Professor Ladi Sandra Adamu: A regimented star

She died, and the earth opened to receive her in a permanent embrace – sealing the end of a life lived in patterned intentions. While she lived, she left dotted lines of mercurial order. Professor Ladi Sandra Adamu lived a life of precision, her days shaped by regimented schedules and deliberate routines. From her immaculate […]

She died, and the earth opened to receive her in a permanent embrace – sealing the end of a life lived in patterned intentions. While she lived, she left dotted lines of mercurial order. Professor Ladi Sandra Adamu lived a life of precision, her days shaped by regimented schedules and deliberate routines. From her immaculate dress sense to her neatly set hair and carefully chosen cars, everything about her reflected an inherited discipline, a teleguided lifestyle where order was not just a habit but a creed.

When she walked, her steps could be counted – measured, deliberate, majestic. She was a beautiful, black African woman, a proud Arewa daughter who wore her arewanci like a crown. To call her a patriot is to understate her devotion. She was a nationalist deeply invested in the idea of Nigeria and unshakably loyal to its green identity.

A daughter of a soldier, she carried military discipline in her veins. I often described her as an “Academic General.” In nearly every lecture, she found a way to extol the virtues of the military – its order, commitment and sense of purpose. Her admiration was infectious; she stirred in her students a peculiar appetite for the military ethic. She lectured like a soldier giving a drill – clear, firm, no-nonsense. Many mistook that firmness for arrogance or harshness, but those who knew her closely saw a different truth: her passion was never for domination but transformation. She demanded excellence because she believed in potential. She hated laziness, despised indolence and had little patience for timidity.

I remember my encounter with her as an undergraduate during a broadcast class in the BBC studio in Zaria. It was an early morning, and while waiting for the class to begin, I sat down to read the newspapers laid out in the studio. When she arrived, my classmates scrambled to attention, but I remained seated, engrossed in the paper. She waited in her car until just before 8am. When she finally entered the class, she looked at me and said sharply, “Haruna, leave my class. This is a broadcast class; I don’t tolerate people reading newspapers in my class.”

I was startled but tried to explain myself. “Ma, I was reading before your class began. Besides, we need the newspapers to enrich our awareness of what to broadcast.” That, apparently was not the right defence. Her eyes flared, and she threatened to leave if I didn’t. My classmates pleaded with me to comply; and I eventually did. Later, at my class representative’s urging, I went to see her. She looked at me, half amused, half stern. “Much as I wasn’t happy that you disobeyed me, I am impressed by your boldness to explain yourself. I like students who aren’t easily cowed. Even if you must die, don’t die as a coward,” she said.

That moment marked the beginning of our mentor-student relationship. She saw in me a spark she believed belonged in broadcast journalism. “With your voice tone and intimidating gait, you belong before the microphone,” she once said.

I had, however, already chosen to specialise in public relations; yet, even from that distance, we remained connected. Our last encounter was in 2023 at the Mass Communication International Conference, where I served as the master of ceremonies. After my introduction, she took the podium and said, “No one has ever introduced me like this. I am humbled and proud that this came from my ex-student.”

It was a brief exchange, but it struck deeply. As fate would have it, I now live behind the mic, exactly where she once said I belonged.

She was an academic juggernaut, never afraid of intellectual controversy. I vividly remember her fiery exchange with Professor Sola Adeyanju during a departmental conference organised by the Mass Communication Students Association around 2003. The topic was “The Emergence of Online Journalism: A Threat or an Innovation?”

The late Dr Joe Degoshie moderated the session. Madam Ladi argued that online journalism would mostly disrupt print media, insisting that the broadcast industry would remain largely immune because of its immediacy and intimacy with the audience. Professor Adeyanju countered sharply, predicting that digital convergence would eventually engulf all media forms, including broadcast. What began as a scholarly debate quickly escalated into a heated intellectual skirmish, with tempers flaring and voices rising.

Dr Degoshie, ever the voice of reason, finally intervened, remarking that “the beauty of intellectual discourse lies not in victory but in the stimulation of thought.” The audience erupted in applause, not merely for his moderation but for the brilliance of the contest itself – a battle of minds between two towering figures of academia.

Professor Ladi Sandra Adamu was, without doubt, one of northern Nigeria’s foremost professors of broadcasting. Her scholarship was both pioneering and profound. She earned a PhD in Conflict Communication, becoming the first scholar in Nigeria to specialise in that emerging field.

A distinguished lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, her intellectual reach extended far beyond the classroom. She attended some of the world’s finest institutions, including City University, London (formerly College of Journalism, London); Columbia College, Hollywood, Los Angeles; Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles; the Golda Meir Mount Carmel International Institute in Haifa, Israel; and Ahmadu Bello University itself.

Her professional career was as versatile as it was impressive. She served as the first coordinator of ABU Campus FM, a position she held for 10 years, where she helped shape generations of broadcasters and student producers. Before that, she was the Deputy Editor of The Democrat newspaper in Kaduna, News Editor at NTA, Jos, and public relations officer at the Nigerian Embassy in Atlanta, Georgia, USA. A Fellow of both the African Council of Communication Educators (ACCE) and the Institute of Management Specialists (IMA), she had over 60 academic publications and more than 2,000 global citations on Academia.edu. Her inaugural lecture, titled “Digitisation of Conflict Reporting,” underscored her commitment to bridging technology and peace communication.

She hailed from Kanke Local Government Area of Plateau State – a quiet corner that produced a woman whose intellect commanded global attention.

That was Professor Ladi Sandra Adamu – brilliant, disciplined, unyielding, yet profoundly human. She lived with purpose, taught with conviction and loved with an intensity few could match.

The earth may have sealed her in its final embrace, but the echoes of her voice – firm, commanding and unforgettably alive – will continue to reverberate through the corridors of every classroom she ever graced.

Good night, Madam Ladi, the proud daughter of Adamu Pankshin.

Solemnly musing. 

Haruspice wrote from Abuja.