President Bola Tinubu commiserates with the family and friends of boxing legend Obisia Nwankpa, who died on June 2, 2025, at 75.

Nwankpa represented Nigeria at the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, competing in the light-welterweight division.

He won gold medals at the 1973 All-Africa Games in Lagos and the 1974 British Commonwealth Games in Christchurch, New Zealand, in the same welterweight division.

Nwankpa held several prestigious titles, including Nigerian Lightweight Champion, African Boxing Union (ABU) Light-Welterweight Champion and Commonwealth Lightweight Champion.

President Tinubu notes that Nigeria's sporting community and Nigerians will long remember the legendary boxer and coach for the honour he brought to the country in the ring and the exciting moments he gave to fans throughout his career.

''The nation owes him a debt of gratitude for nurturing a new generation of boxers after retiring from active competition, including leading Nigeria's boxing team to the Athens 2004 and Beijing 2008 Olympics,'' he says.

The President prays for the peaceful repose of his soul and divine comfort for all who mourn him.

Bayo Onanuga

Special Adviser to the President

(Information & Strategy)

When I was a child, windows were large. Whether of glass or wood, they were designed for tropical Africa —to let in light and air, countering heat and darkness while fostering community. They made homes welcoming. Now, in the pulsating hearts of Lagos and Abuja, new buildings come with pinched tight windows, mere slivers of glass. These slit like windows, tribal marks on the cheeks of painted masks, may glitter but they are not gold. How did we fall for them? The world is warming due to climate change, yet houses in our country are spurning air and turning into ovens. And nobody appears bothered. 

Wander through Lekki or Guzape where new designs gleam with ambition. Places where money could be used to marry function and nature with style. Because houses are indeed cushioned nests and should be both practical and beautiful, not blind to the climate. Stroll through Ikate, Amuwo Odofin, or Port Harcourt, and you’ll see a rash of temperate designs in a tropical region. Why do we import and innovate without thinking? These houses don’t just have slim windows—they lack balconies. When did balconies become so old-fashioned in stifling air? Windows and balconies are lifelines. Yet fad drives us to mould concrete flasks for homes. 

Even with reliable, affordable electricity, these houses with slot-like windows would still be unbearable. But our power supply remains wretched, and fuel prices have soared beyond the reach of most households. So how do builders consider it hip to deliver sweltering mansions that cost fortunes? In middle-class enclaves of our cities, many homes designed for controlled ventilation can no longer run their generators. If homeowners can’t bear the generator burden, why are new houses becoming huge chicken pens? Why do building regulators prescribe a number of floors but not windows? 

In Europe, houses can cope with relatively small windows, as the style suits the climate. In ancient England, King William III had introduced the window tax, making windows a badge of affluence. The more you had, the more the state collected from you.  It may have also helped save heating costs because people bricked up their windows, leaving pinholes to glimpse the world. In that country that is perpetually blanketed by clouds and where summer lacks the will to linger beyond five days energy bills may undermine Healthcare funds. So houses without windows might be healthy. But the doctors in England couldn’t restrain themselves. They cried that sunless homes caused ill health, and the window tax crumbled after nearly two centuries. Are doctors in Nigeria troubled by the airless and shrouded homes sprouting across our country today? If they are, how about prescribing a minimum number and size of windows for rooms and houses in the country? 

In the past, rains didn’t just bring water for humans and their farms, rains sang joy and their cool breath swept through open homes to soothe heads and hearts. Now rains usher floods, sorrow, tangled traffic, and only fleeting and beleaguered breezes. That is why once the clouds thicken, many start to sing, ‘Rain, Rain, Go Away.’ Because between the downpours and the disruptions they cause, stuffiness persists in many homes. High humidity and absent cross ventilation make living in these expensive homes a poultry pen-like experience. There are no balconies for families to sit out, to watch birds, or wave to neighbours, to relish the soothingness of rains and the comeliness of a languid morning sun. 

These new mansions are gilded cages.

New  homes don’t just lack windows; they’re often crammed like sardines to maximise space. Building regulators seem more concerned with revenue generation than well being and health. In many new estates, neighbours in duplexes can practically shake hands through their windows. Developers squeeze housing units into tiny plots, leaving no room for air and sanity.  On some posh streets, a hundred polished homes stand shoulder-to-shoulder, each with slim windows, no balconies, a borehole, and a sewage pit pressed close. Our disdain for health when we chase wealth is comical. 

In many countries, buildings look alike. Most houses in America, like the roads, are similar. The standards are tested and firm. Nobody cuts corners. Building control takes responsibility for public well being. Research decides designs. Nothing is left out. Nothing is left to the caprices of greedy developers. The builders follow approved templates. Everybody masters it from repetition. Building-to-land ratio is strictly enforced. Yet cities have parks where people come to luxuriate and get new air. Only Abuja still has parks in Nigeria. Everywhere else parks are hunted like bushmeat by our greedy leaders and sold. This is why  tiny windows in this country are inexcusable.  Regulation has failed. But doctors should speak up. 

For a communal society, like ours, the consequences go beyond rising respiratory woes or allergies. These airless homes could spark tempers, fray marriages, and fuel unrest. They bake people. Houses without profuse ventilation are not our natural haven. We are not supposed to live in ovens.

IN Nigeria’s fast-moving political world, where loyalty shifts like sand in a Harmattan gust, Nyesom Wike this week caused a massive stir. The Minister of the Federal Capital Territory and a key figure in the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) announced his support for President Bola Tinubu’s re-election in 2027.

“I am a politician who says it the way it is. I will support Tinubu for a second term, and I will lead the campaign in Rivers,” Wike declared during a media chat in Abuja.

For Nigerians, whether traders in bustling markets or teachers in small towns, this news hits hard. It’s a story of conflict, broken trust, and a nation hoping for better days. Wike’s move has also thrown the PDP into chaos, raising big questions about Nigeria’s political future.

Wike’s Bold Move

Wike’s support for Tinubu isn’t mere talk; it’s a shockwave that’s rocked the PDP. As the former governor of Rivers State, Wike is a political heavyweight known for making waves. His decision to back Tinubu, who belongs to the rival All Progressives Congress (APC) for a second term in 2027, whilst remaining in the PDP is a daring choice.

“I am not a liability. I am an asset, whether you like it or not,” he asserted, challenging his party to act against him. It’s a move that makes you wonder if Wike is playing a clever game or simply stirring up trouble.

Wike has never shied away from drama. His time as Rivers governor was filled with big fights and bold decisions, earning him a reputation as both a hero to some and a troublemaker to others. Now, as FCT Minister, he’s shaking things up again.

His announcement comes at a time when Nigerians are struggling with high fuel prices, rising food costs, and joblessness. For the trader in Lagos or the teacher in Kano, Wike’s actions feel like a betrayal when they’re already facing tough times. Their daily struggles make this political fight feel personal, as the PDP grapples with a crisis that could shape its future. But for those in the ruling party. Wike is a hero. And he appears to be winning, at least for now.

PDP’s Inner Conflict

The PDP is no stranger to arguments, but Wike’s support for Tinubu has pushed it to the brink of collapse. Amid growing tensions, the party has said it won’t expel any member, including Wike, despite some wanting him gone for working against the party.

Umar Bature, the PDP’s National Organising Secretary, spoke to Saturday Vanguard, stressing the need to keep everyone together.

“Who will remove him? He has expressed his view, so let’s leave it at that. It’s his personal opinion. We are not in the business of removing anyone from the party, as we need everyone to return. It’s unnecessary for us to persist with this conflict,” Bature said.

His words show a party trying to stay united, even as Wike’s actions threaten to split it apart.

