The Pacesetter Frontier Magazine

Category: Opinion

  • Enugu @ 34: As Mbah Runs with Dreams of Founding Fathers

    Enugu @ 34: As Mbah Runs with Dreams of Founding Fathers

    By Uche Anichukwu

    “I am not a stranger at all to Enugu State. To deny Governor Peter Mbah’s transformative leadership will be sinful“- Chief Mike Ozekhome, SAN

    Growing up, I heard how my paternal grandfather, the late Ofia Inyinya Okereke Igboke Anyioma, a highly respected personality, and a wealthy man by their standard in those days, offered three-point prayer as he broke kolanut and poured libations to Chukwu Okike Abiama (God) and his ancestors every morning: “If I ever conceive evil against anyone, may it return to me and vice versa; may everyone prosper, but may the kindest-hearted prosper the most so that the poor would not suffer; may my descendants surpass me and also actualise any of my unfulfilled dreams, for they are too big to be fulfilled in a lifetime.”

    Not many places in Nigeria have enjoyed Enugu State’s rich history and special bestowals of mother nature. It is a city built on a hill that cannot be hidden. Yet, something was missing: the founding fathers – Chief Christian Chukwuma Onoh, HRH Igwe Edward Nnaji, Chief Enechi Onyia, HRH Igwe Charles Abangwu, Chief Basil Okwu, HRH Igwe John Nwodo, HRH Igwe Ezeudo Abel Nwobodo, Prof. Samson Ukpabi, HRH Igwe Udemgaba Maduka, Justice Augustine Nnamani (JSC), HRH Igwe Paul Egbogu, HRM Igwe John Igwesi, Chief Dan Agbo, and Chief Nduka Eya, among a host of others – dreamt big. They believed that the people known as Waawa would do better with a state of their own to expand the social, political, and economic opportunities for their people. Their prayer was answered on August 27, 1991, when former Head of State, General Ibrahim Babangida, announced the creation of Enugu State.

    Like my grandfather, they understood that having done their bits, the creation of Enugu State was only the beginning of the quest for the larger dream. Consequently, from the first military administrator to successive civilian administrations various degrees of progress have been made.

    However, as I have often held, in the life of a people, once in a blue moon, providence throws up that one extraordinary person who must take them to unimaginable heights in such a very short time. I have always cited the likes of Lee Kuan Yew, often referred to as the father of modern Singapore. He literally transformed Singapore from a Third World nation to a developed economy in one generation. I have also often cited Park Chung Hee, who engineered the Miracle on the Han River, transforming South Korea to an industrial cum economic giant; Deng Xiaoping, who lifted millions of Chinese out of poverty in a most dramatic manner; Franklin D. Roosevelt whose ‘New Deal’ rescued the USA from the Great Depression; and our own legend, Dr. Michael Iheonukara Okpara, whose “Pragmatic Realism” transformed the defunct Eastern Region into the world’s fastest growing economy between 1954 and 1964.

    Today, Mbah is following in their footsteps. Having observed his modus operandi, and interacted him at a close range, I must confess that he is possessed by some positive forces greater than him. His quest to transform Enugu is an obsession – literally speaking.

    Driven by his Disruptive Innovation approach, Mbah made it clear right from the campaigns that his was a transcendental calling to fast-track the dreams or tomorrow to reality, today. He came with a vision to exponentially grow the state’s economy from $4.4 billion to $30 billion in four to eight years through private sector investment, make it one of the top three states in Nigeria in terms of GDP and ensure that Enugu State achieves a zero per cent headcount rate inl poverty headcount index.

    Two years and three months after, Enugu has become the cynosure of all eyes and the national reference point in good governance. He is proving, daily, and in practical and verifiable terms that the dreams of our founding fathers were not malarial fever dreams – they are realisable.

    Mbah has demonstrated his commitment to realising the dreams of our founding fathers through the rapid resuscitation of moribund assets in line with his campaign promise. Unlike the national norm where new governments abandon the projects of their predecessors, he set out to revive the Enugu Palm Products Limited, EUPPL. Originally founded by the government of the defunct East Central State in 1970 on 6,700 hectares that traverses Ibite-Olo in Ezeagu LGA, Ugwuoba in Oji River LGA, and Umulokpa in Uzo-Uwani LGA, it was destroyed by the “Nigerian factor.” But with a N100bn deal between the Enugu State Government and Pragmatic Palms Limited in May 2024, a five-year aggressive plan is now being implemented to reposition EUPPL as one of the leading integrated oil palm establishments in Nigeria, playing in the upstream, midstream, and downstream sectors.

    In addition, he has revamped the long-abandoned iconic Hotel Presidential founded by the legendary Dr. Michael Okpara some 63 years ago (1963) and Nigergas founded in 1962. He has recovered and completed the International Conference Centre, ICC, commenced by former Governor Chimaroke Nnamani. Today, the carcass he inherited has been transformed into a magnificent complex commissioned by His Excellency, President Bola Tinubu, in January 2025. Today, it has become a beehive of activities, drawing visitors from across the country and beyond. Among many other conferences that drew thousands of participants, over 20,000 lawyers are presently having a wonderful experience at the sprawling complex and the Okpara Square where the 2025 Annual General Conference of the Nigerian Bar Association is taking place.

    These conferences and a retinue of other programmes also means huge sums of money coming into Enugu State. the hotel proprietors, taxi drivers, phone accessories sellers, restaurant proprietors, and even the “Mama Put,” etc. are all smiling to the bank. In fact, for the NBA conference, hotels as far as adjourning local governments to the state capital are fully occupied.

    Also, standing just beside the ICC is the ICC 5-Star Hotel, commenced by the Mbah Administration on May 27, 2024. Today, the structural work is completed and it will be delivered before the end of 2025. Around the same ecosystem is also the Enugu International Hospital, a world-class quaternary state-of-the-art multi-specialty facility, that will not only help Nigeria reverse medical tourism, but also strengthen Enugu’s robust bid for a substantial share of Nigeria’s overseas medical tourism market valued at over $1 billion annually.

    Only recently, a trending and geotagged video showed parts of some neigbouring states deserted by community members due to insecurity orchestrated by unknown gunmen. But today, Enugu is rated as one of the safest states in Nigeria, thanks to the bold and creative steps taken by Governor Mbah since May 2023. He banned the illegal sit-at-home that had virtually crippled Enugu’s economy and invested heavily in resources to tame and route out the enforcers. Today, some forests that used to house such non-state actors are now home to some of the 200-hectre Farm Estates being developed across the 260 wards.

    In addition, Enugu houses the biggest and most sophisticated Command and Control Centre in Nigeria today. All the AI-enabled digital cameras installed across the state for surveillance are connected to the centre. Likewise, the AI-enabled cameras installed on all the over 150 security vehicles operated by the Distress Response Squad.

    To make good his ambition to attract investors and at least 3 million visitors to Enugu State. annually starting from 2027, Mbah recently launched five ultramodern terminals, 100 CNG Mass Transit buses, the Enugu Transport management System, and 80 modern bus shelters and terminals. Biodun Otunola, is the Managing Director, Planet Projects Limited, which handled some of the Enugu transport terminals. Planet Project also built the Oshodi Transport Interchange and Ikeja Bus Terminal in Lagos. He captured the enormity of what Mbah has done: “This is the first time a project of this magnitude is experiented. Not only that a bus terminal is being built, but five bus terminals are being built. No administration has ever done this before since the history of Nigeria. We are in this industry and we have the records.”

    It is also recalled that the state government had on July 7, 2025, rolled out three aircraft to launch Enugu Air as part of the administration’s integrated blueprint for a modern, multimodal transport ecosystem and vision to make Enugu a major aviation hub. And more are being expected before the end of the year.

    One can actually go on and on, reeling out Mbah’s trailblazing accomplishments within a very short stay in power: construction of 260 Smart Green Schools in 260 ward to equip the children and youth of Enugu with 21 century skills and make them relevant in the emerging global economy; construction of 260 Type 2 Primary Healthcare Centres; over 1,000km of ongoing and completed road projects; creation of Enugu electricity market; establishment of 160 tons per our asphalt plant; establishment of Nortra Tractor Assembly Plant and Service Centre, an investment by ODK Group of Denmark; transformation of GTC from a collection of decrepit structures to a world class Technical, Vocational Education and Training (TVET) College with full boarding for 1,000 students; ongoing resuscitation of the long-abandoned Sunrise Flour Mills; and the massive New Enugu City, an ongoing smart city project, just to name a few.

