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OPINION: I Will Make You Disappear!

Published

1 year ago

November 1, 2024

Tunde Odesola

To speak tongue-in-cheek is to say, “Na Baba kill Dele Giwa.” But to speak matter-of-factly is to say, “Dele Giwa was killed in his ‘gida’”. ‘Gida’ is a Hausa word for house. If you like, add ‘gida’ to Baba, na you sabi.

It was a Sunday morning, almost 38 years ago, when a faceless porter of death delivered a letter bomb at the Ikeja house of the Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch magazine, Dele Giwa.

The then-Director, National Intelligence Agency of Nigeria, Brigadier General Haliru Akilu, had reportedly called Giwa’s wife, Funmi, thrice on Saturday, and 45 minutes earlier before the delivered letter bomb went off on Sunday; Akilu, now 76, was asking for directions to Giwa’s house when he called Funmi.

Seated in his dining room on the fateful Sunday morning, Giwa, who was having breakfast with a junior colleague, Kayode Soyinka, received the letter from his son, Billy, and seeing Nigeria’s coat of arms on the letter, said, “This must be from the President,” tearing open the letter, which tore his life apart.

Giwa’s death was more excruciating than death by firing squad because death didn’t come quickly, it was in instalments; he fought death, watching his intestines, flesh and blood splatter across the walls of his dining room like an undead cockroach struggling to move with a squashed abdomen.

In the valley of the shadow of death, the brave Giwa looked down at his shattered bowels and groin and said, “They have got me.” The dripping remains of the model journalist were lifted like a disembowelled roadkill, packed into a vehicle, and rushed to the hospital, where he gave up the ghost. What a death! What a life

On October 19, it would be exactly 38 years since Giwa was blown out of existence, leaving the nation reeling in horror, with Nigerians wondering what could the then-military President, General Ibrahim Babangida, Akilu and other top security chiefs, including the Deputy Director of SSS, retired Lt. Col. A.K. Togun, be hiding that made them repeatedly shun the Nigerian Human Rights Violations Investigations Commission headed by the late Justice Chukwudifu Oputa? May the killers of Dele Giwa forever be haunted.

Apart from pricking our national conscience and calling for the trial of Babangida, Akilu, Togun and co, my reference to Dele Giwa as a metaphor for dictatorship aims to illustrate the difference between speaking tongue-in-cheek and speaking matter-of-factly, though this column is not rivalling Akeem Lasisi’s PUNCH newspaper column, which teaches Use of English.

In this discourse, I elect to speak tongue-in-cheek because the topic is about a species of primates called the rhesus monkey. You know, monkeys don’t speak human language, though they are smart animals. However, monkeys read lips and understand human sounds, which they relate to. So, I’ll speak tongue-in-cheek, not matter-of-factly, and it will take only the deep to understand me.

Writing and painting are distinct forms of human expression. Since the advent of recorded history, the quill and the ink have explored human thought and distilled imagination in vivid portrayals. On the other hand, painting is the creative stroke of the brush dipped in colourful gloss and emulsion of communication, expressing plain and esoteric meanings.

Macaca Mulatta is the scientific name of the rhesus monkey. To get a striking picture of what the animal looks like, I beg you to google ‘rhesus monkey’ and see how closely it resembles Alexi, the new monkey in the state-of-the-art Abuja zoo commissioned a little over a year ago. Combining my written description and googling the picture of the rhesus monkey will clear all doubts about the looks and identity of Alexi.

Alexi is the latest addition to the growing list of animals attacking humans in Nigeria’s seat of power, Abuja. Alexi is an animal among humans. In ‘Beasts of No Nation’, maverick Afrobeats superstar, Fela Anikulapo, describes some leaders as animals in human skin.

Mulatta is the female version of mulatto. Both names refer to a person of mixed white and black ancestry. That the rhesus monkey is scientifically named Macaca mulatta may mean that this caste of primates is matriarchal. While most human communities are patriarchal, some are matriarchal, a pointer to the evolutionary interrelatedness among species in the Animal Kingdom, ìse ènìyàn ni ìse eranko.

