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Every institution has its defining scandal. For some, it is corruption. For others, incompetence. For a few particularly unfortunate organizations, it is both. The latest controversy engulfing Nigeria's Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) belongs to a more modern category of institutional failure: the inability to protect the very information entrusted to its care.

 

According to the commission itself, the confidential voter information of the actor and politician Emeka Ike appears to have been accessed through the misuse of authorized internal credentials and subsequently found its way into the public arena. The particulars of the investigation remain to be established. Yet the broader significance of the affair is already clear. The issue is not Emeka Ike. The issue is that over 90 million Nigerians have handed their personal information to an institution that now appears uncertain whether it can keep that information secure.

 

One of the curiosities of Nigerian public life is that institutions are often judged not by their formal powers but by their accumulated reputations. The police may possess impressive legal authority, but citizens judge them by roadside encounters. Anti-corruption agencies may wield extensive statutes, but the public measures them by whom they prosecute; and whom they do not. INEC is no different. Its constitutional authority is immense. Its credibility is not. For years, the commission has struggled under a burden familiar to many Nigerian institutions: the persistent suspicion that it is less independent than its title suggests and less competent than its responsibilities require. The latest episode does nothing to lighten that burden.

 

The commission's immediate response was predictable. There will be investigations. There will be audits. There will be disciplinary proceedings. There will be solemn assurances that systems remain secure. There always are. Modern bureaucracies have developed a remarkable talent for announcing investigations into failures that citizens would prefer had never occurred in the first place. The problem for INEC is that confidence, once lost, cannot be restored through press releases. It is difficult to overstate the seriousness of the allegation. Electoral commissions occupy a unique position in democratic societies. Banks safeguard money. Courts safeguard justice. Electoral commissions safeguard legitimacy itself.

 

Citizens surrender their personal information to such institutions because they assume it will be protected by rigorous procedures, professional ethics and strict accountability. When information allegedly escapes from within the institution itself, the damage extends beyond privacy. It reaches into trust. And trust is the only truly irreplaceable asset an electoral commission possesses. The irony is particularly painful because Nigeria is approaching another election cycle. The closer the country moves toward 2027, the more important public confidence becomes. Elections are not merely contests of votes. They are contests of legitimacy. Citizens must believe not only that ballots will be counted correctly but that the institutions overseeing the process are impartial, competent and secure.

 

An electoral commission that cannot convincingly explain how sensitive data found its way into political combat is an electoral commission inviting uncomfortable questions. What else can be accessed? Who can access it? How often has this happened before? How many other records have been viewed, shared or exploited without public knowledge? These questions may prove unfair. That is precisely the problem. Trustworthy institutions are not forced to answer such questions because citizens assume the answers are reassuring. Distrusted institutions are compelled to answer them because citizens assume the opposite. The affair also illuminates a deeper malaise within INEC. The commission has spent years defending itself against accusations of bias, incompetence, technological failures and administrative inconsistency. Each controversy, considered individually, may be survivable. Together they create a corrosive cumulative effect. The public begins to suspect that dysfunction is not episodic but structural.

 

The danger for Professor Joash Amupitan is that he may discover that he inherited more than an institution. He inherited a reputation. And reputations are far harder to reform than procedures. His predecessor spent years assuring Nigerians that technology would strengthen electoral integrity. Yet technology is only as trustworthy as the people entrusted with it. The most sophisticated database in Africa becomes worthless if insiders can allegedly access sensitive information for political purposes. Cybersecurity failures are often described as technical problems. They are not. They are governance problems. They reveal weaknesses in oversight, discipline, accountability and institutional culture.

 

The truly alarming possibility raised by this affair is not that a rogue individual may have acted improperly. Every large organization contains rogue individuals. The alarming possibility is that such behavior might have been considered sufficiently normal, sufficiently risk-free, or sufficiently consequence-free to occur at all. That would represent not merely a breach of data. It would represent a breach of culture. Professor Amupitan now faces a test that will define his tenure more than any speech, workshop or strategic plan. Nigerians do not need another committee. They need proof. Proof that the commission knows who was responsible. Proof that meaningful sanctions will follow. Proof that political connections will not serve as a protective shield.

 

Proof that voter information is secure. And above all, proof that INEC understands the gravity of the trust placed in it. For an electoral commission occupies a peculiar position in a democracy. Citizens may dislike governments. They may distrust politicians. They may quarrel endlessly over parties and ideologies. But they must believe in the referee. When the referee begins to look compromised, every future contest becomes suspect. That is why this controversy matters far beyond one actor, one leaked record, or one alleged misuse of credentials. It concerns the institution that certifies democratic legitimacy in Africa's largest democracy.

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In the impatient age of quarterly capitalism, where executives are judged by immediate returns and investors demand instant gratification, patience has become one of the rarest commodities in business. Yet patience, more than brilliance or bravado, has always distinguished the true institution-builder from the mere opportunist. Few contemporary African businessmen embody this distinction more convincingly than Tony Elumelu.

 

As Heirs Insurance Group marks its fifth anniversary in June 2026, the milestone is significant not merely because of the company’s rapid ascent within Nigeria’s notoriously underpenetrated insurance sector, but because its story is, fundamentally, a meditation on endurance. Behind the celebratory speeches, growth metrics and corporate accolades lies a less glamorous but more revealing reality: the operational licenses that birthed Heirs Insurance took eight years to secure. Yes, you read it correctly. Eight years.

 

In most corporate boardrooms, eight years of regulatory limbo would have been sufficient to extinguish enthusiasm, redirect capital elsewhere and bury the idea quietly beneath the sediment of abandoned ambitions. Yet Tony Elumelu persisted. That persistence now appears less like stubbornness and more like strategic foresight.

 

The launch of Heirs Insurance in 2021 alongside the commissioning of Heirs Towers was never merely the unveiling of another financial-services company. It was the extension of a wider philosophical project that has animated Elumelu’s business career for decades: the conviction that African-owned institutions can achieve scale, sophistication and competitiveness comparable to any global peer.

 

Today, barely five years later, Heirs Insurance serves nearly two million customers across Nigeria. The Financial Times recently ranked Heirs Life Assurance seventh and Heirs General Insurance forty-first among Africa’s fastest-growing companies, a remarkable feat in a sector that has historically struggled for relevance in Nigeria’s economic life.

 

The statistics become even more impressive when placed against the broader context of the Nigerian insurance industry itself. Insurance penetration in Nigeria remains below one per cent of GDP, one of the lowest rates globally. In practical terms, this means millions of Nigerians continue to rely on informal family structures, religious solidarity and personal improvisation as substitutes for formal risk protection. Insurance, for many, remains distant, misunderstood or distrusted. It is precisely this structural weakness that Heirs Insurance identified as an opportunity.

 

Rather than replicate the orthodox models of legacy insurers—many of which remain trapped in bureaucratic inertia and elite urban markets—the company pursued a strategy built around accessibility, technology and scale. Digital onboarding replaced cumbersome paperwork. Mobile-first products lowered entry barriers. Microinsurance products targeted demographics long ignored by traditional operators. Insurance was repositioned not as an elite financial abstraction, but as an everyday instrument of economic dignity.

 

This was not accidental innovation. It reflected a broader understanding of Africa’s evolving economic realities. Across the continent, formal banking, telecommunications and digital commerce have expanded most successfully where firms adapted products to local realities rather than imported rigid Western templates. Heirs Insurance belongs firmly within this new generation of African institutions that understand scale emerges not from exclusivity, but from inclusion.

 

Equally significant has been the ecosystem advantage engineered through Heirs Holdings itself. Cross-selling synergies involving UBA, Transcorp and Heirs Energies have accelerated customer acquisition and institutional visibility in ways standalone insurers would struggle to replicate. It is an illustration of strategic integration rarely executed successfully within African conglomerates, where diversification often degenerates into incoherence. Under Elumelu, however, the architecture appears deliberate: finance, energy, hospitality and insurance reinforcing one another within a broader continental vision.

 

Yet perhaps the most important aspect of the Heirs Insurance story lies not in balance sheets or rankings, but in what it reveals about Tony Elumelu’s peculiar temperament as a builder of institutions. Modern business culture frequently glorifies disruption, aggression and velocity. Elumelu’s approach has often been more measured, almost old-fashioned in its emphasis on staying power. He has long understood that enduring institutions are not constructed through viral moments, but through sustained discipline, strategic patience and reputational consistency.

 

This philosophy has become increasingly rare in contemporary Africa, where political instability, policy unpredictability and weak institutions often encourage short-term extraction over long-term investment. The temptation for many investors is to maximize immediate returns while minimizing exposure to systemic uncertainty. Elumelu, by contrast, has repeatedly chosen the more difficult route of institutional permanence.

 

The eight-year wait for licensing is therefore not a footnote to the Heirs Insurance story. It is the story. For what distinguished the venture was not merely the availability of capital, but the willingness to remain committed during prolonged uncertainty. Capital, after all, is abundant globally. Conviction is scarcer. Operational leadership from senior Heirs executives such as Niyi Onifade and Wole Fayemi has undoubtedly translated vision into execution. But execution alone does not create institutions. Institutions emerge when leadership combines operational competence with philosophical clarity about purpose and time horizon.

 

Elumelu’s broader advocacy for raising Nigeria’s insurance penetration to three per cent of GDP similarly reflects a strategic understanding that no company can thrive sustainably within a weak ecosystem. The ambition is not merely corporate expansion, but sectoral transformation itself. If achieved, such growth would deepen financial inclusion, expand long-term domestic capital pools and strengthen economic resilience across households and businesses alike.

 

At a deeper level, Heirs Insurance also represents something symbolic within the African corporate imagination. For decades, African financial sectors were dominated either by foreign multinationals or by indigenous firms constrained by insufficient scale, technological weakness or governance deficiencies. The emergence of globally competitive African-owned institutions capable of combining technological sophistication with continental ambition marks an important psychological transition.

 

It is this larger symbolism that makes the Heirs Insurance anniversary noteworthy beyond corporate ceremony. Five years may appear brief in the lifespan of institutions. But within those five years lies evidence of something increasingly consequential in African capitalism: the emergence of patient capital guided not merely by opportunism, but by vision. Tony Elumelu’s enduring lesson is therefore deceptively simple. Institutions are not miracles. They are acts of sustained belief.

 

In an era intoxicated by immediacy, Heirs Insurance stands as a reminder that the most important revolutions are often quiet ones; built patiently, painstakingly and almost stubbornly over time until what once seemed improbable becomes inevitable.

 

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Every nation eventually confronts defining moments when history demands not hesitation, but courage. 

Nigeria has arrived at such a moment. Across the country today, fear has become an unwelcome companion of ordinary existence. Farmers abandon fertile farmlands because criminal gangs roam forests with impunity. Parents send children to school with silent prayers of safe return. Rural communities organize crude vigilante systems because the state’s formal security presence is either distant, overstretched or entirely absent. Highways have become theatres of dread. Entire villages sleep with one eye open. In a nation constitutionally established to guarantee the security and welfare of its citizens, this condition is neither sustainable nor morally defensible. 

 

At the center of this national anxiety lies a difficult but unavoidable truth: Nigeria’s policing architecture no longer corresponds with Nigeria’s realities. A federation of more than two hundred million people, sprawling across vast ethnic, linguistic and geographic complexities, cannot continue to rely exclusively on a policing framework designed for a far smaller and less complicated post-colonial state. Terrorism, banditry, kidnapping, cybercrime, cultism, farmer-herder violence and transnational criminal enterprises now operate with terrifying sophistication, exploiting terrain, technology and local intelligence far more effectively than the state itself.

 

And yet, policing remains excessively centralized. This contradiction has become one of the great absurdities of Nigerian governance. The tragedy is that Nigeria once understood better. Before military centralization dismantled the federal balance after January 1966, the regions exercised substantial authority over local security administration. The Western Region under Chief Obafemi Awolowo appreciated a principle that successful federations across the world have long embraced: security is most effective when institutions are closest to the people they serve.