    The important thing to note, however, is that these projects are not isolated thinking. They are all connecting the dots in delivering the governor’s vision to grow Enugu State into a $30 billion economy. But even more important, they are all connected to the overmatching dreams of our founding fathers, for the tomorrow they all dreamt about is finally here, fast-forwarded by a visionary leader, Dr. Peter Mbah. As Ndi Enugu celebrate the 34th anniversary of their state, they can now confidently say that tomorrow is here indeed.

    Anichukwu is media aide to Governor of Enugu State

  • For Deki Agbahovbe at Seventy-Nine

    For Deki Agbahovbe at Seventy-Nine

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    A few days ago, specifically on Thursday, 21st August, 2025, Mrs. Deki Agbahovbe turned seventy-nine. She was my teacher. She taught me Literature-in-English at the Federal School of Arts and Science, Ondo, Ondo State, in the mid-1980s. But she was far more than a teacher to me. She became a mother, a guardian, a compass. I still see her in the classroom. Firm. Disciplined. Sharp-witted. Her voice steady, her eyes alert. She had no patience for sluggish thinking. You had to be quick on your feet. You had to listen, to think, to respond. Literature, for her, was not just about books. It was about life, about human choices, about clarity. She made us wrestle with texts until the words yielded their truths. She would scold us with precision. Everyone had a nickname, which elicited from those hiding their faces from her darting eyes between the pages of their notebooks. The nicknames weren’t meant to wound, but to awaken to one’s failing. She wanted us to think. She wanted us to know that words carried weight, that language was power. That was her gift to us. She made us better readers, and by extension, better human beings.

    But my story with her began outside the classroom.

    When I arrived in Ondo to begin my Advanced Level, the admission process had long closed. I came late. The admission window was already shut. It was her husband, Pa Agbahovbe, now late, who helped secure my place, on seeing my WAEC result. “I won’t let this slip. Not with your top grades”, he said. Bless his soul. My mother, relieved that I had not lost the opportunity, later entrusted me to Mrs. Agbahovbe, leaving what was a paltry sum at the time with her and for my care.. She became my loco parentis. It was not a title she carried lightly. She stepped into the role of mother with the same seriousness she brought into teaching. In her, I saw the vigilance each time I wanted to buy something. She would scrutinise my request. Was it necessary? Was it useful? Would my mother have approved? There was no room for waste. No space for frivolity. She wanted me to grow with discipline and purpose. She guarded me like one of her own. From there on, I didn’t miss my biological mum who had assumed both the fathering and mothering roles over me and my other six siblings after our dad suddenly passed on a year and half earlier. She guarded the money my mother left in her care as though it were her own. She watched over me as if I had been born from her womb. I called her mummy. She was mum really. Not in the ordinary sense of affection. But, in the true, living sense of mothering. The name was natural. She earned it, not by indulgence, but by discipline, by care, by the quiet insistence that life must not be wasted. Looking back now, I realise how formative those years were. To be young, away from home, with the temptations and freedoms of student life, and yet to have someone watching, guiding, restraining – it was a blessing, indeed. She did not smother me. But, she would scold. Typical of Bendel mothers. She did not overprotect me. But, she would set boundaries with her eyes, the way mothers do. I feared walking into her path or going to the staff room. But she gave me a structure, a fence within which I could grow. That, perhaps, is the highest form of mothering.

    Seventy-nine is not just a number. It is a testament. It is the story of a life given to shaping others. A life that chose the classroom as its altar, and young minds as its offering. For how do we measure the worth of a teacher? By the books covered in a syllabus? By the marks on an exam sheet? Or by the human beings who rise, decades later, to say: “She taught me. She shaped me. She mothered me”. Teachers like Mrs. Agbahovbe live in the lives of their students. We carry them forward.

    We hear their voices in our own speeches. We remember their warnings when we are tempted to stray. We recall their encouragement when we are tempted to give up. Her sharp wit still echoes in me. Her firm discipline still steadies me. And her care, her quiet, and watchful care still warm me. At seventy-nine, I honour her. But more than honour, I thank her. I thank her for the discipline that never allowed waste. I thank her for the firmness that sharpened my mind. I thank her for carving in me the love for literature and letters. I thank her as a mum who kept watch, who cared enough to say no, who shaped me in ways only time can fully reveal. I thank her and Pa Agbahovbe for the humanity that saw a young boy, late for admission, and chose not to let him fall by the wayside.

    We live in a world that often forgets teachers. We celebrate politicians, businessmen, celebrities. But teachers? They fade into the background. Yet they are the ones who make all the others possible. Without a teacher, no leader rises. Without a teacher, no thinker emerges. Without a teacher, the world has no compass. Mrs. Agbahovbe belongs to that quiet army of nation-builders. They work in classrooms with little recognition. They labour over students, planting seeds they may never live to see bloom. They shape destinies quietly, one mind at a time. But beyond being a retired teacher, she remains a mother. And this is where I must insist: the mothering of others is one of the noblest acts of humanity. She did not choose me. I was handed to her. Yet she embraced me, guarded me, disciplined me, and guided me. That act alone speaks volumes of her heart.

    Seventy-nine years is a long journey. It carries laughter, tears, struggles, triumphs. It carries the memory of her late husband, who once opened the door of opportunity for me. It carries the many students who passed through her hands, each with a story to tell. It carries the weight of decades of giving, of caring, of standing firm in the classroom and at home. But seventy-nine also carries light. It carries the glow of legacy. For a teacher’s true legacy is not in her own years, but in the years of her students. Every life she touched carries her forward. Every success her students achieve echoes back to her. Every grateful memory, like this one, keeps her alive in ways age cannot diminish. Whenever I read her posts on Facebook and look at her photos, I see a woman of balance. This is in spite of the vagaries of life, of changing seasons and changing circumstances. She hasn’t changed. She is still stern, stubborn to upholding truths in her posts. She is still demanding accountability, this time from the band’s of looters that continue to ruin our country. She still shows care, with light the dominant motif of her posts. Above all, she is still the mother I knew almost forty years who celebrates every landmark in the life of her biological children and her many online children. That balance is rare. It is what makes her unforgettable. As she walks slowly into her eightieth year, I pray strength for her. I pray joy for her. I pray that she knows, deep within her, how much she is loved and remembered. For memory is a form of honour, and gratitude is a form of prayer.

    Mummy at seventy-nine. That is what she remains to me. A mother in the classroom. The forever teacher. A guardian of discipline. A keeper of care. We, her students, are her testimony. We carry her name not in titles or accolades, but in the quiet ways we live our lives. Every time I resist waste, I hear her. Every time I choose discipline over indulgence, I see her. Every time I read a text with care, I remember her. That is how teachers live forever. Not in boastful gestures or grand claims, but in the subtle ways they leave their marks on the world. They live in the lessons that echo in our minds long after the bell has rung, in the wisdom we carry when we face moments of doubts, and in the values that guide our decisions. Every act of kindness, every choice rooted in integrity, every word spoken with care are the true living testaments to their influence. Like the living oracles.

    Teachers endure because they become part of the lives they touch. They are woven into our successes and failures, our laughter and our grief, our quiet moments of reflection and our boldest leaps forward. When we act with courage, patience, or generosity, we do so in the shadow of those who taught us how. In this way, they never truly leave us; they continue to shape the world through the people they have nurtured, loved, and believed in.

    Last week on Facebook, as you turned seventy-nine, I bowed and paused to say thank you, Mummy. For the firmness that shaped us, for the discipline that steadied us, for the care that healed our wounds, and for the humanity that shone through every gesture of your life. Yours was never the loud voice of power, but the quiet insistence of love and principle, teaching us that strength does not need to raise itself above others to be felt. The world may not carry your name on its billboards, or in its histories, or on streets’ signposts; but I do. And I will never forget.

    Happy birthday, Mummy Deki Agbahovbe. May the days ahead be kind to you, and may the memories of the countless students whose lives you touched wrap around you like a shawl. At seventy-nine, you remind us that teachers are custodians of memory and guardians of futures yet unseen. For you are, and will always remain, our Mummy.

  • GEJ, Please, Don’t Go There – By Oseloka H. OBAZE

    GEJ, Please, Don’t Go There – By Oseloka H. OBAZE

    Good day, President Jonathan.  In the local parlance of Otu Eke and Otu Nkwo, I come in peace.  Sir, may I ask a question you need to ponder deeply before you respond? Did you forget anything at the Aso Rock Villa?  Regardless of the answer, Sir, here is the generalized message.  Please do not under any circumstance be lured or swayed by any individual, group or political party into seriously considering running again for the Nigerian presidency, especially in 2027. GEJ, please, don’t go there.

