Opinion
Life, Akeredolu, Na’Abba and the “Ebi npa wa” shame | By Festus Adedayo
For the Algerian journalist, editor and editorialist, playwright and director, novelist and author of short stories, political essayist and activist, Albert Camus, life is meaningless and absurd. To him, it is inexplicable why we live, struggle all through and die. The meaninglessness of life is explained in his book The Myth of Sisyphus where he captures the absurdity of the god, Sisyphus struggling to push a rock up the mountain. The rock is pushed uphill; the rock rolls back in an endless, fruitless fight of forces. It is what human life represents to the writer. You cannot have a full sky of happiness that will not be undermined by some clouds of unhappiness. Why? Camus says it is absurd for any man to seek meaning in life (and in the after-life) because there is none – and no one can get any.
So if we agree with Camus that life is truly absurd and without meaning, why do we spend the whole of our days perspiring to conquer the world? Why mourn those who have exited the absurdity of life like erstwhile Ondo State governor Oluwarotimi Akeredolu, Ghali Umar Na’Abba and the 200 people murdered in Plateau last week? Why do we build seemingly impressionable castles as if we will inherit the kingdom of this absurd earth? Why do we take delight in gloating about our existence and why do palace people flaunt fleeting fripperies?
The deaths on December 27, 2023 of former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Na’Abba and Akeredolu, erstwhile governor of Ondo State, have provoked epistemological questions on why the rich and powerful die. So also the killing, on the eve of Christmas, of 200 persons in Bokkos, Barkin Laddi and Mangu area of Plateau State. The latter gruesome deaths of those innocent, unarmed countrymen were prosecuted by animals donned in human skins. The two calibers of deaths have also further erupted questions on why human beings die at all. Why does God allow death? Is death the end of existence? Where does man go after the cessation of breath? Or does he just perish like vapour that is extinguished without trace? For ages, these questions have remained unanswered and unanswerable, in spite of religious, philosophical, psychological, cultural and clinical examinations of death and dying.
Na’Abba and Akeredolu’s deaths are very sobering. Both were staunch readers of this column and were acquainted with me. Na’Abba and I began as ferocious enemies. When he launched missiles against President Olusegun Obasanjo, he became the proverbial ripe orange on a tree, offspring of Mother Tree, which attracts pelting of stones on its mother. The impression Na’Abba created when he began that adversarial pelting of the presidency with cudgels was that he was an anvil in the hands of the northern establishment which was averse to relinquishing its presidential birthright. So Na’Abba began to receive a confetti of attacks and scrutiny of every of his actions. The attacks were so vehement that he sent his then Special Adviser on Media who later became Member of the House of Representatives, Eziuche Ubani, to the Tribune House to demand what his offence was and seek armistice. We told Ubani pointblank that we had no grouse against his boss but couldn’t stand what appeared to us as his ethnic antagonism against Obasanjo. And the flaks continued. Then one day, Na’Abba got my phone number and called. Unfortunately, I was in the thick of slumber and like one in a delirium, answered him incoherently. He promptly called Hon Babs Oduyoye who represented my constituency in Ibadan to get in touch with me as I sounded unwell. It was the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. I was overwhelmed by his humanity, his high office notwithstanding. We maintained that friendship until his passage last week.
Akeredolu, widely known as Aketi, was an “Ibadan boy.” He was famous for his unconventionality and stubbornness. He could look at an Ominran – giant – in the face and call his bluff. Apparently bolstered by his knowledge of law, he was like an avant-garde, an iconoclast if you like and feared no man. When he later joined politics, to us, he looked like a fish out of the water. People wondered how he would acquire the opaqueness of politicians and how his lacerating tongue would fit the bill of politics. When he sought reelection, I openly queued against him and he knew. My people of the state capital he administered felt he was not fair to them, especially their highly revered monarch, the Deji. So whenever he saw me, he tagged me with the sobriquet, Akure Lo Kan – It is Akure’s turn. Some months ago, I called him to commiserate with him on his mother’s demise and I thought I had afforded him an opportunity to invoke his infamous lacerating tongue on me. The Akure group I belong – Ooye Development Initiative – had issued a very unsparing riposte to his government’s decision to stop the ancient Aheregbe festival in Akure and we felt it was unjust. I signed the press release which gave him the back of our tongue, asking the governor if he would stop the Igogo festival of his people in Owo simply because of its unconventional nature. During that call, Aketi disappointed me. He carefully explained why his government stopped the festival in a way that mesmerized me. That was our last conversation.
