By Abdul Mahmud
A 20-year-old housewife, Fatima Abdullahi, was docked before a Sharia Court. Her offence? Stealing foodstuff and N250,000 from her employer. The Sharia Court sits in Kano. The Sharia law will take its course. She is already shamed. The punishment for her crime is visible in the Qur’an. But, her trial will not conform to the international standards of fairness. Her guilt, unprotected by power because she is powerless as a nobody. Her desperation for freedom will be public. She will be punished. As punishment for theft, the Court will order that her hands be cut off, consistent with the injunction of political Sharia in the north. She will weep on being sentenced.
Elsewhere, in the cool corridors of air-conditioned offices, many thieves are stealing too. But they steal big. Call up the names on the register of big time [alleged] thieves. Ahmed Idris, former Accountant-General of the Federation, who allegedly stole N109 billion. His successor, Anamekwe Nwabuoku, is also on trial. He is accused of stealing N1.96 billion. Godwin Emefiele, former Governor of the Central Bank, is facing a catalogue of corruption charges. Contracts were awarded without process. Billions vanished. The national vault became his playground.
Yet, for all the noise, how many of them wear handcuffs?
Ahmed Idris is no mere man of numbers. He is a title-holder of the Daura Emirate. But not just any title-holder. Wait for it. His honorific bears a haunting irony. He is the Ajiyan Hausa, the Emirate’s symbolic custodian of its savings. The deposit. The purse. A title meant to evoke trust, restraint, stewardship, and to strengthen bond. Yet, here lies the bitter contradiction of our times: the keeper of the Emirate’s deposit is the [alleged] national vault plunderer. The hand, now entrusted to protect the granary of the Emirate, even if symbolic, is the very hand that [allegedly] emptied our country’s treasury. His title now reads like a cruel jest, a ceremonial mockery of the very values it was meant to honour. In saner societies, symbolism is sacred. In our country, it is a satire.
There lies the paradox. The rich steal to reign; to show off and to rub their stolen wealth on the faces of honest citizens. The poor steal to eat. Though my late friend and playwright, Professor Tunde Fatunde, captured it in a different way in his biting satire, “Oga Na Tief Man” – suggesting in a way that it is only our bosses that steal. It is now clear that everyone – the rich and the poor – steals. Everybody steals. The gatekeeper steals. The messenger steals. The fuel attendant cheats you at the pump. The tailor adds money. Elders, the protectors of local mores, are land grabbers. Go to Benin City. A monarch who is apparently the king of boys now walks the Bedford Heights to the US jailhouse for wire fraud. The pastor lies. The imam collects bribes. Everyone wants something that is not theirs. This is how Fela described it in his song, Authority Stealing: “somebody don take something wey belong to another person”.
Theft is now the national enterprise.
It is the oil that greases every wheel. The high and mighty steal with pens and policies. Ordinary citizens steal with tricks and shortcuts. They call it “hussle”. The civil servant inflates contracts. The market woman hoards tomatoes. The customs officer under-declares imports. The voter sells his vote. The lawmaker buys it. And round our country goes in a merry-go-round of mutual theft. The oga steals the budget. The servant steals the change. The policeman collects bribes. The politician diverts funds. The civil servant “chops small.” No one is innocent. No one is shocked. Everyone expects to steal, or be stolen from. The tragedy is that citizens now call it normal.
What began as elite corruption has trickled down. Or maybe it was always there. The difference is the scale. The rich steal in billions. The poor steal in hundreds. But both steal all the same. And both feel justified. “If I no move am, another person go move am.” Moving becomes another euphemism for theft. That is the logic. That is the rot. The consequences are clear. First, it kills trust. Who can you trust? Not the police. Not the pastor. Not the elder. Not the local chief. Not the courtiers. Not the teacher. Not the politician. Not even your neighbour. Everyone is out for themselves. Second, it kills hope. Why work hard when you can “hussle”? Why become honest when dishonesty is rewarded? Why play by the rules when the rulebook is torn? Third, it kills progress. The money meant for roads disappears. The funds for hospitals are embezzled. Schools rot. Power fails. Infrastructure decays. Our country borrows to pay salaries. Our country borrows to steal. The national debt grows. But the citizens remain poor.
The moral collapse is total. There was once a time when shame restrained men. A time when elders frowned at corruption. When integrity mattered. When public office was an honour. Today, the thief is a role model. The looter is a chief. The bigger the loot, the louder the title. In our country, