In a dusty Methodist church in Jos, capital of Nigeria's Plateau state, Pauline Tallen prepares to make her case to become the next governor before a few dozen parishioners. But first she has a few rumours to shoot down: No – she will not partition the state; No – she has not promised the Muslim minority an emirate; No – her campaign is not funded by Saudi Arabia.
In a race where religious and ethnic affiliation has split the electorate, Mrs Tallen, a devout Catholic, now finds herself viewed by many as a Muslim proxy candidate in a majority Christian state simply for working to bridge the sectarian divide.
"I'm not only reaching out to the Muslims. I'm reaching out to the Christians, too. I balance as much as possible," she says in frustration after the campaign event.
Tensions run high in Nigeria a week after political violence killed hundreds in the wake of April 16's presidential election, which exposed the religious and ethnic divisions that plague Africa's most populous nation. As Nigerians once again head to the polls on Tuesday – this time to elect state governors – many worry the country's volatile religion and politics could fuel more bloodshed.
Once considered a rare island of peace along the volatile fault-line where Nigeria's Muslim north meets its Christian south, for nearly a decade Plateau State has been convulsed by violence. The violence is symptomatic of broader national tensions resulting from disputes about land ownership as well as political and economic opportunity that have been worsened during elections.
After massacres and reprisal killings left about 1,000 dead in only a few months last year, the federal government deployed hundreds of soldiers, placing the state under lockdown.
In the centre of Jos, heavily armed soldiers man a checkpoint to divide a Christian neighbourhood from an adjacent Muslim quarter. Nearby, a group of Christian men mill about in front of a crumbling wall with its campaign posters for Plateau's incumbent governor Jonah David Jang.
"Jang is my governor. I am Christian, and this is a Christian state. Jos, that stands for Jesus Our Saviour," says 32-year-old Linus Jack. His friends nod agreement. "This is a religious crisis. I used to have Muslim friends. But they want to capture Plateau State and make it Muslim. They killed my younger brother and three of my friends."
For many Christians, the crisis is the latest episode of a protracted battle to contain Muslim expansionism they say first threatened the state when a 19th-century northern jihad failed.
Mr Jang, former air force general turned Pentecostal preacher, has played to Christian worries of international Islamic conspiracy, publicly calling upon federal government to arrest foreign nationals he says are behind the violence.
It is no surprise Muslims, outnumbered by the Christian majority, see things differently. "Jang is a bigot. He hates Muslims with a passion," says Mohammed Lawal Ishaq, a member of the local Muslim affairs council. "Since 2008 and until now, Jang has never sat down and asked: 'What are your grievances? What do you want?'"
By Nigeria's constitution, indigenes – those believed to be a state's original inhabitants – take priority for secondary education, scholarships and lucrative jobs as civil servants.
Many of Plateau's Muslims are descendants of workers brought in by the British colonial administration to work in local tin mines and have roots in the state reaching back generations. They claim that, by law, they should have the possibility of becoming indigenes.
"America is great today because it accommodates the greatest brains in the world. We will accommodate all these people, encourage them, support them as long as they are patriotic about the development and progress of Plateau State," Mrs Tallen said.