Today, all roads lead to the ancient Palace in Ile-Ife as kings, chiefs, dignitaries, and people from all walks of life gather to witness the installation of Aare Akile, Rotimi Benjamin Ibidapo, OON, and Yeye Aare Akile , Remilekun Mulikat Ibidapo of the Ile-Ife, the cradle of the Yoruba race.
This momentous occasion celebrates the rich cultural heritage and traditions of the Yoruba people.
It’s a divine appointment that has brought this extraordinary couple together. Prince Rotimi Benjamin Ibidapo, OON, and his better half, Erelu Remilekun Mulikat Ibidapo, are destined for greatness, breaking records and setting new benchmarks. To be modest, their journey is truly worthy of recognition in the Guinness World Book of Records as events continue to unfold.
My acquaintance with Prince Rotimi spans over four decades, courtesy of his late older brother, Agama, and uncle, King Joe, a retired military officer I knew during my days in the Nigerian Army barracks, Emene, Enugu.
Prince Rotimi hails from the Olowo Aghagunhaye dynasty, born to Samuel Boje and Rachael Ayiwobu Ibidapo of Arigidi-Uloro, Owo, a bastion of Owo culture and traditions. Well-groomed and charismatic, Prince Rotimi owes his values to his disciplined upbringing. His educational journey took him to St. Andrew’s Anglican Primary School, Owo, New Church Grammar School Owo, and the Federal Polytechnic Ado-Ekiti, Ekiti State. He furthered his education with a Master’s degree in the Metropolitan University United Kingdom and has accumulated various chieftaincy titles from different kingdoms, including Agba-Akin of Ijebu-Owo, Aare Atunluse of Owo Kingdom, Aare Apesin of Akure Kingdom, and Aare Kajewolu of Oka-Akoko land.
I have known Erelu Remilekun Mulikat Ibidapo for almost five decades, as a royal elegant respectful lady, an advisor, and a supportive daughter of her famous father, Chief Jimoh Ajanaku Makun, the first Seriki of Musilimu of Owoland, who sponsored over eighty-seven people to the holy pilgrimage, Mecca and Medina. Her mom, Chief Deborah Adeyoriola Ajanaku Makun, who is in her mid-nineties, is the Iya Isale of Methodist Church Cathedral Circuit Owo and a retired chartered trader.
She is a cosmopolitan individual who grew up in a well-settled large family with pure African culture, custom, norms, traditions, and religious harmony beliefs that are respected and valued. Responsibilities, responsiveness, and family bonds are precious to the family she was nurtured in. She is also a younger sister to my wife Bolaji.
They both share a sisterly bond and fond memories.
Erelu Remilekun Mulikat is a certified practicing professional nurse, nurtured in a large extended family environment. She studied at St. Martin’s Primary School Owo, St. Catherine’s Girl’s Grammar School Owo, and attended University in Belgium and became a certified practising professional nurse.
She is a leader of various companies, including Helping Hand Nurse and Deborah Multi-Specialist Hospital in USA and Deborah Multi-Specialist Diagnostic Centre Owode Oba-Ile Akure, Ondo. As she is about to receive another prestigious and culturally inclined title from Ile-Ife, she is currently a holder of many community chieftaincy titles, of which the prominent ones are the Erelu Apesin of Akure Kingdom and Yeye Aare Kajewolu of Oka-Akoko land.
Today, December 6th, Prince Rotimi and his wife are set to be installed as Aare Akile and Yeye Aare Akile of Ile-Ife, the source of the Yoruba race, by the revered Ooni Adeyeye Ogunwusi, Ojaja II.
As Aare Akile, Prince Rotimi embodies excellence in business, philanthropy, and community development. His commitment to humanity and community development has earned him national recognition, including the Order of the Niger, OON. Aare Akile’s partnership with his wife is a testament to their shared values and dedication to making a difference. Congratulations to the royal couple on this momentous occasion!
Ewe oye amori oooh! Ewe oye aro oooh!
*Olatunbosun Oladimeji is a media practitioner, businessman and politician.
For the past decade, I have consistently advocated for a critical issue that continues to affect the Nigerian Super Eagles performance — the behavior of the ball on our home pitches.
The Nigerian Super Eagles are made up of elite players who have been trained and conditioned to play the European style of speed football. These players thrive on fast ball transitions, precision passing, and quick reactions — all of which are supported by hybrid turf systems commonly used in Europe. However, in countries that lack maintenance culture we always recommend the hybrid synthetic turf system that has extreme similar ball behavior with hybrid stitch and the hybrid natural system if well installed and maintained as recommended by FIFA for quality and quality pro.
However, when these same players return home to play on 100% natural grass turfs, which are known to hold back the ball and slow down play, their rhythm and tactical efficiency are disrupted. The result is clear: the Super Eagles often struggle to replicate their club side performances when playing at home on 100% natural turf.
This technical imbalance is not a matter of player quality — it is a matter of ball behaviour on the pitch. Until Nigeria aligns its football infrastructure with the standards that our players train and compete on abroad, we will continue to face unnecessary disadvantages in home fixtures.
CAF’s recent introduction of the four-team playoff system, scheduled to take place at the Prince Moulay El Hassan Stadium in Morocco, presents a golden opportunity for Nigeria not to miss the World Cup party.
The choice of this venue is not coincidental — the stadium features a hybrid natural turf system that supports the European style of speed football which most elite African players most especially the Nigerian Super Eagles star studded elite team are now accustomed to.
This hybrid natural turf provides an ideal balance between speed, traction, and ball control — critical elements that enhance player confidence and safety perception on the field. It allows for fluid ball movement, precise passing, and consistent footing under varying weather conditions.
By learning from this model, Nigeria can adopt similar turf technologies across its home stadiums, ensuring that our players compete in environments that mirror the professional standards they experience abroad.
This alignment is vital if we are to compete effectively at CAF and FIFA levels and secure consistent World Cup qualification.
Armed attacks on schools in Nigeria has become a recurring decimal sending alarming shockwaves across the country. The scale and manner in which the attacks are carried out, and the poor response on part of the government calls for a conscientious and methodical review of the government safety and security policy/intervention plans.
