News

OPINION: The Husband Beaters Of Lagos

Published

2 years ago

September 12, 2023

By Suyi Ayodele

Pray, how does a man tell his friends that his wife beat him the other day? How do men who suffer serious beatings in the hands of their wives in the day raise the wives’ skirts later at night to demand conjugal benevolence? Do such men get aroused anymore? Do they beg their wives to do what husbands and wives do? How do such men, for instance, come out of the house to go about their normal daily chores after the bashing from their women, knowing that their neighbours knew what happened? What about their children? Do those innocent souls witness such abnormality? What about their psychological make-up after witnessing their mothers descending on their fathers? While wife beating is bestial and condemnable, what do we call husband battering? Husbands get beaten up by their wives the same way wives are battered by their husbands. Domestic violence is not gender sensitive. As a matter of fact, where the victims are the men, the situation gets more vicious and brutal. The problem is that since our society is patriarchal in nature, attention is focused more on the women. Men are also endangered species in some instances!

Life couldn’t be better imagined than the quietude of a village setting. Nothing can surely be more interesting! It was fun for us then running around almost half naked and ‘prying’ into the affairs of your neighbours. The village is a place where everything about everybody is in the open. For instance, then, if a goat was stolen, the owner might not raise any alarm. Goats would not get lost until the eve of the market day. All the owner needed to do was to wake up early in the morning and lay ambush by the market road. The chances that he or she would come back home with the ‘lost’ goat was very high. We knew the man who would likely go and dig up another man’s yam. We could equally recognise those who would steal kola nuts pods and commit all sorts of little crimes. We waited for them during the annual festivals and used them to practice our guttural mock songs. One or two families ‘relocated’ permanently out of the village because of the shame their family members brought upon them. I recall here a particular man who almost attacked us when we took our derisive songs to his doorstep. The fine he paid for the sacrilege of attacking festival boys almost ran him bankrupt. I was at home this last weekend and relived those old tales with my folks at home.

There was one couple I will never forget. They were not members of our community; they came to sojourn in our place. The wife was a giant. Tall, with heavy hands and she traversed the village like a colossus. On the farm, she would outwork her husband in making heaps of yam. In contrast, the husband was just fortunate to be bigger than a midget. How he talked the woman into marrying him remains a mystery. And they had five lovely children. How did he do it? There was no doubt about the paternity of the children. Resemblance shows ancestry (abijo laa mo iran). Once you sighted any of the children, you could tell who the father was! But the family had a problem. The giant woman beat the husband at the slightest provocation. On many occasions, she needed no provocation before she would descend on the husband. As much as we found their frequent fights interesting, especially when the woman ‘landed’ the husband, I knew, even at that tender age, that something was wrong. My cradle mind told me that it was an abnormal situation. One day, the table turned. The husband regained his manliness and ‘manhood’. This is what happened.

FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: Baddest Lawyer, Zazzu And NBA

They were at their usual argument. The giant wife was in the backyard attending to something on the fire. The husband was in the passage of their face-me-I-face-you apartment. They were both shouting at each other. The door was closed. As the argument got hotter, the woman, in their Aramoko/Efon Alaaye variety of the Ekiti Dialect, issued the signature warning: “erun re ri a kan bee”, which when interpreted means: “I am coming over to deal with you”. In her madness, she rushed towards the house. From the passage, the man was also trying to make his escape. Thinking that her husband had bolted the door, the wife threw her entire weight to force the door open. It was at that time that the husband opened the door too. So, the woman had herself flying and landing on the floor just by her husband’s feet. She must have been badly injured as she could not get up immediately. The husband simply sat on her wide frame and started dealing blows on her. For the first time, it was the wife who raised the “haa pa mi o” (he will kill me) alarm. Of course, neighbours rushed in to see the ‘strange’ sight. Not a few encouraged the husband to continue to pummel her. The oldest of the men around also ordered some of our elderly men to join in the beating. Every blow on her was accompanied with the warning: “Han hi lu oko honi” (No woman beats her husband). Satisfied, the old man asked the assailants to stop. The woman was left on the floor weeping. Women gathered around her telling her unprintable things! It was a communal condemnation; she had no single atom of sympathy from the participants. I believed she must have wept more for the shame than the effects of the beatings. Then a pronouncement was made to the effect that anytime she was found assaulting the husband, the entire neighbourhood would teach her a lesson she would never forget. Needless to record it here that till they moved out of our village; we never heard any commotion in that family. The husband himself regained his gait. He could go to play the Ayo game without any sense of shame of being at his wife’s mercy.

