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Kuje: Did we hand over Nigeria to terrorists in 2015?

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For those who watch the complicated Nigerian security mess from afar, the killing of Japanese ex-Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe in Nara, Japan last Tuesday and the ambushing, same day, of President Muhammadu Buhari’s advance convoy in Dutsinma, about 152 kilometres from his hometown of Daura, Katsina State, both speak to rising global insecurity. A few hours after on that same Tuesday, that joke went burst. Approximately three hours after shelling the president’s advance convoy with an assortment of bullets, killing two people in the process, around 10pm, terrorists stormed the Kuje Custodial Centre in the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Abuja, in a night-time attack that left a security personnel and six inmates dead, with about 600 inmates, 65 reported to be detained Boko Haram inmates, at large. Arriving the prison in a convoy of motorcycles, the terrorists detonated several bombs and deployed Rocket-Propelled Grenades (RPGs), General Purpose Machine Guns (GPMGs) and a profusion of AK-49 assault rifles, AK-47 assault rifles, as well as service pistols to aid their penetration of the prison.

Once inside the prison, the terrorists had what looked like a saturnalia. First was that they reportedly entered the Kuje prison facility through the bush and from its backend. This path was where the Nigerian military armoured tanker guarding the facility was stationed, with its dilating-eyed, readied platoon of sharp-shooters. So they drove in, unchecked and without any shred of resistance. Reports had it that this area that the terrorists trod into the custodial centre was usually manned by army officers who the Army authorities deployed about 12 hours before the attack took place. This location is the first contact of anyone meandering into the facility, which the terrorists also did as they arrived the facility. Strolling in without any resistance the terrorists approached the Civil Defence officers’ point. Were the situation normal, this was where a hailstone of bullets ought to have been rained on the terrorists by soldiers.

Again, in a very suggestive way, the terrorists did not do any violence to the armoured tanker they met, en-route the facility. They did not even rupture a pin of the deadly machine’s parts. If you compare this “magnanimity” of the terrorists with the fit of madness they went into by setting ablaze several vehicles parked about 10 metres off the military tanker in the premises of the Kuje prison, the terrorists deserved a national award for helping to safeguard national asset. In all however, you will conclude, as the Yoruba say when they suspect an admixture of mischief and Satanism, that the snake, in this circumstance of the Kuje attack, indeed had its hidden hands tucked off view.

For two hours and forty five minutes, the terrorists, reportedly numbering about 300, annexed Kuje as a temporary headquarters of their Satanic Empire. Thereafter, they set the prison’s records office on fire. If the maishayi in charge of serving the terrorist comrades their hard drugs-embossed tea was in the mood to follow them to that triumphant rescue of their comrades in Kuje, he would have had a field day serving them while the operation lasted. One after the other, the terrorists, who gained access to the facility by bombing the walls with explosives, reportedly called the over 60 terrorists in captivity by their names and bombed the cell doors open. Shouts of grisly, triumphal Allahu akbar rend the air, entwined by huge balls of fire and booms of bazookas and bombs. Kuje would feel like a theatre of war reminiscent of the bombings in Sarajevo during the Bosnia and Herzegovina war of the early to mid-1990s. Then, the terrorists began a long sermon on Jihadism and winning of souls of the inmates.

Before releasing their comrades in terrorism, comprising 64 high-profile terrorists and more than 260 other hardened criminals who were set free, media reports said that the terrorists peremptorily breached the custodial facility’s security without a single pushback from the security that was usually deployed to Kuje prison. Indeed, said media reports, no single shot was fired by a platoon of security men in Kuje that comprised military, DSS, Police, Immigration/Prisons Armed Squad. More petrifying was the report which indicated that the expended bullet shells that were seen on the floor after the attack were left as terrifying memorabilia of the terrorists’ superiority over the Nigerian state. The Nigerian security, made up of same gallant officers who received garlands from the United Nations in peacekeeping operations in Darfur, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Chad, among others, like frightened cats that tuck their tails inside thighs when outpaced, all faded into thin air for the almost three hours of the attack. Gallant officers that they were, they only reappeared when their terrorist comrades had completed their national assignments, on the verge of leaving in a triumphal celebration.

