The Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF) and the Northern Elders Forum (NEF) were in the media yesterday (Sunday) urging President Bola Tinubu to replicate in the North the feat that rescued the Oriire pupils and teachers in Oyo State. I am with them. Their request is not a northern demand; it is a national obligation. No Nigerian child anywhere should be in captivity. I particularly agree with their demand since Tinubu’s monkey has displayed such astonishing dexterity in scaling the Oriire trees. Let it prove the cynics wrong by showing that its skill was not because some juju pulled the trees close together.

But I also have a message for ACF and NEF: life returns to you what you put into it. If you do not sweat like the labourers at Oyingbo, you cannot gleam like Adegboro at Oja-Oba. The Oyo children and their teachers would probably have vanished like bad fart into odious oblivion, had their governor, their state government, their media and the whole of Yoruba people not fought openly and relentlessly for them. Abuja alone neither can nor will save anyone.

Nigeria is a cold, lonely and often wicked place. Alátiṣe must help Alátiṣe. When your people are kidnapped, and you choose to play the politics of silence, you gag the press, punish critics, criminalise the cries of victims and dismiss public outrage, you weaken the very pressure that compels governments to act. The North does all those. Had the Yoruba of the South-West behaved that way, the Oriire children and teachers would long have been swept away by the flood of life. Silence in the face of evil is not dignity; it is complicit surrender.

The Oriire mass abduction of kids was a snake that was treated as a snake. The Yoruba love life and love kids – all kids. They also value education and knowledge. You feel it in their songs, and see it in their dance. They live before death; if they must die, it would not be a surrender at the backyard of the foolish. I am very lucky to be of that race of giants.

“More than 40 other children — some as young as two — were taken from their schools in northeast Borno State on the same day as the Oyo kidnapping. They are still in captivity. Such attacks are more common in the North than in the South-West of the country.”

Germany’s international broadcaster, Deutsche Welle (DW), made that observation in its last Friday report on the release of the 44 pupils and teachers abducted by terrorists from schools in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State on May 15, 2026. Why are the Borno kids not back home like those from Oriire? Borno was where Chibok happened 12 years ago. Borno is also where scores of students writing NECO were abducted by gunmen last month. The bush of Borno is tired of receiving kidnap victims. The state is the springhead of a flood that has defied all logic.

I read a statement on Saturday by the Kwara State chapter of the PDP lamenting that 176 persons—children, women, the young and the old—from Woro community in Kaiama Local Government Area of the state had been in terrorists’ captivity since February 3, 2026. That was 160 days ago, and counting. Yet, there is hardly a public outcry anywhere, including, and especially, in Ilorin. Their president and his presidency are quiet. Their governor and state are quiet. Their neighbours are quiet. Their relatives are quiet. I understand it is a crime in the North, including Kwara, for their critics and their media to publicly condemn terror. Silence has become part of the tragedy.

This Kaiama horror has been going on in Kwara for over five months, yet there has been an unsettling quiet. This silence does no credit to the media in Kwara or to the public voices of the state. A friend from the North told me: “We don’t yell in the North; whatever happens is an act of God.” But God does not condone evil. Terrorism cannot be His act. Mass abduction and mass murder are the work of men, and men must resist them. “So, please, speak out.” I told my friend and reminded him of Fela’s song, “Jẹ́ n wí tèmí”—Don’t Gag Me. And we have a Yoruba proverb: “Isu atẹnumọràn kì í jóná.” The yam of the outspoken never gets burnt.

I have heard some ask why the Oyo victims were far luckier than their counterparts in Borno, Kwara and other places. But was it really luck? Or was it geography? Or politics? Or the people?

If you ask why all 44 abductees in Oyo are now free while many in Borno remain in captivity, you must ask more than that one question.

Ask: Why do we know the exact number of those abducted in Oriire while the number of those held in Borno is still spoken of in estimates? Why did the Oriire abduction provoke outrage across southern Nigeria, while similar tragedies in Borno so often fail to generate the same intensity of public emotion across the North? Why, even after the Oriire children regained their freedom, are people still conducting a post-mortem of the tragedy—studying the children’s faces, asking difficult questions, demanding explanations and refusing to let the matter fade?

As noted by Deutsche Welle, “such attacks are more common in the North than in the Southwest of the country.” Why? Why did the Oyo State governor and his administration remain visibly engaged throughout the 56-day ordeal, while there has been no comparable public pressure on the Borno, Kwara and other northern state governors and governments? And why, despite their political differences, did President Bola Tinubu publicly commend the Oyo State governor after the rescue, while the governor, in turn, thanked the President? Those questions deserve answers.

Part of the answer lies in the response of the communities themselves. In Oriire, the people refused to let the story die. Families, teachers, traditional rulers, civil society, labour unions and the media sustained public attention for fifty-six days. Every child had a name, every family had a face, and every passing day deepened the urgency. The abduction became a collective wound that the community insisted the nation must acknowledge.

Now, cast your glance at parts of the North, particularly communities like Chibok and Dapchi, where normal life is forever hostage to insecurity. In those places, repeated violence has produced a very different public environment. Why? There are several reasons. Elite indifference is one written in capital letters. Too many influential voices speak only when there are political dividends to harvest. Even then, their outrage is often selective, muted, mellowed or wrapped in the language of fatalism. Terrorism is crookedly presented as an act of destiny to be endured by the rural poor, while those making that argument remain safely ensconced in state capitals, far from the gunfire and the grief.

So, to the ACF and the NEF, I say this: Borno, Katsina, Zamfara, Kwara and other afflicted northern states will have their Oriire moment only when leaders and the led alike come to see banditry and terrorism as a common enemy that must be confronted with unity of purpose; only when bandits are seen as terrorists who must be fought and defeated, not rehabilitated and not reintegrated.

On Friday, Borno South Senator Ali Ndume gave voice to the quiet humming as he urged the military to turn its attention to his state. Speaking on Channels Television, he said: “I want to use this opportunity to appeal to the military to shift their attention now to my senatorial district and help us get these people back. Our people, our children in my senatorial district are under captivity. Forty-two of them. We have over 30 people from Lassa that were captured recently. We still have a leftover of over 50 people in another place. They released some out of the 400 and we still have some people in captivity that were kidnapped.”

Ndume’s figures are scary: 42; 30; 50; 400. All human beings. I wish I could ask the senator why his appeal waited to be fed by the success in Oyo. Did he notice that every Yoruba man, home and abroad, was heavily invested in the push to get the Oyo kids and the teachers back? Terrorism does not flourish on barren ground; it thrives where communities become too frightened, too divided, or too compromised to resist it. The soil must be made hostile to the plant of evil. Every act of collaboration with evil, every silence that shields it, every sympathy that excuses and rehabilitates it, is fertiliser that helps it grow.

I worship at the feet of the wise; and I have many around me. As I write this with my eyes, my ears are with one of them. He reminded me that the Yoruba philosophy of life is “fundamentally a profound celebration of existence. It revolves around Ìwà (good character and living well) and Ìfẹ́ (love as a powerful, unifying life force).” In greatly protected details, the Yoruba people esteem joy, longevity, community, resistance to evil, material prosperity as essential elements of a truly meaningful life. I read these and more in J. Omosade Awolalu’s ‘The Yoruba Philosophy of Life’. If and when a non-Yoruba also reads it, they will understand why it is difficult for extremist philosophy to violate the innocence of “life more abundant” among the Yoruba of South West Nigeria.

In the west of Nigeria, life is not merely the absence of death; it is àlàáfíà, ìfọ̀kànbalẹ̀—peace of mind, good health, harmonious relationships, prosperity, fulfilment and happiness. It is the totality of all that makes life worth living. A fulfilled life, according to Awolalu, is one in which a person builds a home, raises children, laughs, sings, dances and enjoys the blessings of the earth. Even the Yoruba religion is organised around preserving that harmony, because life is sacred, death is an interruption, and violence is an assault on the divine order. The Yoruba worldview is one that celebrates living rather than dying, making rather than destroying.

‘Oriire’ means, literally, good head (good luck). It is very far away in meaning and geography from Chibok (Cibak in Kibaku). On Tuesday, 16 June 2026, when he addressed protesters led by social media activist, Martins Vincent Otse (VeryDarkMan) at his private residence in Ikolaba, Ibadan, Governor Makinde declared: “Let me make it very clear, Oyo State is not Chibok and we will not be Chibok… We have lost men, even soldiers and officers… but we will do everything possible to ensure that these children and teachers return safely.” Where did that confidence come from? It came from knowing that despite political differences, Oyo (Yoruba) people were united behind the rescue of their children. In Oriire, there was no constituency for evil.

The freedom of the abducted pupils and teachers after 56 days was therefore a vindication of a civilisation whose deepest instinct is to protect life. A people whose songs proclaim àlàáfíà will always find it harder to surrender their children to a forest of thorns which sacrifices life to extremism.

We have a proverb: “Ilé olóore kì í jó tán; tìkà kì í jó kù (The house of a good person never burns down completely; the house of a wicked person never burns only in part). Wickedness here is not merely cruelty to one’s neighbor; at its deepest level, it is wickedness to oneself. A people who despise themselves, who excuse the forces that destroy them, should not expect the world to value what they themselves do not value. The world will watch them burn.

