The Nation Newspaper

Category: Yomi Odunuga

  • The approach to female entrepreneurship is wrong; female entrepreneurs should be the ones to determine what they need

    The approach to female entrepreneurship is wrong; female entrepreneurs should be the ones to determine what they need

    Female entrepreneurship, or rather the lag in female entrepreneurship compared to that of men is something that has flummoxed policy makers, funders and academics for years. What, they wonder, can be done to nurture female entrepreneurship, especially to scale? But we are approaching this problem from the wrong angle, argues African industrialist Adam Molai 

    #BEGINS

    For decades, the unicorn was associated primarily with femininity. The mythical creature which resembles a horse with a long, straight horn on its head, was given form in soft toys, colouring books, inflatable toys, fairytales and movies.

    Today, that is no longer the case.

     Now, used to define a startup company valued at over US$1-billion, unicorns have little association with femininity.

     For the reality is that female founders or directors of unicorn businesses are almost more mythical than unicorns themselves. For every of the 50 male founders or co-founders of a US$1-billion startup in 2024, there were only 7 females.

     Traditionally, unicorn status is seen as a token milestone, but it is also an indicator of how many start-ups are successful at scaling. Research indicates that unicorn start-ups account for roughly one in every 10 000 startups that have been funded.

    This disjunction of successful female entrepreneurs to male entrepreneurs (especially considering that there are almost an equal number of women and men that start a business, according to the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor) has led policymakers, academics and venture capitalists to spend lots of time pondering how to grow female entrepreneurship given that – according to a study by the Kauffman Foundation – private technology companies with female-led businesses generated 35% higher returns than their male counterparts. Additionally, according to female entrepreneurship statistics, companies run by women prove to be a safer option for investors; women are building two times as many companies as men; have higher success rates and take fewer risks.

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     The World Economic Forum’s has also consistently highlighted the correlation between gender equality and economic prosperity in its Global Gender Gap Report. The report concluded that closing the gender gap in entrepreneurship could unlock trillions of dollars in global GDP and create millions of new jobs.

    But should we be spending so much time ruminating on how we can motivate female entrepreneurs to scale?

     What if we just accept that while women are just as (or maybe more than) entrepreneurial as men, expecting them to scale as a measure of success is arrogant and typical of a male-centred business landscape?

    The reality is that females, in my experience, often prove to be more capable and better leaders. And as the research shows, they are more successful entrepreneurs as well … in the field of turnover and return on investment.

    But they are at the mercy of nature, as well as cultural and societal pressures and expectations.

     Girls are, in the main, top of their class at school and university and more successful post university initially. But then their careers start to lag, sometimes due to the insecurities of their partners.

    This has often been a source of great frustration to me.

     I’ve encountered instances where extremely competent leaders would approach me to request that they be passed over for a promotion … because holding a higher position than her partner would lead to discontent in the household.

    These cultural and societal pressures, particularly in an African context, cannot be ignored.

    Then too, there is biology. Women are the ones who give birth to and nurture children and are often the primary caregivers, bearing the brunt of the responsibilities when it comes to raising families.

    This can be both a result of their own personal ambitions or choices … or a result of cultural and societal pressure. The result is the same: women are never just employees or entrepreneurs; they are always entrepreneurs plus mothers plus partners plus caregivers plus primary tenders of the household.

    That is a lot of pressure!

     What they may want is to run a successful small to medium-sized enterprise that they can cope with. Something that helps them care for their families financially and/ keeps their minds active and them productive but does not add another layer of responsibility on their already over-burdened plates.

    So what if we flip the script?

     Rather than focusing on female unicorns and scaling female start-ups, what if we simply focus on helping women start and build sustainable businesses?

     What if most of the support (both financial and other) available for female start-ups focussed on ensuring they remain in business and survive the turbulent first one to five/10 years?

    The decision then on whether to scale is up to them and can be determined by their life stages. While their family is young, they may choose simply to run a small business. When their families are grown, they may choose to grow their businesses given that they have more time and energy to dedicate to that endeavour.

     As we are aware, most the world’s most successful developed economies are driven by small, family-owned businesses of less than 10 people.

     In the UK, there were 5.5-million small or medium-sized businesses in 2023, representing over 99% of their business population. SMEs accounted for 61% of UK employment and 7% of business turnover. The greatest proportion of these were micro-businesses – those with 0-9 employees – which accounted for 95% of all businesses.

     And it is the sixth largest economy in the world.

    The US, the world’s largest economy, has 33.3-million small businesses that contributes 43.5% of the country’s Growth Domestic Product, according to the US Small Business Administration. These small businesses were responsible for creating two-thirds of jobs between 1995 and 2021.

     So small or micro businesses rather than being an indicator of failure are an indicator of growth and empowerment.

     Is a female more successful if she has scaled her start-up to unicorn status than if she manages to keep it small but going while she raises her family?

     Only by honestly and openly confronting vexing questions or situations can we grow.

     So here’s a question for those who keep ruminating on the lack of unicorns led by females: is it possible that we should leave most women to run small / micro enterprises (that will allow them to be mothers and partners while also contributing financially) without pressuring them to scale?

    We have all come to realise that no one can have it all.

    Women, as the ones who give birth, are often the primary caregivers. Most women don’t want to change this. They just want latitude to exercise this right while also being able to determine their contribution in business / in the workplace.

    So why don’t we let them and consider this success, given that they are, in addition creating jobs and contributing to GDP, also bringing up the next generation to ensure the future of the human race?

  • The day the White Lion poked Olukoyede

    The day the White Lion poked Olukoyede

    Last week, I signed off this column with a lingering question: “Will the EFCC finally bring Bello to account? As usual, we wait.” Little did I know that the grand figure in Kogi State, popularly known as the White Lion, Alhaji Yahaya Bello, who had been playing an embarrassing game of hide-and-seek with the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), would brazenly walk into the agency’s net last Wednesday, September 18. Reports say the former governor arrived at the EFCC office in full sartorial splendour, dressed in a white caftan and accompanied by none other than his handpicked successor, Governor Usman Ododo who also wore the same designer’s white caftan like that of his mentor and benefactor.

    Before Bello set foot on the agency’s premises in what turned out to be an unsolicited courtesy call, his overzealous media team had already circulated a statement to , presumably, set the tone for the day’s discourse. They informed us that their boss would be “gracefully” answering a summons he had ignored for months—a summons following a power play that saw him whisked away from EFCC operatives attempting to arrest him in Abuja six months back. And who was behind the wheel during that dramatic escape? No prize for guessing—it was none other than Ododo. The same Ododo who rode alongside Bello to the EFCC, laughing, snapping pictures, and exchanging pleasantries. Nigerians were left bewildered, watching this bizarre display unfold.

    By the way, this was Bello’s first public appearance since the EFCC officially declared him wanted, alerting international crime-fighting bodies like INTERPOL to be on the lookout for the fugitive. Six months after dodging a simple invitation to answer for an alleged N80bn money laundering charge, Bello waltzed into the EFCC’s premises with all the flair and grandeur fit for royalty. It was as if he was there to deliver the keynote address at an anti-corruption seminar! The fact that he was escorted by a sitting governor who has serially  abused the immunity of office speaks volumes about the disregard these political figures have for institutions meant to check their excesses. It was, at best, a shameful spectacle.

    As if the insult wasn’t enough, the Ola Olukoyede led EFCC stood idly by as Bello and his entourage made a mockery of the agency. Why would a serious anti-corruption agency allow itself to be poked in the eye with such impunity? This situation is akin to what Shakespeare described in Hamlet when he said, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” Surely, something is wrong with the EFCC’s style of apprehending financial criminals or suspected economic saboteurs.

    What is even more disheartening about this farcical drama is that Bello’s media team seems to be winning the propaganda war. As Bello and his entourage staged their infantile display at the EFCC’s parking lot, his media handlers were quick to issue another statement claiming he had already been detained by the EFCC. This prompted the commission’s spokesperson, Dele Oyewale, to make clarifications, insisting that Bello remained a fugitive and was never in their custody. Yet, shortly after, Bello’s Director of Media, Ohiare Michael, issued another statement, complete with glossy pictures, proclaiming that the former governor had “voluntarily visited” the EFCC to clear his name.

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    This charade leaves one bewildered. Ohiare painted a picture of Bello as an emperor making a goodwill visit to his accusers, surrounded by “high-profile Nigerians.” One wonders if Governor Ododo’s primary duty is to ensure Bello’s safety, while the impoverished masses of Kogi State are left to evolve a survival strategy from an obvious failed governance structure. The point here is that the EFCC had a rare opportunity to arrest a man who had been evading interrogation for months, yet they chose to look the other way. And so, with all the pomp of a victorious king, Bello strolled back to the Kogi State Government Lodge in Abuja’s Asokoro district.

    Later that night, it was reported that EFCC operatives attempted to storm the government lodge to arrest Bello by force, causing sporadic gunfire that disrupted the peace of the affluent neighborhood. Fortunately, no casualties were reported in this theatre of absurdity, but the episode was nonetheless a tragicomedy of shame.

    So, why was Bello allowed to walk free, you ask? Reports suggest that Bello’s grand entrance at the EFCC office irritated the operatives, leading the agency’s chairman to order that no one should attend to him. According to sources, Bello’s breach of protocol by arriving with a convoy and a sitting governor with immunity rubbed the EFCC the wrong way. They claimed Bello skipped several stages of documentation and protocols because of Ododo’s presence, who had no business being there. This flimsy excuse only underscores the EFCC’s ineptitude. Protocols? What protocols? Someone said this jejune excuse by the EFCC is like charging a “dead man on an offence that he didn’t die properly when all you had ever wanted is for him to die.” I couldn’t agree less. Maybe Bello was wrong in not providing an ample opportunity for a dramatic shootout between his security details and the EFCC operatives before an eventual  arrest within his vicinity or a break in through the ceiling like it happened in the case of the former Governor of Imo State, Senator Rochas Okorocha. After all, such drama had often resulted in the suspects walking away with a slap on the wrists. So, why is Bello making things difficult for himself by walking straight into the EFCC’s net?

    Although the jury is still out on how well or otherwise Olukoyede has fared. One thing that is clear is that something is not adding up at the EFCC tower. If this is how the EFCC operates, I despair for its ability to fulfil its mandate. What kind of immunity was Ododo supposedly wielding in this situation? Why couldn’t the EFCC simply ask him to leave and proceed with taking Bello into custody? A man declared wanted shows up, and the EFCC decides to send him away, promising to “invite him formally” at a later date? Is the EFCC joking with us?