Very unlike him, with his globally celebrated medallion for pussyfooting and national aloofness, President Buhari was in Kuje almost immediately. And I must say that he deserves national commendation for the brilliant performance of the role that the Producer of the national opera cast for him. The second day, being Wednesday, on his way to the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport for an international junket to Dakar, Senegal which he could very well have sent his Vice, Buhari actually honoured Nigeria with his august visit to Kuje. As a symbol of national shame that the attack was, Buhari could have, there and then, announced his decision to abandon the junket, a number of which, in the last two months, have since become the paterfamilias of his departing lame duck administration. So Buhari stopped by at the Kuje Correctional Centre and for about 30 minutes, played his cast role in the surreal drama quite commendably.

Like a knowledgeable cast who understood his role well enough, Buhari openly queried the intelligence gathering system in Kuje which resulted in the attack. He expressed worry at the level of damage done and queried, for optical effect of the camera, “How did the defences at the prison fail to prevent the attack? How many inmates were in the facility? How many of them can you account for? How many personnel did you have on duty? How many of them were armed? Were there guards on the watchtower? What did they do? Does the CCTV work?” Smart Nollywood actor this was!

After effectively performing his cast role, as they say in Shakespearean theatre lingo, Buhari exeunted.  Then came unto the scene another of the cast, Garba Shehu. Untutored, this cast immediately provided a poetic enjambment to this inchoate poem of sorrow. This is a cast who always provides comedic relief to every of the grief-stricken drama of the presidency. As if one knew that the Abe Shinzo tragedy in Japan would be alluded to by this actor, Shehu, reacting to allegation that by flying directly from a place of mourning to his junket rendezvous, Buhari did worse than Nero who fiddled while Rome burnt, he said that, not embarking on the trip by Buhari would have meant that government should stop working. No nation stops working because they faced terrorist threats, Shehu said in a quote that sounded like an inspirational talk to a crowd at the graveyard. “To cancel the trip to Senegal would mean that the terrorists are successful in calling the shots, something that no responsible government in the world will allow”, Shehu said so glibly.

Not long after Buhari departed to play his Nero flute, dramatic ironies began to appear in the melancholic drama at Kuje. First was a cast whose lines became a dramatic disjuncture from the whole script. Ahmad Lawan, President of the Senate, said he saw the Kuje snake hiding its hands within its belly. On a visit to the Medium Security Custodial Centre, Lawan said such cataclysmic and huge attack, without a pushback, could only have been made possible with insider collaboration. Similarly, the man in whose hands lies the operations of the prison, Minister of Interior, Rauf Aregbesola, while leading his team from the ministry to the custodial centre, shockingly demurred from this well-written script of the presidency. In his usually simulated stoicism, the minister revealed that what happened in Kuje was mysterious and benumbing, so much that he was not ready to disclose its awful details in public. He said he was disappointed by the effete defence of the platoon of the Nigerian Army, Nigeria Police Force, officers of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence (NSCD) and armed officers of the Nigerian Correctional Service, who were armed with sophisticated weapons deployed to the centre who turned their backs while the shelling lasted. As we speak, from Buhari, to the National Security Adviser, the Minister of Interior, to even the Chief of Army Staff, no one has resigned their appointment.

Like many of the Buhari administration’s puerile attempt to hide behind a finger, the raison d’etre of this national embarrassment has since been a subject of discourse on the streets of Nigeria. As they say in street lingo, Nigerians have concluded that the closet burial that Buhari gave his secretly interred body has its legs jutting out for all to see. The Kuje attack, to Nigerians, is the final denouement of the earlier national calamitous opera of the kidnap of train passengers in Katari on March 28, 2022. On that day, at around 7:45 pm, hundreds of passengers, rumoured to be numbering about 970, were abducted by bandits. Eight persons were killed and 26 others injured by terrorists who bombed their train. Several of them were whisked into the bush by the daredevil bandits. Over 150 passengers were declared missing in the encounter.