Whatever doubts we might have had before now about what some husbands go through in the hands of their wives were cleared by Lagos State, a few days ago. On Saturday, September 9, 2023, PM News had this headline on its online platform: “Lagos women now beat their husbands to submission, 340 cases reported.” According to the report, the Executive Secretary, Lagos Domestic and Sexual Violence Agency (DSVA), Titilayo Vivour-Adeniyi, was quoted to have said that more cases of husband-battering were reported in the last one year. The Lagos DSVA boss gave a figure of 340 husbands coming forward to report that their wives beat them between September 2021 and July 2022. “This is an indication that the culture of silence amongst the male gender concerning issues of Sexual and Gender Based Violence is also gradually being broken”, Vivour-Adeniyi was quoted. She could not be faulted. The silent implication is that if all men who go through hell in the hands of their wives should speak out, the number will be scary. Cases of males suffering abuses in the hands of their women are likely to be higher in the Western world and its women liberation agenda. We read almost daily, cases of African men who live in the West killing their wives because they could no longer tolerate the abuses coming from those women.

The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), on March 1, 2019, did a report on “Male domestic abuse victims ‘suffering in silence’”. In the report, Dr Sarah Wallace, from the University of South-Wales (USW), gave reasons why many Domestic Violence and Abuse (DVA) was not reported, by both men and women. She listed “fear of retaliation or a lack of trust or confidence in the police”, as one of the reasons. “However, the issue of under-reporting is even more pronounced amongst men. They fear appearing unmanly, shame, embarrassment, and a failure to live up to masculine ideals. This was the experience of the men we interviewed, who felt that they needed help to get to the root of these feelings., she added. The report added that counselling sessions for male victims of domestic violence “are shorter, but also include a focus on the role of masculinity and gender stereotypes, and help validate their experience, recognising that they too can be victims of abuse. We know that DVA against men is a seriously under-reported crime, and we know that 713,000 men were reported to have been victims of one or more types of DVA. It begs the question how many more men are actually out there that are suffering in silence.”

FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: Minister Musawa And Orwell’s Animal Farm

The international medium, in an earlier report on September 16, 2018, titled: “Male domestic abuse: Not enough support for victims, using the case of one David Edwards, who was killed by his wife weeks after their wedding, said that “Male domestic abuse victims are suffering a lack of support despite a sharp rise in attacks. Police in England and Wales recorded 149,248 incidents in 2017 – more than double the number reported in 2012. A charity organisation, the ManKind Initiative, said while a third of domestic abuse victims were men, only 0.8% of refuge beds were reserved for them. While one in six men will experience domestic abuse at some point in their lives, only one in 20 will ever seek any help, the ManKind Initiative said.” Many of the survivors interviewed, the BBC reported, said that they were too ashamed to admit that they were serially abused by their female spouses. The report concluded that husbands (men) in abusive relationships with their wives (women) need help. A lot of states in Nigeria are stepping up the fight against Gender Based Violence (GBA). All they need to do is to make the advocacy neutral. The era of women being the victims alone is gone. The new religion, especially the Pentecostal, makes the matter worse. Most pastors get beaten up before putting on their cassocks. Some hide the shame of their wives battering them behind their pastoral collars. Men also need help, even more help! The big question still is: how does a man tell his friends and relations that his wife beats him? How?

Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye: My ‘Co-debater’ Takes a Final Bow

On June 9, 2019, Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye turned 50 years old. I did a tribute on my Facebook page to celebrate her. On her subsequent birthdays, I would only call her to wish her a happy birthday. I had in mind that at her 60th birthday anniversary, I would do a Diamond piece on her, and then wait till she turned 80, God willing, to celebrate her again. But alas, that will never happen. Nancy will not be available for me to write about our journey from childhood to adulthood. Reason being that on Monday, September 4, 2023, the devastating news came. ‘My Co-debater’, Taiwo died and was buried that same day!

Ken Breniman, a USA-based Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW), member of Certification – International Yoga Therapist (C-IAYT) and Thanalogist, did a piece on “How to Cope with Death of A Friend.” In that article, Breniman said: “Friendships are some of the most meaningful and life-changing relationships you have. That’s why it can be very hard to cope when a friend dies. This person may have been your primary confidante, your partner-in-crime, or the one who stuck by you during your parent’s divorce. If your friend was young, the aftermath of their death can be even more shocking and confusing. Deal with your friend’s death by finding ways to cope with your emotions, keeping their memory alive, and learning how to carry on without them.” This is exactly what happened to me with the passing on of Nancy. The trauma for me is coping with the emotions that come with the death and how to keep her memories and carry on without them.

FROM THE AUTHOR: Niger: Northern Nigeria’s Agidigbo Drum [OPINION]

Nancy, who I called ‘nasty’ Nancy, and I shared a lot in common in our secondary school days at our Araromi High school (now Odo Oro High school). She was one of the smallest in stature in our set, but she had one of the biggest brains. We got ‘liberated’ from manual work through her stubbornness in Form Three, when, with her tiny voice, she resisted the attempt to chase us out of the library for the manual work, when the announcement was made that only those going for the inter-school quiz competition in a neighbouring school should go to the library to prepare. Our then Vice Principal, Mr. Ogunleye acceded to our, or Nancy’s demand and organised an inter-class quiz competition to determine if we were good enough to represent the school. Though class three was beaten to the third position, with our seniors in forms five and four coming first and second respectively because of the advantages they had in the sciences, the two of us made great impacts as we answered all the five English Language questions correctly and got many others from other classes as bonus marks. That was the second term of class three. By the third term, Nancy had proven herself such that she was made a full prefect (Punctuality) in form three and we had our first exposure as quiz competitors that same term.

That marked the beginning of our ‘rivalry’ as she became my “Co-Debater” from the numerous inter and intra-class debates organised by our new principal in form four, Chief A.E. O. Agidigbi. Nancy was a good debater; she hackneyed quotations from Shakespeare like someone chanting Ijala Are Ode (hunters chants). The two of us were elevated to the positions of Senior Prefect (Boy) and Senior Prefect (Girl) from our previous positions of Assistant Senior Prefects, after one of such inter-school competitions. A million thanks to the two men who were handling our English Language and Literature-in-English, Brother Biodun Ogunleye and the late Mr. Akinyemi for sustaining the ‘rivalry’. It was not therefore a surprise that we both ended up studying English Language at the university and ventured into journalism as careers; electronic for Nancy and print for me.

Though a few years younger, Nancy was a companion and a dear friend. She was more than a confidant. She had an inimitable sense of fortitude. And she was a very ‘mischievous’ friend. Whenever she called me “Senior Boy”, she was up to something ‘silly’. If she simply said: “My co-debater”, she had an old tale to retell. Her “My Egbon” salutation meant serious discussion. Now all those are over! What a life! Breniman again, writing on the sub-topic: “Coping with the loss”, asked the bereaved to “Attend the memorial to say “goodbye” Painfully, I could not do so because of the prompt burial. The social worker counselled those who grieve to “Grieve in the way that works for you”; I have been trying to do so. He enjoined grievers to remember a dear friend, by recalling fond memories, and to “Spend some time thinking about special occasions you had with the person: birthdays, milestones, and even just days hanging out at home.” He added that mourners should “Re-visit sacred places or recreate favorite practices.”. I passed by our old Araromi High School many times the past weekend, but I could not bring myself to visit the place Nancy and I had those debates and quiz competitions. On a closing tune, Breniman again counselled the bereaved to “Redefine yourself. The time after a death often leads people to think about the meaning of life. Your friend’s death may have made you more aware of things within yourself you’d like to change. Take some time to decide what kind of person you want to be moving forward.” This is exactly what I plan to do to keep your memories alive, ‘nasty’ Nancy. Your demise is a lesson. The plans we discussed last were too huge, the enthusiasm too palpable and the hopes many and encouraging. The greatest joy is that you found Christ and won souls for His kingdom. Your last identity was Evangelist Taiwo Nancy Bamisaye. You did the work of an evangelist even to the point of near death in an accident you miraculously survived.

