The pre-appearance formalities were pretty straightforward. I had gone to the website of the Nigerian Immigration Services, filled the passport renewal form online; uploaded the data page of my expired passport and my age declaration (only few people of my generation have birth certificates); and paid the princely sum of one hundred and four thousand Naira online for the renewal of my passport for ten years.

Almost immediately, the efficient Nigerian Immigration Services, promptly sent to my email a copy of the filled form; payment receipt and an appointment date for the capturing of my biodata.

It sounded unbelievable!

I offered silent prayers to the Minister of Interior, Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo, and the Comptroller General of the NIS, Kemi Nanna Nandap.

I then proceeded to the Alimosho Immigration Centre for the biometric capturing.

Getting a parking space was the first hurdle I had to cross. Mercifully, there are about four eateries around the area, so their security guards do brisk business by allowing visitors to the passport office to use their car park.

Of course, as soon as you approach the NIS gate, passport agents swarm over you, offering their services. I ignored them.

On approaching the front desk, the female immigration officer appeared surprised that I was armed with my printed form, appointment letter and my payment receipt.

“Who filled this form for you?”, she queried. I gave her a quizzical look.

“Did you fill the form yourself?” I nodded.

She grudgingly collected the papers from me and waved me to a seat under a shed, where I was in the company with other passport seekers.

I came prepared for a long wait. I had a novel, a phone charger and refreshments. Didn’t our elders say the vulture is a patient bird?

I looked around and fixed my gaze on the various inscriptions on the wall.

I began to read them one after the other: “Every interaction with you brightens our day.”

Really?

“You are not just customers, you are family. Thank you for being the reason we love what we do.”

Interesting!

Voices complaining that some officers were bringing in people who had just come or who were not on the queue interrupted my thoughts. I wasn’t bothered.

Nothing unusual, if you ask me.

I returned my gaze to the wall. I love the inscriptions: “Quality is your right; your feedback helps us grow.”

Yet another one: “Big thank you to our amazing customers. We truly appreciate your patronage.”

All these by civil servants!

Not done: “Your support means the world to us, thank you for being an incredible part of our journey.”

A thought crept into my mind: In this Tinubu economy, what kind of support are these immigration officers referring to?

A phone call interrupted my thoughts.

“Editor, you are a Prophet! You said yesterday that the Man U coach would be sacked and now, he has been sacked.”

I checked my time, it was 4pm. I had spent seven hours sitting, just to capture my face on camera.

I was called in and spent barely five minutes.

And asked to come in January to pick up the passport.

No sweat!

No plans to travel soon except I win a lottery!

But I must confess that the officials were firm, polite and professional, working under difficult conditions.

There were only two cameras to serve hundreds of applicants.

The authority may consider sending at least three more cameras to that office: one for the exclusive use of children, one for senior citizens and one for VIPs.

That’s what all civilised countries do!

Today, we gather not only to celebrate an important milestone — the 25th anniversary of the Women Trafficking and Child Labour Eradication Foundation, known affectionately as WOTCLEF —  but also to honour a vision that has reshaped the landscape of human rights and social justice in Nigeria.

Before I begin, I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for being here today. Your presence underscores your commitment to eradicating the horrific realities of human trafficking and child labour, as well as your steadfast support for the rights of women and children in our nation.

The Journey of WOTCLEF

Twenty-five years ago, in 1999, our journey commenced. It was a year of transformative promise — a year that heralded not just the dawn of a new democracy, but also the emergence of a beacon of hope for our most vulnerable. WOTCLEF arose from a profound need for change, to confront the grim realities faced by so many, where the innocent often fell victim to human trafficking, child labour, and abuse. 

At the heart of this initiative was my beloved wife, Her Excellency Amina Titi Atiku Abubakar, who recognized the urgency to become a voice for the voiceless upon my swearing-in as Vice President.

As I stand here today, I am filled with pride and admiration for Titi. Her unwavering dedication to combating human trafficking and child labour has changed countless lives. She did not merely witness the suffering of women and children; she took decisive action to lead the charge for change.

Faced with the ravages of the HIV/AIDS epidemic and the scars left by years of military dictatorship, Titi envisioned a better future—a future where democratic governance reignites hope and empowers every individual to reclaim their dignity and rights. WOTCLEF stands as a testament not only to her compassion but also to the transformative power of our democratic journey.

