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OPINION: We Beg Bread, They Belch Beer[Monday Lines]

Published

1 year ago

September 23, 2024

By Lasisi Olagunju

Are Nigerians hungry because they’ve been drinking too much free beer and now the brewery is bankrupt? I ask because President Bola Ahmed Tinubu waxed rhetorical Thursday last week as he dissected the very bad hunger wracking his country and its more than 200 million people. “I understand we are hungry, but no free beer parlour anymore,” he said. Except the president is suggesting that we are a nation of drunkards, I am tempted to wonder what shred of meaning connects “hunger” and “beer” here.

What the president said was a rhetorical gaffe that deserves a rebuke. When a person says what he said and in the context he said it, the Yoruba would look at him and wonder why he is talking ìrù (tail) when we are talking irú (locust beans). What are we saying, what are they saying? We are begging for bread; they are belching beer. The old man saw liquid when his people cried solid. The president’s ‘learned’ supporters will insist that ‘beer’ is the president’s metaphorical substitute for ‘food’. That will be interesting. We’ve always suspected that metaphor serves as a ready refuge for the flawed – especially in the very slippery terrain of politics. But the Emilokan rationalists should remember to tell the president that a successful metaphor is one that is apt. When the vehicle and the topic cohere in semantic peace, we congratulate the metaphor birther for a successful delivery.

His preference for “beer parlour” where ‘food bank’ should be was a tragic subversion of aptness in metaphor deployment. A mandatory credit pass in Literature is recommended for whoever would be president after this one. ‘Beer’ does not collocate with ‘hunger’.

The beer-parlour talk of the president may be one of his lasting contributions to language and the field of political rhetoric. You never can tell. He already, during the 2023 campaigns, dropped ‘balablu’ as one of his hit singles. Sometimes, what the enemy thinks is blemish ends up embellishing one’s memory. We call it èébú d’olá in Yoruba. William Archibald Spooner lived between July 1844 and August 1930. Between those years, he served as a clergyman, author and professor of ancient history, divinity and philosophy at the University of Oxford. He was described as “a well-liked, respected, genial, kindly, hospitable man” but blessed with “a head too large for his body.” Spooner was brilliant but was equally very absent-minded, and he got famous for it. He, in 1879, from the pulpit, famously gave out the first line of a popular hymn as “Kinkering Kongs their titles take” (instead of ‘Conquering Kings Their Titles Take’). And he did it, not intentionally.

When Spooner died, his obituary in the 1 September, 1930 edition of Manchester Guardian contains this passage: “All sorts of stories, probable and improbable, were invented… Of the well-worn ones, the best are those which made Spooner declare that he was leaving Oxford by ‘the town drain,’ that some unauthorised person was ‘occupewing his pie,’ that at a marriage it was ‘kistomary to cuss the bride,’ and that he was tired of addressing ‘beery wenches.’ Much better authenticated and not even a Spoonerism is his famous reply to a young lady who asked him if he liked bananas. He is said to have retorted, ‘I’m afraid I always wear the old-fashioned nightshirt.’”

That Guardian obituary was not only how Spooner was remembered. Because he said all he said, before he died, the English Language got enriched with one more permanent word – spoonerism. The word proceeded to get a barge of honour as a rhetorical device in literature – and a mention in neuro science.

Who knows, courtesy of our president, ‘beer’ may enter the English Dictionary as a synonym for ‘food’ just as the president’s social media enemies, irreverent children of anger, use ‘agbadoan’ as a collective name for his long-suffering fans. Agbado is the Yoruba name for corn. The president, before his election, recommended it as a solution to the hunger on the streets.

Now, more seriously, let us ask the president and his defenders: Can beer replace dinner? Or could it be that we are hungry because our leaders have been taking too much freebies from our liquor bank? Or could it be that our president has been too far removed from the caked reality of the scorched earth for him to know that the world is about to end courtesy of his apocalyptic policies? When the president said what he said and ended it with a demand for patience from the hungry, I heard a loud applause from his fawning followers. The president enjoyed that applause. How I wish he would read Shakespeare in ‘Pericles: Prince of Tyre’. The playwright says: “They do abuse the king that flatter him.” He says again that “kings should let their ears hear their faults.” Clapping when the leader spoke beer when food was needed was distressing; it numbs the soul. But you would ask who made up that adulating audience? Former principal officers of the National Assembly. They are plaintive ex-eagles desirous of new feathers for fresh flights and feasts. They are men who are ready to kneel lower than their knees. A high-five for what the president said shames all – especially the eight million plus who elected him last year.

The president also spoke about “free bowl” which he said hungry Nigerians “cannot just take”. Then he spoke about the closure of Nigeria’s “free beer parlour”. The tone, texture and context of Tinubu’s beer-and-bowl statement trivialized the people’s travails. Who will help Nigerians tell their president that their hunger is not for beer and the inebriation it offers? That the starvation cries in town are not a craving for free meal. That Nigerians do not seek, and are not demanding indebtedness to charity. All they seek are policies with a human face, a government that cares.

MORE FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: Yoruba’s Spirit Of Resistance [Monday Lines (1)]

The town writhes in agony because government has lost its meaning. Every citizen has a personal reason for voting in elections. One of those reasons is what English philosopher, Bernard Bosanquet (1848-1923) explains as the hope by the citizen that the government would help him to become “what he has in him to be.” Not all who voted for Tinubu last year did so for party, tribe or money. Some genuinely thought he would make a positive difference in their lives. Now, everyone is stranded because the government crashed the car.