 

A police officer who understands the language of a community, its customs, geography, conflict patterns and informal intelligence networks possesses an immeasurable operational advantage over one dispatched from a distant command unfamiliar with local realities. Criminality is often local before it becomes national. Intelligence is most valuable at the point closest to its origin. Security delayed is security denied.

 

For decades, constitutional conferences, security experts, governors, traditional rulers and civil society groups have repeatedly argued for State Police. The recommendation has survived successive administrations because the logic underpinning it has become increasingly undeniable. What is remarkable is not that Nigerians continue demanding State Police. What is remarkable is that Nigeria has delayed so long in accepting the obvious.

 

The objections, naturally, are familiar. Critics warn about potential abuse by state governors. They invoke memories of regional political intimidation during the First Republic. They fear the emergence of partisan security structures weaponized against political opponents. Such concerns are legitimate. But they are not sufficient grounds for paralysis.

 

Every democratic institution carries the possibility of abuse. Legislatures abuse power. Courts sometimes err. Elections are manipulated. Yet civilized societies do not abolish institutions because of potential misuse. They construct safeguards, oversight mechanisms and constitutional restraints to minimize abuse while preserving functionality. The answer to institutional weakness is reform, not fear.

 

Indeed, Nigeria already entrusts states with enormous responsibilities affecting citizens’ liberties and livelihoods: education, healthcare, transportation, taxation and judicial administration. To argue that states are mature enough to run universities but too immature to participate meaningfully in policing reflects a curious inconsistency. What Nigeria requires is not reckless decentralization, but intelligent constitutional engineering.

 

Independent police service commissions, legislative oversight, transparent recruitment standards, judicial accountability, federal supervisory mechanisms and clearly defined operational jurisdictions can provide necessary safeguards against abuse. Successful federations across the world have demonstrated that local policing and national cohesion are not contradictory principles.

 

The United States, Canada, Germany and Australia all operate layered policing systems balancing local responsiveness with federal coordination. Their experiences demonstrate a fundamental truth of federalism: effective governance is rarely governance concentrated entirely at the center. It is governance distributed intelligently.

 

Section 14(2)(b) of Nigeria’s Constitution states unequivocally that “the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government.” That provision is not decorative constitutional poetry. It is an enforceable moral obligation imposed upon the state itself. Any institutional arrangement that persistently fails to fulfill that obligation must eventually submit itself to reform. 

This is why the State Police debate transcends politics. It is ultimately about survival, constitutional responsibility and the moral legitimacy of governance itself.

 

And this is where President Bola Ahmed Tinubu now stands before history. Long before becoming president, Tinubu consistently advocated restructuring and a more functional federal arrangement. He repeatedly argued that over-centralization weakened governance efficiency and undermined national development. Unlike many politicians who discovered federalism only after leaving office, Tinubu’s position on restructuring predates his presidency by decades. Today, he possesses a rare opportunity granted to very few leaders: the opportunity to transform a long-deferred constitutional aspiration into reality. Leadership is ultimately tested not by rhetoric, but by whether difficult reforms are pursued when politically inconvenient.

 

For decades, State Police existed largely as intellectual consensus trapped inside conference reports, constitutional memoranda and policy debates. Many leaders acknowledged its necessity privately while lacking the political courage to confront the complexities publicly. President Tinubu appears determined to alter that trajectory. By opening serious constitutional engagement around State Police, he has initiated what may become one of the most consequential federal reforms since Nigeria’s return to civilian rule in 1999. The significance extends far beyond policing itself. At stake is the larger philosophical question of whether Nigeria genuinely intends to operate as a federation or merely preserve the appearance of one.