    In the words of Franz Kafka, “It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.” The EFCC’s cowardice in the face of Bello’s defiance has grave implications for Nigeria’s fight against corruption. They have allowed criminals to dictate the terms of their engagement, turning suspects into untouchable demigods.

    As tongues wag over Olukoyede’s competence, many are beginning to question his ability to carry out his duties without fear or favour as he once boasted. Wednesday’s events set a dangerous precedent—one where politically exposed persons can stroll into the EFCC’s space with impunity. Perhaps President Tinubu should consider removing Olukoyede from the office, as some have already suggested.

    This entire debacle is a stinging indictment of the EFCC’s current leadership and its handling of high-profile corruption cases. The glaring contradictions in their approach to Bello have left the public confused and disillusioned. If someone as prominent and as controversial as Yahaya Bello can flout the law so openly and still walk free, what message does that send to ordinary Nigerians? It is as if the EFCC has become a toothless bulldog, barking loudly but biting nothing.

    Public confidence in the agency’s capacity to fight corruption is at an all-time low. How can we trust a system where political power shields individuals from accountability? A great Nigerian author, Chinua Achebe once observed, “The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” This rings true here and in several other places. What we are witnessing is not just the failure of the EFCC, but the broader collapse of institutional integrity.

    The EFCC’s decision to sit idly by while Bello mocks the system reeks of unprofessionalism. Now that Bello has returned to his sanctuary, can we expect the EFCC to finally enforce the law? Or will we wait endlessly, like Beckett’s characters in Waiting for Godot, for an untouchable figure who may never come?

  • Is Fagbemi Sending a Message to Olukoyede?

    Is Fagbemi Sending a Message to Olukoyede?

    On Monday in Abuja, the Attorney General of the Federation and Minister of Justice, Chief Lateef Fagbemi (SAN), made a statement that should, under normal circumstances, uplift the hearts of Nigerians. For the first time in many years, something refreshingly different emerged from a critical Ministry often associated with judicial twists, turns, and habitual filing of nolle prosequi in high-profile cases involving politically exposed individuals caught brazenly stealing from public coffers. It was therefore heartening to read that Fagbemi, in his keynote address at a roundtable organised by the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC), advocated for a constitutional review. His proposal aimed to ensure that those convicted of corruption and grand larceny would be denied the benefits of state pardon, formally known as the Prerogative of Mercy.

    Those familiar with the impunity with which people in high places loot the public treasury in this country—and the confidence they exude in escaping accountability—would appreciate why Fagbemi’s proposal is vital to curbing systemic corruption. Unless we choose self-deception, the lenient penalties handed down to convicted state actors have emboldened many, both in the public and private sectors, to embrace corruption as the norm. This culture of impunity is further reinforced by the belief that individuals who have stolen large sums can employ the services of the Ministry of Justice to have their cases dismissed—whether by omission or commission. References abound to numerous cases that were either abruptly dismissed or terminated by the Office of the Attorney General since May 29, 1999, when Nigeria embarked on another democratic journey.

    Fagbemi argued that denying corrupt individuals state pardon would serve as a deterrent to others who may be tempted to enrich themselves through illicit means. He further outlined several reasons why this step is imperative if the country is genuinely committed to tackling corruption or, at the very least, stemming its destructive spread. Highlighting how inadequate or subpar investigations by bodies like the ICPC, the Nigeria Police Force, and the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) have compromised the prosecution of offenders, Fagbemi urged these agencies to arm themselves with irrefutable evidence before summoning suspects for interrogation. In essence, Fagbemi was pleading with anti-corruption bodies to save the government and the nation from the embarrassment of watching suspects walk free due to poor investigative practices.

    Moreover, there are suspicions—although unproven—that some officials within these agencies deliberately sabotage investigations after being bribed, allowing culprits to evade justice due to insufficient evidence. Indeed, in recent times, the Nigerian media has been flooded with judicial pronouncements freeing suspects accused of embezzling billions due to prosecutorial inefficiencies. In sum, Fagbemi’s message to the heads of these anti-corruption agencies is clear: there can be no accolades for those who allow financial criminals to become heroes in a system that is meant to clip their wings and promote transparency as a national value.

    In a series of remarks, Fagbemi’s spokesperson, Kamal Ogundele, stated that his boss “advised the Attorney Generals (AGs) in the 36 states of the Federation to avoid nepotism, political witch-hunting, rivalry, and bigotry in the fight against corruption, especially in their efforts to appease governors. He also emphasized that corruption should never be rationalised or excused. Their legal opinions should be grounded in the facts, as is practiced in advanced nations. Public sentiment should not sway decisions. In Nigeria, we are polarized along political lines. The AGF urged participants and anti-graft agencies to conduct thorough investigations before arresting suspects to avoid media trials. Let us be meticulous and patient before inviting someone for questioning. Don’t rush the process and then boast of catching a big fish. If you catch just two or three big fish in a year and you are thorough, that’s enough.”

    Ogundele further noted that Fagbemi also cautioned against filing exaggerated charges, saying, “No one needs a 50-count charge. Keep it to five or six, but be sure of them. Make sure you get the suspect.”

    Although the event was organised by the ICPC, Fagbemi’s comments could well have been directed at the EFCC Chairman, Mr. Ola Olukoyede, and his team of ‘professional investigators,’ who seem to have turned media trials into a routine, leaving suspects to enjoy their spoils afterward. Fagbemi’s warning against filing numerous charges without solid prosecutorial backing should resonate with both the EFCC and ICPC. It is concerning that most cases brought against those who habitually loot the public treasury often end in favour of the defendants. Therefore, when Fagbemi stressed the importance of thorough investigations over media prosecutions, the EFCC naturally came to mind. However, it must be acknowledged that this issue didn’t begin with Olukoyede’s tenure.

    Some years ago, when Ibrahim Magu was the anti-corruption czar, I cautioned him during an interaction with Editors in Abuja to avoid parading suspects before the media. My concern was prompted by a personal experience when Magu interrogated a colleague and I over a story published in this newspaper. His demeanour during that encounter reinforced my belief that caution was necessary. Ironically, Magu himself later became a victim of media trial when he fell out of favour with those who had elevated him to power. His tenure remains unique as he is the only EFCC Chairman who was never confirmed by the National Assembly, despite the legal requirement for such approval. Today, the story about the rise and fall of Magu is shrouded in a haze of confusion as the public is saturated with different stories surrounding his removal. Such is the travesty of justice even among those who are expected to live above the ruckus in the coven of corrupt elements. As a matter of fact, hardly can one point to any past chairman of that agency that did not depart in a blaze of controversy right from the time when the present National Security Adviser, Mallam Nuhu Ribadu, was pushed out of the saddle by the late President Umaru Yar’Adua.

    Returning to the present, in April of this year, Olukoyede expressed his frustration with former Kogi State Governor, Yahaya Bello, for repeatedly ignoring EFCC summons to account for his handling of billions of naira under his care. Despite the EFCC’s detailed allegations of how Bello diverted public funds to finance an extravagant lifestyle, he remains a fugitive. Frustrated by Bello’s evasive tactics, Olukoyede vowed to resign if he failed to prosecute Bello successfully. It was that serious that Olukoyede would rather leave his top job than allow an alleged common pen robber to rubbish his reputation built over many years as a prosecutorial lawyer. We were told that the stellar record contained in his Curriculum Vitae played a major role in convincing the President that he was the man for the job of chasing, capturing and prosecuting these unarmed but economically ruinous thieves in the system.

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    And so, knowing that Yahaya Bello’s matter was a test case with a potential to give the general public an inkling into Olukoyede’s firmness or otherwise in handling such high profile cases that are bound to come his way, it was not surprising that an exasperated EFCC chairman boasted before a gathering of journalists that  he would throw in the towel and abdicate his responsibilities as the nation’s Number One anti-corruption czar should he fail to successfully prosecute Bello and make him pay for the sleaze he perpetuated in Kogi State.  “If I do not personally oversee the completion of the investigation regarding Yahaya Bello, I will tender my resignation as the chairman of the EFCC”, Olukoyede was quoted as saying that fateful Wednesday, April 3, 2024. Of course, his anger was sparked by the shameful drama that played out when his operatives laid siege on Bello’s house in Abuja but failed to capture him as the present Kogi State Governor, Ahmed Ododo, allegedly came with armed men and squirreled Bello to safety. Since then, neither the EFCC, the courts or the government has seen Bello in the public. He has simply vamoosed into thin air, enjoying his loot as they say.

    Six months have now passed since Olukoyede made that promise, and the public is growing impatient. Many are questioning his competence and calling on him to back his words with action. They want to know when Yahaya Bello will finally face justice. In case Olukoyede didn’t know or his men have not brought it to his notice, the public is already asking question about his competence in handling the job President Bola Ahmed Tinubu tasked him with accomplishing with a stellar outcome.

    They are asking him to walk his talk and Bello’s case should be the starting point. After the media trial of Bello and the revelations about how he wasted money on practically everything and anything as if he had a money minting machine in Lord Lugard’s House, Kogi, the question on the people’s mind is: when will Yahaya Bello appear in court to face charges? Is he still in the country or has someone used the state apparatchik to crate him to somewhere beyond the microscopic lens of the EFCC and the slow winding judicial grill? Will he ever have his day in court to defend the famed integrity that he claims to uphold in all his dealings? Will Bello eventually snigger at the incompetence embedded in a prosecutorial system that barks without having the capacity to bite? Will Bello join the ranks of those protected by perpetual injunctions, or will Olukoyede succeed in bringing him to court?

    In a previous article, I cautioned Olukoyede to be wary of sophisticated criminals like Bello who know how to exploit legal loopholes to avoid punishment. Like Fagbemi, I argued that a watertight case is necessary for successful prosecution, not media grandstanding. Nigerians are tired of the circus surrounding high-profile corruption cases, and the EFCC must prove it can deliver justice. This, to me, is the crux of Fagbemi’s keynote address. Diligent prosecution is key to fighting corrosive corruption. Crime will naturally reduce when culprits are made to pay heavily for their actions. That is how deterrence works.