During ex- President Goodluck Jonathan’s administration, 276 students of Government Girls Secondary School located in Chibok town Borno State, aged 16-18 and mostly Christians, were kidnapped by the daredevil terrorist group, Boko Haram. While the nation was still grappling with the trauma of Chibok girls attack, the terrorists struck again, this time on February 19, 2018 during late Muhammadu Buhari’s regime. 110 school girls, aged 11-19 years old, were kidnapped by the Boko Haram terrorist group from the Government Girls Science and Technical College, Dapchi, Yobe state.
This kind of embarrassing situation which would make a Donald Trump call Nigeria a “disgraced nation”, earlier prompted the government of late President Buhari to swing into action by adopting two draft policy papers, earlier prepared by the Goodluck administration. The draft policy papers are a response to tackling armed violence in schools in Nigeria. The core of the policy states that “violence against children violates the fundamental rights of children to be protected from all forms of violence, insecurity and lack of safety in their school.”
Thus, the National Policy on Safety and security in Schools (NPSSS), and the National Policy on Violence-Free Schools (NPVFS) were merged in 2018, and breathed upon with the authoritative air of legal and policy framework for its operations.
This policy is geared amongst others things towards ensuring safety and security of schools and to create Violence-Free environments. Simply put, the policy is aimed at setting standards for implementing comprehensive school safety plans, provide prevention and response mechanisms at national, state, local government and individual school levels.
It seems to signal early warning, ensure disaster risk reduction (DRR) and disaster risk management (DRM), and drew its legal strength by aligning its framework to the country’s existing obligations under international and regional treaties, declarations and legislation.
Edoreh Omowera Stephen
For example, the constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999 as amended, section 14(2)(b) and 18(1), expressly guarantees the safety and security of schools in Nigeria. The African Charter Act section 17 and 24 requires the government to guarantee access to education in a safe and secure environment in Nigeria. The compulsory free Universal Basic Education Act of 2004, also states the rights of Nigerian children to the enjoyment of the right to equal and adequate education in a safe and protected environment.
As laudable and proactive as this policy, there is a troubling disconnect of it’s intents and purpose in both implementation and logistics, as the scale and manner of violent attacks across schools in Nigeria, particularly in Northern Nigeria, continues with reckless abandon and braggadocio.
The kidnap of 25 school girls from Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School, Maga, Kebbi State, and 303 children kidnapped from St Mary’s Catholic School, Niger state, within a week’s interval after the Kebbi girl’s attack, reveals the policy failure of the National Policy on Safety, Security and Violence -Free Schools (NPSSVFS).
This is therefore a clarion call for the President Bola Ahmed Tinubu led administration to put action into words in tackling this menace. All relevant stakeholders in both the educational sector, security sector and private school owners should come together in finding a lasting solution out of this national educational quagmire, bearing in mind the right of the child to safe school learning environment.
This policy should be reviewed as a matter of utmost urgency, to evaluate its area of strength and weaknesses, with a view to putting necessary governmental bulwark in place to ward off future and frequent occurrence.
Let’s act now and let’s act fast. Safety is not reactive but proactive.
Edoreh Omowera Stephen, a Policy, Safety and Security consultant, writes from Guzape, Abuja.
In the heat of the 2023 campaign, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu stood before throngs of hopeful Nigerians and made a promise that cut through the noise: “We will build a Nigeria where credit is not a luxury for the elite, but a ladder for every citizen to climb out of poverty and into prosperity.” It was more than rhetoric—it was a blueprint for economic justice, a vow to democratize finance in a nation where 40% of us scrape by below the poverty line, and inequality widens like a chasm.
Fast-forward to 2025, and that promise isn’t just kept; it’s exploding into reality through the Nigerian Consumer Credit Corporation (CrediCorp).
Under the transformative leadership of Managing Director/CEO Engineer Uzoma Nwagba, CrediCorp isn’t revolutionizing credit—it’s rewriting the rules of possibility, turning campaign cheers into concrete change that will echo across generations.
Let’s call it what it is: a game-changer. Established as a Federal Government Development Finance Institution in 2024, CrediCorp is the engine of President Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda, operationalized with laser focus and unyielding execution. In barely 18 months, it has disbursed over ₦30 billion in affordable loans to 153,000 Nigerians—civil servants, artisans, retirees, and yes, our vibrant youth—slashing interest rates by up to 20% and reaching 180,000 lives with credit for everything from solar panels to small business inventory.
This isn’t incremental progress; it’s a seismic shift. Where once credit meant predatory lenders charging 40-60% interest, CrediCorp delivers responsible, low-cost access—up to ₦2 million interest-free in pilots—that empowers without ensnaring. And at the helm? Uzoma Nwagba, the engineer-economist whose quiet brilliance is turning a bold vision into a national movement.
Uzoma Nwagba isn’t just leading CrediCorp—he’s supercharging it. A Harvard MBA graduate with a First Class Honors degree from Howard University, Nwagba’s career is a masterclass in blending Wall Street precision with Silicon Valley innovation. He kicked off as an Analyst at Goldman Sachs in New York, honing the analytical edge that would later dissect markets for the masses. Then, as Product Manager at Microsoft in Redmond, he earned a coveted Gold Star Award—one of the company’s highest honors—for masterfully leading a vast mobile technology team, building enterprise and mobile software tailored for emerging markets like Nigeria, Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa.
Returning home armed with his Harvard MBA, Nwagba dove into private equity at African Capital Alliance, driving transformative investments in financial services and healthcare that scaled impact across the continent. But his true genius shone as Chief Operating Officer of Nigeria’s Government Enterprise and Empowerment Programme (GEEP), where he co-managed the world’s largest microcredit scheme—disbursing and overseeing two million loans to underbanked Nigerians through a tech-driven powerhouse that advanced financial inclusion like never before in Africa.
Under his watch at CrediCorp, he’s launched game-changing initiatives like the ₦100 billion Car Ownership Scheme, making vehicles accessible for the working class and boosting local auto assembly; the Pension-Backed Loan Programme, dignifying retirees with low-interest access for healthcare and home upgrades; and the Inventory Finance Scheme, injecting ₦100,000 loans into 10,000 market women’s hands across 224 markets.
His crown jewel? YouthCred, Nigeria’s largest youth credit intervention, fulfilling President Tinubu’s Democracy Day pledge to empower 400,000 young Nigerians—including NYSC corps members—with tailored loans for startups, devices, and skills training. With 65% of beneficiaries as first-time borrowers—many young hustlers historically shut out—Nwagba’s data-driven dashboards and fraud-proof portals have built trust where skepticism once ruled.
