By Dakuku Peterside

When a policy fails to factor in public response to its benefits and drawbacks, success takes the backseat. Ignoring public behaviour often results in poor implementation and unintended consequences. 

In Nigeria, a nation grappling with complex and diverse security challenges, the limitations of centralised policing have become glaringly evident.

Rising crime rates, from terrorism and banditry to cybercrime and kidnapping, expose the inadequacies of the current federal system. The call for state police is not just a matter of political discourse; it is a necessary step toward securing the lives and property of Nigerians.

This proposal has gained unprecedented traction across regional and political divides, signalling that the time is ripe for this crucial reform.

The urgency of decentralising policing by introducing state police could provide the much-needed local focus to counter insecurity while fostering accountability and community trust. This vision aligns with global best practices and offers hope for a safer and more prosperous Nigeria, where localised and specialised law enforcement can effectively address the diverse security needs of the population.

Throughout history, nations have recognised the need for adaptable and localised law enforcement structures. In the early 20th century, the United States established state police forces to address rising crime and extend law enforcement beyond the capabilities of local authorities. The Pennsylvania State Police, formed in 1905, became the first uniformed state law enforcement agency in the U.S., designed to handle challenges that local sheriffs and municipal officers could not adequately address. This included labour unrest in coal mines and maintaining order in rural areas without sufficient local law enforcement. Over time, state police forces such as the Texas Rangers and California Highway Patrol expanded their scope, dealing with issues from highway safety to organised crime. These forces were pivotal in ensuring law enforcement matched the complexities of an industrialising and urbanising society.

The U.S. experience provides a critical lesson for Nigeria: decentralisation enhances law enforcement’s ability to respond to local needs. For instance, during the Prohibition era, state police units were instrumental in curbing illicit alcohol trade in their jurisdictions, a task federal authorities alone needed help to handle effectively. Similarly, the adaptability of state police allowed them to pioneer specialised units, such as cybercrime task forces in recent decades, which have become crucial in tackling modern criminal activities.

 Nigeria’s security challenges, including insurgencies in the North and urban crimes in Lagos and Abuja, could greatly benefit from similar localised and specialised approaches. For instance, a state police unit in Lagos could prioritise urban crimes such as theft and traffic-related offences, while a unit in Borno might focus on counterterrorism efforts against Boko Haram insurgents. This targeted approach could lead to more effective solutions than a one-size-fits-all federal system.

Globally, decentralised policing systems offer valuable lessons. Countries like Canada, India, and South Africa demonstrate how local accountability and responsiveness enhance security. Canada’s provincial police forces work collaboratively with municipal and federal agencies to address diverse security needs. In India, state police forces are indispensable in combating localised crimes and maintaining law and order, especially in states with unique cultural and geographical contexts.

For example, Maharashtra’s state police in India have implemented technology-driven initiatives to combat cybercrime, which would be impossible under a rigid centralised system. These systems are bolstered by robust oversight mechanisms to prevent misuse, ensuring their effectiveness and integrity. Nigeria can draw inspiration from these examples, adapting these practices to suit its unique challenges. This global perspective further strengthens the argument for the state police proposal in Nigeria.

The current structure of Nigeria’s federal police reveals its limitations. With approximately 370,000 officers, the police-citizen ratio is about 1:650, significantly higher than the UN-recommended ratio of 1:450. This shortfall is glaring in a nation of over 220 million people, where security challenges vary dramatically across geopolitical zones. The Inspector-General of Police has highlighted the need for an additional 190,000 personnel, yet estimates suggest that Nigeria requires up to 2.5 million officers for effective policing. Over the past decade, crime rates have surged by over 30%, with kidnapping, banditry, terrorism, and cybercrime becoming increasingly sophisticated and prevalent. In 2022 alone, there were over 3,500 reported kidnapping incidents nationwide, underlining the urgent need for localised and agile policing responses. The introduction of state police could help address this issue by allowing for a more targeted allocation of resources based on regional security needs, potentially improving the police-citizen ratio and overall security.