 

Federalism is not merely about geography. It is about trust. It is the recognition that local communities possess legitimate capacities for self-governance within a unified national framework. It is the understanding that national strength often emerges not from excessive concentration of power, but from the effective distribution of responsibility. Nigeria’s insecurity crisis has already exposed the limitations of hyper-centralization. Vast forests remain ungoverned. Rural communities increasingly rely on self-help mechanisms. Kidnappers negotiate ransoms openly. Farmers abandon agricultural production. Citizens lose confidence in the state’s protective capacity. No democracy can indefinitely survive such conditions without institutional adaptation.

 

This is why the current moment matters profoundly. If implemented with constitutional wisdom, professional safeguards and national sincerity, State Police could become one of the most important democratic reforms of the Fourth Republic. It could restore confidence in governance, improve intelligence gathering, strengthen community policing and finally align Nigeria’s federal structure with contemporary security realities.

 

But beyond policy outcomes lies something even larger: legacy. History seldom remembers leaders merely for occupying office. It remembers those who solved problems previous generations postponed. 

Should President Tinubu successfully advance this reform responsibly and constitutionally, he may ultimately be remembered as the leader who completed one of the most important chapters in Nigeria’s unfinished federalism. For the measure of a federation is not how much power accumulates at its center. It is how effectively it protects the lives, liberties and dignity of its people.

 

And the measure of leadership is not merely preserving inherited structures, but possessing the courage to improve them before collapse makes reform impossible. That is now the challenge before Nigeria. And that is the historic opportunity before President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.

 

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“Thank God it is over” 

“Yes oh. Now, Arsenal players and their fans can now allow all of us to rest. They have their Premier League trophy. PSG have taken the Champions League. History made on both sides. Heroes made.” 

“Who is talking about Arsenal or PSG? Why is it that you, Nigerians are always so unpatriotic? Before you think of your own country, you are more concerned about what is happening in other parts of the world. When I say it is over, I am referring to the party primaries that have just been concluded in Nigeria’s political space. The INEC deadline expired on May 30.”

“Oh, I see. But it is not correct to say it is over. The correct thing to say is that Nigeria is now on a path to a new beginning, a return to high-wire politics that could have serious implications for the future. The end of the primaries is merely the commencement of warfare which Nigerian politics is.” 

“Yes. Yes. I know that there will be fall-outs. After all, there have been very loud complaints about the mode of the primaries, consensus arrangements that marginalized many eligible participants and direct primaries that were openly rigged, shamelessly too. And I dare say, no party is innocent.” 

“Well, well, well, I have not heard of any complaints from the African Action Congress which chose Omoyele Sowore by popular acclamation, Accord Party which announced Gbenga Olawepo-Hashim, the People’s Redemption Party (PRP) that selected former Governor Donald Duke, Governor Seyi Makinde’s Allied People’s Movement, Action Democratic Party where you have Aliyu Bin Abbas, and of course the Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC) which produced Peter Obi. In these parties, the choice of the flagbearers has been relatively peaceful. It is only in the APC, the PDP, and the ADC that we have had controversies.”

“Not true. There have been issues in all the parties. And this is the point that Minister Wike was making during his media chat on TV yesterday. He said those politicians in ADC and NDC who claim they know how to run Nigeria are all liars, because ordinary party primaries they could not even organize successfully.”

“Are you still taking that one serious?” 

“But he has a point. No opposition party has been able to show that their party is better than the APC. We are faced with the same of the same.  Wike is right to laugh at them.”

“Peter Obi, the ADC Presidential candidate has promised to generate 10, 000 MW of electricity in 4 years of the single term that he is proposing. He will also empower MSMEs and address youth unemployment. That is something different.” 

‘I beg. Is power generation the problem? Electricity is a value chain. How about transmission and distribution? How about tariffs, liquidity? Leakages, wastages. And where were you when failed aspirants in the Democratic Leadership Alliance (DLA) and the Labour Party (LP) were asking for a refund of monies paid into the party’s coffers. In Imo State, one APC aspirant wept openly and on social media claiming that he had spent over N100 million to buy forms for the House of Representatives slot only for the party to impose a woman who never bought any form. He said it will never happen.”

“Did you say an APC aspirant?” 