    Those who contrive such machinations merely wish to deal you a bad and devilish political hand. Your running will not serve your purpose; and it will not add fillip to nation-building.  It will merely worsen the prevailing leadership hubris, political disequilibrium, distrust and national miasma.

    Hence, you must reject the poisoned chalice being dangled before you. The purveyors are the same political cabals that betrayed you, destroyed your erstwhile presidency and hounded you out of the same presidential office that they are now egging you on to attempt to reoccupy. What changed? Nothing! Please don’t even think of it. If you do, you may face a stormy backlash. History will forever be unkind to you. That’s the truth; and I will offer other cogent reasons.

    First, the constitutional validity of your making another (technically third) run at the Nigerian presidency after having been sworn in twice is fraught with controversy and imponderables. In my simple, but not-so-legal mind, you are no longer eligible to contest. If you run and win, the same cabal will use the courts to abort your victory, and take over the presidency. Please don’t humour them!

    Second, those pushing you to run were the same people who tried to block you from legally succeeding indisposed President Umaru Yar’Adua, thus compelling the invocation of the Doctrine of Necessity. They only want to use your running in 2027 to forestall Peter Obi and the southeast from having a shot at the Nigerian presidency. They serve primordial interests and are neither reformed nor converted.

    Third, to those pushing for your presidential run, your candidacy merely represents a default fourth strategic option. First, they are disgusted with the Tinubu-Shettima Muslim-Muslim ticket, which they foisted on secular Nigeria.  Second, they don’t want Peter Obi and his one term declamation out of fear that it might turn into a full eight-year term. And third, they know that no Northerner can win the presidency in 2027, given that it is the second segment of a southern eight-year mandate. Ostensibly, you are their fourth choice and expedient tool; not necessarily a credible alternative. They believe that constitutionally, you are, ab initio, limited to one term. That’s what makes you attractive to them.

    Fourth, in April 2011, the southeast zone delivered the largest chunk of 22.4 million votes that guaranteed your winning that presidential election.  The southeast zone delivered 97.2% of their cumulative votes to you. Mr. President if you run and foreclose on a southeast candidate, you won’t get those southeast votes, and your candidacy will surely smack of ingratitude. Nigerians don’t know you as an ungrateful person. Don’t alter that attribute and humility. Keep your credibility intact.

    Fifth, the incumbent administration has notoriously weaponized the use of governmental institutions to harass the political opposition or “forgive the sins” of those malleable few, who are willing to join them.  Don’t bet that they will not come after you if you ever decide to challenge the status quo.

    Sixth, it’s only the cabal’s groupthink that makes it utterly seductive to suggest that your candidacy represents the most formidable rallying impetus for the national alliance required to unseat President Bola Tinubu and the APC. Yet, your candidacy will be the proverbial double-edged Brutusque sword that cuts both ways, and very deep too.

    Finally, Sir, your credentials as an elder statesman have grown exponentially both at home and abroad since you left office on 29th May 2015. Don’t alter that trajectory for no just cause.  Your  decision not to run will do more for nation-building than the decision to run.  Nonetheless, the decision is yours.  But history will ultimately, be the judge. If my analysis seems presumptuous, please pardon me.  As a student of politics and a patriot, I’ve only elected to speak truth to power.

    ——

    Obaze is MD/CEO, Selonnes Consult – a policy, governance and management consulting firm in Awka.

  • Slapping the State: Nigeria’s Descent into Anarchy

    Slapping the State: Nigeria’s Descent into Anarchy

    By Osita Chidoka 

    Nothing captures Nigeria’s progressive descent into lawlessness more starkly than the growing readiness of citizens to abuse and defy law enforcement officers. The recent incidents in the aviation sector, from physical altercations with crew to outright defiance of security protocols, are merely the visible crest of a deeper, more dangerous wave.

    The logic is simple. Law enforcement officers are the most visible expression of state authority. An attack on them is a frontal challenge to sovereignty. Whether it is a celebrity blocking an aircraft, a passenger ignoring lawful orders from crew, or a traveller physically assaulting airport security, the effect is the same: the corrosion of the state’s capacity to maintain order.

    None of these excuses the deep institutional rot that exists. Nigerian law enforcement can be officious, sometimes predatory. But the remedy is not mob defiance. It is due process. A nation that normalises violence against its agents will soon find the violence turned inwards, against itself.

    As I watched the videos of the young lady in Ibom Air slap the crew and later the Aviation Security staff, I was appalled and personally felt affronted. When the musician who blocked an aircraft refused to move despite security staff’s efforts, I wondered if he would have done this at a foreign embassy in Nigeria, not to mention at a foreign airport. I have not heard of any Nigerian attacking or slapping a US embassy Nigerian security guard, even when they are obnoxious. We have lost faith in our institutions, but a resort to self-help is the surest route to collective anarchy.

    During my tenure as Corps Marshal of the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC), I took a clear, uncompromising position: the moment a citizen attacked or obstructed an officer, the substance of the original grievance ceased to matter. That was no longer a traffic dispute; it was a direct assault on the Nigerian state. My response was equally unambiguous. Licences were withdrawn where the law permitted, offenders were charged in court, and vehicles were impounded. The Corps stood squarely behind its officers.

    At the same time, we opened channels for accountability. We created the 122 emergency line for road crash reports and as a dedicated number for reporting officer misconduct. Public complaints, handled through the Corps’ robust disciplinary process, led to the dismissal of over 300 staff during my time. Military and Paramilitary disciplinary mechanisms are exacting, rigorous and fair; officers understand the consequences of misconduct. But once you cross the line into assault, the defence ends, and the law must speak.

    On January 15 2025, in the United States, Captain David Allsop of Southwest Airlines was arrested and escorted out of the cockpit at Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport after Transportation Security Administration officers smelled alcohol on his breath. Within hours, he was removed from duty, charged with DUI, and suspended. The chain of accountability was swift, transparent, and uncompromising.

    In Nigeria, however, serious breaches in aviation or public safety too often become drawn-out public dramas, where elite interference dilutes investigations and offenders are recast as “brand ambassadors.” This inversion of accountability erodes safety culture and signals that infractions are negotiable for the well-connected.

    The federal government should resist treating these episodes as another 48-hour news cycle distraction. Every security and regulatory agency should publicly display and publicise redress hotlines. Officers should wear visible tags displaying the redress numbers and inform citizens of their right to complain. The Federal Ministry of Information and the National Orientation Agency (if it still exists) should mount a sustained campaign promoting lawful redress over physical confrontation.

    Since the return to democracy 26 years ago, our collective restraint has steadily eroded. Official violence and a weakened criminal justice system have brutalised the national psyche. Rebuilding the rule of law cannot wait. The presidency, the National Assembly and the judiciary must recognise that each unpunished assault on an officer is not an isolated event, but a step further down the path towards state failure.

    I do not support the sanctification of misbehaviour. If the government cannot punish the offenders, they should not canonise them and, worse still, impose them on our collective psyche as “Ambassadors”. It is wrong. We must protect workers and promote the rule of law.

    The line between democracy and disorder is thinner than we imagine. And in Nigeria today, it is fraying.

    Osita Chidoka
    18 August 2025

  • Voyage Around Memory

    Voyage Around Memory

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Memory is a mischievous marvel, fleet-footed, capricious, and ever faithful only to its own whimsy. It ducks and weaves between time and consciousness, slipping out of reach just when you think you’ve grasped it. One moment, I am scanning the horizon of remembrance, combing the scattered debris of vanished moments while looking for things that have taken flight into the silence of disappearance or loss. And then, without warning or logic, a story appears. Insistent. Clear. Seemingly unconnected to the search I’m making.

    This time, it is the tale Italo Calvino recounts in the closing section of Quickness, one of his Six Memos for the Next Millennium. He tells of the Chinese painter, Zhuang Zhou, who was summoned by the Emperor to paint a crab. But rather than reaching for his paint and brush, Zhou made an unusual request: a villa to live in, twelve servants to attend to him, and five years to contemplate the task. At the end of the five years, Zhou asks for five more. The Emperor, bemused but patient, grants the request. Then, in the tenth year, Zhou walks into the room, picks up his brush, and with the swiftness of lightning, paints the crab. One stroke. A perfect crab. Alive on the canvas.

