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Joe Biden’s fall and a shaking Nigeria

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America was a pitiable sight last Thursday. That great country was crouched on the bare floor. It felt like a huge hippopotamus. President Joe Biden’s legs were wrapped over each other like a malevolent viper that had just had its backbone yanked apart by an irreverent bullet. America looked helpless. The edges of Biden’s blue suit raised their hands in surrender, leaving the world gaping through his now-visible white singlet. The only thing on him that seemed unfazed by the fall was his blue fez cap. For the first time, cameras pierced through the underneath of Biden’s black shoes. Those shoes lay on their sides, even as a Biden security aide was pictured attempting to lift America. Looking at the faces of the guests on the podium, you could see palpable shock and fright. America fell!

Biden had tripped and fallen immediately after handing out the last diploma at a U.S. Air Force Academy graduation ceremony in Colorado. After he fell, the president caught himself with his hands and immediately got up on a knee. He looked backward towards a sandbag that supported the teleprompter he used. This confirms the universality of that Yoruba proverb which says, when a child falls, he looks forward to a remedy but when elders do, they look backward to the roots of the fall. Three of Biden’s aides then sprightly sprang up to his rescue and helped him up as he walked back to his seat. He then sat down as if nothing had happened. Back at the White House, the president joked, “I got sandbagged.”

Olusegun Obasanjo didn’t have such a joke as a riposte. He had a sound rebuke. In 1995 circa, he had attended a political event at the Gateway Hotel, Sango-Ota, Ogun State. He was ostensibly under the weather but reluctantly elected to come and honour organizers of the event, despite his failing health. As he sat on the high table, with the event afoot, human nature took its toll. Vomit daringly coursed through his esophagus, irreverently unmindful that this was once a Commander-in-Chief of the Nigerian Armed Forces. This was an office that imbues its occupant with the power of life and death. Like the Yoruba Anikulapo, he had death imprisoned inside his pouch. Obasanjo momentarily grabbed one of the cups in his front on the high table, inside of which was hemmed a serviette paper. By then, the goddamn vomit had burst the door of his mouth open and was ready to spill the content of its cistern. Obasanjo merely offered the glass cup as a sacrifice to this rude guest. Then, the vomit forcefully gushed out of his guts.

Ace photographer of the then Third Eye and later, Tribune newspapers, Tomi Adegbite, just like those photographers in Colorado who clicked on as America fell, sprang up his feet and onto the scene. He immediately drew out his camera. Click-click-click, this audacious professional thumbed the button off his camera, photographing Nigeria’s ex-Head of State at his most vulnerable moment. Obasanjo couldn’t care. He soberly attended to the unseen hand that ruled him at that moment. After his Lord and Master, the vomit had finished its assignment and the cup was filled up, the ex-Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces looked up to behold the photographer. “Ta lo ran e ni’se? Foto lo de nya loju ara e yen o?” – Who sent you? You must think you are taking a shot. he demanded. It was indecipherable. Was it a question, threat, or remark? The photographer didn’t wait to give a reply. As the Yoruba would say, he “na papa bo ra” – literally, disappeared into the void. Like Biden’s photo, this too was later published in the Third Eye.

The Biden fall became a piece of narrative to justify Nigeria’s tottering last week. It was spearheaded by those who believe in the Messiahnism of the current landlord of Aso Rock. A few days before Biden’s, Nigeria almost fell too. It was on May 29, 2023, at the Eagle Square. A clandestine video recording said to be of President Bola Tinubu at his swearing-in, went viral. As celebration enveloped Nigeria and the atmosphere of conviviality wrapped Eagle Square, the president allegedly made for the podium to address the world. From the video, we saw a president who shook tremulously like a storm-propelled chandelier. His ADC briskly fled after him as he tottered like one in the dark, seeming to want to fall. Or, could the president have been drunk that early morning? This reminded the audience of the biblical apostles accused by their Jew brethren of being drunk early in the morning. The charge was later disputed by Peter the apostle who reminded them that Jews seldom drank alcohol before nine in the morning. So, was Nigeria’s president drunk on the day of his joy?