Negotiations then began between the Federal Government and the terrorists. To rev up the importance of the negotiation, the terrorists released a video that went viral of the abducted passengers sitting under a tree in an unknown location. Media reports claimed that the terrorists demanded the release of their sponsors and commanders in the custody of the Nigerian government as exchange for the abducted victims. This was not the first time the Buhari government would exchange insurgent commanders with abductees. Some months ago when it did, their release paved way for a rev of the insurgency.

Street rationalization cobbled the strands of the Kuje attack together, especially the irresistance of state-funded security operatives to the calamitous Kuje attack. It came to the conclusion that the effeminate, terrorists-sympathetic government of a retired General of the Nigerian Armed Forces, Muhammadu Buhari, unable to rescue its people, agreed with the terrorists that it would feign engagement with other things while the attacks on the Kuje centre was going on. The question then became, what kind of unequal equation would ensure that a government is unable to rescue its people from terrorists while terrorists brazed all odds to rescue their people from the hands of government?

Though it is a route often taken by pacifist and sissy governments, you could say that the Buhari administration, in this equation of what to do with the abducted Nigerians by the terrorists, was before the devil and the deep blue sea. However, the larger indication of the Kuje attack is that terrorists are on the verge of overrunning Nigeria. And Buhari doesn’t care, so far as it is his family members that are doing so. A revelation was made a few years ago that terrorists were all over the Abuja seat of power. When Buhari was being voted into office in 2015, it was on the understanding that a military General, who had risen to the rank of a Major General, was the right person to shell out the insurgents from their base. However, we miscalculated in not realizing the terrorism-baiting inclination and persuasion of the man we were voting into office. At the end of the day, Nigerians became the proverbial farmer who knew that his new farmland was under the grips of squirrels but stubbornly went ahead to make it a plantation of groundnuts. Shouldn’t he have himself to blame as squirrels devoured his harvests?

A very daringly frightening collation of ten examples of General Buhari’s alleged romance with or terrorism-baiting moves was compiled in a viral post last week on the social media. It gave an indication that, with the voting of Buhari into office in 2015, Nigerians might not have voted a Boko Haram supporter into office but they didn’t vote a non-terrorism sympathizer as well. Beginning with the famous 2012 news report of Boko Haram reportedly picking General Buhari to moderate its talks with the Goodluck Jonathan government, another June 2, 2013 report quoted to have been said by Buhari urging Jonathan government to “stop killing Boko Haram members” with Buhari equating a military offensive against Boko Haram as anti-North, as well as a report on November 26, 2018 attributed to some South African mercenaries who allegedly claimed that Buhari stopped them from fighting Boko Haram insurgents, the impression on the street about Buhari isn’t that he runs a terrorism disdainful government.

If you now add these to a worrying list of Buhari government’s soft landing for insurgents who have killed thousands of Nigerian soldiers, rendered thousands homeless and created so many IDPs in the north, like a February 11, 2020 report that the FG was “setting our killers free” attributed to Nigerian soldiers over the release of 1400 Boko Haram fighters, a fertile ground would seem to have been excavated for the insinuations that arose after the Kuje prison attack. It is on record that in Buhari’s Nigeria, where citizens are forced to enroll to have National Identification Number before they can have cell phone numbers allocated to them and non-possession of which invalidates phone possession, terrorists and kidnappers flaunt the use of mobile phones in negotiation of ransoms. The allegation is that Boko Haram sympathizers and accomplices envelope the government of Muhammadu Buhari and his telecommunication ministry is its base.