Reflecting on our past, let us acknowledge the incredible strides made through this organization and its partners. Thanks to WOTCLEF’s advocacy, we witnessed the establishment of NAPTIP—the National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons and Other Related Matters. This agency has become a vital ally in our national fight against the heinous crime of trafficking.

I take this moment to express our profound gratitude to members of both Chambers of the National Assembly, for their decisive action on July 7, 2003, in passing the WOTCLEF-sponsored private member bill that laid the foundation for the Trafficking in Persons (Prohibition) Law Enforcement and Administration Act 2003, which birthed NAPTIP. This legislative milestone prioritized the protection of our most vulnerable citizens.

Furthermore, I want to extend our profound and most heartfelt appreciation to President Olusegun Obasanjo (1999–2007) for his swift assent to the WOTCLEF bill, which prohibited women trafficking and child labour in Nigeria. His courageous leadership fostered the environment that energized WOTCLEF’s mission, reinforcing our democratic values while delivering vital hope to our downtrodden communities.

Subsequent Nigerian Presidents have carried forward this noble effort, recognizing the urgency of combating women trafficking and child labour. They diligently scrutinized the 2003 Act, leading to its repeal and re-enactment on March 26, 2015, by President Muhammadu Buhari, which re-established NAPTIP as a federal agency devoted to fighting the most egregious violations of women’s and children’s rights. 

Together, these actions highlight the strength of collaborative governance, and our collective will to build a safer, fairer society for all.

As we celebrate WOTCLEF’s achievements, let us also recognize the intangible gifts it has bestowed upon our society:

1. Awareness and Education: WOTCLEF has tirelessly campaigned at all levels, raising awareness about the harsh realities of human trafficking and child labour, educating countless individuals about their rights and available resources.

2. Partnerships: The foundation has forged invaluable partnerships with local and international organizations, NGOs, and development agencies, uniting resources and expertise to effect meaningful change.

3. Rescue and Rehabilitation: Most importantly, WOTCLEF has been pivotal in rescuing and rehabilitating victims, restoring hope and dignity to lives shattered by exploitation.

Yet, our work is far from complete. As we celebrate the triumphs of WOTCLEF over the past 25 years, we must also confront the challenges that lie ahead. The journey to eradicate human trafficking and child labour remains fraught with obstacles, and it is our collective responsibility to tackle them.

1. Awareness and Education: Despite our progress, many Nigerians remain unaware of the signs and consequences of trafficking and child labour. We must enhance our outreach efforts, particularly in rural areas where ignorance and poverty abound.

2. Resources and Funding: The fight demands substantial resources—both financial and human. We need continued funding for prevention programs, community support initiatives, and legal aid for victims.

3. Strengthening Law Enforcement: Effective law enforcement is critical. We must provide ongoing training and support to law enforcement agencies to ensure they can effectively identify, investigate, and prosecute perpetrators.

4. Addressing Root Causes: Poverty and lack of opportunity fuel trafficking. We must adopt comprehensive approaches to tackle the socio-economic factors that contribute to these issues, such as gender inequality and insufficient access to education and healthcare.

5. Advocacy and Policy Reform: While we’ve made progress, continuous advocacy is vital to enforce existing laws and develop new policies that prioritize the protection of vulnerable populations.

As WOTCLEF navigates these challenges, let us draw strength from the shared vision that unites us. Together, we have the power to create a Nigeria free from the grips of human trafficking—where every woman and child can live in safety, dignity, and hope. 

Each of us has a role to play, no matter how small, in this essential endeavour.

To Her Excellency Amina Titi Atiku Abubakar, thank you for your indomitable spirit and for your unwavering belief in the possibility of change. Your legacy is one of compassion, resilience, and impact.

Together, let us commemorate this milestone and renew our commitment to the vision of WOTCLEF—a vision that will guide us resolutely into a brighter future. 

Let us continue advocating for policies that protect the rights of women and children, challenging systemic inequalities, and eradicating the scourge of child labour.

Today, we recommit ourselves to these efforts. Let us draw inspiration from Titi’s legacy of service, her unwavering courage, and her resolute spirit. 

As we look ahead, let us harness our collective strength to engage all segments of society —governments, businesses, and communities —advocating for actionable solutions that uplift our most vulnerable citizens. In the years to come, I am confident that Nigerians will build upon the foundation laid by Her Excellency Titi and the compassionate individuals dedicated to WOTCLEF’s mission. 

Let us ensure that no child is denied an education and that no woman suffers through trafficking and exploitation in silence. Let us eliminate the shadows of trafficking and exploitation from our society. Let us unite in purpose and action. Together, we can forge a future where dignity, justice, and hope triumph for every Nigerian.

