Opinion
My journey, by Kingsley Moghalu
As a young man out of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (Enugu Campus) in the mid-80s, I consciously sought and acquired experience that would position me for leadership on the world stage and in my country.
First I did my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) assignment as a Legal Officer at Shell Nigeria HQ in Lagos.
First class global multinational. Dominant in Nigeria’s petroleum industry. I worked hard as a “Corper” and was kept very professionally busy by my supervisors Dr. V.O. Achimu the Company Secretary and Head of Legal, and Mrs. Efe Omole, a senior corporate lawyer in Shell.
Then I joined Newswatch, founded by Nigeria’s most influential journalists of that era, the quartet Dele Giwa, Ray Ekpu, Dan Agbese, and Yakubu Mohammed, as its general counsel. In media, ’twas THE PLACE.
To further internationalize my CV, and doubling as a lawyer/journalist, I became a special correspondent for influential foreign newspapers and magazines of the era such as South magazine, Christian Science Monitor, and Africa News (today’s AllAfrica Global Media). But I wanted, as I put it on my CV as my goal, “a career of distinction in international affairs”.
Possibly in the Nigerian Foreign Service, following the footsteps of my now-deceased dad, but preferably in an international organization like the United Nations, Commonwealth Secretariat, or in the Organization of African Unity (now African Union ). That meant, at the very least, getting a master’s degree. From where? I thought it through, and had been advised by my own research and by mentors that one of the best moves for such a career was to obtain a master’s from the prestigious Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University in Massachusetts, USA.
I applied while working at Newswatch. I was admitted in 1990, but could not afford the $25,000 tuition fee. But I was determined. I deferred the admission by one year, and started looking for money. All the rich businessmen I approached turned me down.
Frustrated, I wrote to Prof. Bolaji Akinyemi, immediate past Foreign Minister of Nigeria in the Ibrahim Babangida government. Akinyemi was an alumnus of The Fletcher School, having obtained his master’s degree there in 1966 and then gone on to Oxford University for his Ph.D.
He replied and gave me an appointment to see him (no email then, everything was by snail mail! so all this took several days!). I met him in his office then on Victoria Island, introduced myself and submitted my CV. He read it with interest, and was impressed.
“Well, young man”, he said, “I don’t have the kind of money that will enable me pay your fees, but I’m impressed you were admitted to The Fletcher School. I will write to the school and recommend you for some sort of support and let’s see how they respond”. I was relieved.
This “Big Man” did not know the struggling young man from Adam, but had given me audience and was actually trying to help. “God, I am in your hands” I prayed silently. He asked me to come back and take a copy of the letter he wrote. I did. In two short, powerfully constructed paragraphs of his letter addressed to Professor Jeswald Salacuse, Dean of The Fletcher School at the time, Akinyemi introduced me as “a future leader in Africa”, and said my impressive CV at the young age of 27 was an indicator of this assessment in his view. He then asked the school to consider me for financial support to enrol.
Two months later I received a letter from Fletcher awarding me the Joan Gillespie Fellowship for identified future leaders from India, Nigeria and Algeria. Now to get a visa and leave. Ray Ekpu, my boss at Newswatch, and Dr. Yemi Ogunbiyi, Managing Director of The Guardian at the time, introduced me to the United States Embassy in Nigeria.
The American Embassy was impressed with my admission to The Fletcher School , a training ground for many American and world leaders in diplomacy, politics, business, military and security affairs. The embassy asked me to send over my passport but not bother to come physically to their office in Victoria Island, Lagos. They stamped my student visa and on top of it, awarded me a travel grant that covered my air travel ticket to the US!
When I arrived at Tufts University, the world opened up. I worked hard to excel academically and survive financially, serving two professors as their research assistant and somewhat envious of the American students from wealthy homes who had credit cards given them by their parents and did not need to work.