Bature’s pragmatism stems from Wike’s undeniable influence. As a former governor and current minister, Wike has a strong following in Rivers State, a key area for winning elections. His influence is both a strength and a problem for the PDP.

Another source spoke about the challenge: “Wike’s influence in Rivers is a reality we cannot ignore. Expelling him could cost us dearly in 2027.” These words highlight the tough choice the PDP faces; punish Wike and lose his supporters, or ignore him and risk appearing weak. However, Timothy Osadolor, the PDP’s Deputy National Youth Leader, dismissed Wike’s actions.

“Wike’s utterances are not worth the attention of serious-minded party faithful and supporters. He is not worth the attention of the party,” he said.

The differing views reveal a party fighting itself, unsure whether to confront Wike or let him be.

The PDP’s problems run deep. For years, Wike has clashed with party governors and leaders over who controls the party, turning small disagreements into major fights. His support for Tinubu has made things worse, turning personal issues into a public crisis.

For Nigerians, this fight is more than politics. The mother in Maiduguri, struggling to feed her children, or the driver in Lagos, hit by high fuel prices, their hardships make this crisis feel urgent.

Opposition Fights Back

Wike’s announcement has upset more than just the PDP; it has angered other opposition groups too.

Ikenga Imo Ugochinyere, a leader in the Coalition of United Political Parties (CUPP), called Wike out: “Wike is President Tinubu’s hatchet man. He’s an agent provocateur within the PDP. He’s not truly a member; he’s an agent to watch.”

Ugochinyere believes Wike is trying to destroy the opposition from the inside. The New Nigeria People’s Party (NNPP) agrees, with spokesperson Ladipo Johnson predicting Tinubu won’t win.

“In 2027, the question for the Nigerian people will be whether they are better off now than they were in January 2023. That would be the golden question,” Johnson said.

The opposition’s anger is clear, but it shows they’re not united either. The PDP’s chaos could make it easier for Tinubu to win again, worrying those who want change in 2027.

A PDP chieftain warned about this: “Wike’s actions force us to confront our disunity. If we don’t resolve this, the opposition risks handing 2027 to Tinubu on a platter.”

His words resonate with Nigerians tired of political games whilst they face high food prices, power cuts, and insecurity. The student in Ibadan, hoping for a better future, or the farmer in Benue, praying for safety; their dreams depend on the opposition working together.

Big Names Clash

Wike’s support for Tinubu has sparked strong reactions from big political names. Chief Bode George, a senior PDP member, didn’t hold back.

“Wike is the same age as my first child and his comment that the PDP did not make him is a disgusting abomination. All these people junketing, do they think that the only man who can be President in 2027 is Bola Tinubu?” the former PDP national vice president (Southwest) asked. George’s strong words show the anger of party elders who see Wike as a threat.

Some, like Ugochinyere, want Wike and Senator Samuel Anyanwu kicked out of the PDP. But another source pushes back.

“Wike’s hold on Rivers State is a undebatable. Removing him could seriously hurt our chances in 2027,” the source warned. This calm approach contrasts with the calls for action, showing the PDP’s tough spot.

Wike is both a problem and a key player. For Nigerians, this fight feels personal. The market woman in Aba, dealing with rising costs, or the civil servant in Enugu, struggling to get by, they see Wike’s actions as a betrayal when they’re counting on the PDP for hope.

The drama during the media chat hit its peak when Wike challenged his party: “I dare anybody in PDP to suspend me, and they will see.”

This bold statement, along with his claim to stay loyal to the PDP whilst backing Tinubu in 2027, has made the party’s problems public. Wike doubled down on his position:

“Tinubu made me the FCT Minister and I won’t allow anybody to crumble our political structure. No! Tinubu made me minister, people do not understand, I have character.”

What Experts Say

As the drama settles, experts are trying to understand Wike’s plan. Pat Utomi, a political expert, said: “Power in Nigeria is about strategy, not sentiment. Wike knows this better than most.” Utomi sees Wike as a clever player, planning for the long term. Prof Jibrin Ibrahim, a political scientist, warned: “A divided opposition is a gift to the ruling party. Wike’s move could reshape 2027.” Segun Sowunmi, former PDP governorship candidate in Ogun state, added a sharp take: “Tinubu, being streetwise, knows that politicians would always sing songs that would swell the head of the leader.”

A source spoke about the bigger picture: “Wike’s actions force us to confront our disunity. If we don’t resolve this, the opposition risks handing 2027 to Tinubu on a platter.”

His words connect with Nigerians who see 2027 as a chance to address their problems; poverty, insecurity, and tough economic times.

[Vanguard]

On May 30, 2025, Ghana’s Tertiary Education Commission (GTEC) issued what it termed a "final caution" against individuals, especially politicians, entrepreneurs, and other public figures whose vanity drives them to flaunt honorary doctorates and professorships as though these titles had been academically earned.

“The Commission will henceforth take legal action against individuals found flouting these directives, alongside publicly naming and shaming them,” GTEC said in a statement signed by Professor Augustine Ocloo, the Commission’s Acting Deputy Director-General.

 Ghana’s commendable stance follows Malawi’s National Council for Higher Education, which, on March 27, 2025, categorically stated that honorary doctorates and professorships confer no entitlement to use the titles "Dr." or "Prof." in personal or professional contexts. 

According to Malawi’s council, honorary degrees are ceremonial recognitions that are markedly distinct from academic qualifications, and recipients should refrain from using these titles as personal prefixes.

The concerns raised by Ghana and Malawi echo earlier decisions in Nigeria. At their 27th conference, held at Nasarawa State University, Keffi, in September 2012, the Association of Vice Chancellors of Nigerian Universities adopted the "Keffi Declaration," which significantly tightened guidelines for honorary awards.

 Central to this declaration was a prohibition on awarding honorary doctorates to serving elected or appointed government officials. They said such conferrals must recognize genuine contributions to scholarship and societal advancement rather than political influence or wealth.

The Keffi Declaration also placed stringent conditions on awarding honorary doctorates. Notably, institutions without established doctoral programs were barred from conferring honorary degrees, and even qualified institutions were restricted to awarding a maximum of three honorary doctorates annually. 

Arguably the declaration’s most contested provision, however, was its insistence that recipients of honorary degrees must not prefix their names with "Dr." In a country with titular obsession like Nigeria, I knew that guideline would be observed in the breach because it has no force of authority.

But such collective measures represent significant progress toward remedying the degradation of academic culture across various African nations, where honorary degrees have increasingly become symbols of wealth and political clout rather than scholarly achievement. 

It is widely recognized that honorary doctorates in many African contexts have frequently been dispensed indiscriminately, often in exchange for financial contributions or political favors rather than scholarly or societal merit.

Indeed with a few honorable exceptions, most of the people who receive honorary doctorates are the kinds of people Chinua Achebe, in his memoir There Was a Country, famously characterized as "politicians with plenty of money but very low IQs." 

His vivid characterization underscores the crux of the issue, which is the alarming and growing trend of conflating political power and financial prowess with academic excellence.

That higher education authorities in Ghana, Malawi, and Nigeria have taken deliberate steps to establish clear criteria and limitations for honorary awards is laudable. These guidelines directly confront practices where institutions with limited academic offerings, sometimes barely established, have historically granted honorary degrees without genuine justification. 

Such indiscriminate practices have severely undermined the value and respect traditionally associated with doctoral titles.

Yet, while Africa’s rigorous approach to regulating honorary doctorates is justified by its unique cultural and political circumstances, it is useful to compare these developments with practices elsewhere. 

In the United States, prestigious undergraduate-only institutions, such as Knox College in Illinois—known for conferring an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts to comedian Stephen Colbert—and Amherst College in Massachusetts, regularly grant honorary doctorates during their graduation ceremonies. 

