In the hallowed halls of Kano's ancient emirate, a ridiculous and entertaining spectacle unfolds between two cousins vying for a throne that seems to multiply faster than rabbits. Muhammadu Sanusi and Aminu Ado Bayero, each convinced they're the rightful heir, engage in a comical power struggle that has transformed the Emirate into a stage for political theatre.

Sanusi, the dethroned and exiled emir, has made a dramatic return, reappointed faster than you can say "musical chairs." Meanwhile, Bayero clings to his title with the desperation of a cat scratching a post, even setting up camp in a “mini palace” that probably resembles a fancy garden shed more than a regal abode.

Enter Governor Abba Yusuf, the master puppeteer of this absurd drama, who dances around court orders with the creativity of a toddler explaining away crayon markings on the wall as “art.” One day, he’s signing laws with the gusto of a celebrity at a book signing; the next, he’s treating those same laws as if they were mere suggestions written in invisible ink.

The courts, not to be outdone, toss judgments around like hot potatoes. "The law is repealed! No, wait, it’s not! The appointment is annulled! But the law might be valid! Maintain the status quo, whatever that means!" Even the most seasoned lawyer would reach for the aspirin—or perhaps something stronger—trying to make sense of this legal ping-pong.

Sanusi, ever the showman, leads a durbar parade in defiance of police orders, strutting around like a peacock in a hen house, likely thinking, "Rules? What rules? I'm the emir, darling!" Not to be outdone, Bayero holds his own court in the Nassarawa palace, probably muttering, "I'm still relevant, I swear!"

As for the citizens of Kano, they watch this royal rumble with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Perhaps it would be simpler to flip a coin or have the cousins arm-wrestle for the title. After all, in the grand game of emirate hide-and-seek, it seems the only real winners are the lawyers, racking up billable hours faster than you can say "constitutional crisis."

Governor Yusuf’s interpretation of court orders adds another layer of comedy to this farce. He reinstates Sanusi as emir, apparently oblivious to—or more likely, deliberately ignoring—a federal court order to maintain the status quo. His antics would be amusing if they weren't so flagrantly disrespectful of the judicial process.

Sanusi’s participation in the traditional Sallah durbar, despite a police ban, was a bold defiance of authority, underscoring the absurdity of the situation. His parade, complete with local trumpets and drums, was a vivid reminder that in Kano’s game of thrones, pageantry often trumps legality.

Bayero, on the other hand, observed his Eid prayer at the Nassarawa palace, having canceled his own durbar activities. His quiet defiance stands in stark contrast to Sanusi’s flamboyance, adding a touch of irony to this theatrical feud.

The federal court’s latest judgment, which annulled Sanusi's reappointment but left the status of the new emirate law in limbo, has done little to clarify the mess. The court orders are about as clear as mud, leaving everyone involved to interpret them as they see fit. Governor Yusuf’s selective obedience to these orders only adds to the chaos.

The poor, bewildered citizens of Kano are left to watch this spectacle with bemusement, wondering if sanity will ever prevail. Perhaps it’s time to introduce a new method of conflict resolution—like a royal bake-off or a karaoke duel—because traditional governance certainly isn’t cutting it.

In this grand game of thrones, the only certainty is that the drama will continue, providing endless entertainment for onlookers. As for the rest of us, we’ll just have to grab some popcorn and enjoy the show. After all, in Kano’s game of thrones, you win or you… well, you just keep claiming you've won anyway.