Support for state police has grown significantly among policymakers, security experts, and civil society groups. A growing consensus is that decentralising policing would empower local authorities and enhance operational efficiency. Even state governors from historically divided northern and southern regions have united in supporting state police. One significant highlight of the 147th National Economic Council (NEC) is a new consensus by all state governments on establishing state police. However, this initiative requires a more robust but speedy engagement to align it with the local cultural context, ensuring that it is appreciated and supported by the citizens it aims to serve. Citizen engagement is not just a formality, but a crucial step to ensure public understanding and support for the state police proposal.

Building trust between state police and local communities is a crucial advantage of this reform. Effective local policing initiatives can foster relationships that build trust and cooperation, especially in Nigeria, where the trust deficit is high. Trust is an essential component of crime fighting. Innovative local community-police liaison arrangements and other community-focused programs can strengthen these ties, creating an environment of mutual respect and collaboration. When police officers understand their communities’ cultural and societal dynamics, they are better equipped to address security challenges and maintain peace. The active participation and trust of the Nigerian public in this reform process are crucial for its success.

Concerns about the potential misuse of state police for political purposes are valid but can be systematically addressed. Abuse of State Independent Electoral Commissions (SIEC) by state governors is often cited. This is another reason why extensive and targeted citizen engagement is key before putting the law in place. Safeguards must be designed and implemented to prevent governors from exploiting state police for political and electoral manipulation purposes, personal gain, or to feed their authoritarian appetite.

Laws prohibiting state police involvement in electoral matters and empowering oversight bodies can ensure neutrality. Clear delineation of the roles and responsibilities of state and federal police will also be essential to avoid jurisdictional conflicts. Establishing a framework for collaboration and information-sharing between the two levels of law enforcement will further enhance effectiveness. However, these measures will require careful planning and execution to ensure their efficacy and address potential challenges such as resistance to change and extensive training and capacity building.

Independent regulatory bodies are critical to ensuring accountability and preventing abuse. A State Police Security Commission (SPSC), comprising representatives from civil society, established professional bodies, legal experts, and public security professionals, could oversee state police operations. Regular audits and public reporting ensure transparency. Additionally, a robust judiciary is essential to protect citizens from potential abuses. Judicial reforms that enhance the independence and efficiency of courts would be vital in supporting this transition. For instance, in Canada, provincial ombudspersons have played pivotal roles in monitoring police misconduct, providing Nigeria with a possible blueprint for ensuring accountability.

Strengthening relationships between police and communities through genuine engagement and collaborative problem-solving must remain a priority. Establishing community advisory boards can provide platforms for dialogue and accountability. Actionable trust-building initiatives, such as open-door policies and  periodic town hall meetings, should replace superficial slogans like “Police is your friend.”

Addressing insecurity also requires holistic solutions. Investments in education, healthcare, and youth empowerment are essential for tackling the root causes of crime. Integrating vocational training and social services into crime prevention strategies would complement policing reforms, creating a foundation for sustainable security. For example, a similar approach in India’s Kerala state led to a 40% reduction in youth crime over a decade.

Introducing state police in Nigeria represents a transformative opportunity to address the nation’s security crisis. While challenges are inevitable, they should not deter progress. Beginning the decentralisation process will allow for the identification and resolution of potential issues as they arise. The widespread consensus around reforming Nigeria’s policing architecture underscores the urgency of this change. With proper safeguards, political will, and public support, state police can become a cornerstone of a more secure, equitable, and prosperous Nigeria.

A prerequisite is the government’s robust public engagement and orientation programme to get the complete buy-in of all stakeholders, including the National Assembly, the state assembly and the masses. The time to act is now, and this reform must be embraced as a step toward a brighter and safer future for all Nigerians. Establishing state police would signify a shift in policy and a bold reimagining of Nigeria’s approach to security—one that prioritises the people, respects regional diversity, and lays the foundation for sustainable peace and progress.

By Farooq Kperogi

As a media scholar who engages with Nigeria’s media landscape from the safe yet impassioned perch of the diaspora, I have found 2024 to be particularly illuminating in the annals of government-media relations. It presented a study in tension, turmoil, and eventual catharsis.

If the media is society’s mirror, then its cracks often reveal not just distortions but deeper fissures in the polity it reflects.

And nowhere was this more evident than in the July 4 report by Daily Trust, which set the Nigerian public sphere ablaze with moral indignation and, in a twist befitting a Greek tragedy, threatened lives.