If the Kuje permutation above that is being bandied on Nigerian street is real, did those who midwife the attack think of its consequences for Nigeria? Allowing terrorists a free rein in Kuje, a few kilometers away from Aso Rock, is a grim construct that evokes a very eerie feeling of foreboding. One is that it invests on the terrorists a can-do spirit. Who says they cannot try the presidential palace, using the same derring-do methodology? Second, 64 freed lethal insurgents on the street of the FCT makes Abuja equal to stepping on landmines. What kind of government hands over its people to terror-minded enemies like this?

The Buhari government’s perceived relationship with insurgents is a tragic irony and an embarrassment to the country. It reveals that the government has turned Nigeria into one huge and horrific jokesville. However, as bad as it is, our bother now should not be on Buhari as it is a lost battle. It should be on how, in 2023, this country will not clone this same cataclysmic mistake in electing its leadership. We must elect a president whose sprit is riled by terrorism. Since 1999, the only administration that possessed this national anger and the capacity to rout insurgents was Olusegun Obasanjo’s. Since Obasanjo’s departure, the country has oscillated in the hands of the feeble, the unable to the embracer of terrorism.

May the soul of that lone NSDC operative, the only man who was said to have attempted to repel the attack of the Kuje terrorists, rest in perfect peace.

 

Dr. Adedayo, a journalist, lawyer and.columnist writes from Ibadan

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Opinion

Nigeria’s Insecurity: Why the System Rewards Reaction, Not Prevention

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The most foolish person in a burning house is not the one who cannot find the exit. It is the one who knew the house would burn, watched it happen, and only ran when the ceiling collapsed. That is Nigeria’s governance posture toward insecurity—a pattern so consistent that it has become normalized.

“Ikú tó pa ojúgbà ẹni, òwe ló fi pa. (The death that kills your neighbour is a proverb directed at you).

The bandits did not simply arrive. They sent warnings ahead of them through a trail of violence that crossed state lines and appeared in every massacre headline we filed away as someone else’s problem.

When Insecurity Was Still “Someone Else’s Problem”

When the North was burning and the Middle Belt bleeding, the South West treated it as distant noise. Kwara became the first warning sign—the bridge between North and South—slowly slipping under the shadow of insurgency. The question every serious observer should have asked was simple: what happens when it crosses the border?

South West governors issued statements—careful, brief, and reactive. None moved with the urgency the threat demanded. Before long, violence arrived at our doorstep: herder brutality in Oke-Ogun, attacks in Oyo and Ekiti, kidnappings along the Ibadan–Ijebu-Ode expressway, and forest camps emerging in Ondo.

The warning signs had matured into reality, yet we were still searching for an exit strategy that should have been built years earlier.

The Problem: We Only Count the Dead

In safety performance management, there is a critical distinction between lagging indicators—outcomes after failure (deaths, destruction, losses)—and leading indicators, which measure prevention before failure occurs.

Aviation, oil and gas, and other high-risk industries understand this clearly: a system that obsesses over lagging indicators will always arrive after the accident.

Nigeria’s security governance is built almost entirely on lagging indicators. We count attacks after they happen. We rebuild after a collapse. We mourn after preventable deaths.

We rarely ask:

How many attacks were prevented this quarter?

How many threats were neutralized before execution?

How many cells were dismantled at the planning stage?

We do not know the answers—because we are not measuring them. The system was never designed to prevent. It was designed to respond: loudly, visibly, expensively, and always too late.

Another Base. The Same Question Nobody Asks

The presidency is reportedly considering a military base in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo state. It is a familiar pattern: a major security incident, public outrage, and an institutional response designed to signal seriousness.

But the critical question remains unanswered: what has been the leading-indicator performance of existing bases?

How have long-standing military formations in places like Jos, Benue, and Zamfara—some active for over two decades—actually shifted the security outcome?

A military base without actionable intelligence is a stationary slaughter ground for soldiers. It does not prevent attacks; it often becomes a reactive outpost in a repeating cycle: attack, deployment, statement, investigation, and then silence—while underlying threat networks remain intact.