    What more can be said? Fagbemi’s remarks should serve as a wake-up call to those tasked with bringing corrupt officials to justice. The failures of the past have been detrimental to the nation’s well-being, and it is time for a new approach. While Fagbemi’s proposal to deny state pardon to corrupt individuals is commendable, the reality is that many cases never even reach that stage. It is up to Olukoyede and others in the justice system to rise to the occasion and put an end to the endless circus that allow criminals to evade justice.

    Will the EFCC finally bring Bello to account? As usual, we wait.

  • Odolaye Aremu and the Songs of Yore (a revisit)

    Odolaye Aremu and the Songs of Yore (a revisit)

    For most of us living long past the age of youth, once in a while, recalling some old songs stirs a reflection on Nigeria’s musical legacy and socio-political realities.

    Growing up in Itire/Ijesha, within the then Surulere Local Government Area of Lagos, infused in us a distinctive musical culture. We were street boys, navigating a communal existence untouched by the insulated lifestyles of the middle class in Aguda and Ikate. Despite the visible class divide, an unspoken respect flourished. We were aware of the chasm between the privileged ‘ajebotas’ and the rugged ‘ajepakos,’ yet our world was filled with hope. We believed that through determination, education, and a little luck, we would bridge that gap. Our optimism was, in no small part, fuelled by the music that filled our neighbourhood—songs that urged us to walk the narrow, thorny path to success, rebuked corrupt governance, and extolled discipline and integrity.

    In those days, our indigenous bards were not merely entertainers; they were philosophers and activists, though on a very informal note. They carried the weight of societal expectations, using their art to speak truth to power. Their music wasn’t just about rhythm and melody—it was social commentary. They used folklore and cultural references to preach family values and the dignity of labour. My late father’s vinyl collection—filled with the works of Hubert Ogunde, Ayinla Omowura, King Sunny Ade, Ebenezer Obey, and others—was a library of moral instruction. Their lyrics didn’t just flatter the elite but held a mirror up to society, reflecting the ills of governance and the excesses of the people.

    The role of musicians as moral compass and political commentators is hardly new. Plato once remarked, “Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” In our case, music was a moral compass, a guide through the murky waters of our political and social reality. Even when regimes came after these artists for their criticism, as in the infamous case of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, the musicians remained undeterred. Fela’s mother was a casualty of this unyielding stance when ‘Unknown Soldiers’ invaded his home, but that only further cemented his resolve.

    Why revisit these stories now? Because the issues that plagued us then persist today. Dr. Sikiru Ayinde Barrister’s prophetic song ‘Nigeria’, released over 40 years ago, still resonates. In his wisdom-laden Yoruba proverbs, Barrister dissected the socio-economic challenges of his time, warning the government not to let Nigeria spiral into the chaos that gripped post-Nkrumah Ghana. He pleaded with the leadership to learn from history, imploring them to spare the masses the indignities that come with poor governance.

    Listening to his ‘Nigeria’ today, one could easily forget it was recorded decades ago. Its relevance remains striking, as if Barrister had foreseen the stagnation that still afflicts the nation. Now, you wonder, why should the Federal Government turn various states’ allocations into a windfall and the masses can’t feel the impact. Several of them even find it difficult to allow local government councils breathe well in terms of due statutory financial allocations and autonomy.

    The message in Dr. Sikiru Ayinde Barrister’s song was simple but profound: good governance at all levels and by all those entrusted with official responsibilities is not a luxury, but a necessity. “Stop feasting on the carcasses of the poor,” he warned, as he implored politicians to fear God and remember that “no one outlives existence.” As the Bible reminds us in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.” We are seeing the same struggles, the same exploitation, and the same cries for justice—forty years later.

    And yet, have we learned? Are our leaders at all tiers of governance and in various public offices listening to these cries? Or, as the philosopher Nietzsche might suggest, are we doomed to an “eternal recurrence” of the same failures? From the military regimes that looted the nation’s coffers to the agbada-clad politicians from 1999 till date  who have elevated corruption to an art form, the scale of graft has only magnified. In Barrister’s time, the theft of millions was scandalous; today, it’s in billions. This shift is emblematic of a deeper rot, a society where the mantra “what money cannot buy, more money can” has become the guiding principle of leadership.

    Barrister wasn’t alone in this musical resistance. Mohammodu Odolaye Aremu, the Ilorin-born Dadakuada maestro, wielded music as a tool of moral persuasion. Odolaye’s songs were less confrontational than Fela’s or Barrister’s but no less impactful. His gentle admonitions were a plea for introspection—a call for leaders to shed their arrogance and listen to the cries of the people. In one of his timeless songs, Odolaye spoke of Nigeria as a nation that beats its citizens with a cudgel, yet demands silence. He captured the hypocrisy and contradictions of power, the same contradictions that persist, even in your local government council today.

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    Odolaye’s music, like that of his peers, was a profound meditation on the human condition. He warned that “nothing lasts forever,” echoing the ancient wisdom of Heraclitus, who observed that “all is flux.” Leaders may rise, but their time eventually expires, as surely as the Sobi Hills grew tired and sprouted green grass. The cyclical nature of power and poverty, of wealth and want, is a central theme in Nigerian political life. The Yoruba have a saying: “Agidigbo drummer speaks in riddles, but the wise hear his message.” How many more riddles must be spoken before the message is heard?

    As Nigeria grapples with the same old challenges, it is clear that the songs of lamentation are not just historical artifacts but living, breathing commentaries on our present. The Bureau of Statistics reports that over 160 million Nigerians live in multidimensional poverty—a staggering figure that should stir the conscience of any leader in any public office at whatever level. Yet, our leaders seem unmoved, deaf to the songs that echo the nation’s pain.

    It is no surprise that Nigeria continues to grapple with the paradox of abundance amidst poverty. In his book The Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith posited that “no society can surely be flourishing and happy, of which the far greater part of the members are poor and miserable.” Nigeria’s situation, unfortunately, exemplifies this economic truth. Despite our vast natural resources and rich cultural heritage, we remain shackled by the greed and short-sightedness of a few.

    The philosopher John Locke once wrote that the purpose of government is to protect “life, liberty, and estate”—or, in simpler terms, the rights of the people to live freely and prosper.

    In these perilous times, we must ask: Will our leaders finally heed the call of musicians like Alhaji Ayinde Barrister and Odolaye Aremu, or will they continue to dance to the tune of flattery and false praise? As the wise Socrates once said, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” Nigeria’s leadership must begin to examine itself, lest it lead the nation further down the path of perfidy.

    Music, however, remains a powerful vehicle for change, as it has always been. It is a universal language that transcends barriers of class, ethnicity, and religion, speaking directly to the heart. The legacy of Nigeria’s musical prophets reminds us that change is possible, but only if we are willing to confront the uncomfortable truths they lay before us.

    The Agidigbo drummer has indeed spoken, but the question remains: will his message fall on deaf ears? In a nation where the elite in public and private sectors have perfected the art of selective hearing, there is a real risk that the poignant tunes of social commentators like Odolaye and Barrister will be drowned out by the cacophony of sycophants and self-serving advisers. Yet, as history has shown us, no amount of wealth or power can shield one from the consequences of ignoring the people’s cries for justice.

    The words above are deep and they speak to the consciences of everyone that has contributed in one way or the other to impoverish a people living in a space blessed with the abundance of resources. A nation that has everything but lacks everything. A country under the grip of a leadership that is forever flourishing in vacuous opulence while spitting on the graves of the oppressed. It is a pity indeed.

    The Yoruba people say that it is because we want the deaf to hear what we are saying about him that we allow his child to listen to our conversations concerning his father. Let those who understand the language of the deep take something tangible from this space. Or for how long will they continue the lonely dance in the forest of a thousand surprises. Well, the Agidigbo drummer has spoken. Let those with ears hear.

    •Editor’s note: The piece, earlier published some months back, was reworked to reawaken the consciousness of the leaders on the need to expedite action in addressing the hardship being faced daily by Nigerians.

  • Tertiary education: 18-year age restriction and its discontents

    Tertiary education: 18-year age restriction and its discontents

    Sometimes, I wonder if we will ever reach a point where Nigerian politicians embrace informed criticism without allowing their political biases to colour their responses. It is concerning that disruptive and destructive criticisms have grown significantly in the aftermath of the 2023 election, an event marked by unbridled ethnic chauvinism and divisiveness across the political spectrum. Today, we continue to grapple with the hatred and bile that characterised the political campaigns of that period. What’s even more disheartening is that the boundaries of decency and decorum were completely disregarded, as those involved seemed intent on dragging the nation down. Fourteen months into a new government, nothing seems to have changed regarding peaceful political engagement, particularly among the major players in that election and their supporters.

    From what we’ve seen, I doubt that former Vice President Atiku Abubakar of the Peoples Democratic Party will ever acknowledge anything positive in the policy and governance strategies of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration. The same can be said for the Labour Party’s candidate, Mr. Peter Obi. And, judging by the responses from The Presidency to their reactions, it’s clear that the bitterness is mutual. This unhealthy relationship, which seems to be perpetual, is detrimental to the overall well-being of the country. I must ask: What is the value of a criticism steeped in political opportunism, condescension, lacking in rigour and deep analysis, and tainted with audacious propaganda and falsehoods?

    Take, for example, Atiku’s reaction to the Federal Government’s decision to peg the eligibility age for students taking the National Examinations Council (NECO) and West African Examinations Council (WAEC) exams at 18 years. While it was clear that the haste with which the policy was announced by the Minister of Education, Prof. Tahir Mamman, would spark heated debates nationwide, Atiku’s response was, in my view, entirely off the mark. He spent ample time prevaricating and gave little attention to logic, ranting on and on. Calling for a universal condemnation of the policy by those who value intellectual freedom and accessibility, Atiku, who is the founder of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, labeled the move as “Tinubu’s policy,” a relic of the Stone Age. That wasn’t all—he claimed the policy was against the spirit of federalism as enshrined in our constitution, calling it an absurdity and a disincentive to scholarship. Perhaps seething with rage from his lofty perch, he likened the present administration to a ‘lost sailor on a high sea,’ condemning the government for acting outside the constitution instead of allowing “sub-national governments to make respective laws or rules on education.”

    Given Atiku’s history of deploying despicable and unprintable expletives to describe political opponents, I’m not surprised that he is once again resorting to his usual deceit. In fact, I would have been shocked if he had taken a different approach. Atiku and his ilk simply cannot resist any opportunity to drag the government into the abyss, which is why they quickly jumped into the fray without critically examining the rationale behind the policy.