“Yes, from Owerri”

“If he knows what is good for him, he will keep quiet and sulk in silence. The ticket belongs to the party. Even the aspirant that challenged President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for the APC Presidential ticket is now singing his praise. And what does your Imo friend want the 14 lawmakers in the Lagos State House of Assembly who have been sent away to do, and all the Ministers who resigned their positions to run for one elective office or the other. Maybe only one of them succeeded. The Godfather system that they run in the APC simply means you have to obey and accept whatever you are given by the powers-that-be.”

“But that is not democracy. That is tyranny.” 

“Who told you there is a universal model of democracy?”

“There are principles.” 

“I know. Take the Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC) founded by countryman Senator Seriake Dickson. The party is now the beautiful bride. That is why Peter Obi and Dr Kwankwaso left the ADC and ran there.”

“Wike says Peter Obi is a food-is-ready politician! He will run to any party that others have worked hard to build.” 

“Don’t mind him. They are all the same. What I am saying is that for you to join the NDC, you have to go to Seriake Dickson’s house. To get an expression of interest form, you also have to go to his house. Major meetings are also held in his house, except may be the party’s convention and that must have been due to reasons of space. That too is democracy. And look at Wike. He gave a directive to events owners and hoteliers in Abuja not to allow any “illegal political groups” to use their premises, otherwise their licenses and land titles will be revoked. The David Mark faction of the ADC fought back but the Turaki faction of the PDP ended up holding their event at an open field. I guess that too is democracy.” 

“No, that is against the principles of fair play and equal access. But what do you think will happen now?”

“To be honest, I see a lot of confusion. So much uncertainty. Out of 22 registered political parties, only 11 have announced their Presidential candidates. I doubt if anyone has made any submissions to INEC 

by the deadline of May 30.  The deadline for moving from one political party to the other was set at May 10. Long after that deadline, we have now seen politicians moving from one party to the other.  Babachir Lawal for example has dumped the ADC. Senator Ovie Omo-Agege has moved out of the APC in protest to join the NDC.”

“I believe this is because of the two conflicting judgements in the Federal High Court. Abuja Division. Youth Party vs INEC by Justice Mohammed Umar and SDP vs INEC by Justice James Omotoso. INEC has since gone to the Court of Appeal and has applied for a stay of execution. Meanwhile, everything is in abeyance. Even the lawyers are taking one side or the other, offering conflicting interpretations.”

“Whether we like it or not, Nigeria’s 2027 general elections will be determined by the courts, not by the voters. Look at the confusion in the parties, especially the ADC which has three factions, three Presidential candidates – the Nafiu Bala Gombe faction with Chris Uba, the Kachikwu faction with Dumebi Kachikwu and the David Mark-led faction with Atiku Abubakar. Then the PDP with two factions, two Presidential candidates – the Wike faction with Senator Sandy Onor and the Kabiru Turaki faction with President Goodluck Jonathan.” 

“I don’t even understand why President Jonathan will allow anybody to drag him into this state of confusion. He is an international statesman. He is a man of stature, widely respected locally and internationally. He should stay above partisan politics.” 

“Wike says nobody drags anybody into politics. It is only when you show interest that people will come and offer you what they think you want.”

“The way you keep quoting Wike this, Wike that, I hope there is nothing.  You better don’t waste your time. Wike no send anybody oh. But I agree with you on President Jonathan. He is legally eligible, constitutionally and by all means as recently decided by the Federal High Court of Justice Peter Lifu. But it is not advisable for him to get involved in the PDP crisis. There are two Federal High Court cases in contention: the Court of Justice Uche Agomoh in the Ibadan Division, and the court of Justice Joyce Abdulmalik at the Abuja Division on the basis of which INEC recognized the Wike faction. Wike served President Jonathan as Minister of State over 10 years ago. No. No. No. He cannot be seen to be dragging anything with his own subordinates. He is too distinguished for that.” 

“But in the United States, President Trump left office and he still came back and was re-elected. In Ghana, President Mahama left and returned.”

“The situations are not so similar. President Tinubu vs President Jonathan. It will look too messy. It will be too complicated. There is also the constraint of time. We are just about seven months to the elections. Not enough time to mobilize.”