Or, was he drunk on something? Or, ill? After his fall last June in America, Biden’s doctors came out to tell the world that he does not drink alcohol nor use tobacco and exercises “at least” five times a week. The fall came as Biden dismounted his bicycle and snared a foot in a toe clip of the cycle. He had taken a weekend trip to the Gordons Pond area of Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Just as he did in Colorado, Biden stood up immediately, waved, and said, “I’m good. I got my foot caught up.”

Immediately, his doctors declared him healthy and fit for duty after they conducted a physical examination on him. The White House thereafter issued a release saying the president did not require any medical attention. Nigerians were not that lucky. After Nigeria tottered at Eagle Square last Monday, mum was the word. There was even no official reaction to the viral video. We expected to be told, as usual, that the video was photo-shopped; and that some shaky and tremulous character, not our president, was imported into that viral video. Neither did we get a medical reaction similar to the one from Biden’s physicians telling us that “President Tinubu does not drink alcohol nor use tobacco or any other harmful substance and exercises on the treadmill ‘at least’ five times a week.”

Tinubu wasn’t the first leader of a people to totter that pitiably. Indeed, he has no reason to worry about falling. Falls have almost become an imprimatur of the world presidency. One world leader, who once fell or nearly fell, was Boris Johnson. Curated by the British press as having a nonchalant approach to governance with his hair uncombed and shirts flown out, untucked, in 2015, Boris hit tabloid headlines as he slipped at a charity tug-of-war game organized for a World War I commemoration event held at the Thames River. Clenching his teeth and grimacing, Johnson pulled hard in the game as he fell, losing his footing on the muddy grass. He exclaimed, “Oh bugger!”

Then another photograph emerged. It was of President Tinubu at a meeting with CBN and NNPCL heads. He was cosseted by his wife, Remi. Though they claimed it was not an official meeting, what was Mrs. Tinubu doing at an official meeting presided over by her husband? Was Nigeria about to witness an imperial presidency where the queen and king reigned? This question accompanied the viral photograph of the event. It reminded me of one verse of the Ifa corpus that inveighed leaders who import their women into the theatre of power.

The narrative went thus: The Olufimo, who was a king, got pestered by his newly wedded wife to take her to the Oro cult, a ritual that forbade the presence of women in traditional Yoruba society. When the pestering became almost like a pestilence, Olufimo, in the bid to wave off a far more pestilential matrimonial crisis, had no choice than smuggle the woman into the Oro groove. He did this by hiding her inside the area – the traditional seat of the king. As the initiates gathered for the ceremony, the Babalawo struck the chord of the Ifa deity thrice on the pouch but the deity refused to communicate with the initiates as it used to do. Then, the Ifa priest sought the face of the god differently and commanded that the Olufimo be ransacked for the cause of the blockage of communication by the Oro cult from the living. The Ifa narrative expressed this thus in Yoruba – Ohun lo di’fa fun Olufimo Akoko ni’jo ti o f’aya e joy; ape’fa, ifa o je o, a photo, oro o mi titi o, e je a ye’nu apere oba wo. The Olufimo and his wife were then beheaded for the sacrilege they brought upon the land.

On the social media, Nigerians did their own “beheading” via commentaries dragging the First Family. Questions were asked on the nature of this unfolding government. Would the First Lady be attending Executive Council meetings too? Was this part of the un-communicated handover note that Mrs. Aisha Buhari left for the pastor? “Learn lessons from my isolation in the Villa. Take charge, from the word go!” Was that what she said? Or was that Nigerian Christians’ own way of achieving a Muslim/Christian presidential parity?

Some very naughty persons however reasoned that the First Lady was cosseting her husband all over the place not necessarily to flaunt her feminine power but to physically monitor his fragile health. Didn’t Yoruba say that the plate is not displaying arrogance when it diffidently insists that it must have its own soup poured right on its face? – oju awo l’awo fi ngb’obe. No one, not even a doctor, can decipher when the indicators are going wrong like the woman who had witnessed the indicators slide dangerously in the past.