Good night, Omo oligbo asamoju. Good night, Omo amuyan para la i’lobe. O daaro, My Co-debater!

This article written by Suyi Ayodele, South-East/South-South Editor, Nigerian Tribune was first published by the same newspaper, and published by INFO DAILY with the permission from the author.

News

[OPINION] Jan 1 Resolutions: Why I Write What I Write

Published

6 hours ago

January 4, 2026

Editor

By Festus Adedayo

As I write this, I am listening to a line of the song of my favourite Jamaican reggae music superstar, Peter Tosh. It is a 1979 track entitled Jah Seh No, in his Mystic Man album. When life becomes too convoluted for me to comprehend, when it seems I am running mad, I run into Tosh’s embrace. But, running to Tosh for an embrace is problematic. Tosh himself was like a madman. He was unconventional, an iconoclast who didn’t see life from the prism of the living. A devout adherent of the Rastafari faith, he was highly spiritual, was a poet, philosopher and a staunch defender of African rights. At some point, life broke Tosh’s will, long before his assassination on September 11, 1987, aged 42, in Kingston, Jamaica. It would appear that his musical preachment made little impact. He was repeatedly assaulted by Jamaican police and once had his skull cracked by them. The charge was his illiberal smoking of marijuana. So, in this track, Tosh bore his frustration with orthodoxy and the system thus: “Must Rastas bear this cross alone and all the heathens go free? Must Rastas live in misery and heathens in luxury? Must righteous live in pain and always put to shame? Must they be found guilty and always get the blame?

Tosh’s Jamaica of 1979 bears similarities with today’s Nigeria. Jamaica wore, like an apron, significant economic instability. This led to intense poverty and inequality driven by global economic shocks, domestic policy choices, capital flight, and political violence. The aftermath was massive hopelessness.

The attendant hopelessness in Jamaica fired the muse of reggae musicians. They saw naked poverty as catalysts for their songs. For instance, in 1976, Maxwell Smith, known professionally as Max Romeo & The Upsetters Band, sang in Uptown Babies Don’t Cry, about a little lad hawking Kisko, a popular brand of ice pops, on Kingston streets and shouting “Kisko pops! Kisko pops!”. He also sang about another lad who, as Star newspaper vendor, shouted, “Star News, read the news!”. They were embroiled in existential survival, said Romeo, and “help(ing) mummy pay the fee, for little junior to go to school.” For Tosh, in his Get Up, Stand Up, Jamaicans must stand up for their rights while Bob, apparently frustrated by the system, in Time Will Tell, sang confidently that ”Jah would never give the power to a baldhead to come crucify the dread.”

But the Jamaican governmental and political leadership, epitomised by Edward Seaga and Michael Manley, kept on taking advantage of the people’s hopelessness. Nigeria of today is yesterday’s Jamaican mirror on the wall. The hopelessness in the land has the capacity to break the most impregnable will. Everything seems to be upside down. Seaga and Manley are replicated in Bola Tinubu and Abubakar Atiku. Or Peter Obi and other scavengers for power.

Everything is shrouded in a fog. Hope of retrieval of country from the jaws of political carnivores recedes by the day. This year, prelude to election year, will even be worse. Foes will stab friends and friends will stab foes, not in the back, but in their very before. War has begun, says So-kple-So. That line reminds me of Ghanaian Akan poet, Kojo Senanu’s poem, “My Song Burst” in the A Selection of African Poetry, authored by him and Theo Vincent, which recited that Akan war song.