However, these institutions' practices are typically symbolic gestures of recognition and respect, devoid of the vanity-driven excesses observed in many African contexts.

The crucial difference lies in how recipients use these honorary titles post-award. Internationally, accepted convention dictates that honorary titles be appended after the recipient’s name, using "h.c." (honoris causa) to clearly distinguish honorary from earned academic credentials. For instance, one would write Muhammad Abdullah, LLD h.c., not "Dr. Muhammad Abdullah," and certainly “Dr. Muhammad Abdullah, LLD h.c.,” which I have seen a few times.

 Yet, adherence to this convention varies considerably across cultures and individuals.

Even in the United States, exceptions to the convention exist. A notable example involved a community college president in California who insisted on being addressed as "Dr." after being bestowed an honorary degree by an obscure institution. 

His pretension triggered a humorous protest from his staff, who collectively adopted "Dr." prefixes themselves, sarcastically citing equally obscure honors. Embarrassed, the president ultimately dropped his title.

Historical precedents further illustrate complexities surrounding honorary degrees and their usage. Benjamin Franklin, a foundational figure in American history whom many people outside America through the 100-dollar bill, embraced the title "Dr." purely on the strength of honorary degrees. 

Similarly, Maya Angelou, the renowned African-American poet and activist who had no formal higher education qualifications, insisted on being addressed as "Dr. Angelou" based on the numerous honorary doctoral degrees that several institutions bestowed on her.

In Nigeria, iconic historical figures have also prominently used honorary doctoral titles as if they earned them. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Nigeria's first ceremonial president, widely known as "Dr. Azikiwe," held no earned doctorate. He started his PhD at Columbia University in New York but didn’t complete it.

 Tai Solarin, a revered educational activist and social critic, similarly prefixed “Dr.” to his name based exclusively on honorary recognition. Unlike Azikiwe, he never even attempted earning a PhD.

These examples underscore the deep cultural and historical roots of the practice, which presents significant challenges to the enforcement of new regulations. Indeed, the cultural acceptance of using honorary titles as legitimate prefixes is deeply entrenched, complicating efforts by African higher education regulators to enforce their prohibitions effectively.

Nevertheless, the new regulatory frameworks in Ghana, Malawi, and Nigeria represent critical efforts toward reestablishing the integrity and credibility of academic distinctions. The explicit threat of legal action by Ghana’s GTEC signals a strong commitment to combating egregious abuses of honorary titles, potentially serving as a deterrent against future misuse.

Whether these measures will succeed remains uncertain, especially given the cultural resistance to its reform and the fact that it’s an entrenched practice. However, the very act of publicly addressing and legislatively confronting these abuses represents significant progress. Such regulatory actions signal a praiseworthy commitment to restoring academic prestige and integrity within higher education institutions across the continent.

Ultimately, the effectiveness of these regulations will hinge not just on enforcement but also on widespread public education and the promotion of genuine academic achievements. 

Universities must actively demonstrate the rigorous processes behind earned doctorates and highlight the scholarly dedication and intellectual rigor required. Only through a collective effort to valorize genuine academic accomplishments over superficial honors can the true prestige of doctoral titles be restored.

As an opinion writer, one often gets boxed into dissecting the serious, the controversial, and sometimes the downright depressing, from the decay in governance to the labyrinth of bad economic policies. But every now and then, it becomes necessary, even therapeutic, to veer off that path and focus on something lighter, more reflective of the human spirit.

After all, content consumption is no longer a one-way street; audiences on social media now dictate the rhythm of discourse. And lately, social media across Africa, especially platforms like TikTok, X (formerly Twitter), Facebook and Instagram, have been awash with videos, memes, and threads celebrating the charm, swagger, and emotional appeal of Nigerian men. One viral TikTok challenge titled “My Nigerian Man Did This” featured women from Kenya, South Africa, and even Ghana sharing romantic surprises, cultural experiences, and humorous quirks of their Nigerian partners. Another trending X thread with over 35,000 reposts and 80,000 likes posed the question: “Why are Nigerian men always the ones sweeping women off their feet in East and Southern Africa?” The replies were flooded with testimonials, jokes, and even wedding photos, some citing Nigerians as “the last standing romantics on the continent.”

These conversations are not random. According to data from GeoPoll, online discussions featuring Nigerian men and relationships grew by over 42% in Southern Africa and East Africa between 2023 and 2024, with a sharp spike following the viral news of June Ruto, daughter of Kenyan President William Ruto, marrying a Nigerian man.

African social media has evolved beyond mere entertainment, it is now a critical tool in shaping cross-cultural perceptions, romantic ideals, and continental identity. It influences not just what people think, but how they feel about one another across national borders. It is within this context that I have chosen to focus on a growing social phenomenon that has been lighting up digital spaces across Africa: the irresistible charm of Nigerian men.

So what is it about Nigerian men that makes them stand out? To put it simply, Nigerian men are real and authentic. That authenticity comes across in their confidence, their communication, their cultural rootedness, and their romantic boldness. In a continent where masculinity often struggles to balance tradition with modern emotional expression, Nigerian men appear to strike that balance more visibly.

Culturally, Nigerian men are raised with a strong sense of responsibility and pride. Whether it is the Igbo man with his entrepreneurial hustle, the Yoruba man with his eloquence and flair, or the Hausa man with his grounded values, there is an underlying thread of intentionality that resonates with many women across the continent. The Nigerian man rarely enters a relationship passively; when he likes you, you will know.

There is also the matter of emotional expression, a trait often underappreciated in African male dynamics. Nigerian men, for all the bravado attributed to them, are surprisingly expressive. They are not shy about showing affection, lavishing praise, or going out of their way to impress their partners. As one Kenyan influencer put it in a now-viral post, “A Nigerian man will make you feel like you are the only woman in the world, and he will say it out loud, in front of everyone.”

Even in music and pop culture, Nigerian men have crafted a romantic image that resonates beyond their borders. From Wizkid and Burna Boy to the Nollywood portrayals of devoted lovers, the Nigerian male figure is one that blends charisma with commitment, toughness with tenderness.

Of course, no group is perfect, and Nigerian men are not exempt from criticism. Issues of infidelity, dominance, and patriarchal tendencies do come up in some narratives. However, the growing trend across African social media does not center on perfection, but on visibility and relatability. Nigerian men, flaws and all, are present. They show up, they express, they engage.

For many South African and Kenyan women, this visibility is refreshing. It breaks through cultural walls and introduces a new kind of relationship dynamic, one that is bold, affectionate, and exciting. A Zimbabwean woman tweeted recently: “I don’t know what Nigerian mothers feed their sons, but these men will make you feel seen. It’s different.”

In the broader context of Pan-Africanism and continental integration, these relationships also represent something deeper: the breaking of boundaries. In a world still heavily divided by colonial borders and tribal identities, love stories that span from Lagos to Nairobi, or from Abuja to Johannesburg, symbolize unity. They are cultural exchanges wrapped in emotion and adorned in Ankara.

As lighthearted as the conversation may be, it is telling that thousands of African women are now openly choosing partners outside their national boundaries, and Nigerian men keep popping up as top picks. Whether it is the linguistic flair, the romantic rituals, or simply the confidence in carrying one’s identity, Nigerian men have become unofficial ambassadors of African masculinity in the digital age.

So yes, while we will return to politics, policy, and all the pressing issues that plague our societies, let us admit that sometimes it is okay to celebrate the soft power of cultural connection. And right now, that soft power seems to be wearing agbada, speaking Pidgin English, and asking, “Baby, have you eaten today?”

Wow, African women are falling for Nigerian men. And social media, with all its filters, algorithms, and virality, is the loud, proud proof.