    This tale lives in me not because of its absurdity or its humour. It lives in me because it reveals something elemental about how memory works. About how nothing is ever truly lost. Not to time. Not to space. What appears to vanish merely sleeps. It waits in the folds of consciousness for the right light, the right silence, the right inward gesture to stir it awake. In that sense, memory is not a storage shelf or an archive. It is a living presence. An oracle that chooses what to reveal and when. For many of us, memory feels like a thing stored. A fixed cabinet inside the brain, with drawers and files, some in order, others scattered. This is how we’ve been taught to understand it. But, the neuroscientists of the early 20th century, as my Comrade, Daniel Ishaya, reminded me only recently, began to see memory differently. Not as a fixed structure, but as a process. A movement. An act of reconstruction.

    In the 1920s, researchers, like Karl Lashley, who experimented on rats, tried to locate where in the brain memories were stored. Lashley in particular failed. No matter how much they removed from the rat’s brain, they still managed to remember how to solve the maze they had once learned. This led Lashley to a radical and, at the time, heretical conclusion: memory, he said, doesn’t live in one place. It resides everywhere. And nowhere. This insight set the tone for what memory studies would become: a field that increasingly acknowledged the fluid, unpredictable nature of how we recall, store, and retrieve experience. It isn’t a family photo album where you point to the deceased parents or long lost loved ones. It isn’t a hard drive. It’s something more subtle. More alive.

    Professor Steven Rose, the British neuroscientist and neurobiologist who passed away last week, spent a lifetime thinking about this. For him, memory wasn’t simply about biology; it was about meaning. About culture. About history. He once said that memory is both a personal and a political act. That what we remember, how we remember, and what we choose to forget all say something about who we are. Rose, writing with his partner, Hilary, argued that memory exists at the intersection of brain, body, and society. That even though memory has a biological basis, which requires neurons and synapses, it is shaped by our relationships, our language, and our political environments. But, it was Antonio Damasio, the Portuguese-American neuroscientist and philosopher, who offered one of the most humanising views of memory in our time. In books like ‘The Feeling of What Happens’ and ‘Self Comes to Mind’, Damasio reminded us that memory is not a sterile archive. It is soaked in emotion and imprinted in the body.

    According to him, our memories are encoded not just as images or facts, but as “somatic markers”; bodily feelings attached to lived experiences. When we remember something painful or joyful, we don’t just recall a picture, we have a feeling of the moment over again. The rush of blood, the tightening of the chest, the warmth or sting. For Damasio, this emotional echo is what makes memory so powerful and so central to identity. Memory, he says, is the basis of the self. Not just what we have, but what we are.

    I know this to be true in my own life. I still remember my late dad’s voice. The rhythm of his humming Kenny Roger’s Lucille while polishing his black leather boots on the veranda of our house in Kwale. I cannot tell where in my brain this memory resides. But I know it lives. I know that when I smell the scent of the black Kiwi polish or hear Roger’s Lucille, the memory rises. Whole. Intact. Not because I summoned it, but because something did. That’s the mystery of memory. We don’t control it. We live with it, occasionally embarking on a voyage around it. Like an adventurer on a familiar path. It plays with time. It interrupts. It waits. And sometimes, it surprises. So, think of all the things we carry without knowing: the smells of childhood, the sting of a slap, and the trees that once seemed to journey alongside us in childhood, keeping pace as we gazed out of the windows of moving cars. These things sleep in us. Then, years later, they rise. In moments of joy. Grief. In dreams. In sudden laughter. In the way your child tilts their head, just like your father once did. Memory doesn’t die. It lingers.

    It was that great French writer, Marcel Proust, who, in his In Search of Lost Time, described the moment he dipped a madeleine into a cup of tea; and suddenly, involuntarily, the entire world of his childhood in Combray flooded back. Not because he tried to recall it. But because memory chose that moment to return. As a voyage of return. As a gesture to the determinism of time. Every returns in time.

    We live our lives imagining that the past is behind us. That it is over. Closed. Filed away. But memory reminds us otherwise. The past lives in the present. It shapes how we see, feel, act. In truth, there is no clean break between now and then. There is only continuity.

    Though, it is not always a gift. Memory, that is.

    For survivors of war, for those who have suffered abuse, trauma, loss, memory can be a wound that never heals. Neuroscientists now speak of “traumatic memory” as a different kind of memory etched deep in the amygdala, often immune to time and rationality. You don’t remember the trauma. It remembers you. But memory can also be redemptive. It can rescue us from oblivion. Bring back the voices of those long gone. Give us a sense of who we are and where we’ve been. I often think about this in relation to our country. A place with a fractured relationship to memory where citizens forget too easily. Rulers bury histories. Power silences witnesses. Our textbooks skip over  massacres. Our Streets squares do not bear the names of our heroes and heroines. As citizens, we are asked to move on too quickly. To forget too much. And we wonder why our wounds fester. What a country remembers says everything about its soul. That’s why memory is not just personal. It is political.

    Zhuang Zhou didn’t need ten years to study a crab. He needed ten years to enter the space where memory, imagination, and vision become one. And when the time came, he painted from that still place. One stroke. One breath. A perfect crab. In our frantic world of instant recall, Google searches, Artificial Intelligence, it is tempting to treat memory as information. As data. But true memory is something else. It is not just what we remember. It is also what remembers us. My late dad’s voice. The scent of the Kiwi polish. These are not echoes. They are presences. To voyage around memory is to sail across a sea without a map. The waters change. The shorelines shift. But if you listen carefully, something inside you still knows the way.

    There are moments in my long voyage when I pause, seized by a quiet tremor, and ask myself: What is it you’re truly seeking, Mahmud? The question arrives like a knock on the door. And just as I begin to sink into the quietude of unknowing, memory drifts in like an old friend who needs no introduction. Recall the story of the emperor, the painter and the crab. Perhaps, like the painter, Zhuang Zhou, memory has been ensconced all these years in its silent villa, waiting. It lays a gentle hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Here I am. I’m what you were searching for all along”. It doesn’t so much answer the question as gently reminding me that the question itself was always part of the remembering. Here, it wasn’t speed that mattered, but the slow steeping of insight. It wasn’t the painter’s brushstroke that was miraculous, but the decade of unseen preparation.

    And so I wonder: is that what memory does with us? Withdraws into its chambers, waiting until the question is properly formed, before returning with a simple and clean truth drawn in one swift line.

  • Run, Peter, Run…

    Run, Peter, Run…

    By Oseloka H. Obaze

    When I appeared on Arise Prime Time interview with Charles Aniagolu on 2nd June, 2025, I said amongst other things, that any political opposition coalition for the 2027 presidency, which did not include Peter Obi, will not succeed. I stand by that statement. From the caption of this piece, any discerning reader would have already guessed the singular objective of this write-up; to encourage Peter Obi not to be deterred by any force or persuasion from running for the Nigeria presidency in 2027. Here’s the upshot. If Obi runs, he might not win; if he does not run, he is guaranteed not to win.

    The fate of Nigeria hangs on the balance. Most of the Nigerian masses desirous of real leadership change, regardless of their social stratification, education, religion, tribe or political affiliation, hardly consider any person – not Bola Tinubu, Atiku Abubakar, Goodluck Jonathan, Rabui Kwankwaso, Rotimi Amaechi, Aminu Tambuwal, Bukola Saraki or Nasir El-Rufai – as genuinely representing their hope, better than Peter Obi. As contentious as this assertion may seem, it’s no hyperbole. That’s the conflated perception and reality in present day Nigeria.

    Some politicians with vested interests, who understand this reality fully, are already fighting back. They are strategically deploying all forms of trolls and subterfuge to demarket Peter Obi. Corruption is also fighting back, albeit, covertly. The onslaught against Peter Obi is so well oiled and funded; you’d think he is the only person running for the presidency in 2027. Obi’s delegitimization and demythologization are being orchestrated by those awestruck by fear. Two years away from the 2027 presidential election, pre-purposed and pre-positioned media goons are already traducing and pummeling Peter Obi without let or hindrance. Also, those hired hands pretending to be from Obi’s Igbo tribe, are rendering what they want many to believe are even more persuasive, potent, and factually damaging anti-Obi sentiments. They are dredging up vexatious dregs. The assault was long anticipated by those of us aligned with Obi. Still, some heady questions persist: who is afraid of Peter Obi’s presidency and whatever hope it holds out for Nigeria or whatever ill-fate it portends for members of Nigeria’s political elite that belong to the roguish fringe?

    Peter Obi is not a saint. He is the first to admit that publicly. Those who have worked closely with him don’t always agree with him. But he listens. He reads and accepts bad news. He accepts criticisms with saint like equanimity. Because he is human, he does make mistakes. But he is also a servant leader who is willing to adapt; correct his ways and apologize if he errs. He is as deliberate as he is frugal. Also, Peter Obi has the ability to cultivate friends, allies, and adversaries. He is visibly doing that nationwide to the chagrin of his political adversaries. He has left most confused.