Physical or psychological repression is writ large. Impunity reigns like a malevolent incubus. Those are actually not the ailment. The disease is the Nigerian people. The way Nigerians’ minds have become warped, significantly captured and compartmentalized into a binary, is mind-boggling. Never have Nigerians’ minds operated in a gross profile as this. Tribe, religion, and political parties determine where everyone stands. No one sees rot and maggots but opportunities. Everyone is running a rat race to take a bite of Nigeria’s carrion. Our sense of judgment has been significantly recalibrated. When I read comments by some otherwise knowledgeable and brilliant people on visible rots in the polity, I feel I am falling into depression. Yet, a part of me warns not to take Nigeria seriously. If you run mad and then die, Nigerians would piss on your graveside.

Many times, I have toyed with the option of abandoning this thankless ritual of column-writing which I began in 1998. It is a killing ritual for which, not only don’t you get paid but you are insulted for daring to have a voice. Maybe I could find sanity in silence and abandonment of my voice? After all, Reno Omokri and Daniel Bwala have found redefinition in becoming the biblical Lot’s wife. But my mind tells me I would face hell on earth and would even not rest in peace. But the truth is, where I stand has potentials of running me mad. Permit me to be immodest, those who know me know I have an ecumenical spirit that cannot hurt a fly. But when I sit behind my laptop, I am like a possessed Yoruba deity of smallpox called Sonpona. Chaos, otherwise known as upside-down, which Fela said has its meaning too, is meaningless to me. Everywhere I turn, I see chaos and my head spins, threatening to explode. Even when I cannot totally extricate myself from the rot in the land, I am grieved like a pallbearer. Yet, another part of me tells me that order and chaos are Siamese, built into a profile by the Omnipotent.

As 2025 spun into oblivion, I stood to make a New Year resolution. But before I did this, I checked the literature of resolutions. It offers no comfort. Over a century ago, specifically on January 1, 1887, Rudyard Kipling, English journalist and novelist, attempted to drill into the philosophy of resolutions. In a timeless poem which explored the human desire to make New Year resolutions and the failure that attends it, he gave a tribe of New Year resolution makers a short-lived hope. He did this in a poem he entitled Little-Known Poem on New Year’s Resolutions. Billions of people in the world make resolutions on New Year’s Day. But, said Kipling, there are trials and tribulations in resolutions. In seven short stanzas, Kipling took readers on a journey. He begins by listing vices he wants to give up. They hung on him like an apparition. Chief among the vices were alcohol, gambling, flirting, and smoking. But in each of the stanzas, as he proposes a resolution, he proposes contrary sentences that nullify the resolutions and even justifying their reversals.

Matthew Wills, in his Why New Years Falls on January 1st: Why do we celebrate the beginning of the New Year on the first of January?, took the world on a journey on the frivolities of January 1st. Julius Caesar, he said, is why. The eponymous Julian calendar, said Matthew, began in Mensis Ianuarius (or Januarius) 45B.C. The month of January, he further reminded us, is named after the Roman god called Janus. Janus is a god who had two faces. While one faces the future, the other faces the past. Janus was however perceived, according to Wills, as “the god of beginnings, endings, and transitions, or, more prosaically, doors and passageways.”

Among the Yoruba, just like Jews’, the agricultural season marks the beginning of the year. For them, the newness of a year is defined by their philosophy of time, which they also approximated in the saying, the next season is here so, don’t eat your yam seedling, «Àmódún ò jìnnà, má jẹ isu èèbù rẹ». Season and time, to the Yoruba, are expressed in an embodiment of words like àkόkὸ (time around), ìgbà (season) and àsìkò (specific season) which they most times deploy interchangeably. The people also have sayings which speak to their conception of time. For instance, late professor of philosophy and my teacher at the University of Lagos, Sophie Oluwole, in one of her works, “The Labyrinth Conception of Time as Basis of Yoruba View of Development” published in Studies in Intercultural Philosophy (1997), cited Yoruba saying to illustrate this. “Tí wón bá ńpa òní, kí òla tèlé won kí ó lo wò bí won o ti sin ín (when today is being killed, tomorrow’s attendance at the murder scene is necessary so that it could see where the corpse of today is buried and for it to know how it too would be interred). The two other Yoruba sayings Oluwole cited to illustrate time and season are, one: “ogbón odún ni, wèrè èèmí ni” (this year’s wisdom is next year’s folly) and “Ìgbà ò lo bí òréré, ayé ò lo bí òpá ìbon” (a life span cannot exist ad infinitum; it is not vertical, and is unlike the straightness of the barrel of a gun).

