I lived in Eastern Africa for about 16 years, 11 of which were in Kenya but working on Somalia. My Kenya years were very impactful. I learned a lot. Even though I was lazy on language, I was a big observant of the country, including its fauna. Many a time, I drove within the Kenya National Park in Nairobi and went beyond to Amboseli, Nakuru, Maasai Mara, etc.

I had observed carnivorous animals chase and subdued weaker herbivorous animals. As A Y O dot, my friend tells me an Impala or a Gnu a.k.a. Wildebeest, which are herbivorous animals, have no chance of making a plea to the Lioness not to kill them for food when they really never hurt any of the members of a Lion’s pride. Once the Lioness has zeroed in on one, it is a case of snuffing life out of another living animal. There could be a thousand Wildebeest, once one is grabbed, the others flee. A similar situation is it between Crocodiles and Wildebeests, as the latter, in droves, annually cross the Mara River from Tanzania into Kenya to forage until time to instinctively all return to Tanzania. Zebras et.al. join in the annual crossing. Once a Crocodile grabs a Gnu, the hundreds of crossing Zebra, Gnu, etc., do not look back. The strength in number was never to be deployed in these situations.

The feeling was unmistakable – a sense of helplessness, like a Zebra caught in the jaws of a Lion or a Wildebeest pulled under by a crocodile. This was exactly how I felt as I descended the Third Mainland Bridge going in the direction of Ibadan on October 30, 2024, at about 17:00 a.k.a. 5 pm. I left a 70th birthday party of a friend I grew up with that held at Ebute-Metta. It was a great opportunity to not only felicitate with the celebrant but also a reunion with old friends, especially Olusesan Ekisola. There is so much campaign to keep old social networks for longevity. We left the party at the same time for fear of traffic and its accompanying vicissitudes.

All of a sudden, I had several bangs on my car that was slowed down to about 5 km an hour. It was not stand still. It was moving. Three or four young men were hitting my car with their fists, indicating that they were hungry and I must feed them. It was a command and nothing near a plea. I shouted back, asking why was I responsible for their feeding. The one in front grabbed the mirror part of the rear-view mirror casing, indicating to me that he would pull it out if I don’t immediately provide money for food.

I remembered what my son said happened to his car on March 5, 2024. He had a meeting on behalf of his company with some foreign investors. The foreigners had another meeting on the Marina, and he asked his driver to drive them there instead of using Uber. This was the type of hospitable behaviour I expected of him. As the driver and foreigners descended Eko Bridge towards joining Marina, some guy came begging for “feeding money”. He was ignored. He yanked off the mirror of the rear-view mirror. It cost my son an arm and a leg to replace.

I had posted the experience of my son on a WhatsApp platform that I belong to which also has highly placed Nigerians, including at least one minister, several advisers and those we refer to as Awaiting Office or Awaiting Contracts in the current government of Nigeria. There were some expressions of sympathy for my son and Nigeria with the thinking that those foreigners would not invest here. To my dismay, a friend dismissed it – this was just daily life in Lagos. But I now know that he was saying the truth. Another truth was that those foreigners would invest in spite of their experience if the returns would be good and their investment reasonably secured by all sorts of insurance, including sovereign guarantees in some cases with the interests of senior officials.

I was in the fastest lane that was moving at the speed of the tortoise, meaning at least more than the snail. Here I was, living that same “daily life,” wishing the cars around me would notice my plight. I am sure they did but could not be bothered. I thought of crashing into the car next to mine in the middle lane as everyone drove on as if nothing was happening. I thought about the cost to repair two or more cars if I behaved instinctively. I could see the Governor Sanwo-Olu installed CCTV cameras ahead and wondered about the deception that those cameras would boost our security as people are supposedly watching over us 24/7. But realistically, even if someone was indeed watching at a control centre, what could have been done? Deploy armed drones or helicopters of the Rapid Response Squad as would be the case in situations of governments that indeed govern? So much on the ruse on how the deployment of drones would sniff out kidnappers, who are known and given chieftaincy titles and digitalisation would reduce corruption, etc. A decadent and problem of lack of values and consequences for criminal behaviour cannot be solved by corrupt deployment of technology.