Recently, a friend of mine who I always doff my hats for as a result of his brilliance took a swipe at the Journalism profession and Journalists to my displeasure. My disapproval with him started when he asked, “Why do most Journalists write something like “The Minister Felicitates Muslims On Eid-el-Kabir instead of “The Minister Felicitates with Muslims On Eid-el-Kabir”?

He explained that the correct phrase is “Felicitates with Muslims”, to which I agreed with him as “Felicitates” is a transitive verb, meaning it usually requires an object.

I concurred with him against the backdrop of the understanding that when you say someone “felicitates with” a group, you are expressing shared joy or congratulatory sentiments alongside them, commonly used for celebrations or religious observances. For examples, “The president felicitates with Muslims on the occasion of Eid-el-Kabir”, “The governor felicitated with Christians during Christmas celebrations”. So, grammatically, it is “felicitates with Muslims,” not just “felicitates Muslims.”

Again, there is another Journalese (Words and phrases that are typically used by journalists to describe events or people, notwithstanding that It has become a common, yet disturbing trend in recent times to find people from various professions and walks of life openly disparaging journalists and the art of journalism. The thinking seems to be: if you can write, then you can be a journalist. Worse still, those who are eloquent or have good command of English feel they are in a position to lecture journalists on how they should write, structure their sentences, or even cast their headlines. This warped assumption is not only intellectually dishonest, but it is also a dangerous erosion of respect for a profession that plays a pivotal role in any democratic society.

My friend thought he had the authority to correct what he perceived as poor grammar in a newspaper headline. His argument, with an air of superiority, was that journalists were misusing the English language and were often guilty of writing in a manner that betrays academic standards. Despite his resort to scoffing Journalists and their profession which I belongs, I listened patiently, but when he concluded his monologue with a dismissive chuckle about journalism being “too basic,” I had to draw the line. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “No way.”

What many people, including PhD holders, fail to understand is that journalism is not just about stringing words together in grammatically correct sentences. It is not an extension of essay writing or a glorified version of letter composition. Journalism is a profession, a craft, and a discipline. It has its own codes, demands, constraints, and professional language, just like law, medicine, or engineering. The term Journalese exists for a reason, it is the unique style of writing adapted specifically for news reporting, designed to communicate facts clearly, quickly, and efficiently to the public.

In fact, there are key differences between what lawyers refer to as Legalese and what journalists call Journalese. Legalese is often packed with complex clauses, Latin phrases, and technical jargon, meant to leave no room for ambiguity, especially in legal arguments and contracts. Journalese, on the other hand, is sharp, lean, and stripped of unnecessary embellishment. It prioritizes clarity, brevity, and immediacy. It is not trying to win literary awards; it is trying to inform the public and hold power to account.

Yet, people who are good at writing compositions, often those with academic backgrounds, mistakenly believe they are superior in their use of language. They feel entitled to critique news stories based solely on grammar or literary standards, not realizing that journalists write within constraints that demand space economy, time sensitivity, readability, and headline impact. A news headline like “Senate slashes budget” is not lazy writing; it is an intentional condensation designed for immediate comprehension.

If journalism were as cheap or effortless as many believe, why then do people spend years in universities studying Mass Communication and Journalism? Why do we have diploma programs, undergraduate degrees, and postgraduate qualifications in journalism across the world? Are all these institutions and degrees a waste of time? The answer is a resounding capital NO. Journalism schools train students in the nuances of media law, investigative techniques, ethics, communication theory, news judgment, public affairs reporting, and more. The training is rigorous because the responsibility is enormous. Journalists are expected to not just write, but to write responsibly, ethically, and accurately.

Furthermore, journalism enhances public media literacy. By simplifying complex topics and breaking them down for mass understanding, journalists serve as educators in their own right. A report on the national budget, for instance, must explain economic concepts in a way that a market woman, a university student, and a civil servant can all understand. That is not simplification; that is skilled communication. In this role, journalists become bridges between technical subjects and everyday understanding.

There are also numerous examples of educational journalism, a subfield that focuses specifically on informing the public about scientific discoveries, civic responsibilities, health guidelines, and social issues. During the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, journalists played a crucial role in disseminating factual, science-based information that saved lives. They collaborated with health experts to break down scientific jargon into plain language for millions of people to grasp and act upon. That is journalism at its most impactful.

The impact of headline style on audience understanding is also grossly underestimated by journalism critics. A well-crafted headline is not only a summary, it is an entry point. In an age of information overload, headlines must compete for attention in milliseconds. If a headline is dull or too complex, the article beneath it will never be read. That is why journalists are trained to write leads and heads that hook, hold, and inform, all within character limits. This is not a lack of skill; it is the mark of a trained professional.

Yet, despite all these realities, journalism remains one of the most misunderstood professions. Because everyone writes something, whether emails, essays, or social media posts, many people assume they understand journalism. They do not. It is the same way watching courtroom drama does not make you a lawyer, or watching Grey’s Anatomy does not make you a surgeon. Journalism is guided by editorial standards, legal boundaries, ethical codes, and public accountability.

As journalists, we must stop accepting casual disrespect in silence. We must educate the public, gently but firmly, that journalistic writing is deliberate, not defective. When people try to correct us based on their own limited understanding of language or grammar, we must be confident enough to defend our craft. Our headlines are not mistakes. Our language is not broken. Our profession is not a joke.

In fact, not only are journalists’ reportages frequently critiqued, but the profession itself is often treated with thinly veiled disdain. A major reason for this lack of respect is the poor remuneration that plagues the industry, giving outsiders the impression that journalism is a fallback career or a hustle rather than a respected vocation. Worse still, the stigma of “brown envelope journalism”, a reference to unethical practices where reporters are allegedly induced financially to write favorably, has unfairly tainted the public’s perception of the entire profession. While it is true that no field is without its bad eggs, it is grossly unjust to dismiss the integrity and dedication of the many hardworking journalists who risk their lives and careers daily to bring truth to light. This misplaced contempt feeds the narrative that journalism is a lesser calling, when in truth, it is one of the most essential pillars of a democratic society.

So the next time someone with a degree in literature or law tries to explain how a headline should be written, remind them that every profession has its own language, and journalism is no exception. Remind them that if it were so easy, they would be in the newsroom and not in their lecture halls or courtrooms. And above all, remind them that journalism, for all its stylistic peculiarities, remains a cornerstone of any functioning society.

In fact, it is our collective responsibility as Journalists to tell non-Journalists that Journalism Is not for the untrained, and that they should stop Undermining the noble profession.

Africa stands at a pivotal moment in its development journey. While the continent faces a substantial infrastructure financing gap, it also possesses immense untapped potential. From energy and transport to water and digital connectivity, infrastructure is the backbone of economic growth and regional integration. However, to unlock the full benefits of this transformation, Africa must move beyond traditional funding models and adopt innovative partnerships, private sector engagement, and long-term planning grounded in data and sustainability.

This was the key submission of experts during the virtual launch of the 2025 State of Africa’s Infrastructure Report, the Africa Finance Corporation’s (AFC) flagship publication on Thursday.

This year’s edition underscores a powerful yet underexplored truth: Africa already holds over $1.1 trillion in domestic capital, from pension and insurance funds to public development banks and sovereign wealth funds.

At a time when global capital is constrained and Africa’s needs are urgent, the report reframes the conversation, showing that unlocking these internal resources is not just possible but essential.

After making the case for unlocking domestic capital pools, the report returns to Africa’s core infrastructure sectors—energy, transport and logistics, industry, and digital infrastructure — to highlight actionable opportunities for transformation, regional integration, and scale.

It highlights that Africa must shift from fragmented generation toward interconnected systems for economic sovereignty, manufacturing competitiveness, and Africa’s place in the global data economy.