These were all I reflected upon as I proposed to make a 2026 Resolution. The self-imposed road of a columnist I tread is a lonely, hard road strewn with briers and thorns. I remember the sermon of another Jamaican reggae great, Jimmy Cliff. It is a hard road to travel and a rough road to walk, he counseled. Many times, you are lonely, dejected and rejected on this road. You open your mouth to speak but wordless words ooze therefrom. Just as Tosh lamented in his “Must Rastas bear this cross alone and all the heathens go free?” volunteering anti-establishment opinion is like carrying a cross. Many times, I am inundated by family and friends to turn apostate of my belief. They fear death or state castration. Can’t the world see? Don’t they see the pains, grits and uncertainty on this road? Don’t they know that there is lushness, flourish and plenty on the other side? If I neglected these for a carapace-hard travel, I thought I would be hailed. No. Why is one who chose this lonely road the demon? And those who sup in the bowl of destruction heroes? Why? No response. Only echo of my own silent voice.

In this dejection, Audre Geraldine Lorde came to my rescue. Lorde was an American professor, philosopher, feminist, poet and rights activist. She was also a self-described Black lesbian. Lorde got romantically involved with Mildred Thompson, American sculptor, painter and lesbian she met in Nigeria during FESTAC 77. In a paper she delivered at the Modern Language Association›s “Lesbian and Literature Panel,” Chicago, Illinois, December 28, 1977 with the title, The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action, Lorde gave insight into the pains she encountered on account of her beliefs: “I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.”

It could also mean pain or death, but she said, “learning to put fear into a perspective gave me great strength” and that “I was going to die, if not sooner, then later, whether or not I had ever spoken.” Gradually, said Lorde, “I began to recognize a source of power within myself that comes from the knowledge that while it is most desirable not to be afraid, my silences had not protected me.” She died of liver cancer in 1995.

Yes, this is a rough, lonely road. It could be excruciating when you see friends, especially ones in government, desert you because they don’t want to associate with you. You walk alone like a deranged alchemist. Some even ask why, with your endowment and ascription, you live comparatively like a pauper. Your views are criminalized. Where you stand is not popular. But both madman Peter Tosh and lesbian Audre Geraldine Lorde give the will to trudge on in the New Year, regardless. Lorde was loud in my head with her admonition. After her initial apprehension of a mastectomy resulting from a breast cancer, she said: “I was going to die, sooner or later… My silences had not protected me. Your silences will not protect you…. What are the words you do not yet have? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence? We have been socialized to respect fear.”

There and then, I made a bold vow, a New Year resolution: I will continue to speak truth to power. Regardless.

News

What I Saw After A Lady Undressed Herself — Pastor Adeboye

Published

8 hours ago

January 4, 2026

Editor

General Overseer of the Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), Pastor Enoch Adeboye, has recounted a remarkable experience in which he said a woman was miraculously healed after prayers.

Adeboye shared the testimony while speaking at the RCCG annual gathering, describing the incident as a clear demonstration of divine intervention and the power of prayer.

According to the cleric, the incident occurred during a visit to a city where he had checked into an undisclosed hotel.

He said the lady approached him, greeted him and insisted on following him to his hotel room despite his objections.

“I told her, ‘Please don’t put me into trouble, I can pray for you here,’ but she insisted on following me,” Adeboye recounted.

He said that upon getting to the hotel room, the woman revealed the condition that prompted her persistence.