The Daily Trust report in question bore the sensational headline: “LGBT: Nigeria Signs $150 Billion Samoa Deal.

” In one fell swoop, it conjured a narrative wherein the Bola Ahmed Tinubu administration had purportedly traded Nigeria’s moral sanctity for European coffers flush with foreign currency. It was a claim unburdened by evidence but rich with emotional currency.

In its aftermath, it left ripples of moral panic, social turbulence, and political fallout, especially in the Muslim North where issues bordering on religious morality inflame our passions and mentally transport us to celestial realms.

Clerics swiftly mobilized their pulpits and invoked ominous maledictions. Their invocations of divine ire resonated not only within mosques but deep into the social sinews of a people already hampered by mistrust.

Prominent Northerners in the Tinubu administration became objects of incendiary wrath, targets of whispered curses and objects of overt death threats. Family members became collateral damage in this frenzy.

As I pointed out in my July 6, 2024, column titled “LGBTQ Storm in $150 Billion Samoa Deal Teacup,” what Daily Trust did exemplified the literary and journalistic sin of circular reporting, a rhetorical sleight-of-hand where unsuspecting people are fed with false information, made to spout it back, which then gets established as the source of the information.

Alex Haley’s Roots is one of the most prominent examples of circular reporting. Haley’s wildly celebrated epic, initially marketed as historical truth about the life of Kunta Kinte, an 18th-century Mandinka who was captured and sold into slavery in America, was later unmasked as a potpourri of embellished fiction and poorly-sourced “facts.”

In his eagerness to find validation, Haley planted narratives into the mouths of griots in the Gambia, only to repackage their guided, predetermined responses as original confirmation of his fabricated story.

In a parallel act, Daily Trust ignited outrage by feeding its sources erroneous claims about the Samoa Agreement, then turned their emotionally charged responses into a “story”—a journalistic ouroboros swallowing its own tail.

Yet unlike Haley’s indulgence in narrative fiction, Daily Trust’s misstep wasn’t victimless. It carried real and immediate consequences: Vice President Kashim Shettima, the son of a revered Maiduguri Islamic scholar, and Nuhu Ribadu, scion of a distinguished Adamawa family with deep Islamic roots, became unwilling lightning rods for holy vitriol.

Minister of Information Mohammed Idris, himself a bridge between Nupe and Fulani Muslim cultures, found himself straddling a tempest from all corners. All northern Muslims in the Tinubu administration became objects of unappeasable fury.

The Minister’s Delicate Maneuver

Confronted with this escalating storm, Information Minister Mohammed Idris exhibited both restraint and strategic acumen. It would have been easy, even tempting, to unleash the full punitive might of the state upon Daily Trust.

After all, if recent history is any guide, Nigerian courts beckon eagerly to governments eager for retribution. Yet Idris wisely chose not to enter the arena of litigation, where victors are often the defeated in the court of public opinion. To sue would have been to martyr the newspaper, inflame its supporters, and escalate the matter beyond the bounds of reason.

Instead, Idris turned to a tool of elegant resolve: the National Media Complaints Commission (NMCC), Nigeria’s fledgling experiment in self-regulation. Incidentally, it is a forum that was conceived, in a delicious twist of fate, by none other than Idris himself (as publisher of Blueprint, an Abuja-based daily) alongside Media Trust’s Chairman, Malam Kabiru Yusuf.

Together, in the more harmonious days of 2021, after Yusuf’s and Idris’ December 2020 election as chairman and general secretary respectively of the Newspapers Publishers Association of Nigeria (NPAN), they planted the seeds of this Ombudsman, a voluntary watchdog designed to enforce media ethics with an invisible hand.

By July 8, Idris’ ministry formally petitioned the NMCC, requesting an inquiry into Daily Trust’s reckless reportorial infraction that endangered the lives of people in government. It demanded a retraction, an apology, and stricter editorial safeguards against future transgressions.

The NMCC, under the leadership of Emeka Izeze, former MD of the Guardian and widely admired figure in Nigerian journalism, undertook its task with measured diligence. On September 23, the commission issued a 19-page report that cut through the fog of misinformation.