    Let me be clear: I do have some issues with the way the policy was announced, particularly concerning the potential impact on students affected by it if adequate measures are not taken during its implementation. My concern is not about the policy’s practicality, as it has its merits. When Atiku claimed it belonged to the Stone Age, I was curious to see him back that assertion with facts and figures. But I found none in the statement posted on his Facebook page. It seems to me that his suggestion for the government to set up mechanisms to identify and grant scholarships to gifted students, regardless of their age, was more a product of his political angst than thoughtful critique. No responsible government in this modern age would adopt such a policy, despite the existence of a few geniuses within the educational system. While his argument that the government failed by not addressing the plight of gifted pupils holds some merit, the rest of his statement can be likened to the usual noise in the marketplace. It is hollow verbiage.

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    Regarding the policy itself, Nigerians should insist on a flexible timeline for its implementation, ensuring that students are not unjustly penalised by the hasty rollout. Although the government has reached an agreement with the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) to move the required age for admission into tertiary institutions from 16 to 18 years by 2025, special consideration must be given to students caught in this transition. Failing to do so would unfairly punish them for the failures of past governments that lacked the courage to enforce the appropriate age limit. As Mamman pointed out, the policy has been in place for a long time, but the relevant agencies turned a blind eye as it was consistently breached and abused by various stakeholders. Let it be noted that, at the tertiary level, founders of private institutions are notorious for admitting students younger than 16 by claiming that their academic records show that they are mature enough for the courses they seek to pursue. If left unchecked, it won’t be long before we see 13-year-olds in those institutions. Be that as it may, it is my firm belief that punishing the current crop of students for something they had no control over would be unjustifiable.

    I was taken aback when Atiku described pegging the eligibility age for university admission at 18 as a relic of the Stone Age. How so? A simple Google search would have shown his media advisers that there is nothing wrong with raising the age bracket to 18. Findings reveal that while eligibility ages differ from country to country, the choice is often influenced by each country’s education system and cultural norms. In educationally advanced countries like Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States, the average age for university admission is 18 years even if exceptionally brilliant candidates in these countries and elsewhere are allowed to enroll with those within the age bracket. However, we should be mindful of the fact that these are students who have had access to the best educational facilities from their early years, with access to computers and other technical resources. How many state or Federal Government-owned schools in Nigeria can boast of these facilities? Even in the Federal Capital Territory, some pupils still learn under trees, while others make do with inadequate classroom structures. In Germany, students enter university at 18 after completing secondary education (Gymnasium); in the UK, it’s 18 after completing A-Levels or equivalent qualifications; and in the United States, students start university at 18 after finishing high school. Would Atiku label these countries’ education systems as belonging to the Stone Age, as he has proudly classified that of his land of birth?

    A report highlights that some countries have earlier starting ages, particularly those with advanced placement or alternative educational pathways. For instance, in Singapore, students may enter university as young as 17, depending on their qualifications, while in South Korea, students often start university at 18 or 19, depending on when they complete secondary education. While these ages can vary based on individual circumstances, such as skipping grades or enrolling in accelerated programmes, most countries have a starting age around 18 years.

    From all indications, it seems that what Nigeria is now trying to enforce has been the standard practice worldwide, aside from a few countries like Norway, where the age bracket for university admission is 16. While child prodigies exist, maturity plays a crucial role in educational growth. University education requires not just the ability to read and write but also the mental, physical, and psychological capabilities to cope with the challenges of the system. While some younger individuals have succeeded in the university, it is essential to recognise that the 18-year age cap is widely considered the optimal age to begin the journey into adulthood through higher education. As another report notes, maturity and adaptability are key: “The impact of entering university early depends on your level of maturity and readiness to enter the adult world. University assumes that everyone is an adult, there to study their chosen field, while professors are there to teach. If you still need reminders to do your homework or study for tests, or if your parents still intervene with your teachers, you’re not ready.”

    How many of the 15- and 16-year-olds currently populating our private tertiary institutions can be said to be truly mature enough for the rigours that come with university education? As parents, haven’t we been silently managing the crisis, hoping it will eventually end well? Are we not guilty of rushing our children through school, allowing them to skip some classes as if we are in a race to produce the youngest graduate in the community? Don’t we all join the mad race without paying due attention to the impact it could have on their psychological readiness and maturity? Where exactly are we hurrying them to? We passed through the same system, where we were already over 18 years old before gaining admission. Did it make us worse, or were we better off for it? These are the questions we should consider before jumping into the fray and aiding those who would throw the baby out with the bathwater. A little introspection on the best way forward in implementing this policy wouldn’t hurt anyone—or would it?

    If we all agree that the government needs to be cautious in implementing a policy that past administrations consistently avoided, then I suggest considering the recommendations of concerned parent, Ms. Morenike Omo Oduntayo, who wrote: “Though this policy is not new, its enforcement should not be immediate as it will create more problems than it aims to solve! The enforcement should commence in the year the current (September 2024) students write their WAEC exams. Any attempt to do otherwise means we will have students who will have to wait from one to four years (some will write WAEC at 14) before they can take JAMB, which may lead them to lose interest in furthering their education—a case of ‘destiny killed.’ Secondly, the policy should not be blanket. We have exceptionally gifted kids, and a policy like this could either kill or derail their destinies. Thirdly, before enforcing this policy, the government needs to ensure there are no more ASUU strikes! Why?

    The strikes prolong the period students spend in school, inadvertently disenfranchising them from certain employments due to age limits.

    Most employers set 22 or 23 as the maximum age for entry-level positions, so imagine entering university at 18 and spending 6 to 8 years there due to strikes. You would be 24 or 26 by the time you graduate!”

    I hope that amid the rage, political opportunism, and bitterness, the government carefully considers the concerns raised by parents and educators regarding the enforcement of this policy. A phased and thoughtful implementation could help avoid the unintended consequences that might arise from a hasty rollout. If executed poorly, the policy might not only disrupt the educational aspirations of many young Nigerians but also stoke further discontent in a system already plagued by numerous challenges.

    Moreover, while the government’s intention to align Nigeria’s educational standards with global practices is commendable, it must not overlook the unique socio-economic conditions in the country. Many Nigerian students come from backgrounds where access to quality education is severely limited, and rushing them through the system could exacerbate existing inequalities. Therefore, it would be wise for the government to introduce support mechanisms that address the specific needs of students who may be adversely affected by this age restriction. One possible approach could involve a more flexible age requirement, where exceptions are made for genuinely gifted students who demonstrate the maturity and readiness to handle university-level education. Such a system could include a rigorous assessment process that evaluates not just academic performance but also emotional and psychological readiness. This would ensure that those who are truly capable of thriving in a university environment are not held back by an arbitrary age limit.

    Additionally, the government should consider investing in preparatory programmes or bridging courses for students who are on the younger side of the age spectrum. These programmes could provide them with the necessary skills and knowledge to transition smoothly into higher education when they reach the appropriate age. By doing so, the government would be fostering a more inclusive educational environment that caters to the diverse needs of Nigerian students. Furthermore, the government’s responsibility extends beyond setting age limits; it must also address the broader issues affecting the education sector. For instance, the frequent disruptions caused by strikes, inadequate infrastructure, and underfunded institutions are critical areas that need urgent attention. Without resolving these fundamental issues, any policy changes, no matter how well-intentioned, are likely to fall short of achieving their desired outcomes.

    In conclusion, while the decision to raise the eligibility age for tertiary education to 18 years aligns with international standards, it is imperative that the Nigerian government approaches its implementation with caution and sensitivity. Engaging in open dialogue with stakeholders, including parents, educators, and students, will be crucial in refining the policy to ensure it serves the best interests of all parties involved. After all, the ultimate goal of any educational reform should be to create a system that nurtures and empowers young Nigerians, preparing them to contribute meaningfully to the nation’s future. As we move forward, let us hope that constructive engagement, rather than political opportunism, will guide our discourse on educational policies. Only through collaborative efforts can we build a more robust and equitable educational system that truly benefits all Nigerian students, regardless of their background or circumstances.

  • Where has the laughter gone?

    Where has the laughter gone?

    I have come to the conclusion that the major problem with Nigerians is their abysmally low sense of humor, an essential ingredient needed for communal bonding and healthy living. Unlike in the past when our streets were filled with a vibrant throng of happy people, leading to a worldwide acknowledgment that Nigeria was the epicenter of “the happiest people in the world,” today’s Nigeria is populated by grim-faced, violence-inclined, and skirmish-ready individuals. Gone are the days when we laughed at our own self-inflicted national maladies as if they never mattered. Those were times when we looked at our leaders, poked fun at them, and threw their silly jabs straight back at them. Despite the gloomy realities that had become the lot of many who had suffered years of failed promises from a leadership more concerned with growing personal wealth than with the general good, citizens still relished the opportunity to laugh it all off, clinging to a forlorn hope that remains a mirage to this present moment.

    The question is: Why are Nigerians wearing long faces all over the place as if the country has run out of those things that usually etched sardonic, almost implacable laughter on our faces in years past? The answer may not be far-fetched. Something tells me that the aggravated anger now pervasive on our streets is caused by the grinding poverty that has gripped many of us. Nigerians are no longer laughing away their sorrows because laughter is now a serious matter. How does one expect anyone to smirk over the news that a Chinese firm has secured a court mandate in France to seize properties belonging to the Federal Government of Nigeria just because of a business agreement with the Ogun State Government that went awry? Yes, they say Nigeria is a cruise. But this kind of cruise simply numbs one to laughter. How in the world did a state, which had the fortune of being ruled consecutively by educated professionals, sink into this abyss under the watch of these state chief executives? Could it be a failure of due diligence in the way the contract was terminated, or is it a case of arrogance and pettiness that dogs the relationship between these governors? How, for example, can raucous laughter paper over the serious matter of an unknown foreign firm having the temerity to seize three presidential jets in addition to claiming seizure of other Federal Government properties in the United Kingdom and the United States? And how does one even “catch cruise” when the explanations given by those involved in the transactional dealings with the Chinese firm lack clarity or any sense of seriousness in handling the technical divorce? Where one would have expected detailed and believable revelations on how and why the agreements were quashed, all we got were tendentious arguments of deceit and lack of propriety that remain unproven. Why wouldn’t laughter evaporate into the thin air?