No wonder CrediCorp snagged “Consumer Credit Access Company of the Year” at the 2025 BusinessDay BAFI Awards—Nwagba didn’t just meet the bar; he raised it sky-high.
But let’s not forget the architect: President Tinubu. His campaign wasn’t pie-in-the-sky; it was prescient. He saw a Nigeria where credit fuels consumption, sparks industry, and slays poverty’s dragons—echoing his vow for “affordable credit as a right, not a privilege.” By repealing barriers and injecting ₦100 billion seed capital, the President handed Nwagba the keys to a vault of potential. Their alliance? Pure alchemy.
Tinubu’s political fire meets Nwagba’s operational steel, forging a system that doesn’t just lend money—it lends hope. As Nwagba puts it, this is “empowerment, not exploitation,” a direct line from campaign trail to kitchen tables. Why does CrediCorp matter so profoundly? In a nation where 89 million souls battle multidimensional poverty and inequality festers like an open wound, credit is the great equalizer.
It breaks cycles: A market woman in Lagos restocks with an inventory loan, hires two apprentices, and lifts her family from subsistence to surplus. A retiree in Kano upgrades her home with pension-backed credit, freeing resources for her grandchildren’s education. A corps member in Enugu launches a solar-powered agrotech venture via YouthCred, creating jobs in a rural economy starved for innovation. By targeting the unbanked—artisans, small traders, youth—CrediCorp injects liquidity into underserved communities, stimulates demand for local goods (think CNG conversions under the CALM Fund), and multiplies economic velocity.
The math is merciless: Nigeria needs ₦180 trillion in circulating credit to match South Africa’s economy; CrediCorp’s wholesale guarantees to lenders are the spark to ignite it. Poverty shrinks when families afford solar panels (cutting energy costs 50%), vehicles (unlocking mobility and markets), and tools (boosting productivity). Inequality fades as first-timers—65% of users—build credit scores that open doors to homes, businesses, and brighter futures. This isn’t trickle-down; it’s flood-up—prosperity rising from the grassroots, enduring because it’s equitable and sustainable.
For everyday Nigerians, the benefits are as immediate as they are profound.
Let’s Break it down: Affordability—rates discounted 20%, turning usurious debt into dignified financing. Accessibility—digital portals and partnerships with 25+ institutions mean no more gatekeepers; apply at credicorp.ng and get verified via BVN in days. Responsibility—mandatory financial literacy modules (like in YouthCred) ensure users aren’t just borrowers, but builders of wealth.
A young entrepreneur in Abuja buys inventory on credit, scales her shop, employs neighbors—poverty’s grip loosens. A civil servant in Port Harcourt converts to CNG, saves on fuel, invests in her child’s tuition—inequality’s scales tip toward balance. And for youth like us? It’s rocket fuel: 400,000 empowered by Q2 2025, turning service-year side hustles into empires.
As the APC National Youth Wing, we’re not just observers—we’re overjoyed architects. Seeing young guns like Uzoma Nwagba in government isn’t tokenism; it’s triumph. At 36, with a resume forged in global powerhouses, he’s proof that when merit meets mandate, magic happens. We hype him because he hypes us: Prioritizing youth in CrediCorp’s DNA, from NYSC tie-ups to innovation challenges, shows a leader who gets it—our generation isn’t the problem; we’re the propulsion. And with President Tinubu’s unwavering backing—allocating fresh funds, championing expansions— this duo is dismantling barriers we thought were permanent.
Nigerians, here’s your call to action: Don’t spectate—seize it. Head to credicorp.ng/apply today. Whether you’re a trader eyeing inventory, a retiree needing home fixes, or a corper with a big idea, CrediCorp is your unlock code. Build that credit score; it’s your invisible asset, your ticket to bigger loans, better lives. Repay responsibly—two years post-use for some—and watch doors fly open.
President Tinubu, your promise wasn’t puffery; it was prophecy. Uzoma Nwagba, you’re the executor extraordinaire, proving young Nigerians in power choose impact over inertia. Together, you’re not just fighting poverty and inequality—you’re forging a Nigeria where every citizen credits their success to a system that believed in them first. This is Renewed Hope, reloaded. Our future? Secured, soaring, and supremely ours.
Dayo Israel is the National Youth Leader of the All Progressives Congress (APC).
As the National Youth Leader of the All Progressives Congress (APC), I have spent most of my tenure fighting for a Nigeria where every young person, regardless of their ward or local government, family income, or circumstance, can chase dreams without the chains of financial despair.
Today, that fight feels like victory, thanks to the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND). Launched as a cornerstone of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda, this initiative isn’t just a policy tweak; it’s a revolution. And under the steady, visionary hand of Managing Director Akintunde Sawyerr, NELFUND has transformed from a bold promise into a roaring engine of opportunity, disbursing over ₦116 billion to more than 396,000 students and shattering barriers for over a million applicants.
Let’s be clear: NELFUND was always destined to be a game-changer. Signed into law by President Tinubu on April 3, 2024, it repealed the outdated 2023 Student Loan Act, replacing it with a modern, inclusive framework that covers tuition, upkeep allowances, and even vocational training—ensuring no Nigerian youth is left on the sidelines of progress.
But what elevates it from groundbreaking to generational? Leadership. Enter Akintunde Sawyerr, the diplomat-turned-executioner whose career reads like a blueprint for results-driven governance. From co-founding the Agricultural Fresh Produce Growers and Exporters Association of Nigeria (AFGEAN) in 2012—backed by icons like former President Olusegun Obasanjo and Dr. Akinwumi Adesina—to steering global logistics at DHL across 21 countries, Sawyerr brings a rare alchemy: strategic foresight fused with unyielding accountability.
As NELFUND’s pioneer MD, he’s turned a fledgling fund into a finely tuned machine, processing over 1 million applications since May 2024 and disbursing ₦116 billion—₦61.33 billion in institutional fees and ₦46.35 billion in upkeep—to students in 231 tertiary institutions nationwide. That’s not bureaucracy; that’s brilliance.