Did President Gerald Ford’s wife, like Remi, dot on him too after he fell? Ford fell exactly the same day, 48 years earlier from the day Biden fell in Colorado. On June 1, 1975, Ford had been captured in a photograph flung on the floor yakata like a castrated puppy. The very embarrassing event had occurred overseas as the president disembarked the Air Force One in Salzburg, the rainy Austrian city. His wife beside him, Ford, who was by then 61 years old, had lost his balance as he walked down the wet steps of the aircraft. He then skidded off down the remaining stairs. The almighty president of America ended up folded in a heap by the tarmac. Flummoxed, officials stampeded round themselves to get America back on its feet. Later while delivering his speech, Ford had said: “Thank you for your gracious welcome to Salzburg, and I am sorry I tumbled in.”

Falls are viewed both literally and metaphorically by people all over the world. They are even symbolic. For political foes of presidents, they narrate a bumbling and clumsy presidency. To paparazzi and the yellow journalism world, when such falls are caught on camera, they become skits for entertainment and late-night comedy shows. Stumbles are also framed as narratives of lack of fitness for the office occupied. For older presidents and leaders, they are pointers that the ones who fell had aged beyond the call of office. The cantankerous Trump had seized on the Biden fall in Colorado. When asked about it at an Iowa rally, he sarcastically remarked, “He actually fell down? Well, I hope he wasn’t hurt,” and added, “You gotta be careful about that,” even if you have to “tiptoe down a ramp.”

These falls and tottering may mean nothing to other world leaders, but they should to President Tinubu. As an African, Tinubu should look back, like Biden did, to his teleprompter. Falls and tottering humanize us as the living. They show that we are mere pencil traces on a paper which can be erased in a twinkle of an eye. They guide us to remember our humble past. In traditional African reading of infirmities and death, Africans came to a conclusion that those are beyond the purview of the living. Anyone who mocks a recipient of any of such unfavourable knuckle of fate is the greatest fool. The aged and worn trees of the forest have been known to confound human understanding to stand erect while the green, luxuriating ones fell.

On Friday in Osogbo, Osun State, on a Rave FM radio sermon, an Islamic cleric, Musbaideen Afolabi Orimadegun, had narrated the story of an ex-slave by the name Ayaz. Ayaz was promoted and became the king’s favourite chief. He had been thoroughly impoverished and wore torn clothes as apparel. He now began to wear expensive clothes and shoes. Then his co-chiefs reported to the king that he usually went inside the king’s treasury, where he kept all his clothes and material property. One day, the king volunteered to go with the chiefs at the dead of the night to witness what they said was Ayaz’ nocturnal pre-occupation. There, they saw him peel himself of all those adornments of wealth, even as he wore those torn clothes and shoes he wore as a poverty-stricken man. Then murmuring, he told himself “Ayaz, don’t forget what you were before now. This is you; this is your foundation! Realize this and be humble.”

As Orimadegun, a highly revered Ustaz due to his depth of understanding of Yoruba and the Quran, said during that sermon, the native concoction that rescues one from perennial bouts with an Abiku child must never be denied its veneration. It must be constantly replenished with water – agbo to ba si’ni lowo abiku, omi ori re o gbodo gbe. In the same way, said Orimadegun, atori ta ba fi le ise wo gbe, a’i ju si’gbo – the cudgel with which poverty is chased into the forest must never be despised or thrown away. The people make and unmake leaders. As I once said, there is no difference between the ordinary cleaner on the street and the president, except that one is privileged over the other. The cleaner’s defecation smells, just like the president’s; they both take ill, trip, and fall. The people are the ones who make the leader and deserve to be constantly venerated. Their welfare must be the topmost consideration. Did Tinubu factor the people into the current removal of subsidies? As desirable as the removal is, was it logical to yank it off, as peremptory and off-the-cuff as it was done, with the attendant suffering Nigerians are going through now?

Nigerians expect a presidency of sobriety, which will preference them. They want an economy that stands on its feet and may care less about a president who totters; they want a presidency that is reconciliatory and not one that wars with any part of the country. Again, Orimadegun’s counsel in that sermon, dredging deep into Yoruba chieftaincy tradition, was that a chieftaincy attained in the thick of hues and cries deserve sobriety – Oye ti a ba fi ote je, kike laa ke. Is the Nigerian presidency listening?

