“If goat dey chop yam, na who open barn door we go ask.”

In the bustling streets of Nigeria, where the aroma of suya (spiced grilled meat) fills the air, the conversations that take place at these food joints often provide an informal yet powerful reflection of the country’s political climate. In many ways, these “Suya Spot Parliamentarians” embody the collective frustrations, aspirations, and beliefs of the Nigerian populace, offering a candid, if not humorous, lens through which we can better understand political leadership and its complexities.

I am intentional in my suya spot because for some reason Suya is not sold in the mornings in most parts of Nigeria, at best, we start the preparation in the afternoon. Either way, follow me in this conversation…

Suya spots, often informal, unassuming local eateries, have long been meeting ground for the everyday Nigerian, where the latest gossip, political discussions, and societal issues are shared with gusto. Here, amid the sizzling meat and spicy pepper sauce, Nigerians wax philosophical, sharing their views on national matters. These impromptu “parliaments” are a melting pot of ideas, perspectives, and critiques of the leadership in power.

The conversations are typically peppered with sharp wit and fervor, and more often than not, they reveal deep dissatisfaction with the political class. But what’s striking is the ease with which these leaders are vilified, reduced to mere “demons” in the minds of the masses. This is more than just frustration; it is a consequence of the systemic failure of leadership, where promises are broken, resources are mismanaged, and the average citizen feels increasingly disconnected from those they elect to lead them.

In a country like Nigeria, the relationship between the people and their leaders is often characterized by an unspoken yet palpable tension. The notion that “leaders are the demons we create” taps into a deep-seated truth: Nigerian leaders, for all their perceived faults, are not born into power—they are products of a system that allows them to thrive.

The electorate is complicit in this dynamic, too. Voter apathy, electoral malpractices, and corruption perpetuate the cycle of bad leadership. Nigerian leaders often rise to power through a mixture of patronage, promises of change, and the manipulation of public sentiment. Once in power, many fail to meet the expectations of their constituents, and instead of inspiring hope, they reinforce the sense of betrayal.

The reality is that these leaders are not foreign entities imposed upon us—they emerge from our communities, from our collective choices, and from the very system we participate in, whether passively or actively. When corruption flourishes, when politicians break promises, when national resources are looted, the Nigerian populace is often left lamenting the leaders who have failed them. Yet, these leaders are merely the reflection of a society that, in many instances, tolerates or even facilitates their rise.

One of the most significant issues within Nigerian politics is the chronic disconnection between leaders and the people. Over the years, the political class has become increasingly self-serving, creating an environment where national interests take a backseat to personal gain. This has resulted in the emergence of “leaders” who are more interested in amassing wealth and power than in serving the public.

However, the Nigerian electorate is not without fault. In a society where immediate gratification often trumps long-term vision, voters are sometimes swayed by promises of short-term benefits—such as a bag of rice, a token sum of money, or a plate of food. This transactional relationship between leaders and the electorate has become ingrained in the political culture, perpetuating a vicious cycle of electoral manipulation and unaccountable governance.

The result is a leadership class that often behaves like “demons” in the eyes of the people: those who consume the resources that should benefit the masses, those who create policies that serve their interests rather than the public’s, and those who remain disconnected from the everyday struggles of the people they were elected to represent.

While it’s easy to point fingers at politicians and lament the state of Nigerian politics, the responsibility for change doesn’t rest solely on the shoulders of the leaders. It lies with the citizens who must demand better leadership, who must hold politicians accountable, and who must push for systemic reforms that address the root causes of bad governance.

The way forward for Nigeria lies in the collective action of the people—breaking free from the cycle of patronage and transactional politics and embracing a culture of accountability and transparency. The country needs leaders who are not just figureheads, but true servants of the people, willing to sacrifice their own interests for the greater good.

Nigerians must also take the conversations from the suya spots to the voting booths. The “Suya Spot Parliamentarians” may have insightful critiques, but it’s time for these voices to translate into real political power. Civic engagement and active participation in the democratic process are crucial to reshaping Nigeria’s political future. It’s not enough to complain about the “demons” in power without understanding that we, too, play a part in the process of creating them.

I will end with a small story…a man stole a cap and brought it out for sale with notice to any prospective buyer that it was a stolen cap. A Man volunteered to buy at a given price.

On the following Saturday, the new owner wore the Cap to a wedding ceremony. The original owner coincidentally attended the ceremony, saw his cap from afar, and recognized the same.

He moved nearer to the Man wearing the cap, observed and ensured it was his stolen cap, greeted him, and asked where he came across the cap he was wearing.

The Man replied, “I picked it on the bed of my junior wife and I am looking for the owner myself. The Man removed the cap, handed it to the original owner for proper examination. The original owner checked and suddenly handed it back to the Man saying it’s not his cap but rather a look alike. In a couple of minutes, the original owner disappeared from the gathering without notice; hence sacrificing his cap.

The metaphor of “Suya Spot Parliamentarians” captures the essence of Nigerian politics: informal, outspoken, and often frustrated. Yet, this energy and passion for change must be harnessed and directed toward meaningful action. Leaders are indeed the demons we create, but they are also the ones we can choose to replace, reshape, or reform. Same way we need to ask, how intelligent are we in dealing with issues of critical interest to Nigeria, especially when we are addressing the leadership question.

Ultimately, the Nigerian people have the power to transform their country. It is not enough to sit in a corner and lament the state of leadership; it’s time to take action—through voting, advocacy, and participation—to build a leadership that genuinely serves the people, not just its interests. The question is, are we ready to break the cycle and create a Nigeria where leaders are held accountable, where corruption is no longer tolerated, and where the government truly represents the will of the people? Only time will tell, but the choice lies within us all.

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Prince Charles Dickson PhD