General Mamman Vatsa, in his final words in February 1986, said: “Lean liberty is better than fat slavery… The day you start mocking yourself, others will join you.” There is wisdom in that warning. The people of Oriire, Oyo State and the wider Yoruba country made it unmistakably clear that terrorism was an unacceptable affliction.

They know the freedom of the children is only a battle won in a war that still rages. But, like the crab in their stream, they have never stopped shouting at home and on the farm that their eyes must keep vigil over their heads. Throughout the ordeal, they owned the struggle against terror. They understood the wisdom of the proverb: A kì í fi ojú olójú ṣ’òwò ká j’èrè (you do not trade with another person’s eyes and expect to profit). They stood together, demanded action and refused to normalise evil. Having resolved to recover what was stolen from them, they stirred the conscience of the nation, and the world rose to meet them at their point of need.

The ACF, the NEF, Borno and, indeed, the wider North—including Kwara—should reflect on that lesson. Evil thrives where it is tolerated.

Now, for all those who paid the ultimate price during those 56 days of horror—the two teachers, the commercial motorcyclist and the security personnel—we mourn. May God comfort their families and grant peaceful rest to their souls. We also rejoice at the return of the 44 pupils and teachers.

The Yoruba have a saying: Inú ẹni kì í dùn, ká pa á mọ́ra (one does not hide joy or suppress its celebration). So, as we celebrate and congratulate President Bola Tinubu, Governor Seyi Makinde, the military and all the security agencies involved in the Oriire operation, I also join my voice to that of a brilliant professor of history from the Middle Belt who remarked yesterday in the woods of the internet: “Since they have now found a military rescue model that works and avoids the payment of ransoms to terrorists, they should extend it to Kwara, where many kidnapped people are still with terrorists in the forest, and to Borno, where the students abducted from their SSCE examination hall are still with terrorists. No more excuses. No more non-kinetic nonsense. The same team that did the Oriire miracle should get orders to storm Kwara and Borno.”

The Commander-in-Chief must accept that challenge.

“BREAKING: Tinubu retains Shettima as running mate, APC submits forms to INEC… party predicts landslide victory at the poll,” was the headline of Thenationonlineng.net on Friday, July 10, 2026, on President Bola Ahmed Tinubu pairing Vice President Kashim Shettima on the All Progressives Congress ticket for the 2027 General Election.

 Amid intrigues among APC members competing to replace Shettima, and where Tinubu’s pendulum would swing, the VP’s “final” choice for the January 16, 2027, poll has confirmed my prediction in the December 22, 2025, article on, “2027 poll: Replacing Shettima one gambit Tinubu can’t wager.”

In light of this, I crave the indulgence of readers and followers to “KIV” my initial piece on, “2027 poll: Obi’s dream of Tinubu quitting race (1),” for Monday, July 13, 2026, and re-run the 2025 copy, unabridged. Happy reading!

                               ******

“The aftermath of “Subsidy is gone” will be a storm in a teacup compared to the political tsunami that’ll sweep Northern Nigeria should President Bola Tinubu carry out the lingering rumours of replacing Vice President Kashim Shettima on the the 2027 ticket of the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). It’s a gamble that Tinubu can ill-afford despite his acclaimed political sagacity and “wizardry”! 

  “Dissatisfied and disgruntled Northern politicians, among them members of the APC – hiding under the prevailing hardships caused by tough economic reforms of the Tinubu administration, and insecurity in Northern Nigeria – have put the  fear of the devil into the president that he can’t secure a second term in the 2027 General Election unless he drops Shettima for another Muslim or Christian running mate.

  “The two names publicly floated as a replacement for Shettima are former Kano State Governor and the 2023 presidential candidate of the New Nigerian Peoples Party (NNPP), Rabiu Musa Kwankwoso, and former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Yakubu Dogara – both lightweights, nationally, wanting to capitalise on realignments in the polity to upstage the vice president.

  “Dr Kwankwoso’s a good presidential material. But with all the hype pre-the 2023 poll, he’s only able to secure his Kano base, and installed his son-in-law, Abba Yusuf, as Governor. In the August 2025 bye-elections, the APC snatched one of the two seats from the governing NNPP, thus denting the 2027 momentum of the former Minister of Defence as Tinubu’s running mate. 

  “Mr Dogara’s also a good presidential material, but his undoing for the post of vice president is his decamping from the APC pre-the 2023 poll, on account of then-candidate Asiwaju Tinubu sidelining him, a Christian, to pick Shettima, a former Borno governor, to run on a joint Muslim ticket, which won the February 25, 2023, election.

  “Though an early convert to Tinubu’s government – and a posterboy analysing and defending the president’s biting economic reforms – Dogara’s case is likened to someone shooting themselves in the foot. And one can’t hazard a guess why Tinubu will want to replace Shettima with Dogara, whose political clout has waned in his home state of Bauchi since 2019 when opposition’s Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) Governor Bala Mohammed took over the reins. 

  “Not even now that United States President Donald Trump’s alleged “Christian genocide” in Nigeria has muddied the political waters of 2027 will Tinubu trifle with replacing Shettima as co-ticket holder in the next election! 

  “Stopping short of denouncing Trump as a meddlesome interloper in their affairs – a delicate issue that the Tinubu administration has gingerly skirted with diplomatic and political engagements with the Americans – Northern youths have spoken for their leaders with pockets of protests against the American threat to their region. 

  “Similarly, youth and socio-political groups from the North-East and North-West have spoken stoutly: Tinubu shouldn’t replace Shettima with whoever – Muslim or Christian – to avoid a backlash, noting that, “stability within the administration will help consolidate the president’s efforts toward national development.”

  “A December 4, 2025 report by The Nation highlights the groups’ separate media briefings in Gombe and Kaduna, appealing to Tinubu to retain Shettima, and cautioning that, “any move to elevate Dogara to a more prominent political role (of running mate) could unsettle party loyalists and create uncertainty ahead of the 2027 elections.”

  “While the President of the APC Youth Mandate Forum and North-East Youth Forum, Hon. Umar Waziri Kumo, led the Gombe press session; Comrade Haruna Mai Kano headed the Kaduna coalition that includes the North-West Socio-political Group, Northern Rights Concerns Protection, and the Arewa Coalition for Good Governance.

  “Stating that Shettima “enjoys broad support in the North-East,” and warning that “attempts to undermine his position could lead to discontent among party supporters in the region; the groups urged that Dogara’s political influence “should be carefully evaluated,” advising Tinubu to “ensure strategic considerations that will strengthen national unity and party cohesion.”

 “President Tinubu shouldn’t take the Northern youth and socio-political groups’ appeal against replacing Shettima for granted, on the grounds that his maverick approach to political contests will see him through 2027 to 2031 in the saddle for eight years.

“He’s won all his political battles as a senatorial candidate in 1992, governorship candidate in 1999 and 2003, and presidential candidate in 2023 when obstacles were deliberately ranged against him within and outside the APC government of then-President Muhammadu Buhari, which Tinubu helped bring to power in 2015. Yet, the 2027 General Election is a different battle all together!

  “The thinking in political circles is that if Tinubu, as a private citizen, could defeat former Vice President and twice candidate of the PDP, Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, former Anambra Governor and candidate of the Labour Party (LP), Mr Peter Obi, and Kwankwoso of the NNPP; what about now that he’s in power and also in government as President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of Nigeria? 

  “This is a fluid projection that can turn 360° in a matter of 24 hours to poll day! Nothing is guaranteed, not when the opposition is baiting religious and regional cry. The late and overnight surge of Atiku and the PDP in the North-East and North-West in 2023 should guide Tinubu, especially as Atiku’s probably taking his last shot at the presidency in 2027. The bulwark against a repeat scenario is Shettima on the APC ticket to split Atiku’s votes mostly in the North-East!

  “What does Tinubu have against Shettima? Is it competence, or loyalty that politicians fiercely demand? Shettima possesses both qualities! His work rate and demonstratetable competence aren’t in doubt in whatever functions the 1999 Constitution of Nigeria (as updated) assigns to his office, and duties that the president delegates to him. He’s performed credibly to the admiration and appreciation of Nigerians across the political divide. 

  “Genuine leaders are tested in times of crises, and Shettima’s lately shown excellent representation of Nigeria at several fora. His “globe-trotting” – which resonates as a quiet shuttle diplomacy that complements President Tinubu’s marketing of Nigeria since his inaugural on May 29, 2023 – has helped the country to mellow the messy security conundrum that the Trump furore created around the world.

  “On loyalty, it’s apt to recall the famous quote by former Lagos Governor and ex-Minister of Works, Power and Housing, Babatunde Raji Fashola (SAN), that, “May our loyalties never be tested” – in response to a question when he appeared at the Senate screening for ministerial nominees in October 2015 – over his alleged beef with his then-political “godfather,” Asiwaju Tinubu, now President Tinubu.

  “As far as the average Nigerian, and members and supporters of the APC can perceive, Shettima’s proven – as an article of faith – his loyalty to Tinubu, the party, his North-East political base, Northern Nigeria, and the entire country. Can we say the same about those scheming to replace him?

  “Can we see the likes of Shettima in the Coalition of Opposition Politicians (COP) of former officeholders, who congregate in the African Democratic Congress (ADC), vowing to “remove Bola Tinubu” (it pains them to address him as President) from power by whatever means possible?