From The Fletcher School I joined the UN, my dream career. I started as a junior Associate Officer and rose to the rank of Director and later served on a special assignment at the political rank of Under-Secretary-General. From conflict resolution and nation building assignments in Cambodia, at UN Headquarters in New York on the Angola, Rwanda and Somalia Desks under the supervision of Kofi Annan, back to the field in Croatia and later as Legal Adviser and Spokesman of the International Tribunal for Rwanda in Arusha, Tanzania, and then to the World Health Organization (WHO) in Geneva, Switzerland as Head of the Global Partnerships and Resource Mobilization Team at the $20 billion Global Fund in which I also played risk management roles, it was a versatile, satisfying and successful career.
In 2006 while I was based in Geneva with WHO, Secretary-General Kofi Annan appointed me a member of the high-level Redesign Panel on the UN Internal Justice System. Working at UN HQ in New York for six months with Mary Gaudron , our chairperson and an Australian Supreme Court Justice, Louise Otis, Canadian Appeals Court Judge, eminent Egyptian international lawyer Professor Ahmed El-Kosheri, and Diego Garcia Sayan, former Foreign Minister of Peru, we overhauled the internal dispute resolution (between staff and management), accountability and transparency framework governing the world body’s 60,000 staff around the world as a core component of management reform. The UN General Assembly ratified our recommendations and voted them into UN administrative law. It was a watershed moment in the history of internal UN governance.
While in Geneva, I enrolled in January 2004 as a part-time PH.D. candidate in International Relations at the London School of Economics (LSE). I wrote my 500-page doctoral dissertation in 12 months, shattering all previous records at the university, and graduated in October 2005 with a doctoral degree. In December 2008 I resigned from the UN after nearly 17 years and founded Sogato Strategies, a risk management consultancy in Geneva serving global multinationals seeking business opportunities in Africa.
This enjoyable experience of self-employment was suspended when I was appointed Deputy
Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria by President Umaru Yar’Adua of blessed memory, on the recommendation of then Governor Sanusi Lamido Sanusi, and confirmed by the Senate. The CBN was, and is a very powerful and consequential institution. This development, however, was a disruption of my earlier plans. But it was, I came to believe later, divinely ordered for reasons only God knows fully. It came out of a seemingly “by-chance” encounter with Sanusi at the World Economic Forum meeting in Cape Town, South Africa, where he proposed the idea, entirely of his own volition and unsolicited, of my returning home to Nigeria to serve as his deputy and head the CBN’s Financial System Stability (FSS) Directorate that would implement the extensive reform in the banking sector that he had in mind. (Sanusi was just roughly a week into his confirmation by the Senate as the CBN Governor at this time). He later ran his decision to recommend me to Yar’Adua by Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, then Managing Director of the World Bank, and she gave her strong agreement with it.
When I reported for duty at the CBN on November 6, 2009 after the Senate confirmed my appointment a week earlier on October 27 (my appointment had been announced in August by Segun Adeniyi, Spokesman for President Yar’Adua) I found several letters of congratulation waiting for me. One of the ones that meant the most to me was one from Prof. Akinyemi. “Dear Deputy Governor”, he wrote, “Need I say anything more? Congratulations”. That was it. Two sentences, harking back to our meeting and his intervention 19 years earlier in 1990.
I am proud to have served my country in such an important leadership role where I made contributions that reformed our financial sector and payments system, including the development and introduction of the Bank Verification Number (BVN). In the CBN Monetary Policy Committee, we progressively brought inflation down to a single-digit 8% by 2014.
After a five year tenure at the CBN, I was appointed a Professor on the faculty of The Fletcher School and taught the course Emerging Africa in the World Economy for two academic years. This was by courtesy of another helping hand: Admiral (Dr.) James Stavridis (Rtd), Dean of The Fletcher School and former Supreme Allied Commander of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), the military alliance of the Great Powers of the western world, who himself is also a Fletcher alum. It was an honor to have gone to school there; to be appointed a professor at this top global graduate school of international affairs was a double honor.
But while teaching at Tufts University from 2015-2017, my mind turned to the increasing poverty and insecurity at home in Nigeria. I began asking myself why I was in Boston developing the human capital of citizens of the United States, Japan, France, Canada, Ghana, Switzerland, etc when my country was clearly adrift. I made the decision to return home to run for President in 2019. The rest is recent history.