 

Dr Adedayo, a lawyer and journalist writes from Ibadan, Oyo State

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Beyond Deportations: What South Africa’s Immigration Crisis Reveals About Nationhood and Economic Frustration

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The popular saying that “one good turn deserves another” appears increasingly absent from present-day South Africa’s national consciousness. It is difficult not to ask whether many South Africans have forgotten the history of their country’s liberation and the immense sacrifices made by Nigeria and other African nations in the long struggle against apartheid.

For days, I have been deeply troubled by reports of South Africa’s worsening immigration crisis and the forceful, vigilante-style eviction of African migrants, particularly Nigerians. Beyond the headlines are broken families, shattered dreams and livelihoods painstakingly built over many years. It is a painful development that should concern every African who once believed in the ideals of continental solidarity.

Anti-immigrant sentiments in South Africa are not new. For more than two decades, campaigns against foreign nationals have been fuelled by high unemployment, widespread poverty, rising crime and frustration over inadequate public services. Many South Africans believe undocumented immigrants compete with them for jobs, housing, healthcare and social services, thereby denying citizens access to these basic necessities.

Yet, available evidence tells a more complex story. Research has consistently shown that immigrants alone cannot be blamed for South Africa’s economic and social challenges. Reducing such deep-rooted problems to the presence of foreign nationals oversimplifies a crisis that has been decades in the making.

What is often overlooked is the country’s structural economic reality. A significant skills mismatch, coupled with weaknesses in the quality of education, has left many job seekers ill-equipped for the demands of an economy increasingly driven by technology, innovation and specialised skills. This challenge is not peculiar to South Africa. Across much of sub-Saharan Africa, thousands of graduates enter the labour market every year without the technical, vocational and digital competencies employers now demand.

Beyond this, crime, insecurity, systemic corruption and poor governance continue to weigh heavily on South Africa’s economy. The country has one of the highest youth unemployment rates in the world. Persistent violent crime discourages investment, while corruption and the mismanagement of public resources have weakened service delivery, slowed infrastructure development and eroded investor confidence.

Equally significant is the enduring legacy of apartheid. More than three decades after democracy, inequalities in education, housing, infrastructure and economic opportunities remain deeply entrenched. Many Black communities still live with the consequences of decades of institutional discrimination and economic exclusion.

Against this backdrop, blaming undocumented immigrants for South Africa’s economic difficulties amounts to little more than scapegoating. It is a convenient narrative that diverts attention from the country’s more fundamental governance and developmental challenges.

The recurring xenophobic attacks against Nigerians and other African nationals make the situation even more painful. The recent killing of Emeka Iroegbu and Musa Yunana Joe on June 28, 2026, amid rising anti-migrant tensions, is a tragic reminder of how dangerous such sentiments can become.

One cannot help but ask: Is this the same South Africa for which Nigeria and many other African countries stood firmly during the anti-apartheid struggle?
I vividly remember growing up in the 1980s, listening to songs such as Free Mandela and Stop Apartheid in South Africa by iconic Nigerian musicians, including Majek Fashek, Onyeka Onwenu and Sonny Okosun. Those songs dominated the airwaves on NTA and became powerful symbols of African solidarity.

As a child, I even believed Nelson Mandela was Nigerian because Nigerians embraced his cause with such passion.
Mandela was released from prison in 1990 and became South Africa’s first Black President in 1994, bringing an end to decades of institutionalised racial segregation and apartheid. Today, just over three decades later, many Africans who once stood shoulder to shoulder with South Africans in their darkest hour are treated as unwelcome strangers.
History can be painfully ironic.

Perhaps, then, the saying that one good turn deserves another does not always reflect reality. Human beings are capable of repaying kindness with hostility. It is an uncomfortable truth, but one that life repeatedly teaches.

At a personal level, this reminds us to live with fewer expectations and strive for greater self-reliance. A heart that expects little, even after giving much, is less likely to be broken.