Sawyerr’s touch is everywhere in NELFUND’s ascent. Since the portal’s launch, he’s overseen a digital ecosystem that’s as transparent as it is efficient—seamless verification, BVN-linked tracking, and real-time dashboards that have quashed misinformation and built trust. In just 18 months, the fund has empowered 396,252 students with interest-free loans, many first-generation learners who might otherwise have dropped out.
Sensitization drives in places like Ekiti and Ogun have spiked applications — 12,000 in a single day in one instance, while expansions to vocational centers in Enugu pilot the next wave of skills-based funding. And amid challenges like data mismatches and fee hikes, Sawyerr’s team has iterated relentlessly: aligning disbursements with academic calendars, resuming backlogged upkeep payments for over 3,600 students, and even probing institutional compliance to safeguard every kobo. This isn’t management; it’s mastery—a man who doesn’t just lead but launches futures.
Yet, none of this happens in a vacuum. President Tinubu’s alliance with trailblazers like Sawyerr is the secret sauce securing Nigeria’s tomorrow. The President’s Renewed Hope Agenda isn’t rhetoric; it’s resources—₦100 billion seed capital channeled into a system that prioritizes equity over elitism. Together, they’ve forged a partnership where vision meets velocity: Tinubu’s bold repeal of barriers meets Sawyerr’s boots-on-the-ground execution, turning abstract policy into tangible triumphs. It’s a synergy that’s non-discriminatory by design—Christians, Muslims, every tribe and tongue united in access—fostering national cohesion through classrooms, not courtrooms.
As Sawyerr himself notes, this is “visionary leadership” in action, where the President’s political will ignites reforms that ripple across generations.
Why does this matter to us, Nigeria’s youth? Because NELFUND isn’t handing out handouts—it’s handing out horizons. In a country where 53% of us grapple with unemployment, these loans aren’t just funds; they’re fuel for innovation, entrepreneurship, and endurance.
Picture it: A first-generation polytechnic student in Maiduguri, once sidelined by fees, now graduates debt-free (repayments start two years post-NYSC, employer-deducted for ease) and launches a tech startup. Or a vocational trainee in Enugu, equipped with skills funding, revolutionizing local agriculture. This is quality education that endures—not fleeting certificates, but lifelong launchpads. Sawyerr’s focus on human-centered design ensures loans cover not just books, but bread—upkeep stipends of ₦20,000 monthly keeping hunger at bay so minds can soar. Under his watch, NELFUND has debunked doubts, refuted fraud claims, and delivered results that scream sustainability: Over ₦99.5 billion to 510,000 students by September, with 228 institutions on board.
As youth leaders, we see NELFUND for what it is: A covenant with our future. President Tinubu and MD Sawyerr aren’t just allies; they’re architects of an educated, empowered Nigeria—one where poverty’s grip loosens with every approved application, and innovation blooms from every funded desk. This isn’t charity; it’s an investment in the 70 million of us who will lead tomorrow.
We’ve crossed one million applications not because of luck, but leadership—a duo that’s turning “access denied” into “future unlocked.”
To President Tinubu: Thank you for daring to dream big and backing it with action.
To Akintunde Sawyerr: You’re the executor we needed, proving that one steady hand can steady a nation.
And to every Nigerian youth: Apply. Graduate. Conquer.
Because with NELFUND, your generation isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving, enduring, and eternal.
The Renewed Hope isn’t a slogan; it’s our story, now written in scholarships and success. Let’s keep turning the page.
*Dayo Israel is the National Youth Leader of the All Progressives Congress (APC).
Food fortification is a well-established public health intervention designed to address widespread micronutrient deficiencies in populations. Over time, this strategy has proven remarkably effective in tackling several serious health conditions. One of the most notable examples is the addition of iodine to salt, which successfully helped combat goitre, a painful swelling of the thyroid gland caused by iodine deficiency. Likewise, fortifying milk with vitamin D was pivotal in conquering rickets, a disease that weakens the bones of children.
Typically, the implementation of fortification programs follows one of two models. These models are either mandatory or voluntary in nature. Under a mandatory framework, governments legally require certain food categories to be fortified with specific nutrients to remedy major public health concerns. The addition of iodine to salt, or the fortification of flour with folic acid or vitamin A to prevent neural tube defects are common examples of this model.
By contrast, the voluntary model of fortification presents a different approach. In this case, food manufacturers may choose to fortify their products as a way to enhance brand value. This practice is commonly seen in consumer goods such as breakfast cereals, beverages, and bouillon cubes, which are often fortified with iron and B vitamins.
In recent years, fortification has extended into the realm of ultra-processed foods (UPFs), a development that has generated considerable debate. Proponents argue that since people, particularly in developed countries, obtain a significant portion of their daily calories from UPFs, fortifying these products can help ensure that populations still receive some essential vitamins and minerals they might otherwise miss by not consuming enough healthy, natural foods.
However, this logic collapses when applied to developing contexts like Nigeria, where traditional and indigenous diets still dominate food tables. In such settings, fortifying UPFs can actually make things worse by accelerating a trend known as a nutrition transition, in which people gradually replace their healthy local meals with prepackaged and unhealthy options. This shift increases the population’s vulnerability to diet-related non-communicable diseases (NCDs) such as diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and obesity.
Furthermore, the idea of adding a few micronutrients to an otherwise unhealthy ultra processed product to make it nutritious creates what scholars describe as a health halo effect. Consumers, misled by labels proclaiming “fortified with vitamins” may assume such foods are beneficial and consume them in excess, even though they often contain high amounts of sugar, salt, and harmful fats. This misconception contributes to the growing rates of hypertension, cardiovascular disease, and other chronic conditions, ultimately aggravating existing nutrition and public health issues rather than solving them.
More critically, fortifying UPFs is a band-aid solution that fails to address the underlying structural drivers of poor diets, especially those shaped by corporate food systems. It allows industry actors to profit from a public health crisis instead of confronting its root causes, which includes the limited access to affordable, wholesome foods. While fortified UPFs may contain added vitamins, they often lack other beneficial components found in whole foods, such as fibre, antioxidants, and a diverse range of naturally occurring micronutrients.
Additionally, widespread fortification of multiple food products can lead to the over-consumption of certain nutrients, especially if a person also takes dietary supplements. The excessive intake of vitamins and minerals such as vitamin A can have adverse health effects, including teratogenic risks during pregnancy.