I beckoned to the guy viciously holding onto my mirror as I drove on, and he jogged along to ask the other guys to stop following us so I could find something for him. He instructed them, and they complied. It was not easy to grab my wallet from my tight Yoruba “Sokoto”. My favourite late nephew had insisted to my wife that his tailor must sew my dresses and I should stop looking older than my age. He had joined all in my family to insist that I should no longer be driving myself. But that I rejected, insisting that I would stop driving only when my body gave me the message.

My hands were shaking. I was being violated even without a matchet or guns as I later learned that others do. I grabbed N500, which my special adviser said he learned as being called a Figo when he once faced the exact experience at Ketu a while back, and he did not even bother to tell me. He had also been cut with a matchet in Abuja in the past for daring to walk a short distance in search of salvation on a Christmas Eve. I wondered about what food a Figo could buy since we got the renewed hope government of Nigeria with its whopping devaluation. He was looking at me as I fiddled, my wallet dropped, but I had grabbed another N500. He was patient with me; he knew he had subdued me, and like the Impala, all other drivers would not assist me. I was literally on my own.

I had learned from my days in the conflict zones that I had some level of protection while remaining in my car, more so a moving car even if slowly without any opportunity to bolt without damage to my car. I knew I was about to expose myself by handing the N1, 000 over. I wound down a bit to the extent of allowing only the notes to slip through as we continued in motion. He left my mirror and grabbed the naira notes and expressed gratitude and said: “Baba, go on, you are free”.

As I drove on for about half a kilometre, I saw a policeman walking towards me. It did not occur to me to waste my time in spite of the constant reminder that the police were my friend in many advertisements. And I cannot blame the underfunded and under-staffed Nigeria Police Force. However, it is also important that even the few available police officers are deployed to help those with real money to move around and live a life of no fear from hoodlums. When they were not doing this more lucrative service, they were chasing vehicle particulars from motor drivers, crimes that should be ignored as unimportant in the face of the anarchy that is brewing in our country. This is more so as the Sanwo-Olu CCTV cameras have been catching those whose car papers had expired but still on the road, slamming them with huge sums as penalties. Your guess is as good as mine as to why the police, the vehicle inspection officers, the Federal Road Safety Corps, etc., are respectively busy checking car papers.

I related my experience to a bosom friend who told me that his wife had been accosted at the same spot I was at and successfully robbed twice. Each time she was driven, she normally fretted at that same spot, scared that she would be attacked again. She had seen other people being attacked and moved on as I would have done. But her husband made a significant point. It is those of us in cars that never react when one of us is getting the treatment of an Antelope from a Lioness or a Crocodile. He noted that dispatch riders on motor-bicycles would stop if anything untoward was happening to any of their own and rescue the one under attack from any criminal or even law-enforcement not to talk of an unfortunate car driver that knocks one of their own down.

I had to drive the same route on the following day while returning from a panel discussion at the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, I chose to move not later than 2 pm when traffic was lighter. I realized that I had been psychologically affected, maybe not to the extent of using the word traumatized. Even moving at about 40kms an hour, I was thinking the boys may surface again.

I share this story not out of optimism but to underscore the sad reality we face: a country where security is an afterthought, where leadership is so corrupt, and where the roads are made safe only for those in power. For the rest of us, survival has become a matter of luck and, sometimes, a thousand-naira (One Naira as nicknamed by Agberos in Lagos) compulsory gift for “freedom.”

On a larger note, the signs of things getting to this point, especially in Lagos, have always been there. The increasing presence of unemployed, unproductive, very hungry young men easily deployed as tools of political oppression and destruction in any society should not be left unattended to. The security menace they constitute only became more harrowing since we got the renewed hope government of Nigeria.

– Prof. Badejo is a legal practitioner and professor of Political Science and International Relations at Chrisland University, Abeokuta. Nigeria.

As someone from Plateau State, where the solid minerals sector has long been exploited without fostering lasting economic benefits, I have always believed that Nigeria’s untapped mineral wealth could fuel the nation’s growth. With more than 44 types of solid minerals, Nigeria is endowed with resources that, if managed responsibly, could lead to transformative progress.

That potential appeared closer to reality when Segilola Resources Operating Limited (SROL) launched Nigeria’s first commercial gold mine in Osun State. SROL invested millions of dollars in transforming a dormant project into a viable, revenue-generating business, attracting international investor interest to Nigeria’s mining sector and showing the world that Nigeria is indeed capable of fostering a productive, ethical mining industry. SROL’s accomplishments have earned it a place among Nigeria’s Top 10 non-oil exporters, marking the first time gold has made it onto the list – a win for Nigeria’s economy and a crucial step in the country’s journey toward economic diversification.