    Those who still claim Obi is not known in the North, only tell yesterday’s tales. When ahead of his initial presidential run, they said he was not known in the North and rarely visited the region; he toured the 19 Northern States in two weeks despite the prevailing insecurity. Of recent, more than any rich Nigerian we know, Obi has spent his personal wealth and resources doing altruist work and offering social welfare support around the nation, in the most critical and collectively beneficial sectors. He has given a new face and modality to philanthropy. His public munificence contradicts boldly, the allegations of his stinginess. Yet, some say he is only showboating and wasting his time and resources. Interestingly, his political peers, who possess or have acquired huge largesse from public coffers, have not done half as much.

    I was fully entrenched in the national political mix in April 2022, when Nigerian youths begged the political class to give them Peter Obi. They paid the PDP for Obi’s presidential nomination form, yet PDP’s leadership demurred. Obi and his embryonic Obidient Movement left PDP and found a political haven elsewhere. When thereafter, Peter Obi’s critics and opponents contended that he had no political structure, except for “four men in a room tweeting,” he rallied and grew his “Mustard Seed” support base to well over 20 million voters, and astounded the nation by winning the 2023 presidential elections handily, only for that mandate to be wrested away from him via the INEC legerdemain and judicial subterfuge. When the grab-jacking of the 2023 elections, and the consequent charade of judicial petitions and verdict did not dissuade Peter Obi from further politicking, pro-establishment forces went after his Labour Party, infiltrated it’s ranks with rogue elements, causing its inevitable implosion.
    As an insider, I know and can aver that perhaps, Peter Obi’s main oversight in 2023, was that you never become the leader of labyrinthine Nigeria, without first negotiating with the so-called “owners of Nigeria” about their individual and collective safeguards. Such expedient guardrails not only protect their vested interests, but also form the stickum that holds the Nigeria mosaic in place. Peter Obi needed the “owners of Nigeria” to know, understand, trust, and accept him. The often proffered notion of the “failure to protect his votes,” has merit but was hardly the core culprit. Lack of national elite consensus on the need for sweeping political change was fully at play.

    There were other discernible, if tangential factors. For balance, Obi needed a Northern Muslim running mate. Some of the Northern Muslim politicians, who were approached to run with Peter Obi in 2023, pulled back or pulled out. Almost all wanted Obi to be the number two on any such ticket. Three years later, almost all may have realized their strategic mistake and have changed their minds. Given a second chance, they will readily pair with him in 2027, with Obi heading the ticket.

    Broad realizations of what Nigeria has become, and may yet become, now compels a new thinking. Setting aside the rabble rousing and the revanchists’ default to the tired narrative about the strategic votes required from various parts of the nation to win the presidential elections; the political groundswell for change will trump every other consideration. For most Nigerians, 2027 cannot be business as usual. Nigeria’s political elite know this fact and certainly understand the dire consequences of overplaying their hand.

    Nigerians have heard Peter Obi say routinely that he is not desperate to be president. Yet, many Nigerians at home and abroad are desperate on his behalf. They’ve also heard him say that he will be on the presidential ballot in 2027. Of that I’m dead certain. This has nothing to do with sentiments. As is already unfolding, there will be all forms of political permutations and combinations. Some insidious forces will be planted to derail Peter Obi from running. Some will aim to foreclose on his running. Others will be orchestrated to purvey presumably, better winning options and combinations that can unseat the incumbent. Of the latter, Obi might even be offered yet again, the place of the second fiddle on a ticket. For most Nigerians, this option is off the table as it was in 2023.

    The reality is that the top 2023 presidential candidates, Bola Tinubu, Atiku Abubakar and Rabui Kwankwaso, all knew that Peter Obi defeated them in that election. So, too, did INEC Chairman, Mahmood Yakubu. Of late, some of those politicos initially opposed to Peter Obi are openly confessing that he won the 2023 presidential election. The electoral mandate stolen in 2023 was not just Peter Obi’s votes and victory. It was the votes Nigerians freely cast for Obi and for the betterment of Nigeria and her posterity. The second time around, such votes will double and will be amply protected, even with blood and lives. That much is certain. That’s the present national mindset.

    Four variables make Obi’s run in 2027 imperative. Regardless of the party platform he chooses, his popular support will not wane. His run will also sustain the zoning arrangement that underpins the equity and efficacy of Nigeria’s wobbly federalism; add fillip to Nigeria’s democratic credentials and affirm that a new Nigeria is indeed possible. Every man, woman, and child old enough and registered to vote in 2027 will endeavour to do so. It will most ill-advised for entrenched forces of government and politics, to risk profound fissures and conflict that would arise from any attempt to support or uphold illegalities that will upend the votes and choices freely made by Nigerians. There is only one factor that could change the realities in 2027; that Peter Obi is not willing to be on the ballot. And that is not even an option anymore. Nigerians own Peter Obi as much as he owns himself. He is now a national asset.

    Of Nigeria’s 95 million eligible registered voters, over 33 million or one-third are Nigerian youths, and their votes far outnumber the votes collectively garnered by Tinubu, Atiku, Obi and Kwankwaso in the 2023 presidential election. In 2027, most of those votes, if not all, will go to Peter Obi. They will be protected and will count. Those who think or say otherwise, only unmask their naïveté or profound fears of the prospects of a Peter Obi presidency. Despite all imponderables relative to 2027, I’ll only state by way of advice, support, and affirmation; Run, Peter, Run. Let history take its rightful course.

    ——
    Obaze is MD/CEO, Selonnes Consult – a policy, governance, and management consulting firm in Awka.

  • [OPINION] Why Anambra Must Support George Moghalu’s Governorship Race, With Education as a Priority 

    [OPINION] Why Anambra Must Support George Moghalu’s Governorship Race, With Education as a Priority 

    By Comrade Shedrack Osinachi Mmadueke 

    As Anambra State approaches the all-important governorship election on Saturday, 8th November 2025, the call for a leader with vision, experience, and an unshakable commitment to the future of our children has never been louder. In Chief Dr. George Moghalu, the Labour Party presents a candidate whose track record, competence, and passion for human capital development place him far ahead of the rest.

    Education is the foundation upon which every successful society is built. Any government that neglects the education sector is deliberately weakening its future. Ndi Anambra are known across Nigeria and beyond as lovers of knowledge, entrepreneurship, and innovation — but for us to maintain and expand this legacy, we must reform and strengthen our educational system from the ground up.

    Chief Dr. George Moghalu understands that without quality education, no society can fully unlock its economic potential. He has consistently articulated and demonstrated plans that prioritize:

    1. Massive Investment in Schools and Infrastructure – From rehabilitating dilapidated classrooms to building modern science and technology laboratories, Moghalu is committed to ensuring that every child in Anambra learns in a safe, conducive, and well-equipped environment.

    2. Teacher Welfare and Training – He recognizes that teachers are the engine of education. His administration will ensure prompt payment of salaries, regular training, and provision of teaching tools to help them deliver world-class education.

    3. Affordable and Accessible Learning – Moghalu’s vision ensures that no child is left behind due to poverty. Scholarships, grants, and targeted support for vulnerable families will be expanded so that every Anambra child , from the rural village to the urban city has access to education.

    4. Skill Acquisition and Technical Education – With global economies shifting towards technology, innovation, and skills, Moghalu plans to strengthen technical colleges and vocational centers so that our youths graduate with employable skills, ready to create jobs instead of waiting for them.

    5. Digital Transformation of Education – The world is going digital, and Anambra cannot be left behind. Under Moghalu, public schools will be equipped with e-learning resources, internet access, and digital training programs to prepare our children for global competitiveness.

    For South East For Good Governance, the choice is clear. A vote for Chief Dr. George Moghalu is a vote for an Anambra State where education is not a privilege but a right — where the children of farmers, traders, artisans, and professionals sit side by side in modern classrooms, learning the skills and values to lead tomorrow.

    This November 8th, Ndi Anambra have an opportunity to make history. We can choose a leader who will transform our educational sector into the pride of Nigeria, or we can settle for mediocrity. The future of our children demands that we rise above politics of division and embrace the candidate with a plan, a vision, and the will to execute it.

    Let us vote massively for Chief Dr. George Moghalu, Labour Party Governorship Candidate — for the sake of our children, for the sake of our future, and for the glory of Anambra State.