Thank you for being part of this celebration, and for your dedication to this noble cause. Together, let us continue the fight, empowering our citizens and building the society we dreamed of.

Thank you.

 Atiku Abubakar’s speech at the 25th Anniversary of WOTCLEF at the Women Development Centre in Abuja.

Nigeria is doddering on the edge of never-before-seen economic desolation, but President Bola Ahmed Tinubu administration’s major preoccupation is not to bring ministration to a badly hurting nation but to prosecute harmless, impoverished, malnourished, and undernourished minors of northern Nigerian origin who, months ago, joined millions of Nigerians to protest for their right to a life without crippling poverty and fear, for which the only reply from the state has been detention and starvation.

Yesterday, social media platforms were suffused with piteous, nerve-wracking videos and photos of four malnourished minors—kids in their early teens whose bones bear witness to weeks in captivity—who collapsed in a courtroom in Abuja. Their fragile, pity-inducing bodies provide evidence of the brutal conditions they’ve endured in jail. It was an unmitigated scandal, a total embarrassment, a tear-jerking spectacle.

What intolerably rank insanity is this? What halfway sensible government would arrest, imprison, and then publicly try its underage children just because they stood against the unendurable economic tyranny that has pushed millions of Nigerians into incalculable torment?

These children didn’t rise up in protest because they were troublemakers. They rose because they were hungry. They saw, in their communities, a growing tide of desperation and despair brought about by a series of misguided neoliberal policies that have squeezed every last drop of dignity from their lives.

The #EndBadGovernance protest was not an act of rebellion for the sake of anarchy or for the overthrow of the Tinubu administration. It was a scream for survival in a country that has turned a deaf ear to its poorest, youngest, most vulnerable citizens. The children joined the protest, not because they were instigators, but because they are the victims of policies that have crushed them and their parents.

Now, Tinubu is prosecuting these poor children’s audacity to feel hunger, their nerve to protest against it, and their courage to ask for a better future.

Yes, young Nigerians, weakened by malnutrition, denuded of hope by unceasingly mounting prices, and drained by the unyielding fear that Nigeria’s streets are now safer than its government, are being hauled into court as though they were hard-boiled criminals. There is no parallel for this that I can recall in Nigeria in my lifetime.

How hollow must we be, as a society, to accept that the government’s solution to rising dissent and desperation is to prosecute the youth it has left to wither? This is not governance; this is a callous persecution masquerading as law and order.

The logic is Kafkaesque: punish the hungry, hush up the desperate, and maybe, just maybe, the problem will go away. But hunger and despair don’t disappear when you throw a child in jail. Poverty doesn’t vanish when you suppress a protest. The anger and frustration simmer, unaddressed, until they spill over.

I couldn’t hold back tears at the sight of five minors, weak from hunger, fainting as they were called to stand trial. It’s a sight that would shame even the most despotic regimes.

Here were young Nigerians, handcuffed by a state that refuses to feed, clothe, or educate them, collapsing before their accusers as if in silent protest, their very bodies speaking louder than any courtroom defense ever could.

Even lawyers and court officials, perhaps briefly awakened from the stupor of compliance, rushed to assist them. But as the immediate shock subsided, what remained was an undeniable truth: Nigeria’s youth are being starved, punished, and brought to the brink, not for crimes, but for demanding their right to survive in a country that fails them at every turn.

At the heart of this blot on Nigeria’s escutcheon is a government that seems more beholden to the dictates of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank than to the needs of its own people. President Bola Tinubu’s administration has followed the familiar playbook of austerity and subsidy removal, but without the slightest regard for the human cost.

Inflation is climbing, prices are soaring, the naira is plunging, hope is walking away, and the nation is dying. Families cannot afford basic sustenance, the middle class is disappearing, the poor are being crushed beyond the bounds of tolerance, and the nation’s youth, who see no future in the darkening landscape, are told to keep silent or face untoward consequences.

These poor, hapless children are not the problem. The government’s own policies are the problem. As I have pointed out repeatedly in multiple columns, the unbending loyalty to IMF austerity measures and “economic reforms” that do nothing but deepen poverty and widen the gulf between the haves and have-nots are the problem.

So why are these policies, and those who enforce them, not on trial instead? Why are the architects of this economic catastrophe not being called to account for the collapse of hope and opportunity?