  “For all intents and purposes, the opposition camp consists of well-known “betrayers” that’ve trodden the Nigerian political landscape! Needless to name names, as their backstabbing and frontbiting of their political mentors (godfathers), allies and associates reach to the heavens because of individual vaulting ambition to be President of Nigeria.

  “Like every human, Senator Shettima’s weaknesses and failings – so does Senator Tinubu. As a fast talker, who thinks on his feet, Shettima’s bound to make innocent, and not deliberate, slips that can embarrass the president and his administration. That’s one area being exploited by those who want to supplant him in 2027!

  “As for delivery of electoral votes, Dogara isn’t guaranteed victory for the APC in his Bauchi political turf talkless of the whole Northern Nigeria. Kwankwoso may eke out a slim win in Kano – if all things remain the same as of now – but not in his North-West base nor Northern Nigeria.

  “To avoid a potential political tsunami, Vice President Shettima remains the best and surest bet that can swing the needed votes for the APC in Northern Nigeria! President Tinubu shouldn’t change his winning combination to satisfy those, who pray for an opportunity to laugh last if he’s defeated at reelection in 2027.

• Mr Ezomon, Journalist and Media Consultant, writes from Lagos. He can be reached on X, Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp @EhichioyaEzomon. Tel: 08033078357

Baba Adeola, as many of us could address him, was as phenomenal as his late dad with ubiquitous presence even in death, the indomitable doyen of commercial automobile driving, Alhaji Jimoh Adekunle, forever hailed Adelebare but also known to neighbouhood kids as Baba l’oke. He was the only Ede-based owner of a storey building in the entire vast stretch of Asawo- Agbopa-Akaje-Ode oKe-Agate-Ekuntan-Ile Egba and Alajue quarters of Ede. May Allah be pleased with Baba, who, proven to us, had my own darling Dad, Alhaji Tijani Akanni, as his confidant.

May Allah bless the souls of the duo eternally.
Talk of a renowned moulder of character and aspirations of others and Engineer Gani Adekunle’s name would readily pop up. He was such rare gifts bequeathed to Ile Asawo. Elegant in appearance, imposing in stature and impeccable in carriage, he embodied the very essence of the Yoruba idea of Omoluabi.

Endowed with a well built physique he was always exquisitely dressed. His appearance in native attire was as smashing as he was in shirt and trouser, with shit consistently tucked in. He was the main variable in the lives of many of us responsible for our peace with our teachers in the primary and secondary schools when the same teachers would have howl themselves hoarse trying to ensure decent dressing for our colleagues.

Yet, beneath the sartorial splendour lay a heart of uncommon generosity and warmth.
His naturally charming tooth gap, which invariably accompanied his radiant smile, endeared him to everyone. He wore that smile generously, making both young and old feel welcome in his presence. To encounter Baba Adeola was to experience kindness wrapped in dignity.

A graduate of Civil Engineering from Yaba College of Technology, Engineer Adekunle belonged to that pioneering generation of professionals who became symbols of possibility for younger ones.

Back in 1970s, ownership of private cars was some rarity in most semi-urban communities like Ede, our birthplace. Indeed, Ayinla Adegator, a popular grassroots musician once did a special number to celebrate private car owners presence of his public performance. “A dupe t’ere wa dun/ A dupe t’ere wa dun ni won se gbe moto wa wa wa”.

Baba Adeola’s Volkswagen Beetle, purchased in 1971, was more than enough for us to study very hard. The vehicle, bearing the unforgettable registration number WC 5439, ignited excitement and hope whenever it appeared in town. The snow white car was the pride of the community. It was not uncommon for us children to ask our friends from other compound if anyone in their compound had bought a car before. Such was our obsession with both the man and his automobile that many of us can still recall that number plate decades later.

Our excitement was renewed in the 1980s when he acquired his Peugeot 504 with registration number OY 1735 B. Indeed, our admiration for Engineer Adekunle was so profound that we knew virtually all his contemporaries in Ede who owned Peugeot 504 cars at the time, including the late Dr Akanji and Mr Akano, the respected, ever serious-looking school principal. Akano’s car wore a blood red paint

But Baba Adeola’s greatest legacy was never in the cars he drove or the attires he spotted. The lives he transformed will eternally bear witness to the good deeds of our darling Daddy.

Long before mega philanthropy of the likes of MKO Abiola began to play out with ultra visibility, Baba Adeola practised it quietly, naturally and ceaselessly. Boda Gani, as some of our elder brothers revered him, gave, not for applause but because generosity was woven into the fabric of his being. Many of us owe aspects of our personal development to his thoughtful interventions.

As children growing up in the 1970s, our world was simple and rustic. We knew only the traditional bar soap, popularly called soda. It was Baba Adeola who introduced many households in Ile Asawo to the use of detergent. Regularly, he brought packets of Omo detergent—the dominant brand of the era—and gently encouraged our mothers to use them in washing our school uniforms. It may appear a simple gesture today, but at that time, it represented a significant leap in our social and hygienic consciousness. In many respects, he quietly elevated our civilisational experience.

His generosity seemed boundless to us. In 1981, despite having no political ambition or partisan motive, he undertook one of the most remarkable acts of communal support many of us can remember. He volunteered to pay for the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) forms for every qualified candidate in the entire Ile Asawo community. He did so quietly, without fanfare, publicity or expectation of reward. He simply identified a need and met it.

Till date, I relish the enveloped, crisp Naira notes he lavished on me when he got to know about my admission into the University of Ilorin in 1982. So much was the money that money that it enabled me buy a packet of food tickets that covered a whole month for me. Besides the value, the fact of being mint fresh was most memorable. It turned out to be the highest amount of cash gift I received from anyone to commend me for the admission feat. He repeated that for me when I got married. So, who would not want to be like Baba Adeola?

Expectedly, many beneficiaries of that uncommon gesture went on to acquire university education and distinguished themselves in various professions. It is therefore not surprising that our beloved uncle’s inspiring example has produced several engineers within the family, including a professor of engineering.

His influence extended even to matters of taste and refinement. Boda Alhaji as my late mother of blessed memory would often hail him, had a keen sense of fashion and graciously shared it. Many younger relatives benefited from his fanciful, cotton shirts as well as his impeccable dressing style.

He was equally deliberate in family matters. True to his Omoluabi disposition, he chose as his life partner a worthy companion, Aunti Bili, from another respected Muslim family—the Adesolas of Ile Parakoyi, Ede. Baba Adesola was a foremost textile merchant whose only merchandise contemporary in the neighbourhood was Baba Adekomi, legendary cocoa merchant and owner of heavily tinted Peugeot 504 SR. Both Pa Adesola and Adekomi, now late had a son each named Kabiru and both were my classmates at Ede Muslim Grammar School, Ede.

Aunti Bili complemented him perfectly. Fair skinned, graceful and accommodating, she embraced all of us, the rustic Baba Okos, with warmth and affection despite the acute social differences between our modest backgrounds back home in Ede compared with the cosmopolitan environment of Ibadan where she subsequently resided for many decades. Baba Adeola was a senior engineer with the Ministry of Works, first with the Western State and later Oyo State, following the creation of Oyo State.

Soft-spoken, humble and deeply humane, Engineer Gani Adekunle demonstrated that true greatness lies not in noise but in quiet impact. He touched lives gently yet profoundly, leaving behind memories that time cannot erase.

As we bid farewell to a most treasured uncle, we do so with gratitude to Almighty Allah for a life richly lived in service to humanity. Though he has departed this earthly realm, his generosity, mentorship, elegance and enduring example will continue to inspire generations yet unborn.

May Allah, in His infinite mercy, forgive his shortcomings, expand and illuminate his grave, and admit him into Al-Jannatul Firdaus. Ameen.

*Tunde Akanni is a Professor at the Lagos State University

President Bola Tinubu’s Villa scriptwriters are supremely gifted. Go back and read Mr. Bayo Onanuga’s So Long a Letter on the Gbajabiamila-Adeyemi ‘feud’ over an agency that is simultaneously legal and illegal. The lengthy statement is a work of prose, daintily littered with repetition and refrain; rhyme and rhythm.

Check out this excerpt: “On 27 October, 2025, Adeyemi was arrested… The police filed an eight-count charge on November 27, 2025… He is due in court on July 27, 2026.”

Read it again: arrest on the 27th. Charge on the 27th. Court slated for the 27th. Is the 27th a code for something? If it is, should we not be curious about what it encrypts—or decrypts? If it is merely a repetition, is it deliberate or accidental?

Adolf Hitler famously praised repetition as a valuable tool of propaganda and said so in the Mein Kampf. Modern psychologists describe a related phenomenon; they call it the Illusory Truth Effect. It fits in here. Repetition can make the bitter sound sweet and give evil a rhythm to which the unwary begin to dance.

Now, let us be more serious.

You accused a man of abducting your government. You arrested him on 27 October 2025. You waited (or wasted) one full month before filing criminal charges against him on 27 November. Then you went to a very deep sleep. Seven months after those charges were filed, you issued an almost one-month notice that the accused would finally appear in court on 27 July, 2026. That sequence raises questions. Guilt hesitates. Forgive me if that is how I read your body language.