The Incentive Structure Behind the Chaos

The deeper issue is not the capability of security forces. It is the incentive structure of the system.

When leadership is judged only by incidents that have already occurred, governance shifts from prevention to performance management of failure. The objective becomes managing optics, not reducing probability.

Nigeria’s security budget has grown significantly over the past decade, yet insecurity has worsened. Kidnappings have become more brazen. Why? Because funding is justified by the persistence of the crisis, not its resolution.

If the problem is solved, what justifies the next budget cycle?

For years, decentralization has been proposed as the structural reform that could change the system—but it remains trapped in political rhetoric. Why? Because decentralization disperses power, and power in Nigeria’s political economy is not dispersed. It is concentrated.

Sixteen Days. Full Stop.

Forty-six children and teachers were kidnapped in Oriire. It reportedly took sixteen days for the presidency to authorize a specialized rescue framework.

Sixteen days before the Commander-in-Chief treated the abduction of forty-six human beings as a crisis requiring formal executive activation.
But responsibility in moments like this is not singular.

The Oyo State Governor, by constitutional convention regarded as the Chief Security Officer of the state and a recipient of security votes, also occupies a central coordinating role in the security architecture of the state. Within a crisis of this scale, expectations of rapid intergovernmental coordination, visible command urgency, and sustained pressure on federal response mechanisms are not optional, hey are inherent to the office.

Yet, the response cycle, from abduction to high-level coordinated action and physical engagement with affected communities, unfolded at a pace that raised legitimate public concern about the speed and intensity of institutional reaction.

By the time visible field visits and coordinated engagements occurred, the delay had already become part of the public record of the crisis itself—shaping perception as much as the incident shaped fear on the ground.

In a functional security system, crisis response is measured in hours, not days. Not for symbolism, but because time directly affects outcomes: every passing hour in an active kidnapping reduces the probability of safe recovery and increases the leverage of perpetrators.

Sixteen days, therefore, is not merely a lapse in timing. It reflects a deeper structural problem—where urgency is often declared after pressure builds, rather than operationalized when intelligence first breaks.

And in that gap between incident and action, citizens are left to absorb the consequences of delayed coordination across all tiers of authority.

The Verdict

Nigeria does not primarily need more military bases. It needs a new security measurement architecture—one that prioritizes intelligence conversion rates, early-warning response times, and pre-emptive disruption metrics over post-incident operations.

Every threat must be treated as time-sensitive, where minutes and hours determine outcomes—not weeks and statements.

Most importantly, citizens must shift the accountability question:

Not only “why did the attack happen?”

But “why was it not prevented?”

Nigeria’s security challenge is ultimately a leadership and systems failure—an institutional preference for reaction over prevention, because prevention is politically invisible.

You cannot hold a press conference about the attack that never happened.

Until this reality is named and confronted with precision, the cycle will continue.

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Opinion

Why Ibadan North youths are rooting for Repete

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Growing support has continued to trail a youthful politician and technology advocate, Hon. Khalil Mustapha Adegboyega, popularly known as Repete, as many youths in Ibadan North Federal Constituency expressed confidence in his leadership style and vision for development.

Across several communities within the constituency, residents, particularly students, artisans and young professionals, described Repete as one of the emerging political figures with strong grassroots appeal and a passion for youth empowerment.

Supporters said his growing popularity stems from his consistent advocacy for innovation, entrepreneurship and skills development aimed at addressing unemployment and creating opportunities for young people.

As an engineer and technology enthusiast, Repete is also said to possess a deep understanding of the evolving digital economy and the need to position youths for global competitiveness.

Many of his supporters noted that his approach to leadership focuses on practical solutions, mentorship and capacity-building initiatives capable of helping young people become self-reliant and economically productive.

Some community stakeholders who spoke on his rising profile said his humility, accessibility and relationship with the grassroots have continued to endear him to many residents within the constituency.