Research shows that the rhesus monkey can be considered mixed-breed because of hybridisation between its Chinese and Indian subspecies. Over the years, however, the rhesus monkey has been admixed with many other species, which ostensibly include the African caste.

Humans and monkeys indeed have an enduring relationship. In 1948, Man put the rhesus monkey in a one-passenger rocket but the monkey died during the space flight. Not to make the monkey family hard done by, on June 14, 1949, Man put another rhesus monkey named Albert II, on a one-passenger space flight, becoming the first primate and first mammal in space.

I do not know if Alexi, the latest tyrannic monkey in Abuja, is related to Albert II or not. But I know Alexi doesn’t have half the brain of Albert II. Unlike Alexi, Albert II was certainly not an idiot. To fly a space rocket, Albert II couldn’t have been a conceited bully and hateful megalomaniac. The space flight Albert II successfully executed in 1949 and the disgraceful behaviour displayed by one of his great-grandsons, Alexi, in Abuja, show that, for Alexi, sawdust lies in the place where Albert II had brains.

Since time immemorial, Man has found the monkey a good ally in security provision and groundbreaking medical research, thereby permitting monkeys to live among humans.

One of the lucky monkeys privileged to live among humans is Alexi who operates in the Abuja zoo. Alexi, like humans, sleeps in bed, walks on two legs, drives cars and eats eggs. Because of the deeds of some of his forebears, including Albert II, Alexi was entrusted with a position in the Legislative Assembly.

One day, arrogance and ambition gripped Alexi as he looked in the mirror and noticed the striking resemblance he shared with Man. He smiled and said to himself, “Look at yourself, Alexi! Look at you! Who can ever know that you’re originally a monkey? Ol’ boy, it’s high time you transmuted fully into Man.”

He is so obsessed with vainglory and power that he thinks only about himself and feels he can get away with anything. One day, he conjured the spirit of Ìjímèrè, the forebear of all monkeys.

Ìjímèrè appeared in his hairy glory – an oblong head above a narrow chest, long slim hands, scratchy nails, slitty eyes, angular legs and a lipless mouth. Alexi told Ìjímèrè he wants to become human. Ìjímèrè rebuked Alexi for not being contented with his place in nature, warning that shame lay ahead of the journey the young monkey was about to embark on.

Alexi cried and begged Ìjímèrè to tell him the secret of how to turn into a human being. Ìjímèrè pleaded with his descendant but Alexi wouldn’t listen. So, Ìjímèrè told him what to do.

“Alexi, my descendant,” Ìjímèrè began, “I can see that self-conceit, overambition and power drunkenness are behind your wish to become human. You’re not doing it for the sake of the lineage. This is not the first time an enwe would attempt to become human. Each past attempt ended in disaster. Before I grant your wish, however, I will summon Lágídò, so that I can have a witness.”

Ìjímèrè recited some monkey chants and Lágídò appears. “You summon me, Great One,” said Lágídò, looking around and settling her eyes on Alexi.

“Yes, I did,” Ìjímèrè said, adding, “It’s one of our descendants,” pointing to Alexi, “Who wants to become human. I have tried to dissuade him from towing the path of destruction but he won’t listen. So, I want to grant him his wish by revealing to him the secret of how to become human. I only want you to be my witness.”

Ìjímèrè coughed deeply and continued, “Alexi, here are three taboos you must desist from – to become human. One, you must never touch snails. Two, you must never look down on Man. Three, you must be humble.”

“Is that all, Baba Ìjímèrè?” asked an anxious Alexi. “No, it remains one more thing,” Ìjímèrè said, “You must sit for three hours by your gate every night for seven days, wearing simple clothes, reciting the panegyrics of our lineage and doing deeds of kindness.”

“Yes, Baba,” Alexi scrambled to his feet from where he knelt and hurtled out without saying goodbye.

Lágídò said, “Doom looms ahead of the prideful and impatient fellow. The signs of ominous disaster are clear.”