So, why did Aketi and Na’Abba die? Why do people die? Is the death of the body, particularly the stoppage of the working of the brain, an absolute end of any form of conscious activity? The truth is that death is universal and a biological given that no one can escape. I will die my death and you will die youts. We will all die. The only thing that is not given is how we will die and where we will die.
As I said earlier, so many scholarly works have been conducted on death-bed moments by scholars, physicians and nurses. One locus classicus study was conducted by Karlis Osis in 1961. Osis, who was born in 1917 and died in 1997, was a Latvian parapsychologist whose area of specialization was exploration of deathbed phenomenon and life after death. His maiden research, which began in the 1940s, got its inspiration from English physicist and parapsychologist, William Barrett’s work, Death Bed Visions. This led Karlis to attempt building on Barrett’s research and subsequently a four-year study he did focusing on doctors and nurses in the US and northern India. He wanted to know what these medics observed about their dying patients.
While religionists say that life ends with death and the soul takes over, resurrecting on Judgment Day, pre-industrial societies like Africa disagree. In Africa’s cosmologies, philosophies, mythologies, spiritual and ritual life, we give out clear messages that death cannot be the absolute and irrevocable end of life. Attached to this is our belief that life or existence continues in some other forms even after biological demise. We believe that death is an integral part of life. In death, the soul of a deceased travels, undergoing complex adventures and the dead is conscious of this posthumous journey of the soul. So, for us, death is not the ultimate defeat of the body nor is it an end of existence but an important transition.
This is perhaps why in Africa, our lives are woven round cultures of spending time around dying people and venerating their corpses. In First world countries, the dying are given impersonal treatments that do not reflect belief that they are merely transiting into a higher life. I recently engaged a friend in a conversation on why the Igbo lay so much emphasis on the dead, so much that, if a relative dies even in a far-flung place like Australia, their corpses would be brought home at huge financial expense and intricate cultural rites of passage and elaborate rituals conducted for their transitions. So, while biological death is seen as representing the final end and cessation of existence, as well as an end to any conscious activity of any kind, we believe that death is a natural transition from the visible to the invisible.
Africans have their own indigenous ways of dealing with death and a unique way they conceive and understand the world. To them, life is in three discrete stages which begins at conception and ends with death. For the first stage of this tripod, death is a marker of the end of that stage of life. At this stage, Africans believe that the dead literally cease to exist but its flipside is that death is perceived as an integrated and continuous developmental life process that cannot be separated from life. When people die, with the extinguishing of their physicality, Africans believe that they transcend to the spiritual world. There, in the words of philosophers like Kenyan John Mbiti, such living dead live in an unseen community that is reserved mainly for a people called the living dead. Such dead persons merely transcend mortality for immortality, the latter being a state of collective existence where the living dead mingle in company with other spirit beings.
This probably is why Africans revere their dead. The advent of religions seems to erode and abridge such relationship between the living and the dead. Before these religions, Africans believed that their living dead, with whom they still communicate through rituals by their graves, constitute an inseparable and influential part of their existence. There is a consistent and potent communication between the living and the living dead. I have a highly educated friend who believes that no one can hurt him because his late mother always intervenes for him. This has remained a potent corpus of his belief in spiritual shield from evil doers. Some other people commune with their living dead who they claim to see in dreams and who instruct them on what to do. They also claim to be in constant touch with the spirit of their dead father or mother as a clear illustration of the amity between them.
For the Ndebele people of Matabo in Zimbabwe who are part of the Nguni people of Southern Africa, with their strong Zulu cultural links, like many other parts of Africa, death marks a transition from the world of the living to the world of the living dead. The Ndebele concept of life and death also looms large in the way they ritualize and medicalize the two concepts of death and dying, as well as life after death. The Ndebele believe that death is not a medical phenomenon. They see it as a response to a home call by their ancestors who need company in the spiritual world. This is especially so when the dead fellow is perceived to have fulfilled their time on earth as determined by the abaphansi or amadlozi, the ancestor.