Yet, despite these achievements, the Osun State Government (OSG) has launched a concerted attack on SROL through a string of public accusations, misrepresentations, and abuses of the judicial system. In a series of moves that can only be described as weaponizing state machinery, the OSG has repeatedly used its platform to discredit SROL, and in doing so, has undermined the economic stability and reputation of Osun State.

One of the OSG’s most egregious tactics has been its manipulation of the court system to push its agenda. In an unorthodox move, the OSG sought a magistrate court order to justify its actions against SROL. The magistrate court, cannot adjudicate on matters over a threshold limit of N10 million, making it an unusual venue for adjudicating complex corporate and regulatory disputes, such as the tax dispute of N3.2 billion in the Segilola/OSG matter. Such an approach suggests that the OSG was less interested in legal due process and more focused on leveraging the court as a tool for coercion. This misuse of judicial authority not only raises concerns about fairness but also sets a dangerous precedent for other states to employ similar tactics against companies operating within their borders.

Simultaneously, the OSG has weaponized media channels to amplify its baseless accusations against SROL, including claims of tax evasion and environmental degradation. Tax disputes are a standard part of doing business, and it has been confirmed that both parties were actively engaged in tax resolution talks to resolve any outstanding issues. Instead of following the established channels for tax resolution through to the end, however, the OSG abandoned the discussion mid-process and opted to publicize unproven claims, tarnishing SROL’s reputation and undermining investor confidence in Osun State.

Furthermore, the OSG’s environmental allegations lack endorsement from the Federal Ministry of Environment, the principal regulatory authority on environmental matters in Nigeria. Not only has the ministry refrained from supporting the OSG’s position, but the OSG has also cited reports linking environmental concerns to illegal mining in the area—activities entirely separate from SROL’s regulated operations. By continuing to conflate SROL’s actions with unrelated environmental issues, the OSG not only misleads the public but also deflects attention from the real environmental threats facing the community.

Perhaps most baffling is the OSG’s contradictory stance on SROL’s shareholding. Despite claiming a stake in SROL, the OSG has chosen to publicly undermine a venture in which it purportedly has an interest. This action reflects a concerning lack of regard for Osun State’s economic welfare, as it risks not only the viability of SROL but also discourages future investors wary of unpredictable state interference. The fact that SROL’s parent company is publicly listed adds to the gravity of this situation, as such behavior could send shockwaves through international investor networks, casting Nigeria in a negative light.

A quick look at SROL’s website reveals numerous community-centered projects. Beyond the compensation paid to project-affected persons, SROL has implemented livelihood restoration programs to support these communities, including fish farming, vegetable farming, and a cocoa rehabilitation program that provides improved-yield cocoa seedlings, agrochemicals, and necessary supplies. Notably, one of the videos on their site features a clip from an NTA broadcast showing Professor Jimoda, the Special Adviser to the Governor on Mining and Mineral Resources, commending SROL’s efforts and saying the company was “getting it right.” It raises a question: what could have prompted such a stark change in sentiment from the Osun State Government within just a few months?

In response to the escalating tension, the Federal Government established a fact-finding committee to mediate the conflict between SROL and the OSG. While this intervention was intended to ensure a fair and transparent resolution, the OSG has continued to press new allegations. Notably, the Federal Government has remained silent on the validity of these claims—an omission that suggests the matter remains unresolved and casts doubt on the OSG’s assertions of victory.

As the OSG continues its campaign against SROL, it is Osun State’s own image and economy that will suffer the greatest harm. Investors are acutely aware of how companies are treated in foreign jurisdictions, and the OSG’s actions raise legitimate concerns about the stability of doing business in Osun and Nigeria as a whole. By targeting SROL, the OSG is effectively undermining one of its own promising enterprises and risking Nigeria’s reputation as a viable investment destination.

The OSG’s actions display a pattern of legal manipulation, public defamation, and regulatory overreach that not only damages Osun State’s immediate economic prospects but also jeopardizes Nigeria’s broader ambitions to become a global mining powerhouse. The time has come for the OSG to cease this counterproductive crusade, return to constructive dialogue, and prioritize the long-term welfare of Osun and its people over short-term political theatrics.

