassarawa LGA, hoping that she could receive a better education and fulfill her dream of becoming the village’s first medical doctor.
But Zaliha’s journey has been a difficult one. She is among the many children in Kano who were affected by polio, leaving her physically disabled. Determined to give her every chance to succeed, Zaliha was enrolled in Brigade Primary School under the care of Habiba Usman, her aunt.
She excelled in school, with a sharp mind quickly mastering subjects, but as she reached the end of her primary education, the young lad’s hopes of continuing to secondary school were dashed.
“I want to go to school, but the lack of a tricycle for people like me has made life unbearable,” Zaliha said, her voice shaking with frustration. Zaliha’s disability means she cannot walk, and for years, 64-year-old Habiba carried her to and from school. But as Habiba has grown older, the physical strain of carrying Zaliha has become too much.
Now feeble and frail, Habiba can no longer provide this support, leaving Zaliha trapped at home.
“The one thing that could change my fate is a PWD tricycle, a mobility aid designed to give people like me the independence I need to navigate. But the cost of such a tricycle is far beyond what my family can afford.
“The tricycle is just too expensive, without it, I can’t go to school. My aunt has tried everything she can, but nothing has worked,” Zaliha said, as tears rolled down her cheek and dropped on her Yellow Hijab.
This simple equipment stands as a barrier between Zaliha and her education. Like many other physically challenged children in Kano, Zaliha says her future hangs in the balance due to the high cost of these tricycles.
Zaliha Ahmed PC: Stephen Enoch
Back in Dan Amale, Zaliha’s days are now marked by sorrow and frustration. She spends her time watching her younger siblings go to school, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the weight of her circumstances. “Every day, when I see my younger siblings going to school, I feel so sad because I used to be a student too,” Zaliha said, her voice barely audible through her tears. “Now I’m forced to drop out.”
The emotional weight of Zaliha’s situation has also drawn the attention of her relatives. Recently, some have suggested that the best course for her is marriage.
“They think I should just get married and settle down since I can’t go to school anymore,” Zaliha said, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes. “But I don’t want that. I want to go to school, get a good education, and maybe become a doctor, a nurse, or work in the medical field.”
She shared her story, and the depth of frustration and sadness was palpable. Sitting on the red, sandy floor, Zaliha crawled toward the shade where she could speak more comfortably. Every movement sent up puffs of dust that clung to her knees.
I have heard of many empowerment programs for people like me but none have reached me, even though people have collected my details and promised I would get help.”
Habiba, Zaliha’s aunt, sat on a worn-out stool in front of her frying pan, along the roadside when she spoke to this reporter, her frail hands clasped together as she spoke of her niece’s struggles.
Her voice, heavy with years of worry and exhaustion, broke as she recounted the years of care she had provided for Zaliha, her disabled niece who had been left without the one tool that could secure her future—a PWD tricycle.
“Zaliha is a bright girl with bigger dreams than our village. But I am old and I cannot keep carrying her to school. It has become too much for me.”
Habiba Usman, Zaliha’s Aunt PC: Stephen Enoch
As Habiba aged, she knew Zaliha’s dependence on her would only grow if something was not done. About three years ago, realizing her strength was fading, she reached out to a local craftsman, Malam Aminu Tudunwada, who owns the oldest PWD tricycle manufacturing mini-factory in Kano, along Katsina road.
Malam Aminu was known for creating affordable tricycles for people with disabilities, and Habiba hoped that Aminu would solve Zaliha’s pressing needs.
“I went to Malam Aminu, pleading with him for a solution, I had hoped he could help us because I knew I was getting too old and feeble. I wanted to ensure Zaliha could continue her education, to be the independent she deserves.
“Even after three years of waiting, nothing has changed. I have been looking to that mini-factory, praying that they could help provide a tricycle for Zaliha. Her future is slipping away, and I feel powerless.”
The helplessness in Habiba’s words revealed the deep emotional toll this journey had taken on her. For three long years, she had hoped and waited, watching her niece’s potential wither as her physical limitations kept her from pursuing her dreams. “Zaliha is a good girl, and she deserves better than this,” Habiba said.
Crisis Hits Kano’s PWD Tricycle Mini-Factory, Leaving Disabled Community in Limbo
Malam Aminu Tudunwada, a craftsman who operates the oldest PWD tricycle manufacturing mini-factory in Kano, is all too familiar with stories like Zaliha’s.
Since 1980, Malam Aminu has dedicated his life to making tricycles for people with disabilities (PWDs) at affordable prices. Having experienced the same hardships as a disabled person himself, he understands the impact of mobility on education and independence.