  • [VIEWPOINT] Moghalu’s Vision Sails on as Onitsha River Port Welcomes First Barge of 2025

    [VIEWPOINT] Moghalu’s Vision Sails on as Onitsha River Port Welcomes First Barge of 2025

    By Johnson Okoye, ACA

    The Onitsha River Port, long seen as the sleeping giant of Nigeria’s South-East trade network, roared back to life this month as the first barge of 2025, MV ZUPITOR/MV RB ALASKA, berthed to cheers and renewed hope. This milestone carries the clear imprint of a man whose foresight turned rusting infrastructure into a thriving trade hub, Dr. George Moghalu.

    As Managing Director of the National Inland Waterways Authority (NIWA) from 2019 to 2023, Moghalu’s leadership transformed the long-idle port into a beacon of economic opportunity. His bold concessioning reforms and infrastructure revival efforts ensured that Onitsha Port would not just reopen but operate as a sustainable, cost-effective alternative to congested and costly road transport.

    For decades, the port was a symbol of wasted potential. Today, it is a gateway to prosperity, cutting transport costs, easing road congestion, creating jobs, and giving South-East traders a competitive edge. The arrival of MV ZUPITOR/MV RB ALASKA is not just a shipment; it is a symbol of Moghalu’s enduring legacy. Though his tenure at NIWA ended in 2023, every vessel that docks in Onitsha stands as living proof that when leadership is anchored in vision and executed with resolve, progress becomes unstoppable.

    Now, as Dr. George Moghalu seeks the mandate to serve as Governor of Anambra State, Ndi Anambra have every reason to expect the same foresight, discipline, and results-driven leadership he demonstrated at NIWA. He has shown capacity, not in promises, but in tangible achievements that speak for themselves.

    From restoring a long-dead port to driving nationwide inland waterways reforms, Moghalu has proven he can turn dormant potential into thriving reality. As governor, he promises to replicate that same model of action, reviving key industries, unlocking economic opportunities, delivering people-oriented infrastructure, and ensuring that Anambra’s resources work for the people, not against them.

    Central to his agenda is security. Moghalu understands that no meaningful development can happen in an atmosphere of fear. He has pledged to overhaul all security outfits in Anambra, adopting a modern, technology-driven, community-focused security architecture that will restore peace in every town and village. With a secured environment, investors, local and foreign, will have the confidence to bring their businesses, industries, and opportunities to Anambra, creating jobs and driving prosperity across the state.

    The South-East does not just have a port again, it has a proven leader ready to steer Anambra into a future of sustainable growth, safety, and prosperity. With Dr. George Moghalu at the helm, Ndi Anambra can be confident that the tide of progress will keep rising and no force will be able to hold it back.

    With George Moghalu, Anambra Ga Adị Mma Ozo. This is the man whose bold vision revived the Onitsha River Port, created jobs, cut transport costs, and proved that leadership is about results, not excuses. As Governor, he will overhaul security to restore peace, attract investors, and unlock prosperity in every corner of our state. Let us support the man with bold vision, not the one that talks too much without results.

  • When the State Lies

    When the State Lies

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Something distinctly unsettling stirred when my young friend and colleague at the Bar, Festus Ogun, quietly reversed course from his initial social media post in which he rightly drew public attention to the plight of the “Yola Six”, the law students abducted en route to resume studies at the Nigerian Law School in Yola after their externship in the south east. His later post, this time applauding the Nigeria Police for the successful rescue of the “Yola Six” struck a discordant note. The facts, as later confirmed by two of the victims, told a different story. Not just different but diametrically opposed to the claim of the police.

    Festus, one must concede, was most likely swept up in the moment, buoyed by what he believed to be credible information from the police. Who could blame him? At the centre of it all were the lives and liberties of six promising students whose futures hung precariously in the balance, held captive by criminals who recognise neither law nor the sanctity of human life. Still, the relief that greeted the eventual release of the students does not wash away the bitter aftertaste of official dishonesty and falsehood that reveals a deeper crisis of integrity within the Nigerian state. When the custodians of public trust lie, when the state manufactures its own myths of heroism in the face of tragedy, one must ask: what else is it willing to fabricate? And why?

    In the realm of public life, a state that lies does more than twist facts. It corrodes trust, fractures the moral contract between citizens and the state, and raises unsettling questions about whose truth matters. Today, in our country, official lies are no longer an aberration. They are the Directive Principles of State Policy. They are the practices of power performed without shame. Two weeks ago, six law students were kidnapped on their journey from the Southeast to Yola, in the Northeast, where they were to resume their Nigerian Law School studies. Young men, driven by the dream of law and justice, were intercepted by gunmen, abducted, tortured, and used as pawns in a ransom trade. The students’ accounts, as narrated by Reverend Ernest Okafor and David Obiora, both victims, revealed a chilling, yet tragically familiar story: departure from Onitsha on the morning of July 26; ambush between Zakibiam and Mukari, Benue State, by nightfall; relocation into the womb of a forest; physical abuse, trauma, and ransom negotiations that dropped from N50m each to N10m each before their eventual release on August 1. The state watched. Then came the lie. The Nigerian Police, in a bid to grab headlines and polish tarnished image, released a statement claiming credit for rescuing all six students. A triumphalist announcement, devoid of detail, dripping with spin. But Rev. Okafor countered it with chilling clarity: “The police played no role in our release”. None. The families paid. The six kidnapped law students were released. But, it raises the question: Why does the state lie?

    It lies because it can. It lies because truth has no constituency in a country where power is unaccountable. It lies because the state has, over time, developed an addiction to orchestrated spectacle. A need to be seen to act, even when it has not lifted a finger, or raised a stone. The lie becomes a sedative for public outrage. A script to manage perception. In this case, the image of a competent police force triumphing over terror is too useful to pass up, especially when the reality is one of chronic failure.

    But this isn’t new.

    Our country’s history is littered with official falsehoods. The Civil War, with all its horrors, was packaged in July, 1967 by the then Head of State, General Yakubu Gowon as a “police action” aimed at “restoring order”. The pogroms, starvation, and genocide were hidden behind the wall of massive state propaganda. The truth bled quietly, off camera. In 1999, the return to civil rule was hailed as the dawn of a “New Nigeria”. But the killings in Odi, Bayelsa State, later that year revealed otherwise. The military razed the town, leaving hundreds dead. The government claimed it was responding to the killing of twelve soldiers. No commission of inquiry was held. No one was punished. When asked years later about the incident, President Obasanjo said, “The people of Odi invited the military”. He lied. The state lied. In 1991, between the end of the civil war and our country’s return to civilian rule, I was abducted by operatives of the State Security Service and held incommunicado at their Ikoyi detention facility. For weeks, the state flatly denied any knowledge of my whereabouts. The then Minister of Information, the late Chief Alex Akinyele, and his cabinet colleague, the late Professor Babs Fafunwa, repeatedly took to press briefings to insist, sometimes with theatrical conviction, that the government had no hand in my “disappearance” as President of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS).

    Here’s another lie. But who remembers?

    In October 2020, the youth-led #EndSARS protests were crushed at the Lekki Tollgate in Lagos. Live bullets were fired into a peaceful crowd. Blood stained the road. The Nigerian Army initially denied even being present at the scene. Then, caught by evidence, admitted presence; but claimed they only fired blanks. Government officials spoke in circles, contradicting one another. The state swore no lives were lost. Meanwhile, families mourned in silence. CNN and Amnesty International exposed the state’s lies. The government responded by launching attacks, not on the killers, but on the truth-tellers. Witnesses like Obianuju Catherine Udeh, better known as DJ Switch, and Rinu Oduala, were forced into exile. In this long tradition of denial, what happened to the law students is not an exception. It is a continuation of the familiar pattern of lie-telling. The state’s cover-up. Or what my abductors during my long incarceration in 1991 glibly referred to as “the state’s cover story” – a phrase that still rings with a certain chill. It was as though the state had transformed itself into the editorial boardroom of a propaganda tabloid, where facts were doctored, and headlines manufactured to deflect public inquiry and defang public outrage. A newsroom, yes; but one staffed not by reporters of truth, but by functionaries skilled in the dark art of distortion. In that room, reality was edited, inconvenient truths redacted, and official narratives spun with the finesse of professional deceivers.

    The question must be posed again: Why does the state lie?

    It lies because it fears accountability. And because lies are cheaper than reforms. Easier than truth. The truth demands justice. It demands restitution. Lies cost nothing, except the people’s trust. The state lies because of its own decadence. There are no real consequences for lying. A police officer can announce a fake rescue. A governor can fabricate achievements. A minister can misrepresent statistics. No heads roll. No shame is felt. No apology is issued. In such a system, lying becomes a normalised administrative instinct. It lies because lies are often more palatable than the truth. The truth is messy. It complicates power. It reveals incompetence. It opens the door to scrutiny. The lie is clean like a whistle. Tidy. It reinforces the illusion of control. But the cost is enormous.