Katako, a public affairs analyst, writes from Jos

The recent arraignment of minors for treason in Nigeria has sparked widespread outrage and condemnation from various quarters. Their arraignment has raised concerns about the handling of juvenile cases and the implications of such actions on the children’s future. The federal government’s position on the matter has been criticized, with many calling for the immediate release of the minors. Sadly, it’s going to come and go like all such matters, no one will be held liable or accountable.

The incident highlights the challenges of leadership in Nigeria, so, let me tell us the story of leadership—a satirical safari through power and promise.

Nigerian leadership. Say those words in any social setting, and watch the room split into chuckles, sighs, and, sometimes, heated monologues. Nigerian leadership is a tale that could rival any Hollywood blockbuster in plot twists, suspense, and emotional rollercoasters. However, it’s also a tale layered with the mystique of myths—idealized versions of what leadership is supposed to be versus what we often get.

We are a Comedy of Errors…Nigeria, a land of contrasts, a nation blessed with immense potential, yet plagued by a leadership conundrum that seems to defy logic. The recurring theme is a leadership that promises much and delivers little, a leadership that often seems more interested in personal enrichment than national development. This has led many to question the very concept of Nigerian leadership, to wonder if it’s not just a grand illusion, a mirage in the desert of hope.

The Nigerian leader, in popular imagination, is a peculiar creature. He (and it’s almost always a he) is often portrayed as a demi-god, a messiah who will miraculously transform the nation overnight. He is expected to solve all problems, from poverty and corruption to insecurity and infrastructure decay.

Yet, time and again, these leaders fail to live up to the hype. They are often more concerned with power retention than problem-solving, more interested in enriching themselves and their cronies than uplifting the masses.

The myth of Nigerian leadership has had a devastating impact on the country. It has led to a culture of cynicism and apathy, where people have lost faith in the ability of their leaders to make a difference. This has, in turn, led to a decline in civic engagement and a rise in social unrest.

Let us start with the allure of the “Messiah Complex”. There’s a strange ritual that occurs every four years. Nigerians from all walks of life gather, united in collective hope, as politicians-turned-Messiahs make promises that sound like poetry. We’ve been told of visions of transforming deserts into oases and turning debts into riches. We’ve heard of a future filled with functional electricity, pothole-free roads, and hospitals that will make a Swiss watchmaker green with envy. These messianic figures appear every election season with a well-rehearsed script and an arsenal of grandiose claims that even Aesop himself would have had trouble believing.

Every so often, however, Nigerians fall for the shiny charisma, the promises of change, and the proclamations of patriotism. The hope is intoxicating. “Maybe this time it’s different,” people think. However, the “Messiah” quickly devolves into the “Excuse Machine,” because just like clockwork, the mirage fades and the landscape of reality becomes all too clear.

The Myth of Transformation. A word often sprinkled into campaign speeches and government slogans, like salt in a pot of jollof rice. Politicians sell transformation as if it were a buy-one-get-one-free deal at a Lagos market. The truth, however, is more of a slow simmer than a fast boil. Promises are made with the certainty of a Shakespearean tragedy. Our leaders assure us of mega-cities, free education, and top-tier health care — not unlike New York, Tokyo, or Paris — only to end up delivering results closer to rural Ajegunle, where even basic amenities are hard to come by.

Every politician tells us they’ll be different. They swear to bridge the gap between rich and poor, elevate the standard of living, and make Nigeria great again (though no one quite remembers when Nigeria was “great” by their implied standards). They preach transformation, yet reality reminds us more of the song “Nothing New Under the Sun.” And while “transformation” sounds beautiful in theory, it often translates to moving from one ineffective policy to the next, with very little real change in sight.

Now, here’s a real mystery: Nigerian leaders often amass incredible wealth while they’re in service to the nation. It’s almost as if there’s an invisible ATM in every office. Take a simple councilor position, and it might magically pay enough to build a mansion, fly first-class, and send children to Ivy League schools abroad. It is the Paradox of Wealth and Service.

Surely, one must wonder: Is public office in Nigeria blessed with some hidden oil well that the rest of us common folk don’t know about? Or maybe, just maybe, the lines between “public servant” and “private business mogul” are so blurred that even Picasso would have difficulty painting it.

There is a cultural paradox here too. In Nigeria, if a person “makes it” in government, they become a hero in their village. While the rest of the country might bemoan corruption, friends and family back home celebrate their “son’s” success. This celebration of political “achievement” is ingrained, and while the culture venerates “serving the people,” the individuals themselves are often held up as “untouchable” figures, immune to scrutiny or criticism. It’s a complex paradox, and one that feeds the myth.