The Chief Economist and Director of Research and Strategy at the AFC, Dr. Rita Babihuga-Nsanze, pointed out that capital allocations in the continent remains heavily concentrated in short-term assets, mainly government securities and money market.

For her, rather than viewing Africa’s infrastructure gap as a constraint, it should be seen as an opportunity.

She noted that Africa’s energy future is about building the integrated energy systems that will power its industrial transformation, not just connect 600 million people to electricity. These systems must make full use of Africa’s vast and diverse energy resources – from the world’s largest untapped hydropower and geothermal reserves, to abundant solar irradiation, wind corridors and newly discovered gas.

Africa needs to scale—urgently and decisively. In 2024, the continent added over 6.5 GW of utility-scale capacity to its grid. By comparison, India added 18 GW in renewables alone, and the United States added 48.6 GW. To meet its development goals, Africa must double or triple its annual energy buildout. This is not just an infrastructure challenge—it is a strategic economic imperative.

Building integrated African grids is no longer aspirational—it is essential. Cross-border interconnectors and regional power markets are key to unlocking scale, attracting investment, and stabilising supply. The priority now is to mobilise finance for intra-pool transmission links—to strengthen existing regional power pools—and inter-pool interconnections that can lay the foundation for a truly continental power system.

Africa’s ability to move goods and people reliably and efficiently is central to its industrialisation and trade ambitions. A new cycle of infrastructure development is underway—but it must be more integrated, investor-driven, and future-focused.

According to the report, the continent is entering a third wave of port privatisation – characterised by new investment partners and increased hinterland trade facilitation. To be competitive and serve as efficient regional gateways, ports must make better use of technology and enhance the maintenance and operations of common marine infrastructure.

Railway investment is picking up across the continent, with new models that prioritise private capital, anchor industries, and regional trade corridors. Projects like the Lobito Corridor are unlocking mineral wealth while supporting new agricultural and fuel supply chains.

However, road infrastructure remains a high-need, high-impact investment area, especially in for landlocked and hinterland agricultural centres. Updated data reveals sharp disparities in road quality and density, with limited private participation outside of mining corridors. Policy reforms, including viable Public-Private Partnership frameworks and corridor-based tolling models, are needed to attract investment in road rehabilitation and rural connectivity.

Similarly, airports offer untapped potential to overcome Africa’s vast geography and boost intra-African trade—particularly through upgrades to cargo handling, customs efficiency, and air freight logistics.

Clearly, Africa’s industrial future depends on turning raw materials into value-added products and the report focuses on refining, fertilisers, and steel—three sectors that must sit at the heart of Africa’s structural transformation. Each reflects a strategic convergence of urgent needs (energy and food security), natural advantages (gas and strategic minerals), and industrial opportunity. Together, they also account for some of the largest and most persistent items in Africa’s import basket, making them foundational to building a more self-sufficient, resilient, and competitive African economy.

Steel is becoming Africa’s industrial imperative. Without it, the continent cannot build its infrastructure or expand its manufacturing base. Considering the upcoming surge in African iron ore production, a continental steel strategy is needed to link upstream resources in West Africa with downstream value chains.

The oil refining sector offers a critical opportunity to build Africa’s energy security. Brownfield investments—estimated at $16 billion—are urgently needed to upgrade existing refineries, enhance operational efficiency, and ensure compliance with cleaner fuel standards and environmental sustainability. At the same time, new greenfield refining capacity must be developed to meet projected demand and reduce reliance on imported fuels. To ensure energy self-sufficiency, future refining hubs must be backed by robust coastal storage facilities, pipeline networks, and rail logistics—enabling efficient distribution across borders and into landlocked markets.

To the President/CEO, AFC, Samaila Zubairu, there is a need for coordinated action to unlock financing opportunities in infrastructure investment in the continent.

Zubairu noted that, “the world has changed and there is a different focus now from traditional development partners to focus on defense and rearmament of their respective economies and of course, the factionalisation of the world.

“What that means is that this is an opportunity for Africa. That is because, as you seek to industrialise your economy and focus on defense, it means you need secure supply chains. Of course the minerals for that is in Africa. So, Africa is not relevant; we are essential.

“I say that because it underpins one our main theses  of what needs to change in Africa. The one thing that must change is that we must stop exporting raw materials and embark on transformation. It is the transformation that creates quality jobs that leads to increased savings. The only way to increase the pool of savings is by having higher-quality jobs. We have always advocated that as Africans, we must take ownership of our development and fund it.”

Zubairu stressed the need for the right structures for regulatory reforms in the continent, so as to make investment in infrastructure attractive.

Kenyan economist, banker and former Governor of the Central Bank of Kenya, Patrick Njoroge, noted that good macro-policies and economic stability are the key attraction for infrastructure financing.

He, also urged banks in the continent to do more in terms of infrastructure financing.

However, Rwandan economist and former president of the African Development Bank,  Donald Kaberuka, stressed that the domestic resources are not anywhere near the amount required to transform infrastructure in the continent.

From the foregoing, beyond funding, there is an urgent need for stronger policy coordination across African countries. Too often, infrastructure projects are derailed by bureaucracy, political instability, or lack of continuity in leadership. Governments must align national development plans with regional infrastructure blueprints. Strong institutions, transparent procurement processes, and a focus on governance are essential to build investor confidence.

Africa has the resources, talent, and growing political will to transform its infrastructure landscape. What is needed now is bold action: to implement policies that attract private capital, to think regionally rather than nationally, and to embed transparency and innovation at every level.

Therefore, Africa’s future hinges not on potential, but on execution. The need to unlock opportunities for infrastructure transformation is no longer a matter of ambition but a matter of urgency. Roads, railways, energy, and digital connectivity are not just development goals; they are lifelines for economic independence, social equity, and regional integration. With visionary leadership, bold financing, and a commitment to regional cooperation, Africa can shift from being infrastructure-deficient to infrastructure-driven.

With the death on Thursday, June 5, of Jibril Aminu, former Minister of Education, former Minister of Petroleum, former Nigerian Ambassador to the United States, former Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) President, former Executive Secretary of the National Universities Commission (NUC), former University of Maiduguri Vice Chancellor, former Professor of Medicine at Howard University in Washington, DC, and a former senator of the Federal Republic,  Nigeria has lost one of its brightest and most liberal citizens. I lost a friend and confidant.

When former Vice President Alex Ekwueme, a versatile intellectual, was running to get the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) presidential ticket in the late 1990s, I strongly recommended Aminu to be his running mate because of his intellectual acuity and moral integrity.

People who write about Aminu being the best medical student in Ibadan in 1965, may not know that while a medical student he won a national essay competition dominated by arts students, many of whom later became distinguished academics in English and other disciplines in the humanities. Despite the high public offices he occupied for decades, his lifestyle was modest. In any case, Aminu was a prominent member of G-34 which Ekwueme led admirably and sat by his side at the All-Politicians Summit at Eko Hotel in Lagos which government security agents disrupted because Dr Ekwueme and his group were known to be fiercely opposed to Abacha’s plot to be a life president.

Yet, for many years, I almost loathed Aminu. When David Ogbodo, then his Special Assistant who was to become the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) Group General Manager, requested Okey Ndibe and myself in Orji Uzor Kalu’s office in Apapa, Lagos, in 1986 or 1987 to meet the Minister of Education with the flattering words of “he will certainly like you for your brilliance”, we were aghast. The press was projecting Aminu as a jihadist, a regional Troubadour, a Fulani irredentist, a dull minister, a hater of southern progress in modernity, etc.

When we narrated to Goddy Nnadi, then The Guardian Education Correspondent, of our invite to meet the minister and he made a spirited effort to present different image of the minister, we were disillusioned. It was years before we realized we were casualties of conditioned imagination.