Yet, while your left hand was filing criminal charges in November 2025, your right hand was quietly inserting ₦1.3 billion into the 2026 budget for the very agency whose existence formed the basis of the arrest and prosecution.

Hello! What kind of government are you?

Like attracts like; ugly tortoise seeks out its fellow tortoise, and slimy snail finds its fellow snail. As the Yoruba say, Ẹni bí ahun nií rí ahun he; ènìyàn bí ìgbín nií hè’gbín. Check Adeyemi’s images online. From the photographs and videos that I have seen, one impression repeatedly strikes me: calculated deference to power. Whether at public events or in carefully staged photographs with prominent figures, the man’s performance seems designed to project proximity and importance. To my eyes, that is the marker of very dangerous sycophancy.

This man was visible everywhere ‘working’ for your government. You saw and watched him do all sorts of things; you said nothing and did nothing. Now, either you have finally broken free from the spell of this your nemesis or Èṣù has poured palm oil on the matter between you. Suddenly, you tell us that the man is fake and his agency counterfeit and he fires back with withering allegations of graft and bribery of humongous proportions.

Sycophants do the dirty work of the powerful. They fawn over their patrons with the devotion of household pets. But, unlike devoted dogs and cats, their loyalty stretches only as far as their stomachs. That is what makes them dangerous. Today they praise; if you annoy them tomorrow, they betray. Their allegiance is to their appetite, not to you.

Meanwhile, the man you accused of running a criminal parallel government remained virtually untouched. He is free, still free. On Thursday last week, he even spoke by telephone on Seun Okinbaloye’s Politics Today on Channels Television. Apparently, he was not criminal enough for that call to be used to trace and arrest him. The Yoruba have a saying: Adẹ́tẹ̀ rí wèrè, ó kán lù’gbé—Leper sees madman, he flees into the bush. Perhaps this man is so powerful, and knows so much, that even the all-powerful state is afraid of him.

What vocabulary is left for describing a government that behaves like this with a straight face?

I am tempted to further ask: is this government a government?

I wish this regime could be as candid as the man who declares, “I am not what I am.” That is Iago, the master manipulator in Shakespeare’s Othello. In Act 1, Scene 1, without batting an eyelid, Iago declares that his public identity is a carefully constructed disguise. Lest anyone should miss the point, he takes three short steps into Scene 3 and lays bare his contempt for everyone around him. They are mere tools in his hands, and he says so without apology: “Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.” True to his words, that is the man Shakespeare gives us throughout the play.

Unlike the current manipulators, Iago is the deceiver who hides in plain sight; he openly declares what he is and what he intends to do, yet no one ‘hears’ him until it is too late. If that character were a Yoruba man, he would be the master wrestler who announces to his opponent exactly how he will throw him—and then proceeds to do precisely that.

Now, because tomorrow will forget what this case is all about, let me restate it here. The Chief of Staff to the President, Mr. Femi Gbajabiamila, issued a disclaimer on one Adeyemi Adeniyi Matthew, accusing him of fraudulently operating the so-called Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council (PFIPC), a body the Presidency says never legally existed. Adeyemi responded with a press conference, denying the allegations and producing documents which he said showed official recognition of the agency, including references in the national budget. He capped his rebuttal with sweeping allegations of corruption and bribery against Gbajabiamila.

By the time the man finished his presentation, the government’s image had fallen below three pence.

Now, in the light of this unfolding scandal, let me ask: Has the entire Bola Tinubu government become Iago, the master manipulator, presenting one face to the public while another lurks behind the curtain?

A fictitious council allocated billions in a country’s national budget. What do fake, fictitious and counterfeit really mean? Imagine a masquerade whose identity is counterfeit wrestling in the mud with an enchanting impostor. That is the curious spectacle presented by the PFIPC, its self-acclaimed director-general, and the presidency. In this strange contest, each side accuses the other of unreality. One says the agency is real and founded in 2024; the other says the council never existed but behaved for months as though it did. One denounces being called an impostor; the other cannot explain how the alleged imposture found office space, official dealings and a budgetary allocation. The result is a political theatre in which the audience is left wondering who, exactly, is wearing the mask.

In literary theory, fiction is a world separate from reality, yet modelled after it. Literary scholar, Biodun Jeyifo, famously calls it “the truthful lie.” In today’s Nigeria, that distinction appears to have collapsed. Our fictions wear agbádá, they occupy official offices, hold meetings, seek diplomatic notes, open Central Bank accounts, receive civil servants and even find their way into the national budget.

Nigerians easily get divided. We take sides in every contest no matter how shameful. In this shame, regime people are throwing a lot online to get back their lost face. This agency had existed since Buhari years, some of them said. Enemies of the government fought back. They said that is not true. What existed under Buhari was Presidential Economic Advisory Council. The rat with the current bad odour is called ‘Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council.’ Between both camps stands Nigeria, naked and embarrassed. My professor-friend described it as “a scandal of mega proportions.” She was right.

If the agency is fake, how did it acquire the appearance of government? If it is real, why is the Presidency denying its child? The matter is no longer merely about one man.

Nigeria is a strange, dangerous country. A fetish nation does strange things. Entries on pages 50 and 51 of the 2026 budget have become the shrine before which Nigerians dance in a trance. There, under the Presidency, sits the “Presidential Economic Advisory Council/Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council,” carrying an allocation of over ₦1.3 billion. That entry is either proof of official existence or proof of official criminal crudity. Either way, it indicts the system.

Budgets do not write themselves. They are prepared, scrutinised, defended, passed and signed. Yet no one behind those formidable gates smelt the odious shrew.

I have asked several questions. I have some more: Between the discovery of the alleged fraud in October 2025 and the presentation of the 2026 budget in December 2025, who inserted the agency into the budget? Who defended the allocation before the National Assembly? Who approved it? And who failed to notice it through the executive and legislative stages of the budget process?

Curiosity. How many more of such fictitious agencies and entries do we have in our budgets? When did such egregious infusions start? Is this a confirmation of the allegations that ghost agencies may exist as warehouses of heist? Could this strange incident be the answer to the conundrum of government announcing huge revenue intakes while ministries and agencies cry of fund starvation? Where, then, does the money go? Into phantom agencies as this?

The State House statement paints Adeyemi as a con artist, an impostor who built a palace of forged papers and persuaded government figurines to bow before it. That is serious. But even that defence deepens the shame. Where was the Federal Government with all its security agencies when a fraud was securing office space, getting diplomatic attention, budgetary visibility and banking access? This fraud is not a small fraud. It is a society of concentric frauds.

History has seen fake embassies, fake police stations, fake courts, fake appointments and ghost workers. What is far rarer is a fictitious government agency walking the corridors of the state, occupying official office space, receiving staff posted from the Office of the Accountant-General of the Federation, operating a Central Bank account and appearing in the national budget.

I won’t be surprised if the whole world is already saying “this Nigerian case belongs in a category of its own.”

There have been bizarre cases elsewhere, even in advanced democracies, but none appears to match the current champion.

I cite two foreign examples.

On December 5, 2016, the BBC published a stranger-than-fiction story with the headline: “How did fake US embassy operate in Ghana for a decade?” The report began: “News has travelled the world that an organised gang based in Ghana ran a fake embassy selling real US visas for $6,000 (£4,700) for ‘about a decade’. How did they get away with it for so long?” The US State Department, according to the BBC, said Ghanaian and Turkish organised crime syndicates had operated the fake embassy—complete with a US flag and a portrait of President Barack Obama—”unhindered for about a decade.”

My second example is even more astonishing. The US Government Accountability Office exists to audit federal agencies and expose fraud and abuse, usually by asking questions and poring over documents. But, as WIRED reported on July 21, 2017, the agency one day decided to go “a little more cowboy.” It created “a fictitious law enforcement agency—complete with a fake website and a bogus address that traced back to an empty lot—and applied for military-grade equipment from the Department of Defense.”

And did it get the equipment?

It did. The mighty US Department of Defense was deceived into parting with “$1.2 million worth of military gear, including night-vision goggles, simulated M-16A2 rifles, and pipe bomb material from the Defense Department’s 1033 program, which supplies state and local law enforcement with excess materiel.”

Francis Bacon warned: “If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties.” The temptation is to dismiss extraordinary stories because they sound impossible. With Nigeria, doubt everything but dismiss none. The country has surpassed fiction.

In July 2021, the International Centre for Investigative Reporting (ICIR) reported a lawsuit challenging budgetary allocations by the Federal Government to institutions not established by law. “In the 2021 budget (and others before it) the Federal Government and the National Assembly authorised billions of naira to be spent by bodies unknown to law,” the plaintiff alleged in Suit No. FHC/ABJ/CS/273/2021.

The suit listed several agencies by their names. One, according to the plaintiff, was “supposed to be defunct, having been replaced” by another agency, yet it still enjoyed “operational” status and continued to receive federal funding. You want to ask what became of that suit? I am also asking.

Disturbing examples above. Even against that troubling background, the current PFIPC scandal stands apart as an almighty. A fake agency is one thing; a phantom agency recognised by the machinery of government is quite another. That is what makes this affair so extraordinary.