This is responsible for why ancestor worship is very potent among the Zulu. They believe that those ancestors, who were once like us, live in the spirit world with Unkulunkulu – the highest god – and there is a connection between them and the living. There are many ways in which the Zulu ancestors are believed to appear to their people. These are by dreams, sicknesses or even as animals like snakes. Diviners such as the sangomas invoke the spirits of the dead ancestors to come to the aid of the living.
Another school of thought says that our lives and existence are just dreams. The idea that life is like a dream is a philosophical concept that has been explored by thinkers and writers throughout history. Some people use this metaphor to describe the fleeting and impermanent nature of life, while others use it to emphasize the mysterious and sometimes unreal quality of existence. Even the Psalmist in the 90th chapter amplified same thought. Now, if life is just a dream as it is assumed, then, all mortals who still draw the breath of life must take time to peruse their lives to determine if they are a nightmare or a sweet dream. What exactly is our lives worth? Is it in the number of mansions and exotic cars that we flaunt?
Some other African societies, through their cultures, believe that after death, the departed individual begins to live in a spirit world and receives a new body that has identical features with the earthly body they hitherto donned. There, however, they have transited into an ancestor with the power to look after the living. There is a qualification nevertheless for this: the dead individual must have lived a meaningful life while on earth and must not have had their lives cut short in unnatural ways like accident.
Life may not have meaning but man will forever seek to conquer it, even with inanities. Take for instance a video that is trending in virtual virality. It is that of the Nigerian president, the local boy made good, who had arrived his home city for the yuletide. On Friday, 29th December, 2023, the president drove through a very dirty street of famished Lagosians in Lagos Island. The serpentine, long-winding convoy of exotic cars was like an elephant in a marketplace – it got a sea of spectators. Don’t mind me; I am quite aware that the socially unhealthy optics of a huge number of cars is a presidential pestilence that predates this presidency. It didn’t start with the incumbent; it was a security necessity that created that culture of obscenity post-February 1976 when an unarmed, lone-car-driven Murtala Muhammed was assassinated. But, must mortal man continue that veneration of Camus’ life absurdity in such needless form? At some point in time, both Na’Abba and Akeredolu also helped in deifying this absurdity. As the president’s convoy snaked to wherever it was headed, snide comments followed it. “Ebi npa wa o!” We are hungry; the people hollered. This same people who Frantz Fanon called wretched of the earth had, days earlier, gathered in an embarrassing queue at the president’s Bourdillon Road to demand food to put on the table for Christmas. The unspoken words were that, while perishable man was gloating in his behemoth of affluence, his people were roasting in abject poverty. It is an oxymoron to think that the cost of fuelling that interminable queue of SUVs slithering through the dirt of the Island could wean some of these wretched Nigerians of their poverty.
The homily not to venerate the flesh that will someday become food for maggots as ours is however never heeded by man. The reason why it will always fall on deaf ears is that many believe that, against Camus, life is a highly addictive drug. The longer one lives, the more dependent on this drug of living one is.
As I commiserate with the families of our recent ancestors – Na’Abba and Akeredolu – who have suddenly become our seniors in this dying existential affliction, let me also congratulate us all for the new year we are about to enter. One sure thing is that the new year will mark a year less in our engagement with this ceaseless and absurd rock-pushing called life. When we transit eventually, perhaps we may find out that death might not be a bad thing after all?
As the road to 2027 gradually unfolds across Oyo State, political conversations are shifting from routine permutations to deeper questions about competence, generational leadership, and measurable impact. In Ibarapa East, that conversation has found a new voice in Yusuf Abiodun Ramon — a Lanlate-born technocrat whose entry into the race for the State House of Assembly is redefining what representation could mean for the constituency.
In a political environment often dominated by familiar faces and conventional calculations, Ramon presents a profile shaped by technical discipline, structured thinking, and solution-driven engagement. His professional background, anchored in analytical precision and systems management, forms the foundation of his public service aspiration.
For him, representation must move beyond ceremonial presence to practical responsiveness — laws that reflect local realities, oversight that protects public resources, and advocacy that translates into visible development.
Ramon argues that the future of Ibarapa East lies in leadership that listens deliberately, plans strategically, and delivers measurably. He speaks of strengthening rural infrastructure, expanding youth-driven economic opportunities, and institutionalising transparency as core pillars of his agenda. In his view, governance must not merely be symbolic; it must be structured, accountable, and people-centred.