Another pillar of Nigerian leadership myth is the promise of security. Each administration vows to end the violence that has plagued parts of the country, whether it’s the Northeast, plagued by insurgency, or the Northwest, suffering under banditry. Every president is the Commander-in-Chief of the Nigerian Armed Forces, yet they seem more skilled in speeches than in strategies. One might think, given their promises, that each new administration would make Nigeria one of the safest nations on earth. Yet, security remains elusive, like trying to catch rain with a sieve.

The real irony is in the way leaders themselves are heavily guarded while citizens fend for themselves. It’s not uncommon to see a convoy with enough SUVs to form a motorcade protecting one individual while the ordinary citizen walks home through streets dimly lit and streets less patrolled. And yet, Nigerians are resilient. In the face of so much insecurity, they go about their lives, praying that one day, security will be more than a lofty campaign promise.

Leadership in Nigeria is much like a soap opera — long, dramatic, and filled with cliffhangers. And just like the characters in these dramas, Nigerian leaders are often concerned with their legacy. But what does legacy even mean in the context of Nigerian leadership? The legacies that some leaders leave are more about buildings, statues, and airports bearing their names than about sustainable development. And when the next leader comes in, one of the first steps is often to dismantle, rename, or outright ignore the predecessor’s “legacy.”

What this means for Nigeria is a series of disjointed projects, half-hearted initiatives, and policies abandoned halfway. In place of real progress, Nigeria has a collection of monuments to political egos, a scrapbook of half-completed buildings, and a string of reforms that never quite made it to completion.

But here’s the twist: for all the comedy and tragedy of Nigerian leadership, Nigerians themselves are the true leaders. They are the ones who hustle, adapt, and thrive despite the odds. While politicians grandstand, ordinary Nigerians build businesses from scratch, create art and culture that captivate the world, and maintain a resilient spirit that no amount of hardship seems to quench.

The myth of Nigerian leadership persists because, deep down, we all hold out hope that one day, the leaders we elect will reflect the best of us — not the worst. Nigerians deserve leaders who understand that leadership is a service, not a birthright, a responsibility, not a ticket to personal paradise.

In the end, perhaps the myth will give way to reality. Maybe the Messiah Complex will be replaced by the Public Servant. But until then, Nigerians will do what they have always done — lead themselves, rise above, and continue to believe that one day, true leadership will emerge, not as myth but as reality, and Nigeria may win—Only time will tell

Prince Charles Dickson PhD
Team Lead
The Tattaaunawa Roundtable Initiative (TRICentre)

“Every elected Nigerian leader since the end of the first republic knows why crab does not sleep. What it stays awake doing is 24/7 recce for the safety of its head. Its eyes should be its binoculars – and they are. Even Olusegun Obasanjo as civilian president did not deny himself that wisdom, although he was very nuanced about it. He had three Inspectors-General of Police and all three were from his western region. His DG SSS from 1999 to 2007 was Colonel Kayode Are, his Abeokuta kinsman. For the army, Obasanjo, a southern Christian, in eight years, had four gentlemen as his Chief of Army Staff. He started in 1999 with Victor Malu, a Christian from the North; then he moved south and picked Alexander Ogomudia, a southern minority. After two years, two months, Obasanjo took the position back to the North. But he did not give it to those who might use it to injure him. He picked Martin Luther Agwai, a southern Kaduna minority Christian. Three years down that road, he went south again and picked Andrew Owoye Azazi, another southern minority. It was clear that he was deliberate about what he did. He was wide awake, mixing his nationalist broth with condiments of small nepotism here, a little of altruism there. The Obasanjo experience ended almost twenty years ago. This is the age of reason, apology to Thomas Paine. The gloves are off”.