At the national level, however, the lesson is far more profound. Nigeria must build a country where its citizens can thrive without feeling compelled to seek survival elsewhere. Studies have shown that the overwhelming motivation behind the Japa phenomenon is the search for better opportunities and improved living conditions. If those opportunities existed at home, many Nigerians would gladly remain and contribute to national development.

The experience in South Africa—and, indeed, recent developments in the United States—demonstrates that immigration policies are shaped by changing political realities. No foreign country offers permanent guarantees.

Although the U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled against President Donald Trump’s executive order seeking to abolish birthright citizenship on constitutional grounds, the episode illustrates that even long-established policies can become subjects of political contestation. A constitutional principle that has existed since 1868 could still become a matter of national debate. That alone should remind us that every nation ultimately prioritises its own interests.
The enduring lesson is simple: no country can offer Nigerians greater long-term security than a well-governed Nigeria.

Nigeria’s greatest asset remains its people. Sustainable national prosperity can only be built through visionary leadership, accountable institutions, respect for the rule of law and responsible citizenship. When government creates an enabling environment and citizens embrace innovation, productivity and accountability, Nigeria can become a destination for investment rather than a source of economic migration.

As dozens of Nigerians return home following their repatriation from South Africa, government must move beyond sympathy and symbolic gestures. Some have returned with nothing more than the clothes they wore and a single travelling bag, leaving behind businesses, investments and years of hard work. Their return is not merely a journey home; for many, it is the painful collapse of dreams painstakingly built over decades. They deserve meaningful support to rebuild their lives and contribute productively to the nation’s economy once again.

History teaches that nations are strengthened not by chasing away strangers but by creating opportunities for their own citizens. Nigeria must therefore draw the right lessons from South Africa’s painful experience. Rather than exporting its brightest minds in search of survival, it should become a country where talent is rewarded, enterprise is encouraged and hope no longer requires a passport. Only then will Nigeria become not merely the giant of Africa by population, but by the quality of life it offers its people.

 

Olusegun Hassan, Ph.D
Public Policy Analyst and Social Commentator

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An Open Letter to Northern Leaders: Arewa Is Bleeding. Who Will Answer the Call? 

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I write this letter with a heavy heart to the sons and daughters of Arewa, particularly those entrusted with leadership and influence, concerning the painful reality confronting our region today. Once united in purpose and driven by a shared vision, Arewa now appears to be living in the shadow of its glorious past.

Our forefathers built this great region with one voice, setting aside differences of ethnicity and religion. They understood that unity was our greatest strength and that our diversity was not a weakness but a blessing. Their legacy was one of peace, mutual respect, visionary leadership, and collective progress.

Today, it is heartbreaking to witness how far we have drifted from those ideals. This letter is a sincere call for reflection, reconciliation, and a renewed commitment to rebuilding the unity, security, and prosperity that once defined our beloved Arewa.

Arewa Under Siege

Northern Nigeria has become widely known as a hotspot for multiple forms of insecurity. From the Boko Haram insurgency to widespread kidnapping, armed banditry, and violent attacks, fear has become part of everyday life. People no longer feel safe in their homes, workplaces, on their farms, or while travelling on the highways. Every journey is undertaken with uncertainty, with no guarantee of arriving safely.
Even more troubling is the perception that these security challenges have become normalised. Reports of abductions, killings, and attacks have become so frequent that they often receive far less attention than they deserve. This perceived indifference from those in positions of authority has contributed to a growing public belief that criminal groups now operate with confidence and relative impunity.

Consequently, many residents feel abandoned, while public trust in the government’s ability to protect lives and property continues to erode.

Addressing this crisis requires a coordinated and sustained response through stronger security operations, improved intelligence gathering, greater support for affected communities, and genuine accountability. Without decisive action, the cycle of violence and fear will continue to undermine the region’s stability, economic development, and the well-being of its people.

Beyond Insecurity: A Crisis of Leadership

The North’s challenges are not accidental. Poverty, insecurity, and underdevelopment are the cumulative consequences of long-standing structural failures, weak governance, and policy choices that have compounded over decades.