It took Ogbodo’s persistent effort for me to change my mind and meet Aminu. The meeting was scheduled to last for not more than an hour in his Park View Estate residence in Ikoyi, Lagos, but it went on for over four hours as we discussed practically everything under the firmament, including international affairs.

I queried him on all kinds of issues based on preconceived notions, and he was not just brilliant but also candid. I saw someone who thought little of Sani Abacha, then Nigeria’s military ruler. He spoke against the system in the North which was keeping millions of people in poverty and ignorance, saying he recognized the system the first time when he was a pupil and an attempt was made to deny him a scholarship at Barewa College, despite his stellar record, because he was from an unknown family. He railed against this system years later when we went to see a former Inspector General of Police (IGP), Mohammed Gambo Jimeta, who was also from Adamawa State, in his office in Abuja. He was in a hurry to see the North modernize and develop fast but met a lot of obstacles.

Aminu, a medical professor, was distraught to see Dr. Datti Ahmed, who was a year ahead of him at medical school in Ibadan, lead the false, dangerous, but popular and effective propaganda in the North that polio immunisation was a strategy by the West to depopulate the Muslim community. Aminu was alarmed that the future of a generation of Northern children was being destroyed. He tasked me with a strategy to counter the anti-immunization campaign without hurting his political and social standing before the mass of the people who were being led by the nose by a self-serving elite.

He jumped at my proposal when I submitted it, and people like Simon Kolawole, a patriotic, selfless Nigerian and sound professional who was then editing THISDAY, The Saturday Newspaper, helped with the implementation.

The strategy was effective, as immunisation against the deadly six child diseases resumed in the Northwest and Northeast during the time of President Olusegun Obasanjo, who spared no effort or resources to end polio and other diseases that paralyzed mostly children from poor homes.

Aminu liked the Yoruba for their sense of justice and social activism, and admired the Nnewi people in Anambra State for their accomplishments, ranging from education to manufacturing to entrepreneurship to their sense of community and to their love of their motherland. He cherished his traditional sobriquet of Oyimba Nnewi, Friend of the Nnewi People, perhaps more than any other. His knowledge of Nnewi’s history and even that of neighbouring towns was amazing.  At once humorous and profound, Aminu once turned to me, after a discussion on the Igbo and their strategy of self-development, and said: “You must help Ebonyi stop being the North of the Southeast!”

He was distressed that even though Adamawa State at a point had so many sons in strategic positions like the Chief of the Air Staff, Chief of the Army Staff, the Chief of the Naval Staff and others during the military regime, it was not developing rapidly. The elite there liked to live in Kaduna and later Abuja; from there they would fight themselves viciously, thus leaving their home in a state of arrested development. Apart from Vice Admiral Murtala Nyako who built a humungous farm in the state, Aminu brought almost every other thing that made Adamawa State have some economic base in the 1990s.

When he intimated me of his plans to sponsor Nyako to become the next Adamawa State governor, I encouraged him. In 1997 when Bart Nnaji, then holding a big professorial chair in engineering at the University of Pittsburgh in the United States, was receiving an honorary doctorate from the Federal University of Yola, he, General Ike Nwachukwu, a former Minister of Foreign Affairs, and myself drove in the same car from Abuja to Yola while Dr. Okwesilieze Nwodo, the Enugu State immediate past governor, and Professor Julius Onah, the Enugu State University Vice Chancellor, drove in another to Yola where we were received by Nyako who the next day took us to his magnificent farm. We were awed.  We marvelled at his innovative abilities. So, when Aminu sought my opinion on his plans for the erstwhile naval chief, I didn’t hesitate to support them.

Yet, no sooner he became a governor than Nyako, as Aminu lamented, began to behave like another Nigerian politician. Nyako’s deputy, Bala Ngalari, a bright Christian lawyer who used to practise in Maiduguri, became the governor when Nyako was impeached. Like most people from the Northeast, he has tremendous respect for Aminu. 

Aminu’s political star was almost dimmed in 2007 for supporting former military ruler Ibrahim Babangida to succeed President Obasanjo. Vice President Atiku, a fellow Fulani from Adamawa who wanted to become the president, felt bad, and so began a recall process against him.

Aminu tasked me with a counter-strategy. The courts still had integrity, and I suggested a court action which Olisa Agbakoba, founder of the Civil Liberties Organisation (CLO), would lead because of not just his professionalism but also visibility and political astuteness. The senator quickly ran to the judiciary, which saved him the dubious distinction of being the first National Assembly member to be recalled if his traducers had succeeded. For some reason, Agbakoba did not handle the case.

Aminu served with aplomb. That’s why he held numerous offices. As the NUC Executive Secretary, for instance, he was instrumental to the emergence and rapid rise of Nigeria’s second-generation universities at Benin, Port Harcourt, Jos, Calabar, Maiduguri, Kano and Sokoto.

Under his leadership, the NUC grew from a one-room office to a major national institution. As the petroleum minister, he started the process of indigenizing the petroleum sector in a concrete way by awarding marginal field oil licences to Moshood Abiola, Mike Adenuga, Arthur Eze, and many others. Edoreh Agbah, who was to retire as an NNPC General Manager, summarized Aminu’s tenure with this understandable hyperbole: “Before Aminu, there was no Minister of Petroleum, and there has not been since he left the office”. He was the only former petroleum minister invited to speak at oil and gas meetings. A liberal Nigerian enamoured of talent, his closest confidant was David Ogbodo, a lawyer from Enugu State who stood with him to the very end, and even after death.

May the Almighty grant mercy to Aminu, a most accomplished Nigerian who related with all and sundry with dignity regardless of their status, creed or place of birth.

Adinuba was the Anambra State Commissioner for Information and Public Enlightenment from 2018 to 2022.

Chief Emeka Anyaoku, Elder Statesman and Secretary of the Commonwealth (1990-2000), has paid glowing tribute to former Nigerian Chief Justice Mohammed Uwais, who passed on Friday, 6 June 2025, aged 88.

 “I have received the news of the passing of Justice Uwais with considerable sadness,” Chief Anyaoku said in his condolence message, recalling that “Justice Uwais rendered outstanding service to his country of Nigeria and the Commonwealth country of Sri Lanka.”

“He was one of the three Supreme Court judges who, at the request of the Sri Lanka government, I, as Commonwealth Secretary-General, nominated to serve on a Commission that the government appointed to enquire into the assassination of the head of the country’s defence forces, which portended a major national crisis.

“In addition to his memorable service as the Chief Justice of Nigeria and as the Chairman of the Uwais Commission on our country’s electoral process, Justice Uwais, an undoubted pan-Nigerian figure and I worked together in the Selection Committee of the Obafemi Awolowo Leadership Prize Awards,” Chief Anyaoku noted.

He added: “I join his family and many friends and associates across Nigeria and abroad in mourning this quiet but truly great former head of the Nigerian judiciary. May his soul rest in peace.”

Justice Uwais, who would have been 89 on June 12, served as Nigeria’s Chief Justice from 1995-2006.

After retiring from the Supreme Court, he chaired a panel on electoral reform that submitted a report in December 2008 with far-reaching recommendations, including the establishment of commissions to deal with electoral offences, Constituency Delimitation, and Political Party Registration and Regulation.

The committee also recommended that the National Judicial Commission appoint the head of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), Nigeria, instead of the President.

Many of the recommendations were rejected by former President Umaru Yar’Adua and ignored by subsequent administrations.

However, with recourse to Uwais and similar Committees’ recommendations, there have been renewed strident calls for drastic electoral reforms as Nigeria heads towards critical elections in 2027, after several rounds of disputed polls since transitioning from a long spell of military dictatorship to civilian rule in 1999.