The commission found that although earlier versions of the Samoa Agreement did include provisions for the protection of sexual minorities and marginal gender identities (which many countries, including Nigeria, had rejected), the final 403-page agreement that Nigeria signed did not require any commitments on the part of countries that signed the agreement to codify LGBTQ rights in their law books.

The NMCC’s findings were refreshingly even-handed: while Daily Trust was found guilty of violating Article 2.1 of the Revised Code of Journalism Ethics—a clause that enshrines accuracy as the bedrock of reporting—the commission gently admonished the government for its opacity surrounding the Samoa Agreement. Transparency, it suggested, would have preempted much of the hysteria.

Thus, the judgment did more than hold a newspaper accountable; it underlined an eternal truth about public trust: opacity begets speculation and speculation births chaos.

A Redemption through Humility

On October 2, 2024, Daily Trust rose to the moment with an unreserved apology: “We accept the verdict of the NMCC without equivocation… We apologize to the Federal Government for any inconvenience the story might have caused.”

In the apology, Daily Trust commended the “thorough and professional approach” of the National Media Complaints Commission (NMCC) and expressed gratitude to Information Minister Mohammed Idris “for his professional and democratic approach to this incident.”

In its humility, Daily Trust not only mended fences with its readership but also fortified its credibility. Self-correction is not a weakness but the wellspring of enduring strength.

After all, as the New York Times demonstrated when it corrected a 161-year-old error in 2014, the integrity of any news organization lies not in its infallibility but in its courage to admit when it stumbles. To err may be human, but to apologize—and to do so with grace—is the hallmark of institutional maturity.

Lessons Learned: Self-Regulation as Democratic Vigilance

This episode is a timely moral tale for Nigeria’s democracy and media ecosystem. For too long, the relationship between Nigerian governments and the media has oscillated between adversarial hostility and co-opted complicity.

This case reveals the potential for a middle path, that is, a relationship characterized by accountability without authoritarianism, and freedom tempered by responsibility.

The NMCC’s successful arbitration places Nigeria alongside countries like the United Kingdom, where the Independent Press Standards Organisation (IPSO) maintains order in the wake of scandal; Germany, where the Deutscher Presserat enforces rigor; South Africa, whose Press Council safeguards post-apartheid press freedoms; and several other examples.

As Thomas Jefferson once wrote, “The only security of all is in a free press.” But press freedom, like all freedoms, carries obligations—chief among them the pursuit of truth. To borrow Edmund Burke’s metaphor of the Fourth Estate, if journalists sit atop their watchtower as society’s sentinels, they must keep their eyes unclouded by haste, bias, or error.

In the final analysis, both Minister Idris and Daily Trust deserve commendation for their conduct. The minister’s refusal to wield the bludgeon of state power speaks to his understanding of democracy’s delicate balance.

Daily Trust’s forthright apology reaffirms its place as an honorable newspaper committed to ethical journalism, even when it falters like we all do.

Errors, after all, are the cracked kegs of palm wine through which wisdom occasionally trickles. It is what we do with the lessons—how we patch the cracks and safeguard against future spills—that determines whether we remain custodians of public trust or mere peddlers of ink-stained chaos.

This case tells us that the relationship between the government and the media need not always be a drumbeat of conflict; it can, when guided by mechanisms like the NMCC, achieve the harmony of a well-tuned orchestra where every note serves the greater good of truth, transparency, and trust.

In 2024, Nigeria glimpsed that harmony.

By Festus Adedayo

This past Monday, Nigeria’s Vice President, Kashim Shettima, held the fèèrè (flute) and blew it admirably. However, bystanders listening to the rhythm of his flute didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Moyo Okediji, Assistant Professor of Art at Wellesley College, Massachusetts, in his “Art of the Yoruba” Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies, (Vol.

23, No. 2) described the flute held by Shettima as a symbol of the trickster god Esu, also known as the divinity of the crossroads. According to Okediji, Esu was so powerful that he could help or hinder the craft and life of man. The fere was so influential in traditional Africa that it was equally a symbol of royal might.

If you went to the palace of the Alaafin of Oyo during the reign of late Oba Lamidi Olayiwola Adeyemi 111, as you approached the palace court, traditional flutists demonstrated their craft in magnificent candour. As they blew the flute, their eyes popped out like an ostrich’s, cheeks inflated like the rotund belly of a toad.