In summary, while food fortification remains a valuable public health tool, its application to UPFs presents a paradox. It may offer limited benefits in contexts of severe deficiency but simultaneously deepens unhealthy consumption patterns and facilitates corporate capture of nutrition policy. In Nigeria, where indigenous diets rich in natural micronutrients are not only culturally central but remain the most widely consumed sources of nourishment, promoting the fortification of UPFs could inadvertently legitimise junk food as public good. Instead of fortifying the problem, public health efforts should focus on protecting and expanding access to affordable, whole, and minimally processed foods that truly sustain life.
*Olukemi-Odele, a food scientist, is the Project Officer (Cardiovascular Health, Food Policy Program) at Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA).
There are institutions that die quietly. And there are those that live on, only to decay from within. The Independent National Electoral Commission — INEC — belongs to the latter. It conducts elections, yet often buries the very spirit of democracy.
So, welcome to the new INEC Chairman. As expected, your confirmation sailed through smoothly — a mere ritual in our Senate’s predictable theatre. But confirmation is not consecration. You will need not just our prayers, but also our collective vigilance, for the INEC you inherit is no ordinary bureaucracy. It is a graveyard of ideals — an institution haunted by the ghosts of its own corruption.
I speak not as a distant observer but as one who has seen it up close — first as a candidate pleading for fairness before its officials, and later as a presidential adviser engaging it from the corridors of power. What I saw then, and what we continue to see now, is rot that transcends personalities. It is systemic — embedded, protected, and self-replicating.
The Illusion of Reform
Every new INEC chairman arrives to fanfare — with lofty speeches about transparency, technology, and credibility. Yet, within months, the system swallows them whole. INEC is a machine that digests integrity and excretes compromise.
Files vanish mysteriously. Sensitive materials are traded like commodities. Loyalty is bought, technology sabotaged, contracts inflated, and those who try to do right are mocked as naïve. Elections, which should be the heartbeat of democracy, have become business ventures for a few — and trauma for the many.
Nigeria does not lack competent people; what it lacks are institutions willing to protect them. From procurement to logistics, from voter registration to result collation, corruption has metastasized. The problem is not merely bribery — it is the culture that treats the people’s will as a negotiable commodity.
The Culture of Impunity
INEC’s problem is not inefficiency; it is impunity. Electoral officers who compromise results are rewarded with promotion. Collation officers who rewrite figures are compensated with appointments. Politicians who buy their victories are later addressed as His Excellency. When wrongdoing attracts no consequence, corruption becomes a creed.
As a candidate, election day felt less like a civic exercise and more like a dangerous expedition — one had to protect not just the votes, but also the conscience of those counting them. Later, as an adviser, I saw the same disease from another angle: institutional arrogance that resists scrutiny and reform.
I have seen university professors — invited to lend credibility — make nocturnal visits to candidates to negotiate humongous payoffs. I have seen lower-level staff break into stores to tamper with ballots, preempting tribunal evidence. Resident Electoral Commissioners lobby to be posted to volatile but “lucrative” states where bribes are richer. Some even collect from opposing candidates. Anyone who has ever contested an election in Nigeria has their own horror story.
What Must Change
To fix INEC, we must stop pretending that memos and sermons can redeem it. The institution must be rebuilt — legally, structurally, and culturally — from the ground up.
Total Personnel Audit: Conduct a forensic audit of every staff member — from headquarters to polling units — and expel those whose loyalty lies with political merchants.
Transparent Recruitment and Tenure System: Depoliticize and professionalize recruitment. The current practice, where insiders hire loyalists, ensures the continuity of corruption.
Digital Transparency, Not Digital Manipulation: Technology means nothing in corrupt hands. We need open-source electoral systems that allow citizens, parties, and observers to track results in real time. What use is spending billions on technology if it is gleefully discarded on Election Day and justified by selective interpretations of the law?
Independent Oversight: INEC must not only be independent of the executive; it must also be accountable to citizens through an oversight body drawn from civil society, the judiciary, and academia.
Consequences for Electoral Crimes: Establish an Electoral Crimes Commission with prosecutorial powers. Those who rig elections must not find refuge in politics. A strict, enforceable code should ensure that anyone who subverts the people’s will faces the law.
A Call to the New Chairman
Mr. Chairman, you are not being called to tinker at the edges. You are being summoned to perform surgery on a dying institution — to cut deep and rebuild, not repaint. The nation does not need a panel beater; it needs a surgeon. Nigerians are tired of promises; they crave results.
You will face resistance, sabotage, and seduction. The vultures within will test your resolve. But history will give you only one chance to be different.
INEC must stop being a factory for stolen mandates. It must once again become the guardian of our collective will. Until that happens, elections in Nigeria will remain what they have become — theatre without truth, performance without purpose.
I write this to fulfill all righteousness. Knowing our system, I doubt this rebirth will happen soon. But should it ever happen, I would be glad to be proven wrong — for in that moment, not only I, but Nigeria itself, would find redemption.
Last Friday, we buried Kenny — an ally, a politician, and a woman of rare courage.
Kehinde Adebowale Ajifolawe , nee Olokesusi, fondly called Kenny Ise, was a trader in Fayose Market, Ado-Ekiti. Years ago, she left for America, started a family, and somehow found herself in a situation . Life brought her back to Nigeria — separated from her husband and children, but never separated from her principles.
She was loyal, open-minded, and brutally frank. Kenny was not your average politician. If she stood with you, she stood all the way. No hypocrisy, no double-speak. She spoke truth to power — and as we say, “she no send.”
I saw this side of her clearly in 2018 when she led the women’s wing of my campaign for the governorship ticket in Ekiti. She worked tirelessly, rallied everyone, and gave her best.
The last time I saw Kenny was in June, at my wife’s 60th birthday celebration. She was her usual lively self — laughing, dancing, teasing, and correcting. She filled every room she entered with energy. That was Kenny: full of light.
A Funeral Turned Fundraiser
Then came her funeral.
There she was, lying still in her coffin — a woman in her fifties, gone too soon, her husband and children far away. The atmosphere was heavy with grief. But before long, the officiating reverend of the Anglican Church turned sorrow into spectacle.
We were called four separate times to make donations during the service. We were asked to put another in envelopes. That could have been overlooked. But then came the shocking moment.