“I think that there is even more than enough time. With the right momentum, 24 hours is a long time in politics. I imagine that with the seven months gap ahead, many politicians will even run out of cash. Many will sell their grandparents homes to keep up with the unrelenting pressure of campaigns and politicking. I even hear that it is Tinubu sponsoring Jonathan. But if I were President Jonathan, and I want to dare everything, I will choose a man like Nasir El-Rufai as my running mate.”

“Stop making suggestions that will not work and do not make sense. Why would President Jonathan want to dare everything? He is not that kind of person. He will not do anything to disorient the country because of personal ambition. He is a leader, not a food-is-ready politician.” 

“Then let him issue a strongly worded statement to dissociate himself from partisan politics. No, thank you are three simple words in English. Let him come and say that he is not running for office in 2027.”

“Okay then, let us just sit down and look. But by the way, did you go to Ijebu Ode for the Ojude Oba after Sallah?”

  “No. But I followed everything on social media. Very impressive as usual. The colour. The Equestrian displays, the pageantry and the paraphernalia, even in the absence of the Awujale. I like the fact that the festival is community-based and family-based as well and many families stood up to be counted: the Adesoyes, the Kukus, the Adeshiles, the Ashirus, and there was enough space for the traditional societies, the Regberegbes to promote Ijebu nationalism. The good thing is that other Ijebu communities are beginning to have similar celebrations: in Ososa, Ijebu Igbo, and Ago-Iwoye for example. Nigerians have a way of stealing laughter from the jaws of despair. Think of the Durbar in Ilorin and the Bariki Sallah celebration in Bida All good.” 

“I also enjoyed the Ojude Oba, I liked seeing the King of Steeze, Farooq Oreagba and his son in action. But what I could not figure out was one woman who showed up this year, Toyin Olushile, whom they called the Queen of Steeze, all the way from New York City. She had a big tobacco pipe in her mouth and she was puffing smoke into the air like a locomotive train.  I did not find that funny. The Ojude Oba should not be used to promote smoking of any type. There are children involved and they are watching.” 

“Well, it was all part of the show. But talking about children, this past weekend was a sad one for me.” 

“Me too.  I watched the video of Mrs Alamu pleading for help, from captivity, and my heart sank. I saw her husband, a Professor, kneeling down and pleading with the Oyo State Government to do something to rescue all the 46 children and teachers in captivity, and I felt for him. In Borno state, Askira Uba Local Government, 45 students were also abducted. Same day, May 15, in the same coordinated fashion. Something sinister is happening.”

“Governor Seyi Makinde has tried. He went to the community to empathise with the people. The Federal Government has also sent a delegation. What I do not understand is why the state and the Federal Government had to respond separately. They could have co-ordinated their efforts. Nobody should play partisan politics with human lives. Governor Makinde went to the community on Saturday. The Federal Government delegation showed up on Sunday in a helicopter. The politics was too obvious.” 

“Yes. Both the states and the Federal Government should always work together. Human lives are at stake in Oyo, in Borno and other parts of the country.” 

“I really couldn’t enjoy the UCL Champions League final.”

“Forget about Champions League. The Super Eagles were playing in the Unity Cup finals against Jamaica at the Valley Stadium in London, the same day. They defeated Jamaica, 4 -0. You are here talking about Arsenal and PSG.”  

“Congratulations to the Super Eagles. Gunners ForEver!”

“How about Enugu Rangers?”.

“Rangerrs. Who are they?” 

“They won the Nigerian Football League.”

“Oh. Sorry. Never heard of them.” 

“Of course”.  

 

 

 

   

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Prominent Nigerian Lawyer, Bamidele Aturu, Passes @ 49

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Nigeria, Wednesday evening lost a fearless and fiery human rights lawyer, Bamidele Aturu.

Aturu died at 49 following a brief illness, according to his bosom friend, Olarenwaju Suraju. He died in Lagos.

Aturu was popular for his criticism of government's policies especially where such policies do not meet the expectations of the people.

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