Rooted in Ile Odede, Isale Alubata Compound, Ward Seven of Ibarapa East Local Government, and maternally linked to Ile Sobaloju, Isale Ajidun Compound, Eruwa, Ramon’s story is not one of distant ambition but of lived experience. He is, in every sense, a son of the soil — shaped by the same roads, schools, and economic realities that define daily life in Ibarapa East.
“I was born here. I grew up here. I understand our struggles, our strengths, and our untapped potential,” he says. “Representation must go beyond occupying a seat; it must translate into preparation, competence, and genuine commitment to development.”
His academic journey mirrors that philosophy of steady growth. He began at Islamic Primary School, Lanlate (1995–2001), proceeded to Baptist Grammar School, Orita Eruwa (2001–2007), and later earned a National Diploma in Mechanical Engineering Technology from Federal Polytechnic, Ilaro, between 2009 and 2011. Refusing to plateau, he advanced his intellectual horizon and is now completing a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration at the University of Lagos. “Education,” he reflects, “is continuous capacity building. Leadership today requires both technical knowledge and administrative insight.”
That blend of engineering precision and managerial training has defined a professional career spanning more than a decade. Shortly after his diploma, Yusuf joined Mikano International Limited as a generator installer, gaining hands-on experience in industrial power systems — a sector central to Nigeria’s infrastructural backbone. He later transitioned into telecommunications at Safari Telecoms Nigeria Limited, where he received specialized training in Industrial, Scientific, and Medical radio bands, strengthening his expertise in network operations.
In 2013, he became a Field Support Engineer at Netrux Global Concepts Ltd., then a leading ISM service provider in Nigeria. Over four formative years, he immersed himself in telecom infrastructure deployment and maintenance, mastering field coordination, logistics management, and real-time technical problem-solving.
Since July 2017, he has served as a Field Support Engineer with Specific Tools and Techniques Ltd., a power solutions firm providing services to major operators including MTN Nigeria and Airtel Nigeria. In that capacity, he operates at the frontline of ensuring energy reliability and network uptime — responsibilities that demand discipline, accountability, and systems thinking.
For political observers in Ibarapa East, this trajectory matters. It reflects more than résumé credentials; it speaks to a mindset anchored in efficiency, coordination, and measurable outcomes — qualities increasingly demanded in legislative representation.
Beyond the private sector, Ramon’s political exposure is neither sudden nor superficial. A loyal member of the progressive political family in Lagos, he once served as a personal assistant to a former lawmaker, gaining practical insight into legislative procedure and constituency engagement. Within his community, he has quietly extended financial support to small-scale entrepreneurs and students — modest but consistent interventions rooted in personal responsibility.
“My interest is my people,” he states firmly. “Ibarapa East deserves strategic, responsive, and capable leadership at the State Assembly. We must move from rhetoric to results.”
Across the constituency — from Lanlate to Eruwa — development priorities remain clear: youth employment, vocational empowerment, rural road rehabilitation, stable power supply, agricultural value-chain expansion, improved educational standards, and stronger lawmaking that directly reflects community needs.
Political analysts argue that Ramon’s technocratic background positions him uniquely at the intersection of policy formulation and practical implementation. At a time when national discourse increasingly favours competence over grandstanding, his profile resonates with a broader generational shift toward performance-driven governance. His engineering discipline reinforces problem-solving; his business training strengthens administrative understanding; his grassroots roots anchor his empathy.
For Ibarapa East, the 2027 election cycle may represent more than a routine democratic exercise. It may mark a recalibration of expectations — a demand for representation that understands both the soil beneath its feet and the systems that drive modern development. As political alignments gradually crystallize in Oyo State, Yusuf Abiodun Ramon’s declaration signals the arrival of a candidate seeking to translate private-sector structure into public-sector impact.
One thing is clear: the conversation about the future of Ibarapa East has begun — and it is now framed around competence, credibility, and capacity.
Oluwasegun Idowu sent in this piece from Eruwa, Ibarapa East LG, Oyo State
“In a sky where delays are normal, one airline flies with precision and trust. Ibom Air shows that reliability can be a strategy”.
In Nigeria’s skies, where flight delays and cancellations are often taken as routine, Ibom Air has quietly rewritten the rules. From the moment it launched in June 2019, the Akwa Ibom State–owned carrier has treated reliability not as a bonus, but as a core strategy—turning punctuality, discipline, and operational excellence into a competitive edge that passengers can count on.