The prosecution’s temporary suspension of trial of the four, after the children slumped in the courtroom, is not mercy; it is an insult. A government that detains minors for protesting unexampled economic adversity has already lost the moral high ground.

The temporary reprieve is nothing more than a bureaucratic sleight of hand, a way to postpone the embarrassment without addressing the real atrocity: the inhumane treatment of minors for daring to stand up against systemic injustice.

In a twist of poetic irony, the administration’s heavy-handed tactics reveal a fearful truth: the voices of Nigeria’s youth are a threat to the powerful. It is their courage, their unyielding desire for a better future, that sends tremors through the halls of power.

Instead of seeing these children as a spark of hope, a chance for renewal, the government has chosen to crush that spirit. These young people are Nigeria’s conscience, and by silencing them, the state only exposes the depths of its own desperation and degeneration.

Where is the humanity, the leadership, the understanding that a nation’s youth are its most precious resource? The Tinubu government must immediately end this untenably appalling charade of prosecuting minors who have the misfortune of being born in desperately poor homes.

It should release these children to their families forthwith. What the kids need is food, opportunity, and security, not prosecution. They are the voices of a generation calling out for empathy, action, and understanding, not retribution. Their cries are not a threat; they are a call to conscience, a summons to a government that has seemingly lost its way in the maze of worthless economic jargon and self-created fiscal constraints.

Let the children heal and live free of the fear that their hunger and hardship will be met with chains. The government must prioritize people over inhuman policies dictated by distant, no-good, vampiric financial institutions in Washington. It must recognize that these policies have consequences, consequences borne not by politicians and their cronies but by millions of Nigerians who struggle daily to survive.

For every child in that courtroom, for every young voice silenced by detention, Nigeria loses a part of its soul. Let this be a warning to those in power: the future is watching, and history will remember which leaders chose compassion over cruelty, justice over vengeance.

Because if a nation’s children cannot protest peacefully without fear of reprisal if their hunger is not a call to action but an excuse for punishment, then the government itself stands on trial—and it is failing spectacularly.

The Afenifere can’t condone inequity. Tinubu’s tribalism has been alarming. They are embarrassed. It’s uncultured. The Yoruba are relatively too advanced for such a retrogressive political palliative scheme .They need neither  to be pushed like a battery-handicapped  kabukabu  nor to be fed mashed food like a toothless adult. On no scale are they backward, comparatively.

They are the proud champions of equity, industry and merit. Tinubu’s  untiring devotion to sectionalism serves neither the values of the Yoruba nor the interests of the country. On the other hand, Afenifere’s  response could be summed up as a disdainful smirk. Perhaps, Tinubu’s tribalism is a glimpse of the  long-prophesied  denouement. The belated coming out of the shadows. Are we then now condemned to  a few more years of startling self-debasing shenanigans?  

The name ‘Progressive’ which Awolowo, Bola Ige and Abraham Adesanya cherished has already become almost redundant, a hollow moniker. Perhaps, worse. A useful piece in the paraphernalia of many a Nigerian  political sorcerer. Used to bewitch and hold spellbound the famished and luckless electorate thirsting for a democracy that yields development and moral reformation. Tinubu is the last apostle of old school progressivism.  

Now, the people  must realize that  they have been hoodwinked and accept that progressivism in Nigeria politics has been almost irreparably contaminated. It now accommodates all shades of political yahooyahooism. If the nostalgic lovers of progressives remain  enthralled with the sentimental idea, then, they  can continue to wallow in their delusion that progressivism in Nigeria is  moral and people oriented rather than manipulative shallow machiavellianism. 

That whole idea of a Sovereign National Conference, it now appears,  was an elaborate  ruse. It’s erstwhile imperativeness was carefully contrived. Sovereign National Conference, the sort peddled by NADECO activists as the alchemy for  national preservation, unity and  progress must now be seen as  specious sophistry.  It has fallen into comical disuse. It has outlived its dubious usefulness. The pro democracy sermons have yielded the long desired fruit. The foil of democracy was used  to conceal  lust for power  and  a predilection  for rabid opportunism. Is the denouement just beginning? That’s the question. Are we destined for more shege?

The Yoruba elite are cringing. Tinubu’s tribalism has no clothes. Those not cringing are sneering at the nation. The stark nudity suggests benign aloofness  or devious shamelessness. They say the electorate is to blame. The finger-pointing is now happening in all directions. Yet  a few cannot understand the hullabaloo. They are irritated by the effete sensibilities of their detribalised kinsmen. Power has been grabbed.

