Opinion
Life, Akeredolu, Na’Abba and the “Ebi npa wa” shame | By Festus Adedayo
Published
3 years agoon
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?
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Opinion
Beyond Deportations: What South Africa’s Immigration Crisis Reveals About Nationhood and Economic Frustration
Published
1 week agoon
July 9, 2026By
Mega IconThe 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
Opinion
An Open Letter to Northern Leaders: Arewa Is Bleeding. Who Will Answer the Call?
Published
1 week agoon
July 7, 2026By
Mega IconI 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.
Opinion
2027: Why Oyo APC Should Close Ranks Behind Sarafadeen Alli | By Adeniyi Olowofela
Published
2 weeks agoon
July 4, 2026By
Mega IconSince 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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