Responsibility is shared across different segments of society—including the political elite, the educated class, and the business community—many of whom have possessed both the influence and the opportunity to intervene more decisively than they have.

Rather than being the result of a single coordinated agenda, what is evident is a persistent pattern of neglect, weak accountability, and recurring governance failures that have allowed social and economic conditions to deteriorate. These failures have contributed to rising unemployment, declining educational outcomes, inadequate healthcare, and the expansion of insecurity across much of the region.

Breaking this cycle requires more than assigning blame. It demands institutional reform, accountable leadership, strategic investment in human capital, and a renewed sense of public responsibility.

Where Are the Northern Elite?

This brings us to the most difficult question: Where are the Northern elite? Where are the governors, ministers, lawmakers, business leaders, scholars, and other influential voices? Many command enormous influence, considerable private wealth, and extensive international networks, yet too often appear unable—or unwilling—to meaningfully confront the conditions that continue to leave large parts of the region insecure, impoverished, and politically weakened.

Why does this gap persist?

Part of the answer lies in proximity to power. In political environments shaped by patronage, speaking boldly may threaten access, while silence preserves influence. Over time, self-preservation begins to resemble strategy.

Unfortunately, the cost is borne not by those in positions of privilege but by ordinary communities far removed from the rooms where decisions are made.

Reviving the North’s Industrial Legacy
Northern Nigeria was once the industrial powerhouse of the country. Cities such as Kano and Kaduna were thriving centres of manufacturing, commerce, and employment. Today, much of that industrial strength has faded.

This is, therefore, a respectful appeal to two of Nigeria’s most accomplished industrialists—Aliko Dangote and Abdul Samad Rabiu. Many people continue to ask why there is limited visible large-scale industrial reinvestment in Kano, your home state, and across Northern Nigeria.

As a Kano indigene, and to the best of my knowledge, neither Aliko Dangote nor Abdul Samad Rabiu currently operates major manufacturing facilities actively producing in Kano. Several facilities associated with their businesses are widely reported to have become inactive or to function primarily as warehouses rather than active industrial plants. For example, along Tafawa Balewa Road, two BUA facilities that previously operated flour and vegetable oil mills are reported to have ceased production. Likewise, several Dangote industrial sites stretching from Mai Malari Road to the Sharada Industrial Area are also widely reported to be inactive or operating far below capacity.

Kano and Kaduna, once renowned for their vibrant manufacturing sectors, have experienced decades of industrial decline, resulting in widespread unemployment and underutilised infrastructure. At the same time, a significant share of new private-sector industrial investment appears to have been concentrated in other parts of the country, particularly the South-West. This naturally raises important questions about balanced national development.
Philanthropy remains valuable and deeply appreciated. Scholarships, donations, and humanitarian support undoubtedly improve lives. However, charity cannot replace sustainable industrial development.

What the North urgently needs is long-term investment that revives manufacturing, creates employment, strengthens local supply chains, develops skills, and rebuilds industrial ecosystems across Kano, Kaduna, and neighbouring states. Strong factories build strong communities, while sustainable industries create lasting prosperity. The expectation, therefore, is not charity but a renewed commitment to the economic transformation of the region where many of Nigeria’s greatest industrial success stories first began.

The Responsibility of Business Leaders

The Northern business elite have watched insecurity, poverty, and displacement deepen while economic activity has increasingly concentrated elsewhere.

Insurgency, banditry, and weakened rural governance have disrupted agriculture, trade routes, and local markets. Investment naturally gravitates towards safer and more predictable environments. Yet public advocacy from many influential business leaders has often remained muted, constrained by commercial interests, political relationships, and regulatory considerations.

The region risks becoming divided into two realities: one integrated into national wealth and opportunity, and the other left to bear the consequences of persistent insecurity, economic stagnation, and neglect.

Business leadership extends beyond generating profits. It also entails helping to create an environment where enterprise can flourish, jobs can be created, and communities can prosper. Sustainable economic growth depends not only on private investment but also on the willingness of influential stakeholders to advocate policies and initiatives that promote stability, security, and inclusive development.