While most airlines chase rapid expansion or flashy promotions, Ibom Air has chosen consistency. Flights depart on schedule, disruptions are minimal, and communication with passengers is clear and timely. This predictability has quickly earned the airline a loyal following among business travellers, professionals, government officials, and families for whom time is invaluable.
The airline’s approach is methodical. Every flight is treated as a commitment, and operational decisions are guided by structured planning, not improvisation. This discipline underpins everything from scheduling to fleet management, ensuring passengers experience flying without surprises.
Central to this model is Ibom Air’s modern fleet. Its Airbus A220-300 and Bombardier CRJ-900 aircraft are fuel-efficient, comfortable, and rigorously maintained to meet both manufacturers’ specifications and the regulatory standards of the Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority and international aviation bodies. Safety here is a culture, not a compliance exercise.
Cabin cleanliness and aircraft health are equally prioritized. Passengers consistently step into neat, hygienic, and professionally maintained cabins, reinforcing confidence and comfort even before take-off. In a sector where small details signal operational quality, Ibom Air’s standards speak volumes.
Technology quietly drives reliability across operations. From booking and check-in to flight coordination and customer service, modern systems enhance efficiency, reduce disruptions, and ensure smooth communication. These tools allow the airline to anticipate challenges rather than merely react.
R–L: Dr. Solomon Oroge, a consultant, and Mr. Idowu Ayodele, journalist and media practitioner, aboard an Ibom Air flight.
Service delivery follows the same disciplined pattern. Pilots, cabin crew, engineers, and ground staff operate under strict professional standards. Courtesy is paired with efficiency, and calm, structured service ensures passengers feel confident throughout their journey.
The Ibom Flyer loyalty programme reflects this structured approach, rewarding consistent passengers and fostering long-term engagement. It turns reliability into a tangible benefit for frequent flyers.
From its hub at Victor Attah International Airport, Uyo, Ibom Air serves major Nigerian cities including Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, Calabar, and Enugu, while extending its reach to West Africa with flights to Accra, Ghana. Expansion is deliberate, prioritizing sustainability over rapid growth that could compromise service quality.
Measured growth allows the airline to maintain operational excellence and service consistency even as demand increases—a strategy that contrasts sharply with competitors whose rapid expansion often strains resources.
Mr. Idowu Ayodele, journalist and media practitioner, pictured inside an Ibom Air aircraft.
Beyond commercial success, Ibom Air has become a national example. It has created employment, stimulated tourism, and strengthened regional connectivity, projecting a positive image of Nigerian aviation at a time when confidence in the sector is often fragile.
The airline has also challenged assumptions about government-owned enterprises. By combining professional management with operational autonomy, it demonstrates that public investment can achieve efficiency, accountability, and competitiveness.
Reliability, in the case of Ibom Air, is than a promise—it is a deliberate business philosophy. It shapes operations, informs decisions, and builds passenger trust consistently.
Technology, discipline, and attention to detail converge to produce an airline that works. Every element, from fleet maintenance to cabin service, supports the promise that Ibom Air delivers what it advertises—without surprises.
In a market where uncertainty has been the norm, Ibom Air has shown that consistency can be a strategic advantage. Passengers no longer fly with anxiety; they fly with confidence, knowing their schedules will hold and service will meet expectations.
Ultimately, Ibom Air is not just an airline—it is a model of operational excellence in Nigerian aviation. By prioritizing reliability over spectacle, discipline over improvisation, and planning over shortcuts, it sets a benchmark for the industry and a standard for passengers: in the skies, predictability is priceless
Idowu Ayodele – Journalist, Ibadan, Oyo State
0805 889 3736 | megaiconpress@gmail.com
In Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey, the concept of the “Greek gift” was invented. The Trojan Horse became the undoing of Troy, ending a decade-long war in which many Greeks had perished, including the mighty Achilles. The Trojans accepted the Greeks’ gift, and the rest, as they say, is history.
In the past few days, both social and conventional media have been agog with reactions to President Donald J. Trump’s threat to the Nigerian government regarding terrorism. In his words, Nigeria must “address the genocide against Christians in the North and Middle Belt, or else the U.S. will cut aid to the country and, in addition, come into the country guns blazing in an attempt to flush out the terrorists.”