Kenny’s two nieces — barely out of their teens — were called forward to represent her children. They nervously announced a donation of ₦200,000 to the church. Instead of showing gratitude, the reverend frowned and said it was “too small.”
I was horrified. The young girls froze in shame. I had to get up, take the microphone, and add to the donation — just to save them from further embarrassment.
But it didn’t end there. The reverend then asked every mourner to come forward, one after another, to announce their donations publicly.
That was when the crowd erupted.
“Why are you doing this?” “What are you selling here?” “Are we here to mourn or to buy?”
Voices rose in anger. The congregation rose up in unison and began to walk out. Women shouted that the church had already collected ₦100,000 “for diesel,” plus several other charges just to hold a one-hour service.
The reverend’s face went pale with embarrassment. The moment was chaotic, painful — and deeply revealing.
When Compassion Took Flight
That day, I felt profound sorrow — not just for Kenny, but for the state of the church in Nigeria.
What was once a refuge for the broken has become a marketplace. Compassion has taken flight. Funerals and weddings are now opportunities for fundraising. The pulpit has become a counter. The sacred has been replaced by salesmanship.
The missionaries who brought Christianity here did not behave like this. They mourned with the grieving, cared for the widows, took in orphans, and offered free education. They gave without expecting payment.
But their successors — our own clergy — have turned faith into business. The altar into a cash point. The gospel into a commodity.
A Call for Reform
What happened in Ise-Ekiti must not be dismissed as an isolated incident. It is a symptom of a deeper moral sickness — one that is eroding the soul of the church.
When mourners revolt inside a church, it is not rebellion. It is a cry of conscience.
If the church in Nigeria does not rediscover compassion, humility, and service, it risks losing its moral authority completely. People will simply stop showing up — not because they’ve lost faith in God, but because they’ve lost faith in those who claim to speak for Him.
Christianity was never meant to be a bazaar. It was meant to be a refuge.
It’s time the church returns to that calling.
By Babafemi Ojudu, Journalist • Former Senator • Former Presdential Advisor • Public Policy Advocate
Tobacco use alone fuels a raft of debilitating diseases: cancers of the lung, mouth, bladder, and colon; heart disease and stroke; chronic respiratory illness like COPD; type 2 diabetes; ectopic pregnancy; and premature, low birthweight babies. Globally, tobacco kills more than seven million people annually – 300,000 in Africa alone. Eight in ten smokers live in low- and middle-income countries like Nigeria, feeding Big Tobacco’s multi-billion-dollar profits. In 2015, the six largest cigarette firms raked in $62 billion in profits – more than the annual budgets of several small nations.
These resources bankroll relentless marketing campaigns, youth-targeted advertising, lobbying against regulations, and deceptive promotion of so-called “reduced risk” products such as vapes, heated tobacco, snus, and nicotine pouches. Far from solving the problem, these new products hook a new generation on nicotine while undermining tobacco control efforts.
Yet Nigeria’s funding for tobacco control remains pitifully low. In 2024, following persistent advocacy, the government allocated N13 million to the Tobacco Control Fund (TCF) – but this falls far short of the about N300 million minimum required to operationalise it.
If Nigeria is serious about reducing tobacco’s deadly toll, it must explore innovative financing tools – including holding the industry itself to account.
In 2024, the Canadian government reached a landmark C$32.5 billion settlement with three tobacco giants – JTI-Macdonald Corp., Rothmans, Benson & Hedges, and Imperial Tobacco Canada. The payout compensates provinces, territories, and former smokers for decades of healthcare, social, and economic costs caused by tobacco. The deal, finalised in August 2025, capped a 27-year legal battle that proved the industry can be held liable for its deception and harm.
Nigeria already has some experience. In 2023, the Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission (FCCPC) fined British American Tobacco parties $110 million for breaching public health regulations – the largest fine ever issued by the regulator. This shows legal action is possible on home soil.
But to scale up, Nigeria needs legal groundwork, such as building airtight cases around healthcare costs, drawing on Canada and U.S. litigation. Civil society mobilisation is also key. Groups like Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA) and the Nigerian Tobacco Control Alliance (NTCA) are necessary to sustain advocacy pressure. Robust data is also critical to document the true cost of tobacco – hospitalisations, lost productivity, premature deaths. Furthermore, international collaboration with global networks that have taken on Big Tobacco before will smoothen the process and help to counter Big Tobacco’s legal tactics.
Nigeria should also emulate Canada’s Tobacco Claims process, which allows individuals who developed illnesses because of smoking, or from second-hand smoke (SHS), or family members of those who died from tobacco-related diseases to seek compensation directly, with no upfront legal fees. This is separate from the recent settlement funds. Such an approach would bring justice to victims while amplifying public support.
Perhaps the toughest fight is not against cigarettes but against the new wave of smokeless products and vapes, which Big Tobacco falsely markets as safer. Any Nigerian settlement must explicitly fund counter-marketing campaigns, research, and enforcement to dismantle this harmful narrative. Canada was careful to exclude industry-backed “harm reduction” foundations from its deal. Nigeria must follow suit.
Nigeria’s young population is already a prime target for flavoured vapes and e-cigarettes. Failure to act risks a generation addicted to nicotine, burdened by disease, and robbed of potential. But success could deliver a turning point – funding healthcare, empowering advocacy, and saving millions of lives.
The question is whether Nigerian leaders will put lives above the lobbying power of Big Tobacco. Canada has shown it can be done. If Nigeria follows through – with political will, legal rigour, and strong civil society support – it can not only transform its health financing but also send a powerful message across Africa that the era of tobacco impunity is over.
Egbe is a tobacco control advocate at Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA).
Nepal, the Himalayan nation of 30 million people, boiled like water on a lit cauldron last week. As my people say, behind the logic of christening a woman at birth as “one who died with her glory,” (Kumolu) is a plethora of reasons. The bloodshed reminds me of the theme of resistance in the song of Ibadan bard, Tatalo Alamu. In one of his tracks, Alamu sang that the big masquerade (eégún) who walks into a gathering without recognizing the smaller one (gòntò) deserves the retaliation of non-recognition he gets. The song goes thus: “Bí eégún ńlá bá wọlé t’ó l’óhun ò rí gòntò, gòntò náà ò r’éégún …”
Ibeji, British-Nigerian Afro-soul singer-songwriter, whose fifth studio album, Intermission, won the Best Alternative Album at the 2022 Headies Award, also explored this motif. The eegun and gọntọ to him symbolize victory of the oppressed in the hands of their oppressors. The same motif can be found in Bob Marley’s Small Axe track where he asked the oppressors, “the evil men,” not to boast at their Pyrrhic victory against the people. They are “playing smart (but) not being clever,” he declared, because they are “working in iniquity” to “achieve vanity”. If they ever thought they were “the big tree,” the mass of the people, sang Marley, are “the small axe” that are “sharpened to cut you down” and “ready to cut you down.”