Northerners are more fatalistic, they say God gives it. So whether Emilokan, Awalokan or  Yorubalokan, it must be attributed to God. So these few  have no apologies. Because, it’s turn by turn. “Omo Igbo will be worse”, they say. Though they  had a recent turn in Obasanjo, but he wasn’t a turn. It was a forgettable turn, they say. Tinubu, the Asiwaju of the universe, has come to make audacious amends. To give them two turns in one. A reparative double portion. So, he is probably  settling many scores. If so, why did Tinubu bother changing the national anthem? Perish the thought that the idea came from the NASS. 

Our lawmakers will rather discuss Bobrisky in the plenary. Back to Tinubu. He didn’t revert to the old anthem  to motivate the nation. He has been too brazen to bother. At his level of self absorption and indulgence, he could have effected the change to satisfy the urge of nostalgia. The goal  was never  to rally the riven country or forge cohesion. No, that’s not his current priority.  Tribes and tongues may differ all they care, all he wants is for folks to ‘stand on his mandate.’

For grown men to fawn and genuflect and mutter  self-deprecating gibberish to lionize the man. Beyond the settling of scores, there could be the other objective of  a kinsmen-assisted transmutation into emperorship. A tax obsessed man who perpetually demands sacrifices of the poor while living lavishly.  His choices do not reflect any concept of national broadminded brotherhood, but the narrow brotherhood of self perpetuating sectionalism.  Nigerians, all Nigerians are proud to serve the fatherland. But it appears, Tinubu thinks more like a  prime Sunday Igboho than Tinubu of 2004. 

Igboho, before his native charms failed, lost  signals, in Cotonou,  allowing  the Beninoise police to subject him to an impromptu  sabbatical . If Tinubu’s tribalism is actually borne of  uncomplicated Yoruba exceptionalism, then we must  liken him to Nnamdi Kanu, who thinks the Igbo are a special breed and their neighbours, genetically inferior. As it stands,  the fatherland during Tinubu’s  reign is best served by Omoluabis who can stand on the mandate with religious loyalty. Who knows? When the  Ooni went into a frenzy marrying fair women, many  hissed derisively. But those in the know say it wasn’t him. It was the oracle. So who knows what’s really driving Tinubu’s parochialism. 

We must then be charitable . We must extend  pity to all the  non Yorubas in Tinubu’s  government. They must know by now that they are mere furniture, positioned  deftly to satisfy all that is left of a dispensable righteousness. No matter how servile they become, they can’t earn the trust. Technical impostors, all of them, when they speak with any certainty about government policy or direction. They  don’t belong. They should tiptoe.  They can’t shout. Like black Africans working for the office of district colonial power. Their zealousness is naivety or mischief.

They must mew and whisper. It’s not their turn. They are free riders. No matter how important they might feel or how large they once thought they were, they must now contain themselves . When they get to their distant villages, like Agulu, they can drop names. There,  they can brag about their ownership  of  Tinubu and co-ownership of the government. But they must not let it get into their heads. Around Abuja, they must behave. Blood is thicker than water. For this regime right now, blood is trust, blood is intelligence, blood is beautiful.  Outsiders must be sniffed. They are potential moles who are potentially slothful. Only a few of them must be given sensitive roles. 

Buhari once said he belonged to no one, though many swore that  he belonged to the north. It’s difficult to know what he did to Tinubu. Tinubu appears to be saying that everybody belongs to him. He has left  nobody guessing. Once you  list the critical offices, ministries and juicy agencies, you know the tribe of the man in charge. These are the leaders of the party that enchanted the people  with the promise of Change. We rotate power to share sense of belonging and build cohesion.

A man takes the rotated power, out of turn, to settle scores and transmogrify in the Oba of Nigeria. Where will he stop? We can absorb more tribalism. Allow Tinubu select only the Yoruba to head all powerful and lucrative minsteries and agencies to retsore hope.  We are that elatsic. We can even embrace some rituals of obeisance,  like go round to compel  all Radio and TV stations to sing On Your Mandate  every morning at 7am. To appreciate his long standing dedication to the cause of democracy and social justice.

We can also allow his business partners start building multi trillion naira coatal roads all around the country without due process. We can just say that they are the best builders in the country. But will that be enough? At some point we might just adopt Yoruba as a national language and change the title of president to Oba. I will suggest it to Akpabio,  Mr President will like that. Then we can change the tenure to ten years.  To deepen democracy. That’s a progressive idea.