And this is where Nigeria becomes more frightening than fiction. In fiction, the reader knows the world is invented. In Nigeria, the invented world acquires flesh and blood. It demands allocation, recognition and respect. A non-existent agency can behave like an existing one because the state itself has become a theatre of documents without discipline. We run a country where office acts more powerful than law, where seals defeat scrutiny, and where the absurd becomes official simply by surviving long enough.

The courts (if there are still real courts) will determine the criminal case. But the larger judgment already belongs to the public. Whether Adeyemi is a lone trickster or merely the visible finger of a hidden hand, this scandal exposes a system that has become dangerously porous. A state that cannot distinguish between its agencies and its apparitions is already in trouble. What we have is government as fictitious reality; it is not comedy. It is institutional collapse in its worst form. And there is nothing funny about that.

So, what next? The presidency says the man will soon have his day in court. The man replies on live television that he looks forward to meeting the state there. Both sides, it seems, are ready for the decisive encounter. As Shakespeare’s Hamlet reminds us, “The readiness is all.”

When a matter becomes this grave, the Yoruba do the unthinkable. They go for the forbidden face of the masquerade. So, I say, for once, let us unmask the masquerade. Ẹ jẹ́ ká ṣí aṣọ lójú eégún. As we wait for that to happen on the 27th, I invoke another Shakespearean line, this time, in Merchant of Venice, Act 2, Scene 2: “Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long;…” If that courtroom is where both accuser and accused insist they want to be, then let it be the place where masks fall, where pretence ends, and truth has the final word.
That is, if this saga of fictitious agencies does not end in a fictitious court.

If former Vice President and presidential hopeful of the African Democratic Congress (ADC), Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, wants to win his “last” political battle of no retreat no surrender, and achieve his life-long ambition to be President of Nigeria, he should, in addition to his messaging, do one thing: Expel bitterness and hatred from his heart. 

  Particularly, Atiku should tweak his publicly-displayed attitude towards President Bola Ahmed Tinubu of the All Progressives Congress (APC), as what hasn’t escaped discerning Nigerians, and Tinubu’s supporters and followers is Atiku’s constant look at the president with condescension, as “a nobody” to respect both his person and his office!

  In his 1832 treatise On War, the Prussian military strategist, Carl von Clausewitz, describing “politics as war by other means,” highlights that “both are competitive struggles for power and resources, using strategy, negotiation, and influence instead of physical violence.” (AI Mode conversation).

Politics shouldn’t also be appropriated by politicians to assassinate character; make derogatory remarks; bear grudges, bitterness, and hostility; and regard electoral co-competitors or opponents as inconsequential.

  While he doesn’t disguise these impertinences in public – one can imagine his behaviour behind the scenes – Atiku’s attitude towards Tinubu is political “bad belle“! For a man, who’s attained and held the position of Vice President for eight years (1999-2007), Atiku knows the protocols reserved for the Office of President, which Tinubu occupies.

  After Tinubu’s spent three years in office, Atiku can’t bring himself to address him as “President,” as his heart is filled with bitterness in his burning desire, almost his entire political life, to be President of Nigeria – a desire he perhaps believes Tinubu thwarted at the 2023 General Election.

  In signed or physically-delivered comments, remarks, statements and posts, Atiku simply addresses the president as “Bola Tinubu” or “Bola Ahmed Tinubu.” And in official, social or chance meetings, Atiku, his face taut, tries hard to avoid looking at Tinubu straight in the eyes.

  Sacrificing a reported prior friendship, whether chummy or businesslike, for political reasons, Atiku, even when he’s workable suggestions on how to tackle Nigeria’s problems – though he rarely offers solutions but amplification of problems, and criticisms of Tinubu and his government thereof – undermines the messaging with his facial expression and tone of delivery.

  What hasn’t escaped discerning Nigerians, and particularly Tinubu’s supporters and followers, is Atiku’s constant look at the president with condescension, as perhaps “a nobody” he should respect both his person and his office!

  Canvassing for the 2027 poll, Atiku gives the impression that there’re no economic, social and security problems in Nigeria before May 29, 2023, when Tinubu assumed office. There’re problems in leaps and bounds, and Nigerians groaned, complained and protested about anything and everything!

  Yet, if you observed, economic and social lives were disrupted as soon as Tinubu declared in his inaugural speech at the Eagle Square in Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city, that “Subsidy is gone” from petrol, shooting up pump price instantly nationwide, as filling stations adjusted their meters.

  It means that those in positions to influence fuel prices were locked and loaded, ready and waiting for action to increase the price of petrol, which quickly pushed up prices of other petroleum products, and general goods and services that haven’t abated despite government’s efforts to redress the situation.

  Tinubu and his main competitors for the 2023 presidency – Atiku and Labour Party (LP) candidate and presidential hopeful of Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC) in 2027, Mr Peter Obi – had pledged, if elected president, to remove subsidy from petrol, to arrest the thievery under importation” of petroleum products.

  The immediate upward swing of price of petrol reveals a stark reality: That whoever of the candidates in the February 25, 2023, presidential election that promised to remove subsidy from petrol – and did so quickly or later in office – would’ve faced the oil cartels and consumers’ furies!

  Atiku and Obi blame President Tinubu for the one-fell-swoop, twin issues that dog his government: Hasty removal of fuel subsidy without ameliorative measures in place; and floating the naira exchange rate – both policies subject to the dictates of international market forces and speculations.

  As Atiku and Obi weren’t elected President, we can’t determine what they would’ve done differently with the fuel subsidy – as informed Nigerians don’t buy their latter-day pontificating that they would’ve put cushioning measures in place before taking such a far-reaching decision.

  President Tinubu’s instantaneous removal of the subsidy worsened a bad situation of fuel price increase from N195 to between N210 and N238 per litre late on in President Muhammadu Buhari’s government, jumping to N510 aftermath of Tinubu’s speech, and to an average national retail price hitting “a record peak of N1,532.93 in April 2026,” according to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS).

Describing marketers and operators’ instant increase of pump price from N210 to N510 as “a knee-jerk reaction,” the Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ) noted on July 19, 2023, that, “as Nigerians were gradually coming to terms with their new reality, news again emerged that oil marketers had further increased fuel pump price to N617 per litre on Tuesday” (July 18, 2023).

  Then-managing director and chief executive officer of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL), Mr Mele Kyari, attributed the pump price increase of about 200% “to market forces” that’ve continually pushed the price upward.

  While Arise News reported that “Nigeria’s fuel price increased by 463.03% to a minimum of N1,340 per litre on June 2, 2026, compared to the N238 per litre rate recorded before President Tinubu assumed office,” Facebook/TheCable noted that “the average price of petrol rose to ₦1,532.93 per litre in April (2026) up from ₦1,288.54 recorded in March 2026, going by data released by the NBS.”

  Daily Post Nigeria reported lately that “prior prices for the product typically hovered between N1,000 and N1,350 at filling stations,” but that “following this peak (N1,532.93 per litre), “global oil price slumps, and increased local supply led prices to begin dropping, with Dangote Refinery reducing its ex-gantry rates, and average retail prices easing back down to between N1,125 and N1,300 per litre, depending on the location and supplier.”

What everyday Nigerians needed/need was/is amelioration in their livelihoods, and not additional hardships from the new president, nor the back and forth between the APC-led Tinubu government and the opposition over the jumps in petrol price and associated negative impacts.

  Tinubu defends the subsidy removal and floating of the naira exchange rate as necessary measures to curb corruption in the system, and free up resources, cornered by few privileged Nigerians, for development of infrastructure, and provision of social amenities and services. 

  The president and his team reel out the gains of subsidy removal to include, among others, construction, rehabilitation and upgrading of roads, bridges, railways, airports, seaports, housing, health and education facilities; and strengthening power and digital infrastructure across Nigeria, and platforms of the Armed Forces and other security agencies, to meet the emerging security challenges nationwide.

  The government creates and funds additional Regional Development Commissions; introduces CNG buses and subsidises installations for commercial vehicles; subsidises implements and inputs to farmers; establishes a Students’ Loan scheme (NELFUND); disburses stipends to the poor; pays off legacy debts to Oil Majors and foreign airlines; offsets loans from the International Monetary Fund (IMF); increases foreign reserves; and allocates more resources to state and local governments.

Well-intentioned and executory as these claims are, they sound strange to opposition members, and most Nigerians, and thus fall on deaf ears of those impacted by the “Tinubunomics” of three years, from which they say they “see no respite” now and in the immediate future. 

  Which’s why typical opposition figures like Atiku and Obi – perceptively not better alternatives than those they crave to replace – gain traction among dissatisfied, “hungry and angry” Nigerians with their avowal to sack President Tinubu from government in 2027.

  But the opposition figures haven’t presented what they’ll do differently, and better with the power they plead with Nigerians to help snatch from Tinubu’s grip before he perfects and implements his alleged plot to render them comatose, “kill democracy and turn Nigeria into a one-party state.” 

  On their good days – or when it’s convenient for them to so proclaim, such as when court rulings and judgments favour them – the opposition members would admit that “democracy is alive,” and no longer dead in Nigeria. Otherwise, in their echo chambers, democracy is always dying or has died in Nigeria, as long as Tinubu and the APC are in control of government and its governance apparatuses.

  For instance, during the ADC primary on May 24, 2026, Atiku admitted that “democracy has come to stay” in Nigeria, as The Punch reported on May 25, 2026, quoting a statement by the Atiku Media Office and shared on X after Atiku cast his vote at the Ajiya Ward polling unit in Jimeta, Yola, capital city of Adamawa State.