The morale of this story for young people is this: think beyond mere success to impact and consequence in whatever you do. Work hard, and be very strategic. I always aimed for the best of institutions in my career and did not settle for less. I know, the world today is very different, but it offers even more opportunities, and success has become more democratized with the age of the internet, globalization, and high technology. But the same principles apply.
All of this, and much else, are what I bring to my current aspiration: I want to help build a nation that will give our youth great opportunities in the 21st century.
We are all God’s children too, entitled to a place in the sun. Africa, and Nigeria, will truly rise one day! It’s always darkest .
Opinion
Spiritual Sabotage: Unmasking the merchant of Ayija and Co.’s betrayal in Igala’s political downfall
By Inah Boniface Ocholi
The chronicles of betrayal wear many garbs, but this one was embroidered with familiarity, stitched by hands that once swore allegiance to the Igala dream. Let the records be unsealed: it was not the hand of fate, nor the wiles of adversaries, nor the restive sleep of ancestors that shattered the Igala throne—it was the deliberate orchestration of sons who auctioned their own heritage beneath the dim lanterns of political expedience.
The merchant’s name requires neither chanting nor applause. He is known in hushed tones as the Merchant of Ayija—a man whose political gallop seemed messianic, yet whose actual mission, when unraveled, reeked of betrayal more pungent than market-day deceit. The Igala Nation, once girded with ancestral dignity and political relevance, now limps through history, clinging to fractured loyalties and perfidious smiles.
Lugard House, once a reachable dream, has become a haunted citadel—its gates slammed shut, not by strangers, but by brothers. How did the East, cradle of intellectual warriors and seasoned statesmen, come to this? The answer, bitter as unripe locust beans, lies in the silent handshakes, the coded meetings, the hushed transfers. Not in 2023 did this tragedy begin—it gestated in the womb of ambition long before.
The late Prince Abubakar Audu, may his name be honoured, in an attempt to preserve political purity, demoted Dr. Yakubu Ugwolawo. A decision that, though calculated, unleashed a storm of vengeance. Dr. Ugwolawo, wounded but unyielding, allegedly delivered over 400 delegate votes to Yahaya Bello. The deed was subtle, but its consequence seismic. Bello, initially a distant runner-up, became the recipient of destiny manipulated—not earned.
Then Prince Audu departed. In his passing, the East lost more than a candidate—it lost its compass. A shadow deal inked by the late James Ocholi with Alhaji Bello—promising a return of power to the East post-2015—faded into political myth. Bello, having been gifted the throne, became its unrepentant custodian. And the Igala dream? It dissolved like salt in the monsoon.
In 2019, heroes arose. Late Prof. Sheidu Ogah. Vice Admiral Usman Jibrin. General Patrick Akpa. Titans, armed not with tribal arrogance, but with national intellect. All disqualified. Not by incompetence, but by orchestration. It was not the enemy outside, but the saboteur within.
It was then the Merchant of Ayija emerged, cloaked in populism but carrying the ledger of betrayal. For a reported N3.5 billion, the future was battered. The Merchant and his cohort—Edward Onoja, the greenhorn deputymarshalled Igala votes not for emancipation but for Bello’s second term. “Ene Omu ne Me,” they chorused, mocking unity, vandalizing the sacred.
This was not mere politicking—it was a metaphysical violation. A desecration of the ancestral altar. Political incest garbed in progressive rhetoric.
By 2023, the masquerade wore thin. The Merchant, now parading as redeemer, returned to the people he once betrayed. But the masquerade’s footsteps echoed with dishonesty. The third term he denied orchestrating was written all over his campaign script. INEC’s rejection was only ceremonial—the heavens had already withdrawn their endorsement. As one elder mused, “Rejection followed—not from the courts, but from the courts of divine justice.”
It wasn’t just a failed campaign—it was divine judgment. The East fell, not because the centre was not strong, but because its limbs were disjointed, its heart unfaithful. We erected thrones for traitors and hurled stones at patriots. And now, the altar is cracked, and the rain refuses to fall.
But not all is lost. Amid the ruins, a whisper rises—a movement of remembrance, of reckoning. A convocation must be called, not of politicians in flowing gowns, but of elders with cracked voices, youths with flaming consciences, clergy bearing scrolls of truth. There must be a national inquest, a tribal confession. Not to shame, but to cleanse. Not to revenge, but to restore.