Every elected Nigerian leader since the end of the first republic knows why crab does not sleep. What it stays awake doing is 24/7 recce for the safety of its head. Its eyes should be its binoculars – and they are. Even Olusegun Obasanjo as civilian president did not deny himself that wisdom, although he was very nuanced about it. He had three Inspectors-General of Police and all three were from his western region. His DG SSS from 1999 to 2007 was Colonel Kayode Are, his Abeokuta kinsman. For the army, Obasanjo, a southern Christian, in eight years, had four gentlemen as his Chief of Army Staff. He started in 1999 with Victor Malu, a Christian from the North; then he moved south and picked Alexander Ogomudia, a southern minority. After two years, two months, Obasanjo took the position back to the North. But he did not give it to those who might use it to injure him. He picked Martin Luther Agwai, a southern Kaduna minority Christian. Three years down that road, he went south again and picked Andrew Owoye Azazi, another southern minority. It was clear that he was deliberate about what he did. He was wide awake, mixing his nationalist broth with condiments of small nepotism here, a little of altruism there. The Obasanjo experience ended almost twenty years ago. This is the age of reason, apology to Thomas Paine. The gloves are off.

Wahala no dey finish for Nigeria. Because President Bola Tinubu appointed an acting Chief of Army Staff last week, my northern friend sent me a WhatsApp message from Zaria: “It comes as a surprise as Oduduwa takes over the lead agencies of the critical safety sector: Army (military), Police (security), DSS (Intelligence), EFCC (anti-corruption).”

My friend was talking fairness. I heard him and remembered the quaint saying about equity and clean hands. So, I replied him: “Can you name those who served in those four positions under Buhari and where they came from?”

John Milton, legendary blind poet of seventeenth century England, said something about truth and falsehood grappling. Truth, the stronger, will always put the weaker to the worse. My friend thought he had the facts on his side, and so, he answered me: “Buhari picked those security chiefs across the north east, north west and north central…”

That was a half-truth, and I’ve heard it said many times that a half-truth will always mean a half-lie. And a half-lie is a lie nicely dressed. I asked my friend: “When you people met in Kaduna earlier on Monday and took a position on VAT, rejecting Tinubu’s tax reform bills, did you meet as three zones? No. You met as one North, one region. Those appointments made by Buhari were for that one North.” As I typed that response, I remembered that ‘One North, One Destiny, One People, Irrespective of Religion, Rank or Tribe’ was the motto of the Northern People’s Congress (NPC), the North’s ruling party at independence. NPC may be long dead, but the North has dutifully kept its flame glowing. We still feel the spirit in every inter-regional discourse.

My friend argued more forcefully. He spoke as a northerner. I responded as a Yoruba man, not as a southerner, because there is nothing so called. I told him he was obviously not speaking for the other two zones in the South. I asked him if the North wanted the Chief of Army Staff position to go to the Igbo of the South-East. His response was that there was a time under Buhari when he campaigned for that arrangement. I asked him to speak for time present, not time past. “Would you want a South-East/South-South person to be Chief of Army Staff or Inspector-General of Police?” My friend did not reply me. He did not answer that question. I asked how he would feel if the positions go to the North today. He replied me with silence.

Finally, my friend quipped: “Personally, I pray for Tinubu to succeed but he doesn’t need to be nepotistic like Buhari, the disaster.”

Has Tinubu been unduly favoring the Yoruba in his appointments? Personal aides, yes. Security appointments, no. A list of 22 security appointees was circulated online at the weekend. Fifteen of them are from the North, five from the South-West, one from the South-East, one from the South-South. If anyone would complain of inadequate representation here, it should be the South-East/South-South corridor.

Sixty-four years after independence, Nigeria has remained a very delicate union of bickering partners. Despite several state creation exercises, the division along the original three regional lines has remained very strong. Today, the three arms of Nigeria’s armed forces have their chiefs chosen from the West (Army; East (Navy); North (Airforce). This would be fair enough except we are saying that one service chief is bigger than the others.

Army, SSS, Police, EFCC. For his complaint, why would my friend pick just four out of the 22 identified positions? Read my friend again. He described the four as “critical safety sector.” Buhari set the precedent by filling those posts with northerners; Tinubu has also filled them with westerners. If the East produces a president tomorrow, he will most possibly fill them with his regional brothers. But why?