He narrates his story to Stallion Times: “I also dropped out of school because I didn’t have a tricycle to aid my mobility. I became a burden, and no one could take me to school,”
“That was 44 years ago, and my aim has always been to manufacture tricycles for PWDs at a much more affordable cost,” he recounted.
However, despite his best efforts, the rising cost of materials has put immense pressure on his factory. What used to be sold at around N45,000 now costs at least N90,000 for a basic tricycle.
“We try to make them affordable because we know how hard life is for PWDs, but many, especially those who need it critically for education, cannot afford even that. Some of the more advanced tricycles can cost as much as N150,000, placing them far out of reach for families like Zaliha’s.
The impact of these rising costs is evident. While over 93 tricycles sit in his factory, ready for sale, the demand has significantly dropped.
A section of Aminu’s factory where tricycles are lying for sale PC: Stephen Enoch
“Unlike before, when the factory was bustling with activity, many workers have left because the income they take home is too little. We used to have about 60 workers, but now we can barely boast of 28, and the numbers are dropping day by day.”
The challenges facing Malam Aminu’s factory go beyond just material costs. Operating the mini-factory in open air, with no permanent structure, has exposed his business to the elements.
According to Mallam Aminu, he has appealed to the Kano State government for land to establish a proper factory, but his pleas have gone unanswered.
“We’ve written several letters upon letters, but we never got a positive response. If we had a fully-fledged factory, we could produce more affordable tricycles for the disabled community, especially children like Zaliha,” he said.
Despite these obstacles, Malam Aminu has continued to train PWDs in tricycle manufacturing, free of charge, helping them establish workshops in states like Zamfara, Sokoto, Niger, and even in the Niger Republic.
Malam Aminu Tudun Wada, tricyle enterpreneur PC: Stephen Enoch
However, his mini-factory is on the verge of collapse. “If things were better, we would have raised funds to assist Zaliha so she could continue her education,” he lamented, “but as things are, we cannot.”
Malam Aminu called for urgent government and private sector intervention, not only in providing land but also in offering loans and empowerment schemes to help sustain his business.
“Sometimes we see the government buying PWD tricycles elsewhere, but if they bought from us, it would be much cheaper, and it would improve our business and the livelihoods of PWDs,” he said.
He pointed out that as his factory faces tough times, so too does the hope for children like Zaliha, whose future hangs on the availability of the tools they need to thrive in school.
More Gloomy Tales
The workers at Malam Aminu Tudunwada’s PWD tricycle manufacturing factory in Kano are facing dire circumstances as the factory struggles to stay afloat.
Abdulmumin Mohammed, who works in the painting section, has seen many of his colleagues leave because of the dwindling patronage and the impact of rising inflation.
“A small tin of paint that used to sell for N4,000 now costs N15,000. It’s become so expensive that I don’t come to work every day anymore—only when there’s work, and I know I’ll make some money. Otherwise, I have to find other ways to survive.”
Abdulmumin working in the painting section of the factory PC: Stephen Enoch
Tin of Paint at the factory PC: Stephen Enoch
He described how, week after week, workers are forced to quit due to the difficult conditions at the factory. “Just last week, one of my friends left the job,” he said. “A lot of us are grumbling. If things don’t change soon, more people will leave.”
Auwalu Shuai’bu, another worker in the wheeling section, has also felt the pinch.
To support his family, he’s had to take on extra work, driving a gasoline tricycle (Keke Napep) to transport passengers when there’s no money to be made at the factory.
“I can’t survive on what I earn from the workshop anymore,” Auwalu admitted.
“When I’m not making enough here, I use my Keke Napep to pick up passengers. If there are no passengers, I play para-soccer to earn something.”
Despite these challenges, Auwalu stays at the factory because of his passion for producing affordable tricycles for people with disabilities (PWDs) in Kano. But the reality is harsh.
“Things are tough now, PWDs can’t afford these tricycles, which are a necessity. It breaks my heart to see this.”
Auwalu working in the wheeling section PC: Stephen Enoch
Both Abdulmumin and Auwalu expressed their urgent plea for government support, echoing the thoughts of his colleagues.
“If the government could empower me with loans, we could continue making these tricycles affordable for the disabled community. Otherwise, the future of this workshop—and the people we help—looks bleak.”
The workers’ struggle reflects the larger battle for survival within the factory, which has long been a lifeline for PWDs in Kano but is now on the verge of collapse.
Stallion Times observes that as Malam Aminu’s factory teeters on the brink of collapse, his once-vital mission of providing affordable mobility for PWDs may soon become a distant memory, leaving many—like Zaliha—trapped in a cycle of unfulfilled potential, unable to access the education that could transform their lives.
This report was published with the support of Civic Media Lab.