It is the same with drums. Apart from the rhythm they provide, drums are communicative instruments. So, while blowing the flute and beating drums, the crafters are engaged in the powerful medium of communication. Oba Adeyemi once told me that, shortly after the Ooni of Ife, Oba Enitan Ogunwusi, was enthroned, he, Alaafin was with the Ooni at an event in Ile-Ife. Palace drummers, continuing the decades-long tiff between Oba Adeyemi and Ogunwusi’s predecessor, Oba Okunade Sijuwade, suddenly changed the tone of their drumming.

They then began to drum out abusive messages to Alaafin with each descent of their sticks on the drum. Being ardent in the mastery of language of drums, Alaafin told me he immediately called the attention of Oba Ogunwusi to it. Ooni was apparently unschooled in drum language, and couldn’t penetrate the rain of expletives. “Kìlò fún awon onílù re” – warn your drummers – he told me he said to the Ooni to cease the tirades or he would storm out of the occasion.

The art and craft of flutists however arrest the attention of the audience who marvel at the beauty oozing out of their mouth. So, if a flutist is unfortunate to suffer from goiter, what the Yoruba call gègè, at the time he is blowing it, it will be double jeopardy for him. Goiter is an irregular growth at the thyroid gland which, as a result of its enlargement, makes its sufferer present with a big swelling on the neck. So, Yoruba say, the King who employed Onígègé– goiter patient – as a flutist will have a large audience of scorners watching his craft. In which case, the object to watch by the audience will be two – the flutist’s enlarged neck and the rhythm that comes out of the flute.

British-born Nigerian UK Conservative Party Leader, Kemi Adegoke, otherwise known as Kemi Badenoch, has been in the eye of the storm for her unflattering comments about Nigeria. Kemi became British as a result of her birth in 1980 at St. Teresa’s Private Hospital in London. Her professor of physiology mother, who taught at the University of Lagos and in America, had brought her pregnancy for birth in the UK on January 2 of that year before the British Nationality Act 1981 abolished the automatic birthright citizenship in England. She got married to Hamish, British banker. Since her climb up the ladder of British politics, Kemi has regaled Britons with the “very tough upbringing” she had in Nigeria, especially how it was enveloped by fear and insecurity.

She had said, “This is my country. I don’t want it to become like the place I ran away from. I grew up in Nigeria, and I saw firsthand what happens when politicians are in it for themselves, when they use public money as their private piggy banks, when they pollute the whole political atmosphere with their failure to serve others… I saw poverty and broken dreams. I came to Britain to make my way in a country where hard work and honest endeavour can take you anywhere. I grew up in a place where fear was everywhere.  You cannot understand it unless you’ve lived it. Triple-checking that all the doors and windows are locked, waking up in the night at every sound, listening as you hear your neighbours scream as they are being burgled and beaten, wondering if your home would be the next.”

Apart from insecurity, Badenoch has consistently described Nigeria as a country plagued by corruption. Her family was said to have resided in the harsh middle-class neighbourhood of Surulere in Lagos, while she schooled at the Lagos International School.

But, like an obstinate or deaf King’s flutist afflicted with onígègé, Shettima didn’t care about the embarrassing swelling on his neck. In the process, both his message and the affliction on his neck became a laughing stock for the global audience. During a speech on migration in Abuja last week, Shettima was quoted to have said that the Bola Tinubu government was “proud” of Badenoch, “in spite of her efforts at denigrating her nation of origin.” However, Shettima said, “She is entitled to her own opinions; she has even every right to remove the ‘Kemi’ from her name but that does not underscore the fact that the greatest black nation on earth is the nation called Nigeria.” Continuing, the VP compared Badenoch’s unpatriotic treatment of her country of birth to that of Rishi Sunak, her predecessor, who became UK’s first Prime Minister of Indian heritage and noted that, Sunak was that “brilliant young man” who “never denigrated his nation of ancestry”.

Badenoch’s office did not allow the melody from the “Onígègé onifere” – the flutist with goiter – to subside. It responded accordingly.” She (Badenoch) is the leader of the opposition and she is very proud of her leadership of the opposition in this country,” her spokesman told reporters. “She tells the truth. She tells it like it is. She is not going to couch her words.”