  In his remarks, Atiku said: “The large turnout of voters is a clear indication of how party members are willing to participate in the ADC internal democratic processes. I have no doubt that democracy has come to stay.” But Atiku’s since gone back to his pastime of claiming democracy is dying in the country due to alleged plot by Tinubu to decimate the opposition, “stand unopposed” in the January 16, 2027, poll, and turn himself into a “Life President.”

  Having won the presidential primary, and secured the ADC ticket, Atiku should quit the sideshows of accusing Tinubu of plotting to derail Nigeria’s democracy, and purge his heart of real or imaginary bitterness toward the president, and other political competitors or opponents he nurses whatever grudges against.

  As time is running out, Atiku should imbibe this advice, and approach the General Election with open mind, believing God’s will to prevail, as power belongs to Him, and He gives to whomever He wishes! Goodluck to the ‘Waziri Adamawa’ in his “last” political battle of no retreat no surrender!

• Mr Ezomon, Journalist and Media Consultant, writes from Lagos. He can be reached on X, Threads, Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp @EhichioyaEzomon. Tel: 08033078357

There is a famous crocodile farm story that explains Nigeria better than most economic briefings. A group of tourists stood by a crocodile pond when the owner announced: “One million dollars for anyone who jumps in, swims across, and survives.” Everywhere went quiet. Even the mosquitoes paused. Then suddenly, one man entered the water and began swimming like a man who had just remembered unpaid school fees, house rent, diesel price, and his wife’s last warning. Crocodiles chased him. He kicked, shouted, prayed in three denominations, and somehow reached the other side alive. Everybody clapped. The owner called him brave. His wife smiled. Later, at the hotel, someone praised his courage. The man replied: “I didn’t jump. Someone pushed me.”

That, in one wet sentence, is the Nigerian food story.

Nobody is saying Nigeria has no food at all. This country is too stubbornly blessed for that kind of simple obituary. We have yam that can humble a wrestler, rice (almighty rice) that appears at every ceremony like a political appointee, beans, garri, maize, millet, tomatoes, onions, pepper, fish, suya, masa, acha, egusi, and enough soup theology to confuse the Vatican. In most places, the market is not empty. The problem is that the pocket arrives at the market and begins to speak in tongues. Food dey, yes. But hunger dey because money no dey reach buy food again.

That is the difference many official conversations pretend not to understand. A food shortage means the food is not there. A food crisis can also mean the food is there, but people cannot afford it, cannot access it, cannot farm it, cannot transport it safely, or cannot survive the price of cooking it. Hunger does not always wear the uniform of empty barns. Sometimes it wears the agbada of inflation, insecurity, transport cost, low wages, conflict, climate shock, market disruption, and government grammar.

This is why the recent FAO-WFP warning should not be treated like opposition propaganda wearing UN perfume. The Food and Agriculture Organization and the World Food Programme warned that acute food insecurity is expected to worsen in 13 hunger hotspots between June and November 2026, with northeast Nigeria added to the category of highest concern because populations in Borno may face Catastrophe levels of acute food insecurity. The Guardian Nigeria also reported the same concern, noting that Nigeria had been listed among hotspots of greatest concern, with conflict, violence, economic shocks, funding shortfalls, and weather risks worsening the picture. 

Then enter Oga Bayo Onanuga, presidential spokesman, with a statement that landed in the national stomach like cold pap without sugar. He said, “I don’t see the level of hunger people are talking about,” explaining that he asks people who work for him privately how they are coping.

To be fair, he also argued that government programmes, infrastructure projects, student loans, and credit facilities are benefiting people. That part deserves to be heard. Government is not a cupboard where nothing exists. Roads matter. Credit matters. Student loans matter. Infrastructure matters. If a road reduces travel time, that is not nothing. If a student gets help, that is not nothing. If a worker accesses cheaper credit, that is not nothing.

But, Oga Bayo, hunger is not audited by asking your staff, “How are things?” In Nigeria, when oga asks “How are things?” the correct answer is not always the truth. The correct answer is often, “We thank God, sir.” That sentence has carried more suppressed national data than many spreadsheets. A hungry employee does not always brief his employer with the confidence of a World Bank economist. Sometimes he smiles because salary is near. Sometimes she says “we are managing” because Nigerians have turned managing into a national language. Sometimes the person answering is not fine, but the mouth has collected home training.

The danger is that official eyes can become air-conditioned. They see roads, convoys, meetings, airport lounges, and policy slides. But hunger hides in smaller places. It hides in a mother reducing soup so that children can eat twice instead of once. It hides in a father pretending he has eaten outside. It hides in a student drinking garri with philosophical courage. It hides in IDP camps, in farming communities afraid of going to the field, in households where protein has become a Christmas visitor, in markets where people price fish and walk away with seasoning cube.

Reuters reported on July 2, 2026, that more than 17 million people across nine conflict-hit northern states face severe hunger, with violence and funding cuts pushing food insecurity to its worst level in nearly a decade. It also reported that Borno alone has more than three million acutely food insecure people, including over 750,000 facing severe hunger conditions. That is not social media noise. That is not “Ebi n pawa” remix. That is data with shoes on.

Still, balance matters. Nigeria’s problem is not simply that the nation woke up one morning and all the food disappeared. No. The problem is crueler and more Nigerian: food is present, but access is injured. Farmers are willing, but insecurity blocks fields. Traders are active, but transport cost bites. Markets are open, but purchasing power is limping. Government announces programmes, but households meet prices. The macroeconomy may be wearing a suit, but the kitchen is wearing bathroom slippers.

So when government says, “We don’t see hunger,” citizens hear something else: “Swim faster, the crocodiles are not real.” But the crocodiles are real. One is inflation. One is insecurity. One is unemployment. One is displacement. One is poor coordination. One is climate stress. One is the cost of fuel. One is the collapse of trust. And somewhere by the pond, someone is still clapping for the swimmer instead of asking who pushed him.

The citizen did not jump willingly into this crocodile economy. Many were pushed by reforms without enough cushioning, by insecurity without enough protection, by prices without enough wages, by promises without enough delivery. And like the man in the story, Nigerians are swimming. Some are surviving. Some are even smiling. But survival is not the same as comfort. Endurance is not evidence of absence of pain. A people who can laugh inside suffering should not be mistaken for a people who are not suffering.

The honest position is this: Nigeria is not yet a nationwide famine theatre, and we must avoid reckless exaggeration. But Nigeria is clearly at risk of worsening acute food insecurity in several regions, especially where conflict, displacement, market disruption, and poverty meet like crocodiles at feeding time. Denial will not cook rice. Sarcasm will not plant maize. Road projects will not automatically reduce hunger unless they connect farmers to safety, markets to affordability, and households to real income.

Oga Bayo, food dey, but hunger dey. And when a country where food dey still has millions unable to eat well, the problem is not imagination. The problem is access. The problem is governance. The problem is security. The problem is price. The problem is the crocodile pond.

The question is no longer whether Nigerians are brave swimmers. They are. The question is who keeps pushing them into the water, who keeps praising their survival, and when leadership will finally stop clapping long enough to build a bridge.—May Nigeria win.

Founders or may I say certain personalities after whom religions were founded were earlier exposed to self, nature and to Whom all came from into being.

These personalities could not be fully known no matter how close or fervent in belief one could be to them. For those of us of this age we could only read, hear and are taught about them by those to him we decide to entrust all authorities.

Whereas Mary, mother of our Lord Jesus the Christ was singled out amongst many virgins of her time, even as his mother, Jesus had to remind her his mission was to accomplish the assignment given to him by his” Father in Heaven”.

Doing , carrying and accomplishing such an assignment and experiencing the pangs of pain at the Cross of Calvary, he again reminded his mother and those sorrowing around not to cry for him but for themselves including you and I today mere mourners, wailers and moaners.

So we read history about what was, what might not have been actual and how such journalists of old reported such being objective, subjective, inductive or deductive as such no option for us than take their recordings and records maybe hook, line and sinker.

In putting self into reports, records, dictates, observances and immutability of what the scriptures of our various religions contain, the changing “Self” from birth to old age would discover variants in meanings and values we attribute to our various religions and those of others.

Our lives may be meaningful or totally meaningless even in our religions because of the science of life and living which individual or collective experiences are..

Certain experiences dictate to us how actual or relative we should be in our religious inclination, disposition and persuasion thus necessitating further need for further search and admittance of personal conviction if not even confusion.
I concur with prophet Mohammed (saw) who gave injunction to all Muslims, including you and I to search for “KNOWLEDGE” as far as humanly possible.

This to me and my tiny knowledge is to help attain” Peaceful coexistence”.

Little wonder a Muslim scholar in particular hardly rejects sharing ideas and thoughts on and/or over his religion with those of others.
Invite an average Islamic scholar to an interfaith seminar you would be better assured of his readiness to grace the occasion anytime, any day.

Little wonder the pain of each and everyone of us when our cherished religions are misunderstood, misinterpreted, misappropriated and misrepresented.

In such belief and misconception without knowledge, where ignorance, poverty, disunity and misrule reign supreme in the society according to to Ustaz Oguzhan Dirican, “Peace” becomes elusive.
Things fall apart as centre does not hold.