You might not have heard Tatalo or Ibeji’s songs being chanted in Nepal last week. The youths however heeded the signification of their songs. Gọntọ will sooner than later conquer the selfish and oppressive big masquerades who are the political leaders bent on suppressing their voices. Yes, the gọntọ in power today may ignore the welfare of the common man on the street, the agency with which to challenge the gọntọ is resistance.
An unrest which began Monday got this landlocked country in South Asia tailspinning into unimaginable chaos. What set off public anger was Nepalese authorities’ ban of 26 social media platforms, WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram and WeChat, in a country where there is a heavy youth population reliance on earnings from social media activities. The bloody outing, self-styled “Gen Z protest,” then morphed into protest against perceived governmental ineptitude, corruption and nepotism.
Nepal has a dysfunctional leadership similar in texture and form to Nigeria’s. Unemployment, heavily concentrated among younger adults of both countries, has resulted in thousands seeking existential bailouts outside their shores. In Nepal, young men and women, in tens of thousands, according to a New York Times report of last week, exodus out daily to the Persian Gulf, Malaysia and India. They swarm long-term contracts in oil-rich countries to work as seasonal migrant labourers. In Nigeria, young men and women risk their lives searching for daily bread. In the process, many die unsung in the Mediterranean sea. Nepal government data reveals that over 741,000 youth japa-ed in 2024 to eke a living. The World Bank reports that a fifth of Nepalese people, aged between 15-24, are unemployed and the country has a GDP per capita of just $1,447. The statistics are almost a replay of the scary figures bedeviling Nigeria.
There is however a truth that tastes as bitter as Jogbo leaf in the mouth of Nigerian and Nepalese leaders. It is that their dysfunctional leadership challenges are borne out of failure to recognize that a trinity exists between the voter, (people) votes and the voted. This trinity is almost like the sacred pact between the drum, the drumstick and the drummer. Late Ibadan Awurebe music lord, Epo Akara, alluded to this trinity in one of the lines of his song when he sang that the drummer and the brass bell are woven together like a tapestry. “Oní’lù l’ó ni saworo…” he sang.
Taking this further in his 1999 epic movie, Saworoide, Tunde Kelani deployed a biting satire to convey how Nigerian rulers have consistently betrayed this sacred pact with the people. He chose the sacred Yoruba drum, Ìyá ìlù, to convey this. He then used the ritual significance of the drum and the jangling brass bell decorating its neck as a motif. In the ancient town of Jogbo, (a very bitter leaf chosen as representative of the bitterness encountered by the people) this drum plays a central role in crowning kings. Kelani’s drum now stood as a mystical symbol, the people’s voice and a pact with kings (rulers) that they have the obligation of serving them. At the end, Kelani was able to explore themes of tradition, corruption, voice of the people and leadership failure in this highly rated film.
When the face of this sacred trinity between the people, the drum and the drumming stick is trodden upon with impunity, there will be disequilibrium. Rats will cease to chirp and birds won’t chirrup as they used to. Just as is the case today in Nigeria. In order to avoid the catastrophe of violating sacred pacts, Yoruba drummers make sacrifices to drums.
With offerings of palm wine, blood gouged out from the neck of a sacrificed hen, kola nuts and bean cakes, the drummer pours them as libation on the drum’s carvings. The ritual ceremony is to imbue the spirit of Ayangalu, the revered deity of drum, its patron saint and originator of, especially the talking drum, to give drummers spiritual power and protection. It affirms and recognizes the drum’s deity. The drummer making the sacrifice pleads with the god of the drum to ensure that neither he nor the drum encounters calamity at performance grounds, as well as a guarantee of safe passage to performance grounds. With the libation and invocations, he equally establishes a bond between him the worshiper, the drum, and the divine.
Th Siamese of Nepal and Nigeria is not just in both countries’ humongous population rascality of 300 and 200 million people. Their leaders also share texture of irresponsibility. The Nepal protests, which fed into longstanding economic woes, find a corollary in Nigeria’s. They both reveal countries where, like vampires, their leaders suck citizens’ blood with abandon. Both countries are also riddled with corruption, unemployment and inequality. Social and economic gulfs exist between the rulers and the ruled of both countries. While children and families of political elites in Nepal and Nigeria live lavish and luxurious lifestyles, most young people in both countries struggle to eke a living. Uncountable number of the ordinary people die from lack and avoidable diseases. The youths of both countries are plunged into abysmal poverty because a great proportion of them cannot afford to eat one meal a day. In its rebellion last week, it will however appear that the Gen Z of Nepal, unlike Nigeria’s, was pushed to the wall against leaders who have over the decades fixed their individual stomachs, rather than fixing the nation.
I agree that sometimes, leaders’ intention can be misjudged by the people. Leaders also sometimes suffer for their stiff-necked commitment to doing good. Former First Lady of the United States, Rosalynn Carter, had a fabled quote in this regard. Late Governor Abiola Ajimobi of Oyo State gleefully reproduced it to explain his leadership road map. Carter had posited that, while “a leader takes people where they want to go,” a great leader “takes (them) where they don’t necessarily want to go, but ought to be.” This was the fate of Chief Obafemi Awolowo in the 1954 federal elections.
Pardon this other digression. At the risk of being labeled phobic of calendar fatalities, September 11 looks to me a doomed day. For the Yoruba, on that day in 1963, Awolowo’s political assailants got him jailed in the Calabar prison. America equally witnessed its’. That day, Osama bin Laden and other terrorists penetrated it and wrecked global-wide colossal damage. For the reggae music world, it was the day Peter Winston MclnTosh was gunned down in Kingston, Jamaica by two rough-heads. Last Wednesday, Donald Trump’s ally, Charlie Kirk, escaped the September 11 phobia, getting shot and killed the day before, September 10, during an event at Utah Valley University.