    Each lie told by the state chips away at its moral legitimacy. Trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild. Citizens retreat into apathy or rage. Conspiracy thrives. Paranoia deepens. The distance between the ruler and the ruled becomes godo godo. Deep gullies. And when citizens no longer believe their government, even in times of truth, the consequences can be lethal. Imagine being the parent of one of the kidnapped students. You scrape together millions in ransom. You pray through sleepless nights. Then you see on the evening news that the police claim they rescued your child. No mention of your suffering. No mention of your sacrifice. Just a polished press release. A lie told over your lived experience. The spectre of falsehoods, which places the state at the centre of every story, even when it played no part, comes with the erasure of the sufferings of victims. The agency of families. The courage of survival. It is this spectre of falsehoods that turns citizens’ pains into weapons of state propaganda.

    So what must be done?

    First, citizens must learn to expose the lies that the state tells. “Unmask lies wherever they are told” was Amílcar Cabral’s enduring exhortation. A call to truth as resistance and to clarity as a revolutionary act. Refuse to be gaslighted. Insist on fact. Every time a false narrative is offered, it must be met with citizens’ testimonies and documentation. Second, citizens must build a culture of public memory. Our country forgets too quickly. Lies thrive in forgetfulness. The state counts on our fatigue. But we must remember. And remind. And record. Third, institutions must be reformed to uphold transparency. Press releases should not replace accountability. Oversight mechanisms must be strengthened. Internal checks enforced. Citizens must continue to hold power to account. A lying state can only persist when citizens become indifferent. To resist the lie is to defend our republic.

    Some will argue that all states lie. That this is the nature of power. Perhaps. In functional democracies, lies are often exposed. Careers end. Elections are lost. Apologies are issued. In our country, lies are rewarded with promotions. Our citizens must change that. When the state lies, it desecrates its duty to the citizens. It abandons the ideals of public service. And it betrays the very law those kidnapped students set out to study and one day uphold. The future of a country cannot rest solely on the scaffolding of its constitution. It must be anchored in truth. Truth as a moral habit. Truth as a civic duty. Truth as a sacred covenant between the governors and the governed. For without truth, the constitution becomes a hollow text, and governance becomes the theatre of illusion. When the state lies, and lies without shame or consequence, it tells its citizens: your pain is irrelevant, your reality is disposable, and your trust is mine to abuse.

    But truth, however buried, has a stubborn way of returning. Like the voices of David Obiora and Rev. Okafor. Clear. Undeniable. Refusing erasure.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • When Teachers Help Students Cheat: The Silent Collapse of Exam Integrity in South East Schools

    When Teachers Help Students Cheat: The Silent Collapse of Exam Integrity in South East Schools

    By Okafor Sebastine Chukwuebuka

    Recently, through friends and allies, I acquired some electronic devices designed to help curb examination malpractices across schools—both secondary and tertiary institutions. Ironically, the invention of artificial intelligence, which ought to aid learning, has worsened the situation. Some students now snap their question papers, upload them to AI-enabled platforms, and use the answers to write their exams.

    This problem is not limited to a particular school. It exists in almost every school I have recently visited—especially public institutions. During examinations, some staff members go as far as aiding these illegal acts, sometimes using physical and emotional blackmail. I have visited schools in Ebonyi, Enugu, and Anambra States in recent times, and what I witnessed was deeply troubling. Senior lecturers, Heads of Departments, and even proprietors go out of their way to protect students caught in malpractice. In some places, staff are allowed to collect as little as ₦1,000 per student to “look away” during exams. That is the sad reality.

    From the experiences gathered so far, there seems to be a widespread culture of aiding and abetting examination malpractice in educational institutions – particularly in Secondary and Tertiary institutions.

    Suffice it to state that some of the departments of Tertiary institutions are filled with personnel who seem to have lost touch with what academic integrity means. They shield their students under the excuse of: “Hapụ nụ ụmụaka ka ha dee exam [Allow these students to write their exams]; you cannot save Nigeria.” Some institutions go as far as creating Examination Malpractice Marshals, but instruct them never to penalize students. Imagine catching a student using AI to write an exam, confiscating the phone, and still allowing the student to continue without even issuing a new answer script. Consider the message this sends to other students in the hall.

    To make things worse, during one of our recent visits to a university in the South East, a Head of Department in Political Science was caught on camera instructing students to physically attack any invigilator—internal or external—who attempted to collect their phones during exams. That individual is an Associate Professor, and it is disturbing to imagine what he is teaching beyond the classroom.

    In many schools, principals even pay money to handpick invigilators for external exams. Once these compromised invigilators destroy the moral fibre of the students placed under their care, some university lecturers complete the damage by ignoring ethics entirely.

    Thankfully, not all institutions are the same. Godfrey Okoye University and Coal City University have maintained zero tolerance for malpractice. These schools have functional CCTV cameras in their examination halls, well-trained and adequate invigilators, and network-jamming devices that make cheating with mobile phones nearly impossible. Meanwhile, in many public schools, only two invigilators are assigned to monitor over 280 students in a hall where seven students sit in a single row. This makes the malpractice even easier.

    There are also institutions with good leadership but poorly motivated or compromised staff who make genuine reform impossible. Examples include ESUT, IMT, UNN, and FUNAI. These schools show signs of readiness to fight the problem but are still trapped by internal sabotage and negligence.

    This situation contributes greatly to the quality of graduates produced. Many companies today are hesitant to recruit despite the abundance of graduates with excellent results. The truth is, many of these so-called “first-class” and “second-class upper” graduates cannot meet basic workplace expectations because their grades are not a true reflection of their competence.

    It is time to borrow a leaf from our brothers in the South West, who have shown better commitment to discipline and transparency during examinations. If we are truly interested in raising thinkers, creators and honest citizens, we must rise to protect the credibility of our education system—regardless of whose name is involved.

  • Imperatives of a Single Term Presidency

    Imperatives of a Single Term Presidency

    By Oseloka H. Obaze

    When Governor Charles Soludo of Anambra State recently took a dig at his political opponents, from Anambra South, who had pledged to serve a single four-year term, in lieu of an abridged term for the incumbent, he stirred a hornet’s nest. Some by conjecture and others by acute rationalization believed Soludo’s Igboukwu Doctrine was targeted at Peter Obi. As it were, by sheer coincidence, Obi had earlier on, made public his willingness to serve in the Nigerian presidency for one term, if elected in 2027. That unscripted arrangement would guarantee maintaining the unwritten zoning arrangement between the North and the South.

    Only Gov. Soludo can say for sure, who his barb about such candidates and aspirants requiring “psychiatric evaluation” was meant for. The reactions elicited by Soludo’s remarks, have been trenchantly acerbic. His rebutters and traducers include defenders of Peter Obi, as well as the governorship candidates from Anambra South. In summary, they have categorized the governor’s contention as pretentious, pedestrian , nd induced by fear of potential loss of power.

    Incidentally, the only guardrail and determinant of the one-off single term narrative , e it at the presidential or gubernatorial levels, is the constitutional validity of such a decision. In the case of the presidency, and in the broader Nigerian context, the sole determinant of that single story narrative that Soludo stoked, ought to be the Doctrine of Necessity, anchored on the provisions of the 1999 Constitution, as amended.

    Both at the national level and at the state level in Anambra, the pledge by aspirants and candidates to serve for one term is not unconstitutional. Not by any means. Second, it respects and seeks not to upend the extant zoning arrangements. Third, the offer arises primarily from the conclusions that the incumbents have not acquitted themselves creditably in office to merit a second term. For people peddling that notion, as it is with President Bola Tinubu, so it is with Gov. Charles Soludo.

    This much is clear. The 1999 Constitution delimits every presidential or governorship tenure to four years, in the first instance. While the second term is statutorily allowed, it is not mandatory. Thus, to do one term only, or two consecutive terms, is the prerogative of the candidate. History, including Nigerian political history, is replete with leaders who served a single term by design or default and still accomplished much. Even some who left office via natural attrition had accomplished much in those short periods. It is all about personal leadership commitment, dedication , and focus.

    Clearly, Peter Obi’s offer to do only one term is necessitated by political realities, well beyond his control. Such a pledge, in real terms, ought to be a mark of sincerity, statesmanship, integrity and respect for zoning and regional equity, not the contrary. Regrettably, in Nigerian politics , skepticism is habitual.