The Igala Nation must admit: it is not enemies who buried our crown—it was our sons. And if the sons will not confess, the land will groan till the trees refuse to fruit.
Let the Merchant of Ayija know: the people now read between the lines. The masquerade’s feet have betrayed him. The ghost of 2015 is no longer silent. And those who shared the wine of betrayal will soon taste the dregs of accountability.
We require not political gladiators, but spiritual reformers. Men and women who understand that political destiny is sacred, that betrayal is not strategy but sacrilege. The land bleeds. The ancestors mutter. And history stands with ink-stained fingers, waiting to inscribe either our redemption or our ruin.
The time for palliative speeches is gone. What we need is truth, poured like libation. Let the calabash breakers come forward. Let the silence keepers speak. Let the elders who watched in complicity find the courage to confess. Only then shall the rain fall again. Only then shall the East rise—not on borrowed legs, but on ancestral strength.
As Dr. Paul Enenche once thundered, “When truth is buried, destiny is delayed. When truth is denied, destruction is near. But when truth is declared, restoration begins.” The Igala Nation stands at that forked path—between the ruins of betrayal and the road to rebirth.
Let those with ears, hear. Let the betrayers bow. Let truth march through Bassa, Idah, Dekina, and Ankpa. For it is truth—not politics—that shall save the land.
Inah Boniface Ocholi – Writes from Ayah, Igalamela/Odolu, LGA, Kogi State.
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By Abiodun KOMOLAFE
On October 1, 1999, I wrote an article titled ‘The Ethical Imperative of Governance’ in one of Nigeria’s leading national newspapers.
In the said article, I advocated for a deep sense of objective right and wrong in society, one that transcended Nigeria’s multicultural identity, as this shared moral foundation was essential for achieving our national objectives. Fast-forward to 2025, nearly three decades later, and the question remains: has anything changed? If so, what exactly has changed, and how do we measure the extent of this transformation?
In fairness to posterity, to ask how we got to wherever we are is to ask whether or not Nigeria should have been created in the first place. The amalgamation of the protectorates and territories, after all, was not put to a referendum, and there is no record of the people giving their consent to this amalgamation. It was largely driven by the British government’s cost-cutting measures, undertaken amidst the turmoil of a Europe on the brink of World War I.
The 1911 report of the Committee headed by Lord Haldane, akin to Nigeria’s Oronsaye Report, paved the way for cost rationalization, ultimately leading to the amalgamation. However, a critical question remains: did this amalgamation truly create a country, or merely a geographical expression? This conundrum is reminiscent of Giuseppe Garibaldi’s unification of 27 principalities, states and provinces into Italy. As Garibaldi excellently remarked, “We have created a geographical expression; now we must create the Italians.”
General Yakubu ‘Jack’ Gowon is arguably the only Nigerian leader who has come close to addressing the question of national unity. One of his notable achievements was the creation of the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in 1974.
While the NYSC has unified the Nigerian elite to some extent, its impact has been limited, more so as it has largely been serving interests that are not particularly productive. More importantly, it has failed to unite the Nigerian people. This failure is symptomatic of a broader issue – a country built on rent-seeking and a scramble for resources, which inevitably leads to the current state of disarray.
When Nigeria was governed by production-based constitutions, such as the 1963 Constitution, the country experienced flashpoints, but also enjoyed better focus on development and greater national cohesion. A similar trajectory can be observed in India, which has maintained stability despite experiencing flashpoints since its independence in 1947. India has avoided coups and has become the world’s 5th largest economy. Projections also suggest that India will become the world’s largest economy by 2050.
India’s experience offers a valuable lesson. By adhering to a constitutional framework similar to Nigeria’s 1960 and 1963 Constitutions, the country has successfully lifted hundreds of millions of people out of poverty. Meanwhile, Nigeria grapples with communal clashes, violence and land-grabbing. Nigerians are roasting Nigerians, thus rendering the country neither peaceful nor cohesive. This lack of cohesion underscores that sustainable development cannot be achieved through isolated ‘projects’. Instead, it will remain a case of ‘all motion without development.’