What we should ask Shettima and people of his persuasion is, was Badenoch wrong because she is Nigerian-born or she was wrong by the certitude or otherwise of her claim? We must get his beef right. In other words, is Badenoch’s reminiscing a painful recount and frustration with the stagnation of her country of birth, or a mere demonization? Why didn’t she say this about Ghana? It is simply because she has no affinity with the Kwame Nkrumah country. Why would Badenoch take pleasure in the destruction of her fatherland? Let us even agree that those snide comments were meant to demonize; are the comments true about Nigeria? If they are true, should they be glossed over or spoken of, peradventure, the runners of Nigeria, who can be typecast as in the same trove with the Ifeoma Okoye novel’s title, Men Without Ears, (1984) can turn a new leaf?

The only issue I have with Kemi is her excessive patronizing of the British. While she may be British, she is not English. People have cited John Fashanu, the British footballer’s travails in the hands of the British press when he landed in trouble. It reminds me of Ilorin Dadakuada music exponent, Odolaye Aremu, who sang about the “Adìye òpìpí”, a rare species of featherless hen which looks like the hawk. It came into the world with scant feathers. In a moment when the Opipi hen forgot herself and identity, she thought herself to be hawk, until she was torn into pieces by this carnivorous bird.

Today, there are two schools of thought on the travails Nigeria is grappling with. None of them can be considered less patriotic than the other. While one believes in the methodology of alarm for redemption and shaming the devil, the other subscribes to the tactic of domesticating the rot (k’á se egbò l’égbò ilé). In other words, whilst both agree that there is a cancerous sore on the leg of Nigeria, one believes finding remedy should be domesticated, while the other says remedy should be escalated to the whole world. At the intersection where they both meet, however, there is an agreement that their country is the proverbial sickly child. Should its condition be broadcast so that intervention could come, perhaps off-coast or, the condition be lidded, in which case, it could worsen and the child dies?

Whether you are a Nigerian living in Nigeria, outside its shores, a friend of Nigeria or observant of Nigeria from afar, the truth is that Nigeria isn’t really a good story. Tomes of publications have been reeled out about our country’s journey into its present stasis. Political scientists, historians and anthropologists have struggled to locate the gene of destruction inside the pod of Nigeria that is responsible for its poor harvest. One of the most apt capturing of the Nigerian situation was given by foremost political scientist, Eghosa Osaghae who, as title of his book, called it a Crippled Giant. Whenever I remember Professor Osaghae’s descriptive book title, I remember a line in the song of Ayinla Omowura, Yoruba Apala music songster. He sang, “ijó ńbe nínú aro, esè ni ò jé,” meaning that dance is innate within the bones of the crippled but they are disenabled by wobbly feet. Very many attempts to explain Nigeria have failed. Nigeria takes one step forward, ten steps backwards.

Let us even confine ourselves to the period between 1999 and now. For decades before military handover of power, Nigerians wasted blood, flesh, resources and hope believing that once the “enemy” – the military – retired into the barracks, an end had come to the underdevelopment of their country. However, 25 years down the ladder, we have lived ruinous years. The period is comparable to an attack by termites. Their comparison with termites here is instructive. Termites, over the centuries, are one of the greatest enemies of man. Wherever they strike, their presence is concealed and undetected, until they have visited the most rapacious and severest damage on timbers and woods necessary for man’s use. As the devastation goes on, while man sees a normal thin exterior layer of wood, at discovery, it is almost always too late to reverse the colossal ruins.

So, let us do a breakdown of Badenoch’s allegations. Is Nigeria broken? I recently saw a book entitled Leaders Eat Last written by Simon Sinek. It contains nuggets on how leaders, who are the highest ranking officers, should “be the last to fix their plate at mealtime in order to ensure the people in their command were fed and catered for.”  Is that what Nigerian leaders/politicians do as compared to other saner climes? Do our presidents, ministers, governors, legislators and their allies, since 1999, as alleged by Kemi, turn public money into private piggy bank? Is an Accountant General of the Federation on trial for stealing N109 billion? Did a public servant build 753 duplexes in Abuja? Do we know what job Bola Tinubu has done between 1999 and now that makes him one of the richest Nigerians alive? Is our judiciary corrupt, fantastically corrupt, a la David Cameron? Have Nigerian leaders failed in the last 25 years? Is our country plagued by corruption? Isn’t the Nigerian school so badly run that students carry chairs to school? Should Britain be a dormitory for residue of the failure of Nigerian leaders? Is everything broken in Nigeria?