The North’s business community has historically played a significant role in shaping the region’s economic fortunes. That tradition of leadership remains essential today. While governments bear primary responsibility for governance and security, the private sector also possesses the capacity to influence development through strategic investments, partnerships, innovation, and constructive engagement with public institutions.

Rebuilding confidence in Northern Nigeria requires collaboration among government, businesses, civil society, and local communities. A more secure and prosperous region ultimately benefits everyone, creating new opportunities for investment, employment, and long-term economic growth.

A Message to Political Leaders

To the political leadership of Northern Nigeria: the contradiction has become increasingly difficult to ignore. The region remains one of the country’s most significant in terms of population and political influence, yet it continues to lag behind on key development indicators such as education, healthcare, infrastructure, employment, and security.

When communities are attacked, farmers are displaced, and schools are forced to close, silence from those entrusted with leadership is seldom interpreted as restraint. More often, it is perceived as detachment. Leadership is measured not only by electoral success or political influence but also by the willingness to confront difficult realities with courage, empathy, and decisive action.

The expectations of citizens go beyond promises. They seek visible commitment, practical solutions, and sustained engagement with the challenges affecting their daily lives. Rebuilding public confidence requires leadership that is accountable, responsive, and focused on the long-term development of the region.

A Message to the Educated and Professional Class

To our academics, professionals, and intellectuals: the evidence is neither hidden nor difficult to find. Reports, research, and lived experiences consistently reveal widening gaps in human development, education, healthcare, and security.

Yet, too often, expertise remains confined within institutions and professional circles that discourage open engagement with entrenched power. Knowledge should not merely describe problems; it should help solve them. Research should inform policy, enrich public debate, and contribute meaningfully to sustainable solutions.

Every society depends on courageous thinkers who are willing to engage constructively, challenge complacency, and place the public interest above personal convenience. The North possesses no shortage of intellectual talent. What is needed is a stronger connection between knowledge and action.

A Message to Cultural Influencers

To our musicians, artists, writers, actors, and other public figures: throughout history, art has served as a powerful instrument of truth, reflection, and social transformation. Cultural voices have inspired movements, preserved history, and given hope to communities during difficult times.

Yet, when economic survival becomes closely tied to political or commercial interests, critical voices often become subdued. Society benefits when its cultural figures speak with honesty, empathy, and a sense of responsibility. Their influence extends beyond entertainment; it helps shape public values, inspire civic engagement, and amplify the concerns of ordinary people.

A Shared Responsibility

Ultimately, this is not solely a Northern Nigerian problem. It reflects a broader question confronting societies everywhere: what happens when elite interests become disconnected from the well-being of ordinary people?

When access becomes more valuable than accountability, and proximity to power outweighs responsibility to the public, silence is rarely accidental—it becomes institutionalised.

The result is a widening emotional and political distance between leadership and the people. Unless that distance is narrowed through meaningful investment, principled advocacy, and courageous leadership, the same questions will continue to resonate:

Who speaks? Who benefits? Who bears the cost?

History will judge every generation by how it responds to the challenges of its time. Northern Nigeria possesses enormous human potential, entrepreneurial talent, agricultural resources, and a rich cultural heritage.

What it requires now is leadership marked by vision, courage, integrity, and an unwavering commitment to the common good.

This letter is not intended to condemn but to encourage honest reflection and meaningful action. The future of Arewa depends not only on government but also on every leader, businessperson, scholar, professional, artist, and citizen willing to place the region’s long-term prosperity above personal or political interests.

May we find the wisdom to rebuild what has been weakened, the courage to confront uncomfortable truths, and the determination to restore Northern Nigeria to its rightful place as a region of peace, opportunity, and shared prosperity.

 

Abba Dukawa writes from Kano and can be reached at abbahydukawa@gmail.com.

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2027: Why Oyo APC Should Close Ranks Behind Sarafadeen Alli | By Adeniyi Olowofela

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Since the emergence of Senator Sarafadeen Alli as the governorship candidate of the All Progressives Congress (APC) for the 2027 election in Oyo State, I have listened to and read numerous reactions from party members and stakeholders. While some of his co-contestants have expressed disappointment, such feelings are understandable in every keenly contested democratic process.