On his seventh day at the gate, a short man bolted towards Alexi, holding a package in his hands, beckoning to Alexi. Alexi became livid with rage, “How dare you subhuman beckon to me? Can’t you come to me? Do you know who I am? Imagine this rat? I can make you disappear!”

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

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Out-of-school: Group To Enroll Adolescent Mothers In Bauchi

Published

3 days ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

Women Child Youth Health and Education Initiative (WCY) with support from Malala Education Champion Network, have charted a way to enroll adolescent mothers to access education in Bauchi schools.

Rashida Mukaddas, the Executive Director, WCY stated this in Bauchi on Wednesday during a one-day planning and inception meeting with education stakeholders on Adolescent Mothers Education Access (AMEA) project of the organisation.

According to her, the project targeted three Local Government Areas of Bauchi, Misau and Katagum for implementation in the three years project.

She explained that all stakeholders in advancing education in the state would be engaged by the organisation to advocate for Girl-Child education.

The target, she added, was to ensure that as many as married adolescent mothers and girls were enrolled back in school in the state.

“Today marks an important step in our collective commitment to ensuring that every girl in Bauchi state, especially adolescent who are married, pregnant, or young mothers has the right, opportunity, and support to continue and complete her education.

“This project has been designed to address the real and persistent barriers that prevent too many adolescent mothers from returning to school or staying enrolled.

“It is to address the barriers preventing adolescent mothers from continuing and completing their education and adopting strategies that will create an enabling environment that safeguard girls’ rights to education while removing socio-cultural and economic obstacles,” said Mukaddas.

She further explained to the stakeholders that the success of the project depended on the strength of their collaboration, the alignment of their actions, and the commitments they forge toward the implementation of the project.

Also speaking, Mr Kamal Bello, the Project Officer of WCY, said that the collaboration of all the education stakeholders in the state with the organisation could ensure stronger enforcement of the Child Rights Law.

This, he said, could further ensure effective re-entry and retention policies for adolescent girls, increased community support for girls’ education and a Bauchi state where no girl was left behind because of marriage, pregnancy, or motherhood.

“It is observed that early marriage is one of the problems hindering girls’ access to education.

“This organisation is working toward ensuring that girls that have dropped out of school due to early marriage are re-enrolled back in school,” he said.

Education stakeholders present at the event included representatives from the state Ministry of Education, Justice, Budget and Economic Planning and Multilateral Coordination.

Others were representatives from International Federation of Women Lawyers, Adolescent Girls Initiative for Learning and Empowerment (AGILE), Bauchi state Agency for Mass Education, Civil Society Organization, Religious and Traditional institutions, among others.

They all welcomed and promised to support the project so as to ensure its effective implementation and achieve its set objectives in the state.

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OPINION: Fubara, Adeleke And The Survival Dance

Published

3 days ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

By Israel Adebiyi

You should be aware by now that the dancing governor, Ademola Adeleke has danced his last dance in the colours of the Peoples Democratic Party. His counterpart in Rivers, Siminalayi Fubara has elected to follow some of his persecutors to the All Progressive Congress, after all “if you can’t beat them, you can join them.”
Politics in Nigeria has always been dramatic, but every now and then a pattern emerges that forces us to pause and think again about where our democracy is heading. This week on The Nation’s Pulse, that pattern is what I call the politics of survival. Two events in two different states have brought this into sharp focus. In both cases, sitting governors elected on the platform of the same party have found new homes elsewhere. Their decisions may look sudden, but they reveal deeper issues that have been growing under the surface for years.

In Rivers, Governor Siminalayi Fubara has crossed into the All Progressives Congress. In Osun, Governor Ademola Adeleke has moved to the Accord Party. These are not small shifts. These are moves by people at the top of their political careers, people who ordinarily should be the ones holding their parties together. When those at the highest levels start fleeing, it means the ground beneath them has become too shaky to stand on. It means something has broken.