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    Ordinarily, the controversies surrounding the salaries and emoluments of the members of the National Assembly should have served as a purgation of sorts for those accustomed to waving off the tragedies of the Nigerian nation as just another drama in motion. But given the hardship that has gripped laughter at its incubation period, would it have mattered to anyone if senators contradict themselves on what they truly earn? At a point when we were still struggling to adjust to the reality of a ₦21 million-per-senator monthly salary as revealed by Senator Abdulrahman Kawu, a former senator who recently left the Senate following a court’s judgment, Ishaku Abbo stunned the nation with the revelation that the monthly take-home pay for each senator is ₦29 million. By all intents and purposes, he said, this was just a drop in the ocean considering the huge responsibilities every lawmaker shoulders. Abbo said the pay was so bad that he became poorer as a senator and had to beg some influential persons to help relieve him of some of the financial burdens that fell on his table as a lawmaker in a society where some state governors go home with one billion naira for state responsibilities. Is this not what they mean when they say that Nigeria is a cruise? People just say whatever they like without bothering to pass such statements through the crucible of rational thinking. They vomit thrash and expect us to raise a toast in their honour. But for a rash of unexplainable hypnotism, there is no other way to explain the loud silence that has greeted the revelations concerning how the National Assembly has become a cesspool of corruption and barefaced stealing. When they justify the huge pay packets under subheads like running costs and constituency maintenance, one would imagine that the National Bureaucracy wouldn’t be responsible for paying the salaries and allowances of their personal aides in addition to the day-to-day maintenance of their offices. Unfortunately, that is not the case. And that’s without even considering the fact that budget padding has continued to benefit the lawmakers directly. When those constitutionally empowered to check the excesses of the executive have stuffed their mouths with so many skullduggeries, why wouldn’t the executors of state policies summon the effrontery to spit on the graves of their impoverished subjects? We used to laugh over all this in the past. But now, the laughter has been muted by the anguished wailings of the oppressed.

    But this is not just about the lawmakers and their wiles; it’s more about the unethical practices that continue to negatively impact the wellbeing of society and national development generally. Just the other day, the highly respected online news outlet, Premium Times, blew the lid off how some privileged members of the Senate influenced the awards of multi-billion naira constituency projects to their areas in the 2024 budget. Some would say there’s nothing new about this—it has always been the practice, even in the 9th National Assembly, where the leadership practically ‘abducted’ all the juicy projects to their constituencies in anticipation of either returning to the hallowed chambers or being awarded higher political positions. The question is: How did it end for most of those involved in the scramble? As revealed by Premium Times, it’s not just that many of the listed projects had “vague or ambiguous locations”; they were listed under questionable sub-heads. For example, what kind of clarity can anyone deduce from a budget sub-head that allocates “one billion naira for the construction of rural roads in some selected villages in Sagamu?” This is the kind of stuff one reads in our budget these days. It was something we used to laugh over in those days when laughter had a cathartic effect. It doesn’t anymore.

    The latest “cruise” in town concerns the removal or non-removal of the fuel subsidy. Isn’t it laughable that no one outside the coven of Nigeria’s oil buccaneers can make any categorical statement on the status of the subsidy in the country despite President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s declaration that the regime of subsidizing petroleum products had been stopped? Following the presidential pronouncement on May 29, 2023, unfolding events in that sector have confounded many Nigerians. The prices of the products, especially Premium Motor Spirit and diesel, have been rising ceaselessly. While many had thought that the alleged removal would not only stabilize prices, even if at a higher rate, there was also the assumption that it would put an end to the activities of the portfolio investors in that sector who were the direct beneficiaries of the subsidies through backhanded and shady dealings with corrupt government officials at the nation’s oil giant, the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation Limited. Naturally, it was also assumed that the move would put an end to the criminal activities of those who smuggle refined petroleum products across the border to make huge gains on the subsidized products. At least, these were some of the takeaways that experts said Nigerians should expect from the President’s action, with the assurance that the billions, if not trillions, of naira saved would be used for the infrastructural development of the country, while state governments would have access to more funding from the Federation Account to share. Wonderful!

    Now, some 13 months into the subsidy removal regime, the key question on the lips of Nigerians is: What exactly is happening in the country’s oil sector? While the prices of all basic items have skyrocketed, with citizens choking under the yoke of the policy coupled with the continuous unavailability of the product at filling stations, those who should ordinarily be in control of the situation seem to be at a loss. They keep frothing at the mouth, offering a thousand and one tendentious excuses to explain away their incompetence in handling the crisis in a sector where they claim unmatched expertise. Without mincing words, it is clear to concerned Nigerians that someone in that sector has been taking them for a ride while lying through their teeth. Asked if the country is surreptitiously back to the subsidy regime following the claims by independent marketers that they could no longer sustain the pegged prices they were being asked to sell the products at, NNPCL’s Chief Financial Officer, Alhaji Umar Ajiya, was quoted as saying: “In the last eight to nine months, the NNPCL has not paid anybody a dime as subsidy; no one has been paid a kobo by the NNPCL in the name of subsidy. No marketer has received any money from us by way of subsidy. What has been happening is that we have been importing PMS, which has been landing at a certain cost price, and the government tells us to sell it at half that price. So the difference between that landing price and that half price is what we call a shortfall. And the deal is between the Federation and the NNPCL to reconcile.”

    In a bid to understand what Mallam Ajiya was trying to explain in the long-winding permutations above, I had to resort to consulting the dictionary for the actual meaning of the word “subsidy.” My ever-reliable Oxford Advanced Dictionary describes subsidy as “a direct or indirect payment to individuals or firms, usually in the form of cash payment from the government or a targeted tax cut. In economic terms, a subsidy is a financial aid or support extended, usually by the government, to an economic sector, with the aim of promoting economic and social policy.” So, if the government is instructing the NNPCL to sell PMS at half the landing price, and the NNPCL incurs a shortfall that is later reconciled with the Federation, isn’t that, in plain terms, a subsidy? Why then the convoluted explanations to confuse the public?

    This labyrinth of explanations leads to a crucial point: the laughter in Nigeria has dried up because the jokes have gotten too complicated, and the punch lines hurt too much. When the situation becomes so dire that you need a dictionary to understand what a government official is saying, it’s no longer a joke—it’s a tragedy. The simplicity of past humor, where the jokes were clear and the laughter was therapeutic, has given way to a baffling complexity where even the comedians struggle to find material that resonates with the everyday struggles of the populace.

    The laughter is gone because the issues that once made us to chuckle have morphed into grim realities that no one can ignore. The quirks of a country that once provided endless amusement now provoke only sighs and anger. The absurdities that used to be the hallmark of our collective experience are now too painful to laugh about. People are too busy trying to survive in an increasingly hostile environment to find the energy or the spirit to laugh over the repetitive streak of benumbing blathering in the corridors of power. 

    In the end, the disappearance of laughter from our streets is a symptom of a deeper malaise. It’s a sign that the social fabric is fraying, that the coping mechanisms we once relied on to get through tough times are no longer sufficient. The laughter is gone because the hope that fueled it is fading, replaced by a sobering realization that things might not get better anytime soon. Yet, in the face of all this, it’s important to remember that humor has always been a survival tool for Nigerians. It has been the balm that soothes the pain of living in a country where the odds often seem insurmountable. Perhaps, when the dust settles, and the chaos of the present moment fades into history, we will find our laughter again—stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever comes next. But for now, as we navigate this challenging period, the laughter is on hold, replaced by a collective determination to endure and, eventually, to overcome. Can we? Yes, we can!

  • Allowances: When Will Our Senators and ‘Honourables’ Come Clean?

    Allowances: When Will Our Senators and ‘Honourables’ Come Clean?

    Last week, former President Olusegun Obasanjo once again took aim at Nigerian lawmakers, particularly those in the National Assembly, condemning the brazen and unlawful manner in which they allocate themselves exorbitant allowances and perks. His criticism didn’t sit well with many, with some Nigerians quick to accuse the retired General of failing to address his own past shortcomings before pointing fingers. But those familiar with Obasanjo know he has never been one to shy away from expressing his views, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Even during his presidency, he was relentless in his quest to inject some sanity into what he famously dubbed a ‘den of corruption,’ populated by a “gang of unarmed robbers.”

    For now, no one is talking about the billions of Naira quietly voted for top-of-the-range luxury SUVs, the multibillion Naira projects that get surreptitiously injected into annual national appropriation bills, ‘kickforwards’ of contracts from MDAs, those special nepotistic employments for their loved ones in the best paying parastatals and so on.

    Obasanjo was the first to articulate the frustration of the executive branch over the National Assembly’s notorious habit of padding the national budget with dubious allocations, often resorting to subtle, and at times, overt blackmail to force the president to sign the Appropriation Act into law before raising any objections. This nefarious practice persisted under Obasanjo’s leadership, as well as during the tenures of the late President Umaru Yar’Adua and former President Goodluck Jonathan. Many Nigerians are not oblivious to the silent tug-of-war and its undercurrents between the executive and legislative branches.

    In his latest comments, Obasanjo merely added his voice to the on-going debate surrounding the opaque nature of lawmakers’ actual salaries, allowances, and emoluments—figures that starkly contrast with the official approvals by the Revenue Mobilisation, Allocation, and Fiscal Commission (RMAFC), the agency responsible for setting the salaries and allowances of political officeholders. The controversy over the need for full disclosure of lawmakers’ earnings is as old as this democracy itself. It has long been suspected that the fierce competition to become a senator or a House of Representatives member is driven more by the lure of substantial financial rewards than by a genuine desire to serve the people. Since May 29, 1999, these lawmakers have lived in opulence, with little to show for it in terms of positive impact on their constituents or the nation.

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    For those whom Obasanjo famously described as having “rottenness and corruption” in their mouths, it is no surprise that they would take offense at his latest remarks. While hosting some lawmakers in Abeokuta, Obasanjo reportedly said, “With due respect, you are not supposed to fix your salaries or your allowances; it is supposed to be done by RMAFC. But you decide what you pay yourselves—the allowances that yourselves—newspaper allowances, pant allowances—you give yourselves all sorts of things. You know it is not right. It is immoral, and then you are doing it!”

    Naturally, this struck a nerve not only with the lawmakers but also with the leadership of the RMAFC, which likely felt its authority was under threat from Obasanjo’s scolding. In response, RMAFC swiftly attempted to clarify the official entitlements of each lawmaker. The agency’s Chairman, Muhammed Shehu, stated that contrary to the unverified figures circulating on social media, a senator’s monthly remuneration and allowances amounted to a modest N1,063,860. He broke down the figures in painstaking detail to dispel any misconceptions: a basic salary of N168,866.70; motor vehicle fueling and maintenance allowance of N126,650; N42,216.66 for a personal assistant; domestic staff – N126,650.00; entertainment – N50,660.00; utilities – N50,660; newspapers/periodicals – N25,330.00; wardrobe allowance – N42,216.66; house maintenance – N8,443.33; and constituency allowance – N422,166.66.