They added that Repete’s engagement with youths and community groups reflects his commitment to inclusive governance and people-oriented representation.

Observers within the constituency also maintained that the increasing support for the politician reflects a growing desire among residents for a new generation of leaders driven by innovation, competence and accountability.

According to them, many young people see Repete as a symbol of hope and progressive leadership capable of contributing meaningfully to the development of Ibadan North Federal Constituency.

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Repete or Regret: APC’s Moment of Truth in Ibadan North

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File photo of Hon. Khalil Mustapha Adegboyega (Repete)

The All Progressives Congress (APC) in Oyo State stands on the edge of a consequential decision—one that may define not only its fortunes in Ibadan North Federal Constituency but also its broader political relevance in the state.

As the countdown to the party primaries intensifies, the question before APC leaders is no longer routine. It is strategic. It is urgent. And it is decisive: will the party align with the clear preference of the people or risk repeating costly political miscalculations?

At the centre of this debate is Hon. Khalil Mustapha Adegboyega, widely known as Repete—a name that has, over time, evolved from a political identity into a grassroots phenomenon.

A Candidate Rooted in the People

In contemporary Nigerian politics, where voter awareness is rising and expectations are shifting, candidates are increasingly judged not by promises but by presence. On this scale, Adegboyega stands tall.

His political journey is marked by consistent engagement with constituents—far beyond the optics of election seasons. From youth empowerment initiatives that provide practical skills and startup support, to sustained interventions in healthcare access for the elderly and indigent, his footprint across Ibadan North reflects a model of leadership anchored on service.

Unlike the transactional approach that often defines political relationships, Adegboyega’s connection with the people appears organic—built on trust, accessibility, and continuity. These are not mere campaign attributes; they are political assets.

The Danger of Political Disconnect

History offers the APC a clear lesson: parties that ignore grassroots sentiment often pay a heavy electoral price. The imposition of candidates perceived as distant or untested has, in several instances, resulted in voter apathy, internal dissent, and eventual defeat at the polls.

Ibadan North presents no exception.

With opposition parties closely monitoring the APC’s internal dynamics, any misstep in candidate selection could provide a ready opening. A divided house, coupled with a candidate lacking widespread acceptance, is a formula the opposition is well-positioned to exploit.
The implication is straightforward: this is not merely about party loyalty; it is about electoral viability.

Echoes from the Grassroots

Across the length and breadth of Ibadan North—markets, motor parks, religious centres, and community gatherings—a consistent pattern emerges in political conversations. The name “Repete” resonates with familiarity and acceptance.

Such organic support is not easily manufactured. It is cultivated over time through visible impact and sustained presence. For a party seeking electoral certainty in a competitive environment, this level of grassroots validation is not just desirable—it is critical.

A Test of Leadership and Judgment

For the APC leadership in Oyo State, the moment calls for clarity of purpose. Decisions driven by narrow interests, personal alignments, or short-term calculations may carry long-term consequences.

The task, therefore, is to balance internal considerations with external realities. Elections are ultimately decided by voters, not by party caucuses. A candidate who commands public confidence offers the strongest pathway to victory.

The Stakes Are Clear

Ibadan North is too strategic a constituency for experimentation. The cost of error is not limited to a single seat; it extends to party cohesion, credibility, and future positioning within the state’s political landscape.

In this context, the argument for Adegboyega is less about sentiment and more about strategy. His visibility, acceptability, and record of engagement place him in a strong position to consolidate support and mobilise voters effectively.

Conclusion: A Choice with Consequences

As the APC moves closer to its primaries, the decision before it is both simple and significant: align with a candidate who reflects the mood of the electorate or risk conceding advantage to a watchful opposition.

In politics, moments such as this often separate foresight from hindsight.
For APC in Ibadan North, this may well be one of those defining moments.

 

Aderibigbe Akanbi, a political analyst, writes from Ibadan.

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