Similarly, apart from advocating for the restructuring of Nigeria and devolution of political power to the federating units, Chief Anyaoku and other eminent Nigerians are also calling for a new constitution to replace that of 1999, which critics believe has not addressed the diversity of Africa’s most populous nation with more than 200 million people of diverse culture, ethnicity and languages.

I hope you will forgive me for quibbling – which oil are we discussing here? It could well be palm oil, which was for centuries the principal driver and lubricant (excuse the pun!!!) in our trade with Europe – starting with Portugal and subsequently with England under the aegis of the Royal Niger Company (founded by Sir George Tabman Goldie), which midwifed the United Africa Company (UAC Plc) and Lever Brothers Limited (Unilever Plc).

It would be worth our while to remind ourselves that it was the Royal Niger Company Limited which sold what we now call Nigeria to the British Empire (Britain under Queen Victoria) in 1900 for £865,000.

For those who are keen students of history, I suggest you avail yourselves of what is on offer on YouTube under the caption:

“How this company sold Nigeria to Britain for £865,000 only”

Following the intervention of the convener of this august occasion, Ms Ayobami Animashaun, I stand corrected. I am required to focus on oil, which is of a totally different genre. The oil in question has its technical definition as:

It is crude oil and petroleum fossil fuels because they are mixtures of hydrocarbons that formed from the remains of animals and plants (diatoms) that lived millions of years ago in a marine environment before dinosaurs existed.

For laymen, the oil we are interrogating is crude oil, which belongs to the category of fossil fuel.

Hence, I am obliged to apologise profusely for answering the wrong question – which of course would be fatal in any examination unless I am able to benefit from the kind of glitch which recently afflicted the conduct of the examination by JAMB (Joint Admission Matriculation Board). We all witnessed on television the profuse and tearful apologies of its long-time registrar, Professor Ishaq Oloyede, who admitted that it was a monumental fiasco – wrong answers to the right questions or, in some cases, no questions at all and no answers.

At this juncture, please permit me to avert a similar disaster by averting my mind to the subject matter: A future without oil.

However, before I do so, kindly permit me to thank Miss Ayobami Animashaun for inviting me to deliver this address to such an august audience – a constellation of royalty, ministers, the diplomatic community, captains of industry and commerce, etc.

I believe that the convener’s vision and motivation are to encourage us to learn from each other. I shall be eighty-two years old on my next birthday, and I suspect that the reason I have been tasked with the joyful duty of answering the question posed is derived from the rage and resentment of the current generation that we failed them and what we are handing over to them is a nation in crisis. Every week is a harbinger of a fresh crisis – financial, economic, political and most profoundly, security. Rather than subscribe to the gloomy picture and doomsday scenario, I would argue that there is another side to the coin. From the sidelines, some of us (myself included) did try to persuade the government to plan for a future without oil and reimagine a tapestry dominated by non-oil superlative financial and economic performance.

Our vigorous exertions, passionate pleadings and repeated appeals were rewarded with inertia, indifference, nonchalance, suspicion, scepticism and sometimes outright contempt. We literally ran into a brick wall which had been sculptured and reinforced by complacency and self-indulgence under the matrix: “Let us make hay while the sun shines. The future will take care of itself.”

Added to this was the conviction that we have educated and indulged the next generation sufficiently. It is now their turn to take care of themselves and take care of us too in the bargain. Alas, the future will not take care of itself. Also, by the look of things, it would be foolhardy to expect the current generation (Gen-Z) to ignore their own formidable challenges and spoil us rotten with an abundance of luxury and carefree leisure in our twilight years.

Before, we address the critical issue of: How did we get here? Please let me speak for myself.

About forty years ago, as the then Chairman of Eko Hotels Limited (Victoria Island) and a partner in the firm of KPMG, Chartered Accountants, I organised what was tagged as “Exhibition And Lecture On Nigeria’s Non-Oil Revenue. A Future Without Oil.”

On the matter of security, which is arguably our nation’s number one problem – kidnapping, banditry, arson, assassinations, insurgency, etc. – in 2011, as the Chairman and Chief Executive of J.K. Randle International, I organised what was tagged as the “SECURITY SUMMIT (SAFETY ON LAND, AIR AND SEA) at the same Eko Hotel, Victoria Island, Lagos.” The then National Security Adviser, late General Patrick Aziza, attended the opening day of the three-day conference. What followed was “NFA” (No Further Action). Tragically, before the year was over, the United Nations office in Abuja was bombed with grave and deadly consequences. Also, daredevil assassins attempted to kill the then Inspector-General of Police Hafiz Abubakar Ringim by following his convoy of cars right into the precincts of the police headquarters – Louis Edet House, Abuja.

As matters stand, we are like a boxer on the ropes. The legendary Muhammed Ali taught us a great lesson – namely, when you are on the ropes, that is precisely the time to conserve energy, adopt an episodic approach and re-strategise against a formidable opponent/dangerous foe.

Hence, we cannot thank the convener enough for giving us the opportunity to pause and savour the signs of hope as we endeavour to chart a fresh path and adopt bold strategies that would provide salvation. It is a huge challenge, and the time is now. We must commit to a future without oil. However, we may choose to reframe matters as :

“A future with or without oil.”

If we are to make an impact, our first task is to resolve the precarious ambiguities in our ecosystem – especially in the prudent management of our financial resources and economic choices in a renewed commitment to the elimination of waste and corruption. Singapore is a great and worthy example of a nation that has no oil at all. Yet it is thriving.

The Scandinavian countries, especially Norway, have oil, but they have vaccinated themselves against the “oil curse”. They prefer to channel their earnings from oil into a Sovereign Wealth Fund for Future Generations. It is their solid insurance against being accused of squandering their riches (derived from oil) by future generations.

Currently, Norway has stashed away.

Others in the league of Sovereign Wealth Funds are as follows:

US $

Sovereign Funds of China 1.3 trillion

Pakistan Sovereign Wealth Fund 8.06 billion

Turkey Wealth Fund 318 billion

Maharlika Wealth Fund 2.26 billion

Sovereign Fund of Brazil 14.2 billion

National Wealth Fund United Kingdom 36.9 billion

Russian National Wealth Fund 39 billion

Nigeria’s Sovereign Wealth Fund is a paltry N4.42 trillion (roughly US$2.95 billion).

The convener has cajoled us into believing that the Gods are smiling on us, but harsh reality suggests that neither the old nor the young can rely on their sense of entitlement as the vaccine against the next variant of COVID-19 or whatever pandemic erupts.

Today’s event, regardless of the overwhelming glamour and glitter, should not only rekindle our hope; it should serve as a catalyst. The last time I checked, our leading intellectuals, the indomitable technocrats and rugged professionals (save for a few), have given up. That is lethal. It is indeed a sure recipe for disaster and ultimate extinguishment/extinction.

We no longer have the luxury of a waiting period or room for vacillation. The challenge before us is the conquest of debilitating fear, festering anger and traumatic frustration bordering on PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

For several decades our nation has been on a roller-coaster ride of unrealistic expectations. Now, we have no seat belts. To quote the late American lawyer Ralph Nader: We are “UNSAFE AT ANY SPEED”.

Perhaps we need to backtrack to how our oil journey commenced with the discovery of oil at Oloibiri (now Bayelsa State) in commercial quantities by Shell D’Arcy in 1956. But the real journey commenced almost twenty years before. Shell drilled many holes that turned out to be dry before striking it rich. Since then Nigeria slowly developed a problem with its oil. At first, the impact of oil was not profoundly manifest. The economy was fundamentally anchored on agriculture – groundnuts and cotton from the Northern Region, palm oil from the Eastern Region, and cocoa from the Western Region (plus rubber from the Midwestern Region). I would even argue that even now, the oil sector has not ever been properly integrated with the Nigerian economy. It just grew and prospered (or declined) at a tangent – instead of being the catalyst for self-evident economic development as has been the case with what was previously desert in the UAE (United Arab Emirates), Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Bahrain, etc.