It will be difficult not to answer the above posers made by Kemi in the affirmative. Only recently, David Adeleke, a.k.a. Davido, the singing sensation, courted the ire of those who are too blind to see the Nigerian situation. He, too, had thrown mud (ògúlùtu) at runners of Nigeria from far away in the United States. The Tinubu government is all movement and no motion, what in street parlance is called “efisi”. While Sinek tells us that leaders eat last, Tinubu and his minions are growing rotund cheeks while this Christmas, Nigerians face the most barren festivity ever. The ruining gang has almost finished the food on the dining table while even crumbs are not left for the ordinary people.

Whilst this column was going to bed, Badenoch’s reply to Shettima’s tirade and her late father, Femi Adegoke’s interview with the BBC Yoruba, surfaced on social media. Kemi had been quoted to have said, “I am Yoruba: I have nothing in common with the people from the north of the country, the Boko Haram where Islamism is.” If you listened to the elderly Adegoke’s interview, you will understand why Kemi’s bluntness and boldness are an inherited gene. In the interview, apparently conducted before 2022, the year of Adegoke’s passage, he said anyone who saw Tinubu becoming Nigeria’s president with the hope that he would right wrongs against the Yoruba, needed their head examined. In very sharp, deep Yoruba, Adegoke said the idea behind Tinubu’s “Yoruba” presidency was “òrò òpònú gbáà, tí kò m’ógbón wá” – it is a brainless argument. He based this on Tinubu’s silence as his kin were kidnapped and murdered by Fulani herdsmen whilst he mouthed the shibboleth of “gedegbe l’Èkó wà” – Lagos is non-aligned – all because of Lagos’ wealth. Adegoke believed that the 1999 constitution must be abolished if Nigeria wants to make any progress.

Again, Kemi, Adegoke’s daughter, has come under visceral attacks for her latest remarks. As usual, that comment is perceived on social media from an ethnic filter. Igbo compare her with the novelist, Chimamanda Adichie and Hausa/Fulani see her comment as the usual superiority complex of the Yoruba. An examination of it will show that every word Kemi uttered was in line with her avant-garde opposition role in the British parliament and reflects her usual down-to-earthness. Is Kemi Yoruba as she claimed? Very correct! Does she have anything in common with any other part of Nigeria? Certainly, not! Should she have? Yes. Today, many Yoruba, rightly or wrongly, believe that “the Gambari” is the axis of evil in Nigeria.

Kemi belongs to that persuasion. Is the north the epicentre of many of Nigeria’s current challenges, including Boko Haram and out-of-school children, the latter which gave birth to the former and the former which manifested from the Vice President’s home state, Borno State in 1999, especially under Shettima’s leader, Ali Modu Sheriff? Yes. Nigeria spends a considerable part of her budget fighting insecurity, almost 80 per cent of which is located in the north. So, should Kemi have couched her words so as to patronize the rulers of Nigeria? Certainly, not! If she did, she would not be an Adegoke’s daughter, the man whose friends nicknamed “Fariga” – disputation.

It is obvious that Shettima is the orange which attracted bystanders to pummel its mother, the orange tree, with stones and woods (omo osàn tíí kó póńpó bá ìyá è). He is also the King who employed the services of a flutist afflicted with goitre to sing his praise. The lesson therein is that challenged flutists should not blow the flute. Shettima’s Nigeria is the flutist’s goitre that attracts mockery of the world. Let Shettima and his boss remove the goitre from Nigeria’s neck by doing right with the power given them.

To Kemi and her deification of the British system: Since she affirmed she is Yoruba, I enjoin her to listen to the counsel of her people to the “Adìye òpìpí”. Because she has no feathers which help hens to fertilize their eggs, keeping such eggs warm and thereby producing offspring, Yoruba warn the Adìye òpìpí to lay controllable eggs which her scant feathers can fertilize. This is to enable her be a mother like other hens. I hope Kemi understands this wisdom of her forefathers.