Back to Awolowo. He became a casualty of the Carter admonition. As Premier, he brought before the Western Region parliament four policy frameworks which eventually became his political undoing. They were (1) agricultural development, which included rubber plantation (2) customary courts reforms (3) democratization of local councils and (4) free universal primary education and free health service. Though these policies later revolutionize the West, they cost Awolowo’s Action Group (AG) victory in the 1954 federal elections. The electoral loss made AG the only party in power to lose a parliamentary election supervised by it.
Because no meaningful agricultural revolution policy could be achieved without acquisition of lands, peeved, those whose lands were acquired for the policy voted against Awo in the election. The 1953 law enacted to replace old and illiterate customary court presidents, many of whom were chiefs, with educated ones, suffered backlash. Adelabu Adegoke for instance rode on this to form the Mabolaje/NCNC alliance, becoming the doyen of the common people in the process. Also, the AG’s new policy of democratizing local councils by stopping nomination and replacing it with election of members irked those steeped in the past. They in turn voted against the AG.
The most sweeping rebellion against Awo’s AG came with the free education and health policies. While Awolowo supported voluntary education, many leaders of the party voted for compulsory education. Many members of the farming population, afraid that the policy would deny their children and wards’ help on the farm, voted against AG in the 1954 election. Also, a capitation tax of 10 shillings to fund the policy imposed on every taxable adult boomeranged. Opposition elements went out to incite the people that the tax was meant to enable ministers build personal houses and buy cars. These all led to the AG’s loss in the 1954 election.
While it may be unpatriotic to call for a walk on the Nepalese violence road, the truth is that, Third World leaders are sworn to self-destruct unless a seismic shake recalibrates their brains. Yoruba, in affirming that likes should attract likes, say “ó jọ gáté, kò jọ gáté, ó f’ẹsè méjèèjì tiro”. They similarly render a call for similarity of treatment of felons in an illustration of a limping man who leapt out of the same closet where a limping masquerade just leapt into, costumed in the usual enormous, multi-colored regalia.
Like AG in 1953, the present FG must have persuaded itself that, by taking Nigerians down the murky alley of a rough road, it was going the route of Rosalynn Carter. The ousted clowns in Nepal must have similarly thought so. Regime clowns may cite AG’s 1954 public perception as justification. However, in barely two years, the rhythm changed for Action Group. As it launched these policies, especially the free education and health service in 1955, by 1956, the dividends began to trickle in for the people. The party then won that year’s regional election by 48 to 32 seats, as well as subsequent elections.
Conversely, in Nigeria today, what we get is impostor economics. Early in the month, the Nigerian president, at a Villa event, declared that he had met revenue target for 2025, ahead of schedule. The country would no longer rely on borrowing to fund its budget, he said. The exchange rate, he further said, had stabilized after initial turbulence and that the Naira had appreciated from over N1,900/$ to about N1,450/$.
Regime fawners went to town with these bogus statistics. Again, just as his lickspittle Senate President said last year that FG had dashed states N30 billion each, he and his commissars have engaged in a binge of demonizing Nigerian 36 states. The question people ask the fawners is, how have all those mantras of “revenue target”, “stable Naira” and “downward inflation” impacted the common man? Have transport fares gone down? Are medications cheaper? Are Nigerians dying less from acute poverty? The “revenue target” was met as a result of squeezing the people to pay tax. So, how much has been given by government back to the people in terms of social safety nets? Yet, the presidential economy is becoming elastic, the president’s second home is France and the I-don’t-care attitude of the leadership is worsening.
Nigerian President, Bola Ahmed Tinubu
I am on a WhatsApp platform where there is intense musical-chair competition to fawn and capture the hearts of powers-that-be. Someone there asked why, rather than “state governments,” FG is pilloried for stagnation of development. He hoisted Prof Toyin Falola who he said constantly “bemoan(s)” Nigeria’s “dysfunctional federalism” and “the generous financial inducement of the media” as reasons why this FG-bashing view is gaining traction.
My reply to him was, “Doesn’t this sound awkward and I dare say, self-serving? To divert the proportion of blame and responsibility of Nigeria’s developmental stagnation from a central government that collects 52% of federal allocation and laying such at the feet of states – 36 of which share 32% of such national allocation – isn’t a watertight logic. The truth is, Nigeria’s federal government is big-for-nothing, wasteful, and needed to be pruned if we want development. It is why there is unbelievable squandering and theft at the Aso Rock Villa. Not heaping proportionally high blame on the FG as against states for Nigeria’s stagnation, seeking a whipping boy in states and scapegoating the media equal playing the ostrich. This is the usual singsong of Nigerian politicians.”
This generated reactions. What the current revenue formula means is that, with 36 states collecting 32% of federal allocations, each state collects less than one per cent of this monthly allocation. Again, what is the comparative worth of that allocation in dollar terms, (its worth pre-May 29, 2023 and now) especially when realized that most of the contractors states use for projects charge in dollar worth? Haven’t states’ disbursements also skyrocketed as a result of the president’s unilateral, self-confessed spiritual wandering of “subsidy is gone”? While no one should defend state governments’ incompetence, many of whom are inept and wasteful, we should not lose track of the fact that some of them are doing excellently. The federal government has grown too unwieldy, receiving too much, superintending over too much, giving so little and is a bastion of corruption.
Recently, some ministers in this government were accused of owning properties that are far beyond their means. Like General Yakubu Gowon, perceived as timid in the face of corrupt elements in his government, mum has been the word from the Villa. In 1975, the scandal surrounding the importation of cements, nicknamed the Cement Armada, which was handled by officials of the defense ministry and the CBN under Gowon, was mind-boggling. Governor of Benue/Plateau State, Police Commissioner Joseph D. Gomwalk, was one of the accused. Gowon acquitted him.
The way out of the Nepal volcano that will surely sweep through Africa is for governments to prioritize the welfare of their people. Regime fawners and data boys can only worsen the fates of rulers. Once President Bola Tinubu, in his imperial power as the Eegun, does not serve miniature pounded yam to the gọntọ – the Nigerian masses – he can be assured that the fate of Nepal Prime Minister, Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli, commonly known as K. P. Sharma Oli, will be far from him.
First published by the Sunday Tribune, September 14, 2025