For peace to reign and tranquility to obtain, many of us of mystical persuasions yearn and in humble quest see God’s hands in every religion.
Mystical students world over pride in going further to appreciate similarities in all religions but anchor much more in the spiritual kernels inherent in every religion.

The ultimate desire of such mystical student either in his or her religious persuasion is to ” Have a personal and Intimate awareness of God of his understanding within the domain of Self”,.
The “Spiritual Kernel” of all religions is the mystical way of proving to self like Jesus the Christ once intoned,
” My Father and I are one”.

Further to this, our lord Jesus the Christ concluded,
” That same Father is in you and greater things you can all do”.

The question then is, be one a religionist or seeker beyond mere religious observances,, its propagation or even its fundamentalism, what then is your role in search for Peace?
How tolerant or otherwise are you in respect of your religion and those of others?
Think about it.

A sheep was passing and saw a lion crying inside a cage, trapped and helpless. The lion begged the sheep to rescue him, promising not to kill or eat it. The sheep refused at first, knowing fully well that a lion does not become a vegetarian because of captivity. But after much persuasion, emotional blackmail, and the sheep’s own gullibility, it opened the cage.

Now the lion was very hungry, having stayed in the cage for days without food. It quickly pounced on the sheep and was about to kill and eat it, but the sheep reminded him of his promise.

They were still arguing when other animals came passing. They sought to know what had happened. Both the lion and the sheep narrated their own sides of the story, but because of fear, convenience, and the desperate need to gain favour in the sight of the lion, all the animals took sides with the lion, except the tortoise, who claimed not to understand the whole scenario.

The tortoise asked the lion to show them where exactly he was before the sheep rescued him. The lion pointed at the cage.

The tortoise asked again, “Were you inside or outside when the sheep arrived?”

The lion replied, “I was inside.”

The tortoise then said, “Okay, enter and let us see how difficult it could be inside, because I am not getting the whole scenario.”

The lion entered, and immediately, the tortoise locked the cage. The lion was trapped again.

That story is not just folklore. It is a national diagnosis.

Nigeria today is full of trapped lions, gullible sheep, frightened animals, and very few tortoises. We have many people with opinions, but few with discernment. Many with certificates, but few with comprehension. Many with titles, but few with thought. Many who can quote policy, scripture, law, and ideology, but cannot ask the simple question that prevents disaster: “Wait first, how did we get here?”

That question is the beginning of critical thinking. Sadly, it is becoming an endangered species.

The easiest and most attractive national pastime remains buck-passing, especially with the bunch of leaders we have, some of whom can hardly peel a banana nor wash an already white handkerchief. Not many of us want to take responsibility for anything, from personal life to family life, from community life to national life. The blame is always on the system, as if the system descended from the sky and imposed itself on innocent citizens.

We do not need to create demons out of our leaders because, in too many instances, they have behaved like ready-made specimens of public demons. So, we hang our sins on them, sometimes appropriately, sometimes lazily. Unfortunately, their behaviour has made it easy for the critic to descend on them. They loot loudly, lie casually, perform empathy only when cameras are present, and govern as though the people are background noise in their private banquet.

But there is a deeper tragedy. The lion is not our only problem. The sheep too must be examined. The other animals must be questioned. Even the silence of the forest must stand trial.

This is where the Olodo Syndrome enters.

In Nigerian street language, “Olodo” is often used to describe a dull person, someone slow to understand, someone who fails where basic reasoning should have saved them. But in this essay, Olodo is not merely the person who did not go to school. No. Nigeria has produced a more sophisticated creature: the educated olodo. The certificated illiterate. The graduate who cannot reason beyond slogans. The public officer who mistakes grammar for intelligence. The citizen who forwards nonsense with confidence. The analyst who mistakes noise for insight. The leader who confuses movement with progress. The voter who sells tomorrow for rice today, then spends four years complaining that the pot is empty.

Olodo, therefore, is not the absence of schooling. It is the failure of judgment.

It is what happens when a nation rewards mediocrity and punishes thought. It is what happens when people who ask serious questions are labelled troublesome, while those who clap for madness are called loyal. It is what happens when dumb, crazy things move the needle, while wisdom is treated like an old man coughing in the corner. It is what happens when unintelligent people do not merely exist, but are celebrated, promoted, defended, and installed as gatekeepers over those who still dare to think.

This is Nigeria’s Olodo Uprising.

It is an uprising not of the poor against the rich, nor of the uneducated against the educated. It is an uprising of shallow thinking against depth. An assault on memory, logic, accountability, and consequence. It is the national habit of refusing to connect action to outcome. We open the cage, release the lion, and then begin a prayer meeting when the lion remembers its appetite.

We talk, write, and discuss the Nigerian myth with a sense of fatalism. “This is Nigeria,” we say, as if that phrase is both an explanation and excuse. If everyone thought as much about justice and fairness, life would be better. I am a critic, yes, but I am also a critics’ critic. I remain an unrepentant believer that one of the ways to keep the government on its toes is to keep harping on its flaws so that it can improve. But criticism without self-examination becomes entertainment. It becomes pepper soup politics, the kind we enjoy at drinking joints, suya spots, WhatsApp groups, and television studios where every table has a parliament and every loud voice is mistaken for a constitution.

Often, I say I believe the things I write on are important for our nation, as they are for other nations. But when it appears to me that Nigerians, especially those in authority, do not react to these issues as people in other lands do, I repeat them in new essays to remind old readers and recruit new ones to participate in the continuing dialogue.

Because repetition, sometimes, is not lack of creativity. It is the burden of memory in a country addicted to forgetting.

Sadly, this is Nigeria, where nothing works and no one cares. When it works, it is often because someone’s interest is about to be served or is already being served, not because the people’s interest has suddenly become sacred. We talk about our institutions despairingly. Our leaders do not watch network news except when their faces will appear at their sons’ or daughters’ weddings, birthdays, burials, thanksgiving services, or self-sponsored ceremonies of public praise. They do not need newspapers anymore because too many pages are already full of their lies, paid adverts, and noisy banters dressed as governance.

A country that destroys thinking will eventually be governed by instinct.

That is why the Olodo Syndrome is dangerous. It does not only make people ignorant. It makes them confidently ignorant. It gives stupidity a microphone and asks wisdom to apply for permission to speak. It converts public debate into shouting contests. It turns leadership recruitment into ethnic arithmetic, religious panic, stomach infrastructure, and emotional blackmail. It makes citizens defend their oppressors because the oppressor speaks their language, attends their church, worships in their mosque, comes from their zone, or once gave them transport money.

This is how the other animals sided with the lion.

Not because the lion was right. They knew he was wrong. But fear is a powerful editor of truth. Hunger is a wicked lawyer. Proximity to power is a dangerous intoxicant. In Nigeria, many people do not support injustice because they are confused. They support it because they are calculating. They are asking themselves, “What if the lion remembers me tomorrow? What if I need a favour? What if I condemn him now and he becomes minister, governor, chairman, commissioner, vice chancellor, senator, president?”

So, they betray the sheep.

Government bashing remains a national pastime, and every drinking joint and suya spot has a sitting parliament with an expert on every issue. But we forget that no matter the input, if the politicians and actors on our national scene have questionable lives both at personal and domestic levels, nothing will change. The best government policy cannot change the individual when the policies themselves are formulated on a bad foundation by people with warped thinking.

A corrupt mind cannot midwife a clean system.

When a witch proclaims her presence, and an invalid does not make away, he must have money for sacrifices at home. Nigeria has been warned too many times. We have seen the witch. We have heard the announcement. Yet we remain seated, arguing about who invited her, who offended her, which village she came from, and whether her witchcraft is constitutionally recognised.

This is not merely leadership failure. It is civic laziness. It is moral cowardice. It is intellectual surrender.

The tortoise in the story represents the rare citizen who does not join the chorus. The one who pauses the noise. The one who asks for sequence, evidence, context, motive, and consequence. The tortoise is not the loudest animal. It is not the strongest. It does not roar. It does not bleat. It thinks.

That is what Nigeria needs now: more tortoises.

Not slow people, but thoughtful people. Not cowards hiding under shells, but citizens who understand that speed without thought is national self-harm. We need people who can ask leaders: Where were you before power? What did you promise? What have you done? Who benefits? Who pays? What happens tomorrow? We need teachers who teach children to question, not merely cram. We need voters who examine character before currency. We need religious leaders who produce conscience, not crowds. We need journalists who investigate, not decorate. We need institutions that reward competence over loyalty, substance over noise, and courage over convenience.

Because the lion will always be hungry again.

That is the part Nigeria refuses to learn. Appeasing bad leadership does not end its appetite. Excusing mediocrity does not transform it into excellence. Rewarding foolishness does not make it wise. If we allow the lion to eat the sheep today because we are afraid, hungry, tribal, religiously sentimental, or politically invested, we have not solved the hunger problem. We have only postponed our own turn.

In amazement, the other animals asked the tortoise “why” and the tortoise replied. “If we allow him to eat the sheep today, he will still go hungry tomorrow and we don’t know what will be eaten tomorrow—May Nigeria win

—

*Prince Charles Dickson PhD is
Team Lead at
The Tattaaunawa Roundtable Initiative

It is from the array of these phenomenal selectivity that I am here discussing a contextual issue of “Iya Alakara” and / or Iya Alakara General of the Federation.