    I must confess, I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw these figures. Having spent four years as a legislative aide, it is clear to me that Shehu of RMAFC must be living on another planet. If these figures were accurate, I doubt Nigeria would still have an operational National Assembly. Even in the civil service, we all know that salaries are merely a façade for those who have mastered the art of looting with impunity. When Obasanjo or others demand accountability, they are referring to the hidden perks and not the paltry sums Shehu so gleefully presented. From my experience, the figures Shehu cited closely resemble the salary and allowances of a Special Adviser to any of the chamber leaders, not that of a senator. Clearly, there is much more at stake than meets the eye.

    During President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration, Senator Shehu Sani, representing Kaduna Central Senatorial Constituency, disclosed that each senator received N13.5 million monthly as allowances and running costs. Sani’s revelation directly contradicts Shehu’s claim of a mere million-naira monthly allowance for senators in 2024, exposing the discrepancies in official narratives.

    Had Shehu the bureaucrat known that a serving senator was simultaneously revealing the truth in a BBC Hausa Service interview in Kano State, he might have been less eager to parrot misleading figures. Senator Abdurrahman Kawu, representing Kano South Senatorial district, confirmed the official pay package as highlighted by Shehu but added that each senator receives a cumulative monthly payment of N21 million, including salary and allowances. He stated, “My monthly salary is less than N1 million. After deductions, it comes down to a little over N600,000. But in the Senate, each senator gets N21 million every month as running cost.”

    Was Kawu’s revelation shocking? Not at all! Yet it is an ‘improvement’ opaquely done to ‘improve’ on the previous estimates of N35 million and N45 million quarterly allowances they used to get some years ago. These figures are what prompted Senator Shehu Sani to blow the whistle on lawmakers’ earnings in the first place. Kawu’s disclosure only confirms the widespread belief that lawmakers have once again unilaterally adjusted their salaries and allowances upwards, ensuring their lavish lifestyles continue unimpeded despite the biting economic hardship and skyrocketing food prices in the country.

    This is why many Nigerians scoffed when lawmakers recently announced they would ‘donate’ 50 percent of their approximately N1 million salaries as palliatives to alleviate the suffering of the poor. The immediate question was: 50 percent of which salary? The paltry sum RMAFC touts, or the hefty amount that they quietly pocket each month? Given all this, how does the National Assembly expect the public to trust them to act in the best interest of the people when they appear more interested in self-enrichment and enacting laws that further suppress dissent, such as the recently withdrawn bill attempting to criminalize Nigerians who refuse to chant the national anthem?

    As the Yoruba people say, only a joyful person’s head swells with jubilation. In a country ravaged by poverty and the systematic erosion of the middle class, loyalty to the national anthem is the least of Nigerians’ concerns, especially when they witness the extravagant lifestyles of their leaders, who spare no expense in taking care of themselves and close family members. This is where the problem lies. The people are not blind. They see the lawmakers’ opulence, embodied in the luxurious cars they parade on our dilapidated roads and the palatial mansions they purchase across the globe. They see the wealth on display and wonder why they are the ones being asked to tighten their belts until things get better.

    Obasanjo, the crafty old fox, as I often call him, is no saint, as Kawu pointed out during an interview on Channels Television last Wednesday. When asked if Obasanjo was right in saying lawmakers fix their salaries and allowances, Kawu acknowledged that the National Assembly has never had a good relationship with the former president because of his alleged attempts to bribe lawmakers during his failed bid for a third term. When pressed by the moderator to disclose if he received any of the bribe money, Kawu claimed he didn’t because he opposed Obasanjo’s ambitions. Fair enough. But that still doesn’t change the fact that the National Assembly leadership has consistently flouted the law by setting its own paychecks to satisfy its hedonistic cravings. Fact!

    The issue of legislative remuneration and the secrecy surrounding it has been a longstanding debate. It’s as familiar as the nation’s perennial fuel scarcity crisis. There has never been a resolution, and there may never be one. Why? Because Kawu’s recent revelations have only deepened the public’s mistrust in what really goes on in those hallowed chambers. Lawmakers operate like a secret society, even on matters as straightforward as opening up their financial records for public scrutiny. It’s a shame that defies belief.

    In July 2012, Obasanjo said in Lagos that most state houses of assembly and the National Assembly were filled with “rogues and armed robbers.” In November 2014, at a book launch in Lagos, he reiterated that lawmakers shroud their remuneration in secrecy, indulge in taking bribes from contractors and ministries, accept bribes from the Presidency, steal from so-called constituency projects, and embed projects in budgets while pocketing the money without executing them. In 2017, at another book launch in Ibadan, Obasanjo slammed the National Assembly again, saying: “It is even worse for the National Assembly. They will abuse me again, but I will never stop talking about them. They are a bunch of unarmed robbers even when they are one of the highest-paid legislators in the world.” During that 2014 speech, he remarked: “When the guard is the thief, only God can keep the house safe and secure. God will give us guards of integrity and honesty with the fear of God and genuine love for their people and country.”

    Allowances: When Will Our Senators and ‘Honourables’ Come Clean?

    And here we are today, still grappling with the mystery of our lawmakers’ true earnings, with no clear answers to calm the growing discontent. Obasanjo left power 17 years ago, and yet lawmakers continue to deflect accusations of corruption under his administration without addressing the core issues at hand. They claim that Obasanjo’s criticisms are rooted in his own unresolved grievances with the National Assembly, particularly stemming from his failed third-term bid. But this argument is a red herring, designed to distract from the real problem: the entrenched culture of financial opacity and self-enrichment within the legislative branch.

    As Nigerians, we must ask ourselves: when will our lawmakers finally come clean? When will they acknowledge that their unchecked greed is not only unethical but also detrimental to the nation’s progress? The persistent refusal of our senators and representatives to disclose their true earnings perpetuates a cycle of mistrust and cynicism among the populace. The lavish lifestyles of these “public servants” stand in stark contrast to the daily struggles of ordinary Nigerians, who face an ever-worsening economic situation.

    The time has come for a genuine reform of the National Assembly’s remuneration structure. It is no longer enough for the RMAFC to issue statements about official pay scales when the reality on the ground tells a different story. Lawmakers must be held accountable to the same standards of transparency that they so often demand of others. This means opening up their financial records for public scrutiny, disclosing all sources of income, and putting an end to the practice of unilaterally setting their own allowances.

    Furthermore, the Nigerian people must remain vigilant and continue to demand accountability from their elected officials. We cannot afford to allow the culture of impunity to thrive unchecked. The media, civil society, and ordinary citizens all have a role to play in holding lawmakers to account and ensuring that they serve the public interest rather than their own narrow self-interests.

    In conclusion, while Obasanjo’s critiques may be seen by some as self-serving or hypocritical, they nonetheless highlight a fundamental issue that continues to plague our democracy. The lack of transparency in the financial dealings of our lawmakers is not just a matter of corruption—it is a betrayal of the public trust. Until our senators and representatives come clean and align their actions with the values of honesty, integrity, and service, the gap between the governed and the governors will only widen, with dire consequences for the future of our nation.

  • Sifting through the ‘hollow’ perception of Tinubu’s speech

    Sifting through the ‘hollow’ perception of Tinubu’s speech

    Epistemology, the branch of philosophy concerned with the theory of knowledge, explores the nature, sources, limits, and validity of knowledge and belief. Key issues in epistemology include distinguishing between knowledge and mere belief, investigating the processes through which we gain knowledge—such as perception, reasoning, memory, and testimony—and examining the criteria that differentiate justified beliefs from unjustified ones. It is not about blaming or ridiculing anyone. Many people often hold a superficial or hollow perception of great ideas due to factors such as a lack of deep understanding, the oversimplification of complex ideas, and media influence through biased or sensational portrayals that dilute the meaning and significance of the ideas. Additionally, social and intellectual echo chambers can reinforce incomplete or distorted versions of ideas, preventing individuals from seeing the full picture. Cognitive or personal biases and preconceptions can color how people interpret and value new ideas, often leading to a skewed perception. Inadequate education or lack of exposure to critical thinking skills can also result in a shallow understanding of significant concepts.

    To truly appreciate and understand great ideas, it is crucial to engage with them deeply, question assumptions, seek diverse perspectives, and remain open to the complexities and nuances they present. For instance, philosopher Bertrand Russell noted how the oversimplification of complex ideas in the media could lead to widespread misconceptions. Similarly, educational theorist John Dewey emphasized the importance of critical thinking and comprehensive education in fully grasping the depth of significant concepts.

    About a week after President Bola Ahmed Tinubu addressed the nation on his administration’s efforts to ensure economic stability and alleviate widespread pain and anguish, the hysteria over the relevance of his speech has yet to diminish. The fact that the President eventually decided to speak to the citizens during this trying period has drawn the ire of the same people who accused him of arrogance when he mandated his ministers and senior aides to address the issues raised by hunger protesters. The irony is that even when the President acceded to the demand to address the gathering storm dubbed #endbadgovernanceprotest, many of the faceless characters pushing the violent protesters to unleash mayhem declared that the speech was hollow in pitch, tenor, and delivery. One critic whimsically blurted that it would have been better if Tinubu had not spoken at all instead of delivering what they called a “tactless, tasteless, and needless rambling” of a national broadcast.

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    At this point, one cannot but ask: what exactly do these critics want the President to say? Should he accede or concede to all the demands of the protesters and begin the process of looking for the funds to implement new policies, regardless of their implications for the future of Nigeria? Don’t get me wrong; I understand that the anger is real. The cry of “we are hungry” is coming from a place of genuine suffering. But we must all understand that any anger not mitigated by common sense is bound to end in disaster. It’s akin to people insisting on a peaceful protest in a society where violence is a common language. When concerned persons call for caution in how rhetoric is being deployed to galvanise angry Nigerians to embrace mob action against the state and vent their frustrations on the streets, it is because history has repeatedly taught us that the collateral damage inflicted on society is often ruinous and seldom offers any solution. In the end, both the protagonists and the antagonists, including the so-called targeted enemies of the state, become victims of the self-inflicted implosion. This is currently unraveling across various states, where protesters have suddenly transformed into rioters, baying for the blood of fellow citizens who probably suffer the same fate from years of economic missteps and leadership impotence.