Adebayo Faleti, late Yoruba playwright and culture scholar, wrote in his 1968 short story ‘Ogun Awitele’ (Foretold War) that war does not kill the coward; it also does not kill the fearless. The one who gets killed by war is the one who is careless (ogun kì í pa ojo; ogun kì í pa akin; aláìfòrànpòràn ni ogun npa). My playwright says war kills the careless. I will use the experience of Buhari’s predecessor, Goodluck Jonathan, to discuss this. When Jonathan became president, he, like most of his predecessors, was very careful not to rupture the tenuous tendons of whatever we had as a country. But Jonathan overdid it. He apparently wanted to be another national hero and proceeded to make many strategic appointments which undid him. Jonathan’s 2015 election time Inspector-General of Police was a gentleman from the north. When it mattered most, the falcon refused to hear the falconer. The super cop did not just see his kinsman, Muhammadu Buhari, to victory, he publicly followed him to collect his Certificate of Return from INEC in April 2015. The gentleman officer abandoned his defeated Commander-in-Chief. Blood is thicker than water. The policeman came out three years later to celebrate what he did. He declared that the police under him forced Jonathan to concede victory to Buhari. Hearing him in an August 2018 interview gives reasons for appreciating the true meaning of blood and water and what made one thicker than the other. The former IGP said: “We forced those who lost elections to accept the results. The Nigeria Police forced those who lost elections to accept the outcome. It was the action of the police that made them to have a change of mind and accept the results. The heroes of that election should have been the police…I attended the presentation of certificate to the president-elect…”

Nigeria was deflowered in 2015. The hymen of innocence, once lost is lost forever. If the police were strategic in determining election winners, what wise president would then hand its rein to ‘outsiders’? Jonathan’s successor, Buhari, learnt from the Ijaw man’s fatal error. He inherited Solomon Arase from Edo State as IGP, kept him for one year and as the stakes were getting high, he quickly took the position ‘home’ and gave it to Ibrahim Kutigi from Niger State. From then on till he left in 2023, the baton passed from one northern state to another. Was Buhari being street-wise to have kept the Inspector-General’s position in his regional pocket for seven out of his eight years in power? If Buhari was not wrong that time, should we expect Tinubu to do today what Jonathan did which burnt his nimble fingers day before yesterday?

Jonathan’s ‘harakiri’ in politics started long before that appointment. He did several things which no one had ever done before. It was therefore not a surprise that his eyes saw what no one ever saw before. The Ijaw man made Fulani man, Attahiru Jega, INEC chairman in an election in which his main opponent was a Fulani. The man was praised by his nemesis and he enjoyed it. As the West African Pilot of 2 April, 1964 warned in an editorial: “The road to ruin is often smooth. Those who travel it pay the fare.” Three years after he was dusted and ousted, Jonathan wrote in his ‘My Transition Hours’ (page 75): “For some inexplicable reasons, the INEC had been able to achieve near 100% distribution of Permanent Voter Cards in the North, including the North-East which was under siege with the Boko Haram insurgency, but it (INEC) failed to record similar level of distribution in the South which was relatively more peaceful.” Because Buhari was no Jonathan, when it was time for him to replace Jega in November 2015, the Fulani man from Katsina went for a Fulani man from Bauchi. After eight years of uncommon tutorial from Muhammadu Buhari on how to (mis)manage a people’s diversity, it is not possible for any subsequent president (from the south) to do bobo nice again – especially with appointments strategic to their personal and political survival. A new INEC chairman is due for appointment in November next year (2025). Watch out for Tinubu. He will not be a Jonathan.

Key security appointments have become an armour for the president of Nigeria. The lesson taught by history is that a leader, while cuddling his neighbour, must never allow kin-blood to be diluted with water of whatever colour.

The politics of appointment into the head of the army started soon after independence. How did the government of Tafawa Balewa handle it? Sidi H. Ali, author of ‘Power of Powers: A biography of Alhaji Muhammadu Ribadu’, Nigeria’s first minister of defence, wrote about the intense ethnic maneuverings and bitterness that attended the appointment of the country’s very first indigenous head of the army when the last expatriate, Major General Christopher Welby-Evarard, left in February 1965. “The four possible candidates were all brigadiers at the time. They were Ironsi, Ademulegun, Ogundipe and Maimalari. Ironsi was the most senior of all…After all the bickering, Ribadu came out to announce the appointment of Ironsi as the commanding officer of the Nigerian Army. This, of course, was received with mixed feelings…” (page 18). If Balewa were to come back from the dead today and is asked to pick his army chief, would he still go for Ironsi? Among the four gentlemen officers of 1964, who do you think Balewa’s choice would be?

Balewa is not coming back but his democratic successor was Shehu Shagari who came in 1979 and had Lt.-General Alani Akinrinade as his Chief of Army Staff. Shagari soon replaced the Yoruba man with his kinsman, Gibson Jalo. Jonathan inherited a chief of army staff, Abdulrahman Dambazau, from his late boss, Umaru Yar’Adua. He couldn’t sleep until he picked someone from his area, Azubuike Ihejirika, to man that goal post.