1966 Coup:

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“On January 15, 1966, rebellious soldiers led by Kaduna Nzeogwu and 4 others carried out a military putsch, killing 22 people, including the Prime Minister of Nigeria, many senior politicians, senior Army officers and their wives, and sentinels on protective duty. The coup plotters attacked the cities of Kaduna, Ibadan, and Lagos while also blockading the Niger and Benue Rivers within a two-day timespan before being overcome by loyalist forces.

Although the coup was considered a failure, it still resulted in a change from an elected government to a military government, albeit led by a different set of senior officers. It also marked the start of a succession of military coups in Nigeria.”

If we want to change our future without oil, we are entitled to draw a lesson from Don Zimmer who delivered a nugget:

“What you lack in talent can be made up with desire, hustle and giving 110 percent all the time.”

Besides, we have to recognise and acknowledge the new hierarchy of needs and paradigm shift. Nigeria is actually a gas country rather than an epileptic oil-producing country. In oil, our ranking is 10 globally, and in gas, we are ranked number 9.

The Nigerian Liquefied Natural Gas Limited [NLNG] has proved to be a resilient flagship and robust business model.

Our next destination is the confessional box, where we have to admit our long list of missed opportunities and wrong choices galore.

Thankfully, this time around we would be willing to subscribe to rigorous risk assessment and meticulous risk management.

We cannot but recollect that back in 1980, when we were in distress, the United States of America wanted Nigeria to boycott the Moscow Olympic Games. The President of America also wanted to pacify American oil companies which had won the trans-Siberian pipeline contracts. They were barred by presidential order. However, the US president wanted to compensate them by bankrolling four new oil refineries in Nigeria, which they would run for twenty-five years and thereafter hand over to Nigeria. They were going to be BOT’s [Build, Operate, and Transfer]. I believe that the American companies were Chevron, Mobil and two others. In any case, Nigeria preferred not to boycott the Olympics, much to the delight of the Russians. On a personal note, I attended the Olympic Games, and I must confess that the Russians delivered a truly magnificent and memorable Olympic Games. There were other lessons too – which time and space would not permit me to share with you on this auspicious occasion. It is a story for another day.

Also, let me add that the oldest refinery in Nigeria was located in Port Harcourt, and it was jointly owned by Shell and BP.

I recall that back then, when I participated in the audit of the refinery, TAM (Turn Around Maintenance) was not a big deal. It was handled by a mid-level expatriate manager who would typically scribble on a blackboard: “NOTICE TO ALL STAFF: TURN AROUND. MAINTENANCE WILL COMMENCE ON 12TH JUNE AND BE COMPLETED ON JUNE 22.”

Now it has become a blockbuster contract involving millions of dollars at frequent intervals.

Perhaps I should add that about forty-five years ago, the then military government decided to build new refineries in addition to the already existing one in Port Harcourt, which could handle only 60,000 barrels of crude oil per day. A Canadian firm was hired to carry out the feasibility report. The consultants recommended four refineries – one in Lagos (the major market), one in Warri (close to the supply of crude), the third one would be built in Lokoja (central location between North and South), and the fourth one would be a second refinery in Port Harcourt (as an export terminal).

Apparently, when the report was tabled at the Supreme Military Council, the Chief of General Staff objected to all the refineries being located in the South. He insisted that at least one of the refineries should be located in the North. That is how Kaduna Refinery emerged, regardless of the huge distance from the oil-producing area. In any case, it was designed to handle heavy crude oil, which would have to be imported. Besides, the pipelines between Kaduna and the oil-producing areas have been massively vandalised.

My recollection is that the Warri Refinery was built by an Italian company, Snamprogetti, while the Kaduna Refinery was built by a Japanese company, Chiyoda. What was remarkable was that the Japanese took about four years to complete the job and trained about one hundred Nigerian engineers. Twenty years later, when the refinery broke down, I was part of the delegation dispatched to Japan to invite the Japanese to come to our rescue.

However, there was a lesson to be learnt. The Japanese summoned the engineers who had worked on the Kaduna Refinery. Out of the twenty-six engineers, twenty-five were still in the employment of Chiyoda. One of them had died. Alas, the Japanese were shocked to learn that only one or two of the Nigerian engineers they had trained both in Nigeria and Japan were still in the employment of NNPC (Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation).

It is worth remembering that when we export crude oil, we earn maybe U.S.$80 per barrel. However, when it is refined, the value added (petroleum motor spirit, jet fuel and other by-products) would fetch U.S.$1,500. Hence, notionally we lose U.S.$1,420 on every barrel of oil which we are unable to refine.

For the benefit of the younger generation, we should share with them that for several decades the United States of America was a huge buyer of crude from Nigeria. However, when President Shehu Shagari visited the US in 1982, he dropped a bombshell while being welcomed by the American president:

“We shall use our oil as a weapon against America.”

Chief Tayo Akpata was one of those who wrote the speech. He was aghast. The threat was not in the speech he wrote!! What a gaffe. In any case the reaction by America was swift and lethal. The American President, Mr Ronald Reagan, immediately ordered American companies to commence drilling for oil within the United States of America. They no longer wanted to buy crude oil from Nigeria.

It would not be out of place to beam the searchlight on NNPC and its successor NNPCL. We have a problem that is not going away anytime soon. The four refineries which are owned by NNPCL are old. They were built at least forty years ago. The spare parts may not even be available. Apart from the Dangote Refinery, which has the capacity to refine 650,000 barrels per day, other refineries have opted for modular refineries which are modelled on the latest technology with appreciable savings in the cost of operations. It is going to be difficult for NNPCL to compete with Dangote in the market for refined products.

As we endeavour to address the future of Nigeria without oil, we must also factor into the equation a global future without oil with the prospects of a looming expiry date for what we have come to regard as “liquid gold”. As more and more countries insist that the deadline for carbon emissions from cars is 2030 while electric cars (mostly driverless) become the rage, we have no choice but to craft alternative strategies for our survival as a nation.

If we are ready to admit to past failures through negligence and neglect, this is the time to proceed from critical failure factors to positive success factors.

We have vast options and fresh opportunities in:

Agriculture

Artificial Intelligence [AI] and Technology

Minerals

Gas

Tourism and Creative Industry

Infrastructure

Of course, we should include the vast potentials available in our seas and oceans – otherwise known as the “Blue Economy” – which are yet to be cultivated, harnessed and harvested by the newly created Ministry of Marine and Blue Economy under the former Governor of Osun State, His Excellency Alhaji Adegboyega Oyetola.

Also, “The Saturday Sun” newspaper yesterday carried on its front page with bold headlines the following report: “WITH GOVERNMENT SUPPORT, COTTON, TEXTILE INDUSTRY CAN RIVAL OIL IN SOCIAL IMPACT”

– Ms Ololade Majekodunmi

(National Coordinator, Nigeria Cotton Society).

Furthermore, we are entitled to a grave sense of awe and shock over grievous waste and monumental recklessness signposted by last week’s front page headline in “Business A.M.” newspaper:

“NIGERIA REQUIRES N18 TRILLION TO RESTORE SCRAPYARD OF ABANDONED BUILDINGS”

“But ROI (Return On Investment) could boost GDP by US $200 million annually.”

“In a sad reality, Nigeria’s cities and towns are plagued by abandoned construction sites, with different abandoned projects, including houses, schools, churches, offices, malls, and various other buildings collectively worth billions of naira, littering various parts of the country.”