Sincerely speaking, the tweet made by the U.S. President sounded a bit comical to me, as did many other commentaries that followed. Comical not in a ridiculous sense, but in a comedic sense.
This piece is not written to support or oppose any particular view, but to lay down facts in the most succinct and objective manner, thereby allowing for the independence of a balanced position.
In 2009, a terror group named Jama’at Ahl al-Sunna li al-Da’wa wa al-Jihad (popularly referred to as Boko Haram) emerged with the aim of establishing Islamic rule across Nigeria. According to the group, Sharia was the only path to true progress, and any faith other than Islam was haram (forbidden).
Soon after, this group began launching vicious attacks against Christians and Christian places of worship. From singularly attacking Christians, their targets shifted to government institutions and facilities, and on 28 November 2014, one of the greatest attacks against fellow Muslims occurred with the bombing and mass shooting of Juma’at worshippers at the Kano Central Mosque. Over 120 worshippers were killed and another 260 critically injured.
The point here is to underscore the fact that Boko Haram—and indeed all other extremist groups in Nigeria—are not targeting Christians alone, as earlier claimed, but are pursuing a more sinister agenda of land grabbing with the colouration of economic, psychological and socio-political domination of conquered territories, with intentions of spreading across the country.
From the Northeast, the activities of wanton killing and destruction perpetrated by terrorists spread to the North Central region, particularly Plateau and Benue States. What originally began as farmer–herder clashes metamorphosed into full-blown village and community sackings, where Fulani invaders razed entire communities, leaving hundreds dead or wounded while survivors were displaced and left with harrowing experiences in IDP camps.
This wave of destruction continued, with one of the bloodiest in recent times occurring in Yelwata, Guma Local Government Area of Benue State, on the night of 13–14 June 2025. According to Amnesty/CE/UN/NGO, over 200 people were gruesomely massacred, several houses burnt to ashes, and about 3,000 people displaced and rendered homeless. In 2025 alone, Amnesty reported more than 10,000 additional people displaced in Benue across several local governments, ranging from Gwer West to Agatu, Ukum/Gbagir, Logo, Kwande and Guma.
From the North Central, terrorism—or better still, banditry—also found its way to the North West. The activities of bandits, kidnappers and other criminal elements were consistently reported in Zamfara, Kaduna, Kebbi, Sokoto, Kano, and even Katsina, which was once regarded as the true home of hospitality, as its state slogan depicts, and as I can also attest considering how much I enjoyed the peace and serenity of the state during my days therein as a Youth Corps member. Reuters.ng reports that as of 2025, approximately 2,456 people had been killed in the North West region across multiple states. In addition to this, about 7,260 people, including schoolchildren and commuters on highways, had been abducted, with several millions of naira collected by kidnappers as ransom payments. Some parts of the South West, South East and South South have not been spared the atrocities of terrorists and bandits.
Therefore, it is safe to say that the entire country has, at one time or the other, experienced the activities of bandits, terrorists and kidnappers. The intensity of attack, however, differs from region to region.
Late General Sani Abacha once said that “if any insurgency lasts for more than 24 hours, a government official has a hand in it.” This saying more or less amplifies the complexity of the terrorism–banditry–kidnapping problem in Nigeria. Nigeria is a country abundantly blessed with all manners of rich mineral resources. Apart from the vast arable land required for productive agriculture, there is virtually no region of the country that does not possess one valuable solid mineral or another.
From iron ore in Zamfara, Kogi and Enugu; gold in Kaduna, Kebbi and Osun; lithium in Nasarawa, Kwara, Oyo and the FCT; bitumen in Ondo, Edo and Ogun; plus other industrial minerals like gypsum, kaolin and limestone, with deposits of over one billion tonnes across many states—Nigeria is sitting on an incredibly underutilised treasure worth billions of dollars. The government’s inability to adequately manage these vast potentials provides fertile grounds for opportunistic scrambling, illegal mining, chaos and its attendant conflicts.
One can therefore boldly say that the chaos and violence camouflaged as terrorism and banditry is indeed a calculated campaign driven not just by Islamic extremism but by land grabbing and occupation for the purpose of blood mineral extraction and illicit mining.