“E ma fi Iya Alakara sere, Iya Alakara. Oun ta sansan si mi ni mu, Iya Alakara, oun ta dodo si mi lofun, Iya Alakara. E ma fi Iya Alakara sere Iya Alakara”.

This play song used to be one of our treasured songs during our childhood days in Iyeru Okin Olofamojo,the one and only God’s own Town of Kwara State. We used to sing that no one should joke with the catering or the fine dexterity of the seller of the bean cakes which aroma is greatly appetising and the taste so sweetening when chewed and swallowed.

Of course, in Yoruba land of old, “Akara” is fried in different manners for different purposes. In Offa we have akaras or bean cakes fried with ordinary palm oil as we had in Senke, Kengbe, Kangu and in modern day much more with groundnut oil such as we have in Larodo.

Akara in most cases is not eaten alone but with pap or grinded and boiled corn or maize or in modern day with custard or quaker oat and allied.

These days akara could be easily bandited or kidnapped along with bread, with or without tea, or with or without soft drinks. I don’t know whether people take it while sipping palmwine or light alcoholic drinks.

Hausa’s “Kose”,” Akamu” or with “Koko” are equally enriching especially for someone like me during the Muslim Ramadan.

Outside serving as minimal breakfast supplement, akara also had been used to serve other purposes.

During our childhood days, one along with a number of few friends – if perchance we discovered at the Crossroads that the ritual being offered inside a black pot contained akara, or eggs and coins – be rest assured of their reallocation as our own palliative from the deities.

Similarly, during burial ceremonies in Yorubaland of old, as part of ceremonial feeding of family members, relatives and friends, akara and “eko elewe” both solid and pap were usually served and became a must want to partake in for all and sundry.

I remembered as if it were yesterday during my holiday visits and orientation camp in Gusau then in Sokoto but now Zamfara State(s). Our orientation camp was equally electrified by akara, kose and koko or pap.

Later, with my cousins – Alhaja Bintu, brother Lasisi Alarape, their children and other relations, both Rabiu Bello and Waheed including Ganiyu Ibikunle – wemust ensure we had an anointing and interment of akara tucked inside our oesophagus especially at nights.

That main akara or kose seller, who when she sold akara and chicken late into the night and slept off, a couple of bad boys usually eloped with thighs of chicken and other breastless chests – but do not say I told you.

Akara Yahoo remains a palatable snack for the Son of Man when in Offa and I love patronising these young male enterprising ones, graduates who unfortunately are being disparaged by lazy ones when others are exploring the verging modern akara trade businesses.

My own encounters and the derivation of palliative from the First Lady, Her Excellency Senator Mrs. Oluremi Tinubu – now referred to as ” Iya Alakara” by her husband President Bola Ahmed Tinubu GCFR – was when she was the First Lady of Lagos State around mid 90s.

Her akara then came both in cash and kind as honest and humble donations to the Red Cross Society of Lagos Branch when Pa Umunde and Dr Odugbesan served as Chairmen (both of blessed memories) and the Son of Man then served as Information and Fund Raising Adviser.

Mrs Tinubu was exceedingly humble and respectful to us all Red Crossers of that time without any iota of undue pride nor inhuman treatments by the security operatives in her encourage then.

As part of Her Excellency ‘s additional akara palliative to the downtrodden Nigerians – especially the graduates – my humble plea to Mr President through Madam Oluremi Tinubu is that the status quo remains for the National Youth Service Corp.

That not only the paramilitary aspect of it still be handled by the Military, but that the NYSC uniform be left intact for corpers against the pedestrian suggestion being peddled around.
There may be slight structural adjustments to how corpers are posted, taking cognisance of insecurities everywhere in Nigeria, but its fulcrum of national integration should neither be overlooked nor the cancellation of its paramilitary tradition and the change of its uniform entertained.

Your Excellency Ma, could you believe that my brother’s wife and mine are both dividends of our NYSC services in 1973 at Isukwuato – formally in Imo but now Abia and mine 1980/81 in Oyo State respectively?

That is the truth. So, ” Biko” make una let NYSC be; just as the frying of AKARA has been through the ages till date.

God bless Nigeria as Akara remains a worthwhile chop-chop forever and ever.

Without careful planning and even more diligent implementation, an asset can become a liability. The commentariat in South East Nigeria is vexed by this debate as governments across the region dig in for the race to build airports. Several commentators, including government spokespersons, mistake airport construction for an economic strategy. They are eager to risk scarce resources on terminals rather than on the hard work required to build an integrated aviation and logistics system that actually supports production.
 
Hardly do numbers guide these politically tainted debates. However, Nigeria’s aviation data seem to support the proponents of airport expansion. Nigeria’s domestic passenger traffic numbers rose by 4.3% from 12.54 million in 2024 to 13.09 million in 2025, while total passenger traffic increased by 5.9% from 16.94 million to 17.94 million. However, taken in context, these numbers signal recovery more than transformation. Nigeria’s aviation market remains shallow in a country of more than 200 million people. It is also significantly concentrated in a few cities. For instance, in 2024, Abuja handled about 35% of domestic passengers and Lagos about 33%. Port Harcourt handled roughly 8%, Enugu 3.9% and Owerri 3.3%.
 
These numbers do not make a compelling case for building more airports on the grounds of passenger convenience. That argument was already weak in 2019, when Anambra began construction of the Chinua Achebe Airport, despite its proximity to Asaba, Enugu, and Owerri airports. It is even weaker today for a second airport. The existing airport is well located, about 29km from Onitsha, 33km from Awka, and 31km from Nnewi. Since commencing operations in December 2021, it had recorded about 400,000 passengers and 7,000 flights by November 2024. This is a respectable performance for a new airport, but not enough to justify Governor Charles Soludo’s proposed second airport. Rather, the priority should be to make the Achebe airport more useful, not to duplicate it.
 
Cargo is the more serious argument. IATA estimates aviation contributed $2.5bn to Nigeria’s GDP in 2023 and supported about 217,000 jobs. Nigerian airports handled about 195,700 tonnes of air cargo that year. Air cargo serves high-value, time-sensitive goods: pharmaceuticals, machine parts, electronics, perishables, documents and e-commerce parcels, precisely the categories that matter to a commercially dense but logistically constrained region.
 
Guided by the above, Abia presents an interesting calculus. Its main commercial city, Aba, is one of Nigeria’s most important manufacturing clusters. A well-designed airport in Aba could reduce logistics constraints and confer strategic advantages. However, its success largely depends on whether it is embedded in a broader industrial strategy. The airport must be part of an ecosystem that includes direct integration with Aba’s factories and markets, cargo consolidation, bonded warehousing, quality certification, customs processing, and other related services. Without these, the airport becomes an expensive good-to-have or a mere political statement. With them, it could become production infrastructure.
 
The same test applies to the second airport Governor Soludo has proposed for Anambra State. Reports indicate that the airport will be linked to a proposed industrial park and aerotropolis. Fair point, but a second airport in Anambra is hard to justify as a passenger facility. It is defensible only as a specialised logistics asset within an industrial platform. Either way, rigorous analysis must demonstrate that the existing airport, branded as an “international cargo airport”, cannot serve the same purpose.
 
Some pundits have made a resilience argument for more passenger airports. In April 2025, emergency repairs at Enugu Airport forced airlines to divert flights to neighbouring airports in Anambra and Asaba. This probably makes the case for redundancy. With insecure and poorly maintained roads, aviation provides insurance for medical evacuation, emergency response, diaspora travel, business mobility and high-value freight. However, while the social value is real, it should not become a blank cheque. This point is especially pertinent given the scarcity of government revenue and increasing social demands.
 
Nigeria’s experience with state airports counsels caution. Ebonyi’s airport has reportedly absorbed more than ₦55bn since 2019, much of it before generating any meaningful revenue. Other state airports struggle with thin traffic, high maintenance costs and dependence on eventual federal takeover. Airports fail not because they are inherently bad investments, but because politics precedes economics.
 
The South East, therefore, needs an aviation compact, not an airport race. For instance, Enugu can function as the region’s principal international gateway. Anambra should serve the Onitsha-Nnewi-Awka commercial axis. Owerri should serve Imo and adjoining catchments. Port Harcourt will remain relevant to oil and gas, as well as to southern Abia. Asaba will continue to serve the Niger crossing and western Anambra. Abia’s airport is defensible only if it becomes Aba’s export and logistics platform.
 
The policy test should be simple. No new airport should proceed without anchor users, cargo commitments, a professional operating model, lifecycle maintenance funding, private-sector participation and a credible non-aeronautical revenue plan. Airports make money not only from landing fees but also from land, warehousing, retail, parking, hotels, fuel, logistics, maintenance, and concessions.
 
Indeed, the South East does not need more monuments. It needs infrastructure that raises productivity. In terms of passenger convenience, none of the proposed airports passes muster. Abia’s airport can be justified if designed around Aba’s industrial economy. A second Anambra airport cannot be justified unless its industrial city proves indispensable, and there is no way the current airport can meet its needs. Aviation should serve production, not politics. An airport should be a productive asset that triggers economic growth, not an expensive toy.
 
By Patrick O. Okigbo III