A Yoruba proverb captures it perfectly: Iku to n pa oju gba eni, owe lo n pa fun ni. The death that visits your neighbour is sending you a message. The crisis that has engulfed the Peoples Democratic Party did not start today. It has been building like an untreated infection. Adeleke saw the signs early. He watched senior figures fight openly. He watched the party fail to resolve its zoning battles. He watched leaders undermine their own candidates. At some point, you begin to ask yourself a simple question: if this house collapses today, what happens to me? In Osun, where the competition between the two major parties has always been fierce, Adeleke was not going to sit back and become another casualty of a party that refused to heal itself. Survival became the most reasonable option.

His case makes sense when you consider the political temperature in Osun. This is a state where the opposition does not sleep. Every misstep is amplified. Every weakness is exploited. Adeleke has spent his time in office under constant scrutiny. Add that to the fact that the national structure of his party is wobbly, divided and uncertain about its future, and the move begins to look less like betrayal and more like self-preservation.

Rivers, however, tells a slightly different story. Fubara’s journey has been a long lesson in endurance. From the moment he emerged as governor, it became clear he was stepping into an environment loaded with expectations that had nothing to do with governance. His political godfather was not content with being a supporter. He wanted control. He wanted influence. He wanted obedience. Every decision was interpreted through the lens of loyalty. From the assembly crisis to the endless reconciliation meetings, to the barely hidden power struggles, Fubara spent more time fighting shadows than building the state he was elected to lead.

It soon became clear that he was governing through a maze of minefields. Those who should have been allies began to treat him like an accidental visitor in the Government House. The same legislators who were meant to be partners in governance suddenly became instruments of pressure. Orders came from places outside the official structure. Courtrooms turned into battlegrounds. At some point, even the national leadership of his party seemed unsure how to tame the situation. These storms did not come in seasons, they came in waves. One misunderstanding today. Another in two weeks. Another by the end of the month. Anyone watching closely could see that the governor was in a permanent state of emergency.

So when the winds started shifting again and lawmakers began to realign, those who understood the undercurrents knew exactly what was coming. Fubara knew too. A man can only take so much. After months of attacks, humiliations and attempts to cage his authority, the move to another party was not just political. It was personal. He had given the reconciliation process more chances than most would. He had swallowed more insults than any governor should. He had watched institutions bend and twist under the weight of private interests. In many ways, his defection is a declaration that he has finally chosen to protect himself.

But the bigger question is how we got here. How did two governors in two different parts of the country end up taking the same decision for different but related reasons? The answer goes back to the state of internal democracy in our parties. No party in Nigeria today fully practices the constitution it claims to follow. They have elaborate rules on paper but very loose habits in reality. They talk about fairness, but their primaries are often messy. They preach unity, but their caucuses are usually divided into rival camps. They call themselves democratic institutions, yet dissent is treated as disloyalty.

Political parties are supposed to be the engine rooms of democracy. They are the homes where ideas are debated, leaders are groomed, and future candidates are shaped. In Nigeria, they increasingly look like fighting arenas where the loudest voices drown out everyone else. When leaders ignore their own constitutions, the structure begins to crack. When factions begin to run parallel meetings, the foundation gets weaker. When decisions are forced down the throats of members, people begin making private plans for their future.

No governor wants to govern in chaos. No politician wants to be the last one standing in a sinking ship. This is why defections are becoming more common. A party that cannot manage itself cannot manage its members. And members who feel exposed will always look for safer ground.

But while these moves make sense for Adeleke and Fubara personally, the people they govern often become the ones left in confusion. Voters choose candidates partly because of party ideology, even if our ideologies are weak. They expect stability. They expect continuity. They expect that the mandate they gave will remain intact. So when a governor shifts political camp without prior consultation, the people feel blindsided. They begin to wonder whether their votes carry weight in a system where elected officials can switch platforms in the blink of an eye.

This is where the politics of survival becomes dangerous for democracy. If leaders keep prioritizing their personal safety over party stability, the system begins to lose coherence. Parties lose their identity. Elections lose their meaning. Governance becomes a game of musical chairs. Today you are here. Tomorrow you are there. Next week you may be somewhere else. The people become bystanders in a democracy that is supposed to revolve around them.