    Those who argue that not much can be accomplished during one term or that any such pledge is a sign of desperation, utterly miss the impetus and thrust of the evolving debate. They default to the proverbial single story narrative. The ultimate selling point of that proposal is that a president committed or constrained to one term, will not be saddled with reelection responsibilities and will inevitably focus on his or her legacy projects and programmes, and other good governance deliverables and dividends.

    It has become customary, given the complex nature of Nigerian politics to adopt in the national interest, the Doctrine of Necessity when seeking to solve thorny political pproblems That same principle should apply now, just as it did, in 1999, when Olusegun Obasanjo was chosen as the “safe hands” to lead Nigeria, but in essence, his choice was meant to assuage the southwest for the annulment of the 1993 presidential election and truncating MKO Abiola’s presidency. The same principles would apply in the succession battle for bed-ridden President Umaru Yar’Adua. Applying the Doctrine of Necessity as an interim measure for arresting Nigeria’s drift, restoring confidence in the presidency , and moving Nigeria forward has become imperative.

    Also, applying the Doctrine of Necessity to give effect to a one-term arrangement will, in the present instance, address several festering sectoral concerns. First, it keeps the North-South zoning arrangement intact. Second, it offers common grounds for the political opposition to rally to a consensus and form a formidable bloc capable of unseating the incumbent president. Third, it guarantees the North (whether monolithic or not) the uncontested assumption of the presidency in 2031 for an eight-year term, just as was the case in 2015.

    Fourth, it guarantees the South that their zoned eight-year tenure, 2023 to 2031, will be respected. Fifth, it reassures the progressive elements within the southwest, especially those in political opposition, that in seeking to unseat their kith and kin, they will not be accused of breaching the zoning arrangement due to ethnic considerations. Sixth, and perhaps the most salient, it compels, the southeast, to make a huge sacrifice to serve only one term; to vouch to do so and indeed, to do so as an affirmation that they can be trusted as integral players in Nigerian. This aspect will also bring to closure, residual discomfitures from the Nigerian-Biafran civil war. Such a guarantee is one the entire southeast zone has to make, regardless of whether the presidential candidate is Peter Obi or not.

    Finally, if that arrangement works, and achieves its ultimate goal of defeating President Bola Tinubu, it will offer President Tinubu the unique opportunity to remediate and buttress his questionable bonafides as a democrat; and also as an incumbent, who ran credible elections, was defeated and willingly handed power to the opposition. He would join the league of sitting African heads of state that lost popular elections and did not use executive and extraordinary means to stay in power.

    The one-off single term presidency debate in Nigeria is now beyond an academic discourse. It is what Nigeria requires to move forward. It will address several distressing and persisting concerns, some subliminal and others, transparently concrete. The core North in its enlightened self-interest should support the plan since their unfettered support for a Muslim-Muslim ticket in 2023 in a secular state like Nigeria has yielded less than the desirable dividends They must also put to rest the prevailing belief that the North cannot trust an Igbo man with the Nigerian presidency. To help the North make up its mind, they need to revisit the 1960, 1963, and 1979 North-East alliances that yielded tangible political results, especially as regards equity and political stability.

    Bluntly, the stark reality is that despite the North’s long and overwhelming dominance of national leadership in Nigeria, their region remains the poorest, most undeveloped, and now, the most insecure. Their hitherto robust and thriving agricultural, mining, hides and skins, textiles, and manufacturing industries are all in ruins. Perhaps, it’s time for the North to think progressively outside the box. Finally, the North might use the four-year single term to address its persisting internal contradictions; specifically the internecine ethnic and religious conflicts and the rise of home grown non-state actors, who as bandits are putting the North asunder.

    Some vested interests in the south will indubitably oppose the single term presidency for the Southeast under various pretexts. Expectedly, most of their supporting arguments will be counter-intuitive. But they will surely be made, covertly or overtly. Peter Obi made a valid point that “if service is the motive, turning the tide in four years is possible.” There’s not much to add to that non-axiomatic contention. All we need to bear in mind is that we need to save and turn around Nigeria.

    The singular challenge confronting Nigeria’s political establishment at this juncture is mainly that of trust. Trust is Nigeria’s red herring. The trust deficit chasm in Nigeria is wide and expanding daily. In the several discussions I’ve been involved in on this issue; the recurring question still revolves around trust. Can Peter Obi be trusted? Can the North be trusted? Can the Igbo be trusted? Can INEC be trusted? Can the Coalition members be trusted? Can the judiciary be trusted? Can the Southwest be trusted? What is left for Nigerians to ask is: Can God or Allah be trusted?

    If Nigerians can find the courage this time around to exhibit a modicum of trust in their compatriots, then we stand a chance of making headway. Then again, arriving at a consensus on issues even as basic as elemental trust within our body politics might require a Doctrine of Necessity. That is where we are and who we have become as a nation.

    ——
    Obaze is MD/CEO, Selonnes Consult – a policy, governance and management consulting firm in Awka.

  • Anambra’s Exclusion From Q1 2025 Foreign Investment: A Damning Verdict on Failed Governance [OPINION]

    Anambra’s Exclusion From Q1 2025 Foreign Investment: A Damning Verdict on Failed Governance [OPINION]

    By Johnson Okoye

    The recently released Q1 2025 capital importation report by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) is a clear and indisputable indictment of the abysmal performance of the Anambra State Government under the current administration.

    Out of the entire 36 states of the federation, only six states and the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) received any form of foreign direct investment (FDI) in the first quarter of 2025. These are:

    FCT – $3.05 billion
    Lagos – $2.56 billion
    Ogun – $7.95 million
    Oyo – $7.81 million
    Kaduna – $4.06 million
    Kano – $117,000
    Ekiti – $4,250

    Anambra State received nothing. Zero. Not one cent.

    This is not just a number. It is a clear message from the global investment community: Anambra is no longer seen as a safe or viable destination for investment.

    A State Once Full of Promise, Now Sidelined

    Anambra was once hailed as the gateway of commerce and industry in the South East — home to a vast pool of entrepreneurial talent, bustling markets, educated workforce, and strategic road and river networks. Today, under the present administration, Anambra has been reduced to a state of economic paralysis and political confusion.

    The complete absence of foreign investment is symptomatic of deeper systemic failures.

    1. Rising Insecurity and Lawlessness

    No investor puts money where life and property are not safe.
    For the past two years, insecurity has worsened in Anambra. Armed robbery, kidnapping, cult violence, and politically motivated attacks have become the norm. Entire communities live in fear, and businesses are being forced to shut down or relocate.

    This government has no sustainable security strategy. Its response to violence has been reactionary, inconsistent, and politicized. The governor is quick to blame “unknown gunmen” and quicker to go silent when lives are lost.

    Foreign investors are not blind. They read the news, they assess the risks. And clearly, they have concluded that Anambra is too dangerous to do business in.

    2. Economic Mismanagement and Anti-Business Policies

    Even beyond insecurity, the investment climate in Anambra is toxic. Instead of making life easier for businesses, this government has introduced aggressive taxation, harassment of traders, extortion by revenue agents, and a total lack of infrastructure support.

    There is no functional investment promotion agency, no meaningful dialogue with the private sector, no visible plan for industrialization or economic growth. The government lacks the basic tools of modern governance: data-driven planning, transparency, and accountability.

    The result is clear. Investors flee. Capital dries up. And unemployment soars.

    3. Empty Rhetoric, No Results

    Instead of facing these issues with honesty and courage, the governor has chosen a path of political distraction. In recent weeks, he has launched verbal attacks on political opponents, insulting those who dare to challenge his record.

    But the facts are stubborn.

    While his counterparts in Lagos, Ogun, and even Ekiti are attracting millions and building investor confidence, Anambra is sinking into irrelevance. The governor is not just presiding over failure. He is defending it with arrogance.

    No amount of propaganda or press conferences can cover up this disaster. Governance is not about speaking good English. It is about delivering results, securing lives, attracting investment, and growing prosperity. On all these counts, the Anambra State Government has failed woefully.

    A Call for New Leadership

    The people of Anambra deserve better than empty speeches and photo-ops. They deserve a government that understands how to unlock the economic potential of the state — that knows how to attract investment, create jobs, secure lives, and restore the dignity of the people.

    If in 2025, Anambra cannot appear on the investment map of Nigeria, then what exactly is the government doing?

    The time has come for Ndi Anambra to demand answers. Not excuses. Not distractions. But real change. Bold, visionary, and competent leadership that will rescue our state from economic collapse and political decay.

    Mr. Johnson Okoye, ACA writes from Abuja