Thus, a sophisticatedly armed radical Islamic Fulani ethnic militia, often operating under political protection, carries out multiple killings, displacements and kidnappings across the Northeast, North Central and North West, after which reports reveal that foreign miners appear following the death and displacement of indigenes to exploit the lands.
Amnesty International has also reported that Nigeria loses over $9 billion annually to illicit mining of gold, tin and lithium, with a significant portion—estimated at 10%—funding violence and corruption. The report further revealed that the involvement of some government elements in this corruption is not in doubt, as eyewitness reports of survivors and satellite surveillance footage revealed the connivance of certain government personnel. Some survivors have also repeatedly claimed that they witnessed helicopters in the middle of the night dropping weapons and ammunition for the bandits—a disclosure corroborated by Professor Bolaji Akinyemi in an interview on African Stream earlier this year.
So, it is right to say that the violence and carnage are just a smokescreen and a catalyst to a far-reaching economic, psychological and socio-political agenda of certain influential elements in the country. This is part of the reason why the billions of naira spent on security to equip the military to better fight insurgency have not yielded much result to date.
In addressing the threat of President Donald Trump, I would like to start by recounting a little history about the 47th President of the United States and his previous antecedents. In January 2018, at a news conference in the White House, President Trump referred to Haiti and some African countries—including Nigeria—as “shithole countries” that should not be accorded immigrant status in the U.S.
Furthermore, his government’s stern immigration policies and visa restrictions clearly reflect a hostile stance towards Africa and some other Global South countries. In light of this, it is hard to understand where the sudden genuine concern for Nigerian Christians is coming from—more so when a U.S. congressman earlier this year revealed that USAID played a significant role in the funding of Boko Haram and other terrorist groups. This concern was never mentioned when Late President Muhammadu Buhari visited the White House a few months after the “shithole” saga and was praised by the same Trump for his valiant efforts in fighting Boko Haram and ISWAP, despite staggering reports of attacks and killings in the Northeast and North Central during that period.
Under the erudite scholarship of Professor Kunle Ajayi, I learnt several years ago, in one of our Politics of Global Economic Relations lectures, that in world politics and global socio-economic relations, the overriding determinant of states’ decisions and actions is strategic interest. Altruism is hardly ever a factor.
Present realities of Nigeria’s economic relations are fast approaching self-sufficiency—particularly in the oil sector, where Nigeria was once a major importer of finished petroleum products from the U.S. The Dangote refinery, having begun domestic refining and production of petroleum products, is fast taking over a market once dominated by imports from the U.S. This shift, no doubt, is taking jobs away from American oil workers—no cheering news for the country’s oil conglomerates. Secondly, China has since replaced the United States as Nigeria’s foremost trading partner.
According to Nairametrics (2025), the value of trade between Nigeria and China between 2023–2025 totals approximately $50 billion compared to an estimated $30 billion with the U.S. This paradigm shift would certainly not be palatable to the U.S. or her president, who happens to be a dogged businessman that hates the word “no”. From this perspective, it is not difficult to see where President Trump is coming from.
Be that as it may, I think Nigeria needs to employ shrewd diplomacy in dealing with the U.S. under a president like Donald Trump. Regardless of international law and conventions, the U.S. has repeatedly proven itself willing to take unilateral military action against countries, defying the rule of law and popular global opinion. So those hinging on Nigeria’s sovereignty as a deterrent to the U.S. are not good students of history.
What is, however, more important in all of this is that global attention is once again drawn to the horrible atrocities of these criminal elements in Nigeria. The country cannot continue to behave as though it is normal headline news when people are slaughtered daily, and families and homes are torn apart.
I believe this is an opportunity for the government to rejig the entire security architecture of the country, with the needed political will, to once and for all end these killings. Strategic partnership with the United States in this regard is not a bad idea. With its extensive experience in counter-terrorism operations and access to sophisticated military technology and intelligence, the U.S. can assist in identifying and eradicating the major financiers and enablers of terrorism and banditry. It is not rocket science that when the financing of terrorists ends, terrorism ceases to exist.
However, this should be done only on the basis of shared interest, mutual respect, trust, and understanding reflective of a healthy and balanced foreign policy relationship. By prioritising constructive diplomacy, dialogue and partnership, Nigeria can work with the United States in a strategic alliance to restore peace, security and confidence across the nation. That is the way to go.
Olusegun Hassan, Ph.D
Public Policy Analyst and Social Commentator
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