Rivers and Osun should serve as reminders that political parties need urgent restructuring. They need to rebuild trust internally. They need to enforce their constitutions consistently. They need to treat members as stakeholders, not spectators. When members feel protected, they stay. When they feel targeted, they run. This pattern will continue until parties learn the simple truth that power is not built by intimidation, but by inclusion.

There is also the question of what these defections mean for governance. When governors are dragged into endless party drama, service delivery suffers. Time that should be spent on roads, schools, hospitals, water projects and job creation ends up being spent in meetings, reconciliations and press briefings. Resources that should strengthen the state end up funding political battles. The public loses twice. First as witnesses to the drama. Then as victims of delayed or abandoned development.

In Rivers, the months of tension slowed down the government. Initiatives were stalled because the governor was busy trying to survive political ambush. In Osun, Adeleke had to juggle governance with internal fights in a crumbling party structure. Imagine what they could have achieved if they were not constantly looking over their shoulders.

Now, as both men settle into new political homes, the final question is whether these new homes will provide stability or merely temporary shelter. Nigeria’s politics teaches one consistent lesson. New alliances often come with new expectations. New platforms often come with new demands. And new godfathers often come with new conditions. Whether Adeleke and Fubara have truly found peace or simply bought time is something only time will tell.

But as citizens, what we must insist on is simple. The politics of survival should not become the politics of abandonment. Our leaders can fight for their political life, but they must not forget that they hold the people’s mandate. The hunger, poverty, insecurity and infrastructural decay that Nigerians face will not be solved by defection. It will be solved by steady leadership and functional governance.

The bigger lesson from Rivers and Osun is clear. If political parties in Nigeria continue on this path of disunity and internal sabotage, they will keep losing their brightest and most strategic figures. And if leaders keep running instead of reforming the system, then we will wake up one day to a democracy where the people are treated as an afterthought.

Governors may survive the storms. Parties may adjust to new alignments. But the people cannot keep paying the price. Nigeria deserves a democracy that works for the many, not the few. That is the real pulse of the nation.

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Human Rights Day: Stakeholders Call For More Campaigns Against GBV

Published

3 days ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

Panel of discussants at an event to commemorate the International Human Rights Day, 2025 on Wednesday called for more campaigns against Gender-Based Violence, adding that it must start from the family.

The panel of discussants drawn from religious and community leaders, security agents, members of the civil society community, chiefs, etc, made the call in Benin in an event organised by Justice Development & Peace Centre (JDPC), Benin, in collaboration with Women Aid Collective (WACOL) with the theme: Multilevel Dialogue for Men, Women, Youth and Critical Take holders on the Prevention and Response to Gender-Based Violence (GBV).

The stakeholders, who said causes of GBV are enormous, called for more enlightenment and education in the family, community and the religious circle.

Security agents in the panel charged members of the public to report GBV cases to security agents regardless of the sex Involved, adding: “When GBV happens, it should be reported to the appropriate quarters. It doesn’t matter if the woman or the man is the victim. GBV perpetrators should not be covered up, they must be exposed. We are there to carry out the prosecution after carrying out the necessary investigation.”

Earlier in his opening remarks, Executive Director, JDPC, Rev. Fr. Benedicta Onwugbenu, lamented that (GBV) remains the most prevalent in the society yet hidden because of silence from victims.

According to him, GBV knows no age, gender or race, adding that “It affects people of all ages, whether man or woman, boy or girl.”

“It affects people from different backgrounds and communities, yet it remains hidden because of silence, stigma, and fear. Victims of GBV are suffering in silence.”

On her part, Programme Director, WACOL, Mrs. Francisca Nweke, who said “women are more affected, and that is why we are emphasising on them,” stressed “we are empowering Christian women and women leaders of culture for prevention and response to Gender-Based Violence in Nigeria through the strengthening of grassroots organisations.”