The National Assembly’s inability to promptly reform the internal security mechanism, adopting a community and state policing approach akin to countries like Australia, Canada, Brazil, and the USA, is striking. This inaction betrays a lack of interest in fostering national cohesion. Unfortunately, there is little indication that this will change soon. Apart from when the Super Eagles are playing, there is very little evidence of national cohesion. Dear fatherland continues to look like a ‘geographical expression’ rather than a state based on national identity, cohesion and a focused programme for national reconstruction.
In response to Nigeria’s struggles with national identity and underperformance, the establishment should revisit and upgrade the 1963 Republican Constitution, backing it with a referendum as a measure of self-preservation. At this critical juncture, the country must work towards a Nigerian equivalent of Italy’s 1971 ‘Historic Compromise.’
The Italian ‘Compromesso Storico’ breathed new life into Italy’s struggling state, addressing its disoriented public finances and stabilizing its sagging currency. This historic compromise reduced regional tensions and laid the groundwork for a unified effort against the Sicilian Mafia, ultimately paving the way for its downfall.
The conventional wisdom suggests that Lombardy, Italy’s most prosperous region, which, like our Niger Delta, is the goose that lays the golden eggs, would certainly have pulled out of Italy. This prompts a crucial question for Nigeria’s political establishment: can intellectual honesty and moral circumspection guide a comprehensive overhaul of the country’s perennial underdevelopment and lack of national cohesion?
Nigeria transitioned from military rule to democracy, but the journey was far from glorious. With this reality in mind, we must recognize that India’s independence in 1947 marked the beginning of a period where the country’s military structure prevented at least a dozen potential military coups. This contrasts with Nigeria’s experience under military rule, as well as Brazil’s, which was marked by brutality and viciousness.
However, it’s essential to consider the outcomes of military rule, as seen in South Korea’s remarkable transformation since 1958. The question remains: can military rule be beneficial if it leads to a forced advance, as in South Korea’s case?
To be concluded.
KOMOLAFE wrote from Ijebu-Jesa, Osun State, Nigeria (ijebujesa@yahoo.co.uk)
By Adamu Muhd Usman
“I do not ask for mercy,
I do not ask for pardon,
I demand justice.”
— Ali Bhutto of Palestine
Regardless of tribe, religion, region, culture, norms, status, class, or political affiliation, no one is a second-class citizen as long as they are Nigerian.
The media and public discussions have been dominated by the recent events in Uromi, Edo State, where innocent Nigerians were attacked, killed, and burned. This act is uncalled for—it is purely barbaric, unjust, and inhumane. Such actions demand justice.
Anyone supporting this wicked act must stop trying to justify this inhumanity. No amount of rhetoric, logic, or empty words can erase the pain of those innocent lives lost in Uromi.
The truth is, those who were killed in Uromi were not bandits. They were poor citizens from the North, the same region being targeted by the bandits and kidnappers that Southerners also fear.
The deceased (hunters) had no business with kidnappers or bandits who terrorize Northerners daily. There is ample evidence, both historical and media-based, proving the difference between local hunters and the criminals responsible for kidnappings and killings across Nigeria’s highways, camps, farms, and forests.
It is important to understand that not all Northerners are Hausa or Fulani or even Muslim. Likewise, not all Fulani are cattle herders. Although the Fulani traditionally live in the bush due to their livestock, they are not hunters. Hunting is a core aspect of Hausa culture—many Hausa hunters travel beyond their home territories in search of game.
A typical Hausa man does not rear cattle but raises dogs and fabricates locally made guns for hunting, a practice inherited from his ancestors. On the other hand, the Fulani are not typically farmers. However, throughout history, the Hausa and Fulani have coexisted, exchanging cultural values and traditions.
The insecurity plaguing the South due to kidnappers and bandits is far worse—perhaps 200 times more severe—in the North. This is a crisis the government has failed to address for too long.
It is crucial to note that the daily killings in the North by Boko Haram, bandits, and kidnappers are not being carried out by the Fulani who have lived peacefully among us for centuries. While some individuals among the Fulani and Hausa may have joined banditry, this does not mean the entire ethnic group is responsible.