    The question is: how much longer will it take the new actors on the block to understand that dialogue is the fastest route to resolving this crisis rather than resorting to toxic rhetoric from both sides?

    Now, to the President’s speech: What do people mean when they say they score Tinubu zero and that he didn’t concede anything to the protesters or concretely address the hunger in the land due to the knee-jerk economic decisions he took upon assuming office? Did they dissect that speech before reaching this verdict, or was it borne out of something other than a dispassionate critique of the President’s intervention? I ask these questions because I need to know how a 30-minute speech justifies the “hollowness” tag.

    How can a speech be bland when Tinubu said that, in the first half of this year alone, over N9.1 trillion was added to government revenue, more than doubling what was added in the first half of 2023? Is it true that, as of today, there has been a reduction in the percentage of revenue spent on debt servicing from 97 percent to 68 percent in the last 13 months? Has anyone contradicted Tinubu’s claim that $5 billion was used to settle legitimate outstanding foreign debt while the country now produces 1.61 million barrels per day? How about his disclosure that N45.6 billion was released for the student loan scheme; N200 billion as initial funding for the Consumer Credit Corporation; N50 billion as additional funding each for student loans and the credit corporation; $620 million secured for the Digital and Creative Enterprise Programme; and N570 billion released to the 36 states for livelihood support?

    These figures were not fabricated; they were stated in Tinubu’s national broadcast, in which he called on aggrieved Nigerians to shelve the unpredictability of street protests and embrace dialogue. He said he has heard them clearly and that he is ready for talks. He even reserved harsh words for those who have mastered the art of turning every street protest into an ethnic issue, political brigandage shrouded in hollow rhetoric aimed at inflaming violence, or worse, committing treason. For these individuals, it doesn’t matter if innocent lives are wasted. Where you expect them to be measured in their speeches and condemn the wanton destruction of lives and property, they vacillate, shilly-shallying on being statesmanlike and they insist on inciting street urchins into unconscionable mob hysteria.

    It would be foolhardy for any well-meaning Nigerian to ignore the fact that we have toed this path countless times and always ended up as joint losers. Already, we are seeing bits and pieces of that in Abuja, Jigawa, Kano, Kaduna, Katsina, and Plateau. Aside from hunger, there are dark forces within the system that would stop at nothing to see the downfall of this government, especially President Tinubu. They seem to have run out of patience with him in just 13 months. Four years appear too far a time to wait for his removal through the ballot box if the electorate so wishes. When hungry protesters start waving the flags of foreign countries and taunting the nation’s military to seize power from a democratically elected government, it is no longer a protest for corrective measures; it borders on outright hatred and treason. This cannot be the reason behind the End Bad Governance Movement. Or is it?

    If it is not, then I align with those who fault Tinubu’s speech for failing to provide assurances that he is addressing the corruption and wastages Nigerians have complained about for ages. It is one thing to outline government programmes and another for these programmes to reach the target audience. Perhaps this is truly at the heart of the people’s angst and frustrations. This conflict of interest should be expected when a government claims to be doing everything within its power while the most vulnerable contend with daily gloom.

    When the President says that N570 billion was released to state governors for livelihood support, how sure is he that even a quarter of that money reached the target audience? Who monitors such disbursement to ensure probity and accountability in a system where presumably elected local government chairmen are begging the President to pay their allocations directly to the governors? When Tinubu says one million CNG conversion kits will be distributed to Nigerians with an estimated 60 percent reduction in transportation costs, Nigerians are right to doubt this as the initiative seems to be taking an eternity to come to fruition. This kind of repetitive delay fuels rabid attacks on the intent of the speech. If those responsible are not performing, shouldn’t the President find replacements until this promise is fulfilled? How soon will the targeted three million beneficiaries of the Technical Talent Scheme come on stream? Who are the 600,000 Nigerians benefiting from the Nano-Business grants? Shouldn’t they be out there, sharing their success stories as good patriots? What of the 75,000 beneficiaries of the one-million-naira business loans? Why are they not vocal about this support, providing concrete evidence that the government’s efforts are effective?

    Finally, when the dialogue begins, can the President address the excessive expenditures incurred by both the executive and legislative branches? Part of the uproar over his speech was his careful avoidance of discussing measures to reduce the bloated number of ministers and aides to cut costs. Critics wonder how ministers, lawmakers, and top executives still ride expensive SUVs and have convoys in an economy said to be on life support. The sacrifice shouldn’t be borne by the poor alone. It is not too late for those enjoying the perks of office to embrace gestures that show empathy and solidarity. The poor also need a breath of life.

    The President’s speech, much like the great ideas discussed in epistemology, demands a deeper engagement and critical examination. The challenges and criticisms it faces stem not just from its content but from a broader context of mistrust and dissatisfaction. To move forward, both the government and the people must embrace dialogue and critical thinking, shedding superficial perceptions for a more nuanced understanding of the complex issues at hand. This approach is essential to bridging the gap between the government’s intentions and the public’s expectations, ensuring that the policies and promises made are both understood and effectively implemented. That is where we should be today sans the empty shouting of hollowness. That speech is loaded for those who dare to reason beyond their warped mindset that nothing good can come from government especially the one they have a deep-seated bias against!

  • State governance: a call for accountability

    State governance: a call for accountability

    At the current pace of events in Nigeria, it is crucial to scrutinise the actions of the 36 state governors and the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) concerning the significant and improved allocations they receive. Some may question the inclusion of the FCT Minister in this scrutiny. The reason is straightforward: although the minister doesn’t belong to the class of state chief executives who gather in Abuja each month to share billions from federal allocations, the FCT’s annual budget is passed and approved by the National Assembly. The achievements of the current FCT Minister, Mr. Nyesom Wike, over the past 11 months should prompt any reasonable person to demand accountability from the governors.

    Wike’s efficient use of budgetary allocations has consistently resulted in impactful projects for Abuja residents. This raises the question of why most governors are not replicating similar efforts in their states. Often hiding behind the excuse of ‘paucity of funds,’ many of these leaders have depleted their states’ resources without demonstrating significant developmental achievements. The brazen manner in which some governors exploit state treasuries is a subject worthy of study for those interested in Nigeria’s unique brand of political maneuvering and deception.

    Constitutionally, governors bear key responsibilities, clearly outlined in the constitution. They are tasked with executing laws, making appointments to state judiciary and other regulatory bodies (subject to state assembly approval), managing the state’s day-to-day affairs, and performing other duties to improve the citizens’ living conditions. These responsibilities are formidable, and it is clear that much is expected from anyone aspiring to be a governor. It is not a leisurely endeavour but a significant commitment to serving humanity in the best possible way. The critical question is whether those vying for these positions fully comprehend the magnitude of the tasks before them. I, for one, have serious doubts.

    It seems that a largely complacent populace has tolerated the governors’ excesses, leading many of them to forget the reasons they were elected. The media is replete with stories of how these elected officials have become quasi-demigods, worshipped not only by sycophantic state assembly members but also by the people they were elected to serve. The saying that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, is exemplified by the governors’ callous and unfeeling exercise of authority. Astonishingly, some of these officials believe that taking the oath of office entitles them to treat the state treasury as their personal property. But can we blame them entirely when lawmakers, who should exercise checks and balances, often become the governors’ early morning ‘parishioners’, seeking favours and pledging unwavering loyalty?

    If state executives strictly adhered to their constitutional responsibilities, the public outcry against bad governance, often directed at the Federal Government, might not be as intense. Nigerians frequently overlook that the country’s revenue is distributed among the Federal, State, and Local Governments based on an agreed percentage since the advent of this democratic experience on May 29, 1999. Therefore, each level of government is expected to judiciously use these funds for the people’s benefit, including paying salaries, developing key economic sectors, providing infrastructure, welfare programmes, education, health services, and security. This combination fosters a well-run nation where governance centres on the citizens’ wellbeing—an essence of democracy practiced worldwide.

    However, in Nigeria, the situation is chaotic, fueled by years of elite disinterest in populist ideals. Take, for instance, the ongoing demand for responsive and responsible governance, where the blame is primarily directed at the central government. Amidst the clamour for change, people conveniently ignore that state governors have received increased revenues compared to the previous administration. With the removal of fuel subsidies and a substantial rise in monthly allocations to states and LGAs, it is surprising that few question the governors on how they manage these increased resources. Would the naira’s freefall against the dollar be as severe if governors were not converting allocations to dollars in Abuja, paying salaries, and embarking on incomplete or poorly executed projects? Has anyone questioned the rationale behind the conversion of naira into dollars and what they do with it? Some even act as though paying salaries is a significant favour, despite the dire treatment of workers under some administrations. Meanwhile, these governors allocate millions to themselves for security, drive the finest SUVs, and fly private jets funded by state resources. Have they been held accountable? Interestingly, those summoned by anti-corruption agencies often escape with minimal consequences.

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    Why, if I may ask, did the governors react strongly when the Supreme Court ruled that monthly allocations to local governments should be paid directly into their accounts, as mandated by the 1999 Constitution (as amended)? Shouldn’t governors be relieved that a significant burden has been lifted from their shoulders? Instead, they act as if they were saviours of the 774 local government councils, despite being the ones draining the lifeblood from these councils. Even the state capitals they oversee and claim to have developed are mere shadows of what they could be compared to well-managed counties abroad. Let any governor tour local council-built infrastructure in places like Dallas, Texas, and compare it to the substandard projects they boast about here!

    Despite the substantial revenue increases, these same mismanagers of state funds claim they cannot afford the newly approved N70,000 national minimum wage. Why? The answer is simple: it limits their opportunities to embezzle funds, unlike some former counterparts who now reside in government houses to avoid the law or have fled abroad to escape the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission’s scrutiny. It’s astonishing that those who previously said they couldn’t afford a N30,000 minimum wage are now implicated in stealing billions to maintain a luxurious lifestyle post-office. Some have even amassed more wealth than the states they governed!

    A recent report by The PUNCH Newspapers revealed that states have seen a positive increase in revenue allocations since President Bola Ahmed Tinubu took office on May 29, 2023. Data from the Federation Accounts Allocation Committee showed that within a year, about 10 states received over 50 percent more in monthly allocations, while 12 others saw a 40 percent increase. The National Bureau of Statistics corroborated this, indicating that total allocations to the 36 states rose by 27 percent to N4.5tn, up from N3.58tn in the corresponding period under Buhari.