“When she pulled her dress up, what I saw shocked me. Her body was covered with scars,” he said.

Adeboye explained that he immediately began to pray for the woman, adding that he did not mind being loud during the prayers.

“I began to pray for her, and before I knew it, all the scars were gone,” he said.

The RCCG leader described the experience as a powerful testimony of faith, stressing that it reinforced his belief in prayer as a tool for healing and transformation.

News

Missing N128bn: SERAP Demands Probe Into Power Ministry, NBET Expenditures

Published

8 hours ago

January 4, 2026

Editor

The Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project (SERAP) has urged President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to immediately order an investigation into allegations that more than N128 billion in public funds is missing or has been diverted from the Federal Ministry of Power and the Nigerian Bulk Electricity Trading Plc. (NBET), Abuja.

The allegations are contained in the latest annual report of the Auditor-General of the Federation, published on September 9, 2025, which highlighted multiple cases of financial irregularities, undocumented payments, ents and suspected diversion of public funds across both institutions.

In a letter dated January 3, 2026, and signed by SERAP’s Deputy Director, Kolawole Oluwadare, the organisation called on President Tinubu to direct the Attorney General of the Federation and Minister of Justice, Lateef Fagbemi, SAN, alongside relevant anti-corruption agencies, to promptly probe the findings and ensure accountability.

SERAP stressed that any individual found culpable should be prosecuted where sufficient admissible evidence exists, while all missing or diverted funds should be fully recovered and paid back into the national treasury.

The group further urged the president to deploy any recovered funds to address the deficit in the 2026 budget and help ease Nigeria’s growing debt burden.

According to SERAP, Nigerians continue to bear the consequences of entrenched corruption in the power sector, which has contributed to persistent electricity shortages, frequent transmission line failures and unreliable power supply nationwide.

The organisation argued that addressing corruption in the sector would significantly improve access to regular and uninterrupted electricity.

The civil society group described the allegations as a grave breach of public trust and a violation of the 1999 Constitution (as amended), Nigeria’s anti-corruption laws and international obligations, including the United Nations Convention against Corruption.

Detailing the audit findings, SERAP noted that the Ministry of Power failed to account for over N4.4 billion transferred to the Mambilla, Zungeru and Kashimbilla project accounts, with no evidence provided on how the funds were utilised.

The Auditor-General expressed fears that the money may have been diverted and recommended its recovery.

The report also revealed that the ministry paid over N95 billion to contractors for various projects without documentation or proof that the projects existed or were executed.

Additionally, more than N33 million was reportedly spent on foreign travels for the minister and aides to attend international events in Abu Dhabi and Dubai without required approvals from the Secretary to the Government of the Federation or the Head of Civil Service.

Further concerns were raised over unaccounted expenditures, including over N230 million on the GIGMIS platform and more than N282 million paid as non-personal advances to staff beyond statutory limits, all without adequate documentation.

At NBET, the Auditor-General uncovered multiple cases of irregular contract awards and payments. These include over N427 million in contracts awarded without evidence of procurement advertisements, more than N7.6 billion transferred into purported sub-accounts of unnamed beneficiaries, and over N9.3 billion paid to Egbin Power Plc without documents to authenticate the transactions.

The audit also cited payments exceeding N8 billion made without proper record-keeping, over N420 million paid to ineligible consultants without evidence of services rendered, and more than N1.1 billion spent as extra-budgetary expenditure without approval from the Minister of Finance or the National Assembly.

Other questionable expenditures highlighted include payments for vehicles without due process, unapproved legal fees, undocumented staff welfare packages, and consultancy services not captured in approved budgets.

SERAP warned that if decisive action is not taken within seven days of the receipt or publication of its letter, the organisation would consider legal steps to compel the government to act in the public interest.

Citing constitutional provisions, SERAP reminded President Tinubu that Section 15(5) of the Constitution mandates the abolition of corrupt practices, while Section 16 obliges the government to ensure that the nation’s resources are managed to promote the welfare and happiness of all citizens.