Banditry and kidnapping, which initially started in the South, have now become criminal enterprises involving people from all backgrounds, regardless of tribe, religion, or region. It is Boko Haram and some bandit groups that deliberately create chaos and instill fear in peaceful communities.
Due to these criminal activities, many Southerners, including those in Edo State, now assume that every Northerner is a bandit or criminal simply because of their language or appearance. Similarly, in the 1980s, Northerners believed that every Bendel man, Benin (present day Edo and Delta states) was an armed robber due to the notorious exploits of Lawrence Anini.
The truth is, bandits spare no one—they attack their neighbors, business partners, in-laws, and even relatives. Whether North or South, we all suffer from insecurity, inflation, and the loss of innocent lives.
Nigeria belongs to all of us. No tribe, clan, ethnicity, or region is superior to another. Justice must be served for the senseless killings in Uromi. Remember, whatever you cannot tolerate, bear, or wish for yourself, do not inflict upon others—whether they are from the Northwest, Northeast, North Central, Southwest, Southeast, or South-South.
Another issue being raised is the comparison between the case of Deborah in Sokoto and the recent Uromi killings. To be honest, these two incidents are entirely different. How can you compare the death of one person to the brutal murder of multiple innocent souls? Deborah knowingly provoked the situation that led to her fate. No one dares to insult Islam without consequences—even in the Western world, people are cautious and respectful of religious sentiments. I urge you to leave Islam and Muslims alone with their beliefs.
My fellow Nigerians, both at home and in the diaspora, should stop supporting jungle justice. I implore you to join in condemning this act. Innocent people were attacked, killed, and burned alive for no reason other than being Hausa or Northerners.
Almost all well-meaning Nigerians have condemned this act. We demand justice for these helpless, innocent victims. The false accusations branding them as kidnappers are deeply disturbing and tragic. Such incidents highlight the need for greater awareness, education, reorientation, and the promotion of tolerance and understanding. Fair hearing and thorough investigations must be carried out, and no individual or group should take the law into their own hands—after all, the police and the courts exist for justice.
Authorities must thoroughly investigate the Uromi incident to bring the perpetrators to justice and implement proper measures to prevent future occurrences. Compensation for the victims’ families is not enough—justice must be served.
The call by Kano State Governor H.E. Kabir Yusuf (Abba Gida-Gida) for the public parading of the culprits is a valid one. It would help verify whether those arrested are indeed the perpetrators and ensure transparency in the process. In the past, there have been allegations of inmates being paraded as criminals, so publicizing the real suspects would ease tensions and prove that the government is taking the right steps.
In light of these issues, why is it that every matter related to Kano is now being politicized or trivialized? The Edo State governor was supposed to travel to Kano to offer condolences to the government and people over the brutal lynching of 16 Kano indigenes in Uromi—a commendable move. However, he was instead diverted to Abuja for a political photo-op with the Deputy Senate President, Senator Barau, before proceeding to Kano. This is disappointing. May God help democracy thrive in Nigeria as it should.
Lastly, those calling for Nigeria’s breakup should reconsider. Separation is not the solution to Nigeria’s problems. Instead, we must unite, love, and support one another. Stop the insults, mockery, and division. We must learn patience, tolerance, understanding, faithfulness, honesty, and commitment to making Nigeria better.
We should pray for our country’s unity, peaceful coexistence, mutual understanding, political stability, and positive societal changes.
Remember, Ojukwu tried to divide Nigeria but failed. He is now gone. Gideon Okar attempted it and was in handcuffs within 24 hours—facing a firing squad a month later. Gani Adams and Sunday Igboho tried but fled. Nnamdi Kanu made noise, ran to the UK, and was eventually returned to Nigeria, ending up in Kuje Prison.
The truth is, if anyone were to divide Nigeria, it would be a Northerner—but we won’t, because we believe in unity. The North is educated, wealthy, politically aware, and has the landmass and population to stand alone as a country, but we choose unity, tolerance, and coexistence. Our brothers in the South should stop provoking us.
I leave you with the words of Alexander the Great:
“I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion.”
Adamu writes from Kafin-Hausa, Jigawa State.
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