    Given the significant revenue surge following the removal of petroleum subsidies, the question remains: what have the states and LGAs done with the funds? Why were 15 states unable to pay the previous N30,000 minimum wage for years despite the available resources? What exactly are they doing with the money?

    While it is crucial to continue questioning the Federal Government’s efforts to address the worsening economic crisis that has caused widespread pain and suffering, it is equally essential to hold the governors accountable for the billions entrusted to them for the people’s welfare. Why, for instance, should governors wait for the Federal Government to distribute rice to the states? With proper management of state funds, they could easily provide food and other services without appearing as beggars to Abuja. Moreover, rumours suggest that even the Federal Government’s distribution of 740 trucks of 25kg rice bags has been misappropriated by some governors, leaving the most vulnerable without access. Must everything be governed by political patronage and pettiness? How can the poor thrive when those in power fail to recognise the critical situation their greed has created in Nigeria? How?

  • Robbers in the cathedral

    Robbers in the cathedral

    In Nigeria, there are men of God and there are also gods of men. There are worshippers who seek to serve God in complete subservience to His will, and there are those who have willingly surrendered their critical thinking and ability to discern truth from a harvest of spiritual lies to those who control them. From time immemorial, issues of religion and religiosity have always drawn contrasting opinions. Religion itself has been described as the opium of the masses, used by manipulative religionists to enslave the people. Often, when this happens, common sense takes flight, and men become robots to the commands of those who assume the authority of spiritual controllers. Stories abound detailing how otherwise intelligent and right-thinking individuals have willingly committed mass suicide at the promptings of their spiritual leaders, in anticipation of gaining eternity. The same belief propels suicidal individuals to kill innocent citizens, believing that aside from eternity, a specified number of virgins are stationed in heaven to satisfy their sexual cravings as rewards for the genocide they inflict. Such is the potency of the opium that men now take upon themselves the cruel task of killing fellow men for an all-knowing God who has admonished men to leave vengeance to Him. These bigots no longer wait for God to act; they become the jury, judge, and executioners for the presumed failings of fellow humans. Pity.

    It is important to note that religion itself is not bad. Practitioners of different religions are united in saying that at the crux of every religious practice is peace and God’s love for humanity, even if there are different ways of worshipping—from Christianity to Islam, traditionalists to Judaism, and Hinduism to Buddhism. For this piece, I will focus on my faith, Christianity. The Bible admonishes all followers of Christ to be Christ-like and live a very simple life. Jesus set several examples in the Bible to show us what it means to be a Christian, and his disciples espoused those beliefs after his resurrection and ascension. That tradition didn’t stop with the death of the disciples; Christianity is all about saving lost souls and bringing them to Christ so they can enjoy eternity after leaving this sinful world. The mantle of continuation was handed over to those we now call pastors, evangelists, apostles, and men of God. They are expected to be Christ-like in nature and shine His light so that, through them, people would come to Christ and worship His majesty. This is no small task; it demands more than knowledge of the Bible, the ability to speak in tongues, or the possession of healing power. It encapsulates everything about Christ, including his simplicity, comportment, sacrifice, teachings, moral rectitude, and holiness. His temple, he admonishes, should be kept holy at all times, and those who tend to it must strive to live above worldly temptations. By their calling, they are expected to be immune from all that glitters but is essentially meaningless in the sight of the Lord, who is Christ, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost—the Trinity.

    This piece, I must stress again, is not a homily on the nature of Christ, as I am the least qualified to write about spiritual things. The introduction above is just to draw our attention to what is happening in our modern-day cathedrals and the implications for our strivings to make heaven. As things stand today, we need to ask if the church has not completely derailed and fallen into the trappings of satanic wiles. Are the shepherds still looking to Christ, who is the author and finisher of the faith, or have they succumbed to the devil’s alluring temptations? Are they teaching us how to hold on and qualify to be candidates for the narrow gate to a life of bliss rather than dancing into the wide gate that leads to perdition? Are they maintaining the cathedrals according to Christ’s rules of engagement, or have they turned them into a “den of robbers,” as the scripture tells us in Matthew 21:13? In case they have forgotten, Jesus didn’t just wake up one day and display rare anger against the money changers that he chased out of the temple. There was a reason for it. The temple is a holy place that should not be desecrated by the hypocrisy of fake worshippers. It is not the marketplace where anything and everything is tolerated. But realizing that it was being used for misleading people in their worship, cheating God with their sacrifices, and converting it for purposes it was not originally meant for, Jesus flared up and drove the money changers away, saying, “My house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers.”

    What baffles me is that nothing has changed in how we run our cathedrals today. In fact, things have grown worse. Religion, especially Christianity, is being exploited to impoverish the masses. It is used as a potent object of deceit, extortion, and deprivation by so-called men of God who are nothing more than ‘pastorpreneurs’ in the cathedrals of faith. Today in our country, the richest and most flamboyant people can be found among fire-spitting, prayer-spraying, and tongue-speaking pastors, evangelists, apostles, and general overseers. Some, if not most, can compete with our politicians and public servants who relentlessly steal from the public till. Yet, hardly can anyone explain how they come by such wealth. They live lifestyles fit for kings and queens, spare no expense constructing mansions, and move around with armed convoys like their well-known band of thieves on the other side of the divide. We now know that they abuse their office privileges to help economic pillagers launder slush funds. And let no one ask me where it was written in the holy book that it is permissible to do that.

    Perhaps, the presumptions above would have remained just that if the Chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, Mr. Ola Olukoyede, had not told some of these pastors to their faces that they are nothing but petty thieves who pretend to have moral chastity that is shambolically deceptive. Being an ordained pastor himself, Olukoyede should understand how some of these men feast on the gullibility of their miracle-seeking worshippers to dupe them of the little in their accounts. And because these little droplets can easily make an ocean, it shouldn’t be surprising to see these men rolling in millions of naira within a few years. Yet, it takes courage to tell them to their faces to remove the log in their eyes before helping others remove the speck in theirs. That was a fitting biblical injunction deployed by the EFCC chairman to draw attention to how far they have derailed from Jesus’ exemplary ministry, which focuses solely on “sharing the good news, serving others, taking care of his health by resting when necessary, and spending time in prayer.” All these things, someone wrote, come together to form the bedrock of the Christian minimalist lifestyle.

    Christian minimalist lifestyle? Well, whatever that means, I doubt if any of these headline-chasing men of God understand it. The last time I checked, the 20 richest preachers in the country boasted millions of dollars in both property acquisitions and taste for the best automobiles money can buy, in addition to owning private jets to propagate the gospel. These 20 are just a select few because some notable names, especially from the emerging, flighty, and fashionable Pentecostals, are conspicuously missing from that list. I still wonder why one of them has not deemed it fit to sue the tabloid that published such heresies! In the publication, a particular preacher is said to have a net worth of $150 million; another frolics with $65 million while another plays with $50 million. Others boast $41 million, $32 million, $30 million, $15 million, $10.5 million, and $10 million. These men also have a salacious taste for the best state-of-the-art vehicles like Rolls Royce, Mercedes Benz, Range Rovers, and treated Toyota SUVs. They live the big life and enjoy the services of paid armed guards. Yet, they admonish their congregants to embrace a Christ-like lifestyle of unending giving and unbelievable sacrifice.

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    Listen to Olukoyede unedited: “Just this last week, I have had cause to recover millions from a religious organization. They appointed you a pastor, and that is when you become a big man. We don’t even know what you are doing to earn a legitimate living. You live on the ministry and the church or mosque money. You can’t even explain the source of your wealth. Some religious organizations are more corrupt than public offices. I have evidence to support that. You look at the speck in someone else’s eyes, but meanwhile, there is a log in yours.”

    The Yoruba say it is the little fart that escapes from the anus that spoils one’s buttocks. In January this year, Olukoyede said the EFCC uncovered a religious sect that was laundering money for terrorists in the country. Last week, he scolded religious leaders to focus not only on winning souls for Christ but also on demonstrating good character in all they do instead of satisfying the greed that pushes them to transform God’s cathedrals into habitations of robbers, with themselves as cheerleaders. These are not just hollow admonitions. They are heavy words. They are deep. And they are depressing. Two weeks after that outburst, which must have come from a genuine concern for the body of Christ to stand firm in the race to eternity, it is a shame that the only response Olukoyede’s expose has attracted is loud silence. No one has been bold enough to challenge him to name the bad eggs caught stealing from God and converting the cathedral’s money to personal acquisitions. Not one of the billionaire “pastorpreneurs” who hoodwink a gullible crowd of worshippers to give more and suffer for the faith has been bold enough to reveal the source of his humongous wealth to the general public. Would they rather allow us to live with the presumption that what we have is a den of thieves in our cathedrals? Or is this fart not big enough to spoil the buttocks, as the Yoruba people would want us to believe?

    The silence from these so-called men of God is deafening and damning. It suggests a tacit admission of guilt or, at the very least, an inability to defend their actions and lifestyle against the weighty accusations leveled against them. It is not enough to preach about righteousness and sacrifice from the pulpit while living a life that starkly contrasts the very essence of those teachings. The integrity of their ministry and the faith of their followers are at stake.

    We must ask ourselves: what has happened to the Christian virtues of humility, selflessness, and service? Have they been replaced by greed, vanity, and hypocrisy? The church, which should be a sanctuary of hope and a beacon of light, risks becoming a breeding ground for deceit and exploitation. This trend is not just a disservice to the faith but a direct affront to the teachings of Christ, who emphasized simplicity and genuine devotion.

    The call to action here is clear. Followers must hold their leaders accountable, demanding transparency and integrity. They must reclaim their thinking faculties and not blindly follow those who exploit their faith for personal gain. True worship is not about enriching the few at the expense of the many but about a collective journey towards spiritual enlightenment and communal well-being.

    Religious leaders, too, must introspect and return to the foundational teachings of their faith. They must reject the trappings of materialism and refocus on their spiritual mission. They should remember that their calling is not to build earthly empires but to guide their flock towards a higher, more meaningful existence.

    In conclusion, the issues plaguing our cathedrals are symptomatic of a broader moral and ethical decay. As a society, we must challenge these injustices and strive for a return to true spiritual values. Only then can we hope to cleanse our places of worship and restore them to their rightful purpose. The time for change is now, and it must begin with each one of us.