Every elected Nigerian leader since the end of the first republic knows why crab does not sleep. What it stays awake doing is 24/7 recce for the safety of its head. Its eyes should be its binoculars – and they are. Even Olusegun Obasanjo as civilian president did not deny himself that wisdom, although he was very nuanced about it. He had three Inspectors-General of Police and all three were from his western region. His DG SSS from 1999 to 2007 was Colonel Kayode Are, his Abeokuta kinsman. For the army, Obasanjo, a southern Christian, in eight years, had four gentlemen as his Chief of Army Staff. He started in 1999 with Victor Malu, a Christian from the North; then he moved south and picked Alexander Ogomudia, a southern minority. After two years, two months, Obasanjo took the position back to the North. But he did not give it to those who might use it to injure him. He picked Martin Luther Agwai, a southern Kaduna minority Christian. Three years down that road, he went south again and picked Andrew Owoye Azazi, another southern minority. It was clear that he was deliberate about what he did. He was wide awake, mixing his nationalist broth with condiments of small nepotism here, a little of altruism there. The Obasanjo experience ended almost twenty years ago. This is the age of reason, apology to Thomas Paine. The gloves are off.

But, I think the people who are reading north and south into today’s appointments had better shine their eyes and see where the real danger is. The fish gets rotten from the head – and it is always progressive. Under Buhari, the president’s wife ran the alternate presidency while a regional cabal revved up the old engine of the man we elected. Today, we are not sure whether it is the man we elected or the wife or the son (with their business friends) that is at the top. After this set, we may have grafted on the trunk of our democracy a hereditary oligo-monarchy.

And we cannot say a president should not have a family – and friends. Wither the way then? Igbó rèé, òna rèé (the bush is here, the road is here). Where should we face?

The founding fathers of the United States feared what we see now. In her review of Adam Bellow’s ‘In Praise of Nepotism: A Natural History’, Joanne B. Ciulla says “nepotism was very much on the minds of America’s founding fathers. The last thing they wanted in their new country was hereditary rule.” She writes further (and this is interesting) that “one of the many qualities that made George Washington attractive as the first president was the fact that he did not have any children (who would share his powers or even seek to succeed him). When John Adams ran against Thomas Jefferson, his detractors feared that, because Adams had a son, he might try to start a dynasty.” Indeed, in that election dubbed ‘Revolution of 1800’, Jefferson, who did not have a son, defeated incumbent President John Adams.

But that cautious beginning notwithstanding, America has evolved to mint its own brand of ‘safe’ nepotism. Ciulla writes: “Let’s cut to the 2000 presidential election in the U.S. It pitted a son of a president against the son of a senator. When George W. Bush won, he appointed Michael Powell, son of Colin Powell, to be chairman of the FEC; Elaine Cho, wife of Senator Mitch McConnell, to be Secretary of Labor; and Eugene Scalia, son of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, to be the chief labor attorney. In addition to these appointments, Bush made the Vice President’s daughter, Elizabeth Cheney, deputy assistant secretary of state, and her husband chief counsel for the Office of Management and Budget. At the request of Senator Strom Thrumond (and to the dismay of some people), Bush gave Thurmond’s twenty-eight-year-old son the job of U.S. Attorney for South Carolina.” The American system, from the above, draws a line between “bad nepotism and good nepotism.” Ciulla says the US now defines nepotism “not as hiring a relative but as hiring an incompetent relative…”

That is in the US. Here in Nigeria, competence is discounted. The concern is more on the history and the geography of the hired and the motive of the appointing authority.

In all these nepotism matters, the peace of the country and the happiness of the people are the casualties. Every hour spent by the leader ignoring competence but checking the bloodline or the ethnicity of the man for the next post is the hour just before darkness. And, if the nepotist succeeds in burying his long heel in this sand, it is bye bye to peace and amity. As Olusegun Obasanjo said in 2019 at the height of Buhari’s glass ceiling-bursting nepotism: “If you cannot trust me, why should I trust you?…The person who is our leader now is saying he cannot allow another ethnic group to work with him because he cannot trust them. If he cannot trust my tribe or your tribe, of what benefit is he? And he is saying my tribe and yours should come and vote for him. He can ask for our votes, but he cannot trust us to work in good positions. Life is give and take.”