Interestingly, many people have attempted to draw Senator Teslim Folarin into the controversy surrounding the party’s choice. However, he has remained silent. In my view, that silence is deliberate. I believe Senator Folarin understands the direction taken by the party’s national leadership regarding the choice of candidate.

Anyone who believes Senator Folarin was unaware of Senator Sarafadeen Alli’s governorship ambition does not fully appreciate his political experience. Senator Folarin is a strategic politician. In the 2023 governorship election, he pursued victory with determination and commitment. Personally, I had hoped he would emerge victorious, and I remain convinced that he gave his all in that contest.

Former Minister of Power, Chief Bayo Adelabu, also contested the 2023 governorship election on the platform of the Accord Party. Although I disagreed with that political decision, democracy guarantees every citizen the freedom of association and political choice.

Following the election, he was appointed into the Federal Executive Council, a development many interpreted differently based on their political perspectives.

Today, Chief Adelabu commands a substantial political following built over several election cycles. His support base remains significant, and if APC is to present a formidable front in 2027, Senator Sarafadeen Alli will undoubtedly benefit from the goodwill and backing of Adelabu and his loyalists.

Similarly, former Minister of Communications, Barrister Adebayo Shittu, has consistently demonstrated interest in Oyo State’s governorship over the years, even though he did not purchase the APC nomination form this time. His political experience and network remain valuable assets that should not be ignored.

My sympathy also goes to those aspirants who invested as much as ₦50 million each to purchase the APC governorship nomination form. That is no small sacrifice. Nonetheless, politics demands sacrifice in the collective interest. The pendulum could easily have swung in favour of any of them. Had that happened, the rest of us would equally have appealed to others to rally behind the eventual flag bearer.

I recall an incident during the 2022/2023 party activities when an official from Abuja, sent to supervise APC affairs in Oyo State, passionately appealed to stakeholders to embrace consensus. His message remains instructive. He warned that continued division within the party would only prolong its stay outside power and ultimately hurt everyone.

That warning remains relevant today.
For seven years, the APC has remained outside government in Oyo State. Can the party afford another four years in opposition? I do not think so.

This is why the task before us goes beyond the personal ambition of Senator Sarafadeen Alli. It is a collective struggle for every APC member, especially the foot soldiers who have remained loyal through difficult times. The Federal Government alone cannot provide opportunities for everyone. Regaining power in Oyo State is essential if the party hopes to broaden opportunities for its members at both the state and federal levels.

The challenge before us, therefore, is to build a larger political platform that accommodates everyone.
Senator Sarafadeen Alli is no political novice. Over the years, he has built relationships across virtually every ward in Oyo State. His political structure and grassroots appeal are undeniable. If party members unite behind him, APC stands a strong chance of returning to Government House.

Realistically, the 2027 governorship contest in Oyo State is shaping up to feature three major political forces. First is Senator Sarafadeen Alli of the APC, representing arguably the state’s most established political platform. Second is Hon. Bimbo Adekanbi, who many believe enjoys the backing of Governor Seyi Makinde and is expected to fly the flag of the APM. Third is Alhaji Hazmat Oriyomi of the Accord Party, whose growing popularity among many grassroots supporters cannot be dismissed.

The eventual winner is likely to emerge from one of these three political blocs. That reality alone should remind APC members that victory is far from guaranteed.

The surest path to success is unity.

This election should not be seen as Senator Sarafadeen Alli’s personal battle. It is the collective responsibility of every APC member who desires the party’s return to power in Oyo State.

The time has come to bury personal grievances, close ranks and work together. Only through unity can APC reclaim Oyo State in 2027.

 

Prof. Adeniyi Olowofela, former Chairman of the defunct Alliance for Democracy (AD) in Oyo State, former Chairman of Ido Local Government, former Commissioner for Education, Science and Technology in Oyo State, and former Federal Commissioner representing Oyo State at the Federal Character Commission (FCC), writes from Abuja.

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