The country is in deep trouble. What is broken in our economy is brittle beer bottle, not calabash. It cannot be mended as is done with calabash. It doesn’t look like the government is worried as we are about the present darkness. Where leaders do not care, we would be right to inquire what they have where a heart ought to be. If there is a heart there, then it must be made of something very hard. William Bascom wrote of the Yoruba concepts of the wicked and the hard-hearted: “A hard-hearted person is bad-tempered, easily offended, willful and stubborn, doing what he likes and paying no attention to what others say. When an ordinary person in anger would throw a small lump of dirt, a hard hearted person throws a large stone. Worse than the hard-hearted person is one who is ‘wicked’ (ìkà). A wicked person loves no one but himself; he advises others to sell things for less than he knows they are worth; he injures others and destroys their property without cause…” I agree. The wicked counts the number of stars he shoots down.

Last week, US vice president, Kamala Harris, told talk show host, Oprah Winfrey, that a leader’s real strength lies in “who he lifts up, not who he brings down.” She said the same, and much more, in another interview in April this year, long before she became the Democratic Party’s presidential candidate:

“We need a protector”, the interviewer told Kamala Harris.

And she replies:

“Yes. Sadly, over the last many years, there has been this kind of perverse approach to what strength looks like, which is to suggest that the measure of one’s strength is based on who you beat down instead of what we know that the true measure of your strength is based on who you lift up. You know, and if you ever want to measure, if you ever want some objective indication of your individual power, see what you can do to help other people, people in need. It could be some simple act, like just listening to how people are feeling and to sincerely, sincerely have some interest and concern about their well-being or their suffering. That’s what we want from leaders…That’s really what strength looks like and that’s the kind of strength that we want.”

MORE FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: In Defence Of Our President [Monday Lines]

That is the kind of strength Nigerians demand to see in their president. They do not desire a leader who sits somewhere far in the sky and speaks in tongues about hunger and patience; about beer, bowls and booze. A leader should not preen like a god while his people reel in pain.

We also read the president declaring last Friday that he was in government to work and not to make money. I read him and said great! A leader should take less and give more. “The less a man needs, the nearer he is to God who needs nothing,” said Socrates. But we read of our leaders’ stories of grasping and taking that leave us to wonder if some people’s needs have a limit.

About 50 years ago, Sakara music legend, Yusuf Olatunji, had cause to sing: “You said there is no food but your own children feed to satiation (E ní kò sí, kò sí, omo yín ńyó…).” Between the 1970s when the song was sung and now, what has changed is that things have grown worse. Our presidency is famed as the most powerful in the history of presidential democracy. It is also sadly, the most unfeeling. Ghanaian writer, Ayi Kwei Armah, asks: “Is it always true that it is impossible to have things strong and at the same time beautiful?” Our Federal Government is strong and powerful but so are wolves and lions in the jungle. We think our president should be king – or god – and we have him so invested. That should explain why a president says the wrong things and all palms turn zombie, clapping.

In a careless republic as ours, a president can easily become a virtual monarch, or even a god. We will soon be there – if we are not there already. It is possible some people have a shrine where they make offerings of kola and liquor to the Nigerian president. If they do, they would have several pages of history to guide them. One of them is in the West Africa magazine of March 3, 1945 which published a piece in celebration of the memory of an Alaafin who had just joined his ancestors. “The highest oath that an Oyo man could take was to swear by the head of the Alaafin,” the magazine wrote, and added that the people believed the late oba was divine. The oba himself thought himself so and he said so and acted so. How?

Eshugbayi Eleko was deposed as the Oba of Lagos in 1925 by the British. He was subsequently banished to Oyo town but he didn’t go quietly into the night; he went to court. During the ensuing celebrated case, evidence on some historical issues was needed in support of the deposed oba. It was to the Alaafin of Oyo that counsel to Oba Eshugbayi went.

The Alaafin was asked to swear before his evidence was taken.

Alaafin queried in anger:

“By whose name?”

“God’s name or by the name of your idol,” the lawyer told him.

“I myself am god!” the oba replied.

By calling himself god or God, the Alaafin of 1925 had not said what no one had ever said. About 300 years earlier, King James I of England uttered something weighty about the king occupying a throne almost as powerful as God’s. King James told the English parliament on Wednesday, 21 March, 1609 that “kings sit upon God’s throne, but even by God himself they are called gods.” A king, he said, could make anyone “beggars or rich at his pleasure; restrain, or banish out of his presence…” And he used that power, and faced resistance – from the Catholic Church and from other churches. He fought and won. He enjoyed exercising that divine right, quashing opposition, bringing people up, casting people down. But his son, Charles I, who succeeded him didn’t have the grace he had. History says Charles was fought, defeated, arrested, tried by a parliamentary court and found guilty of charges which included devising “a wicked design to erect and uphold in himself an unlimited and tyrannical power to rule according to his will, and to overthrow the rights and liberties of the people”. At his execution at about 2pm on Tuesday, 30 January, 1649, Charles insisted that he did no wrong, that the people were his subjects who should really have no “share in the government.” He stressed that “a subject and a sovereign are clean different things.” May God give Nigerians the sense to continue to have a share in their government.

News

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

Published

18 hours 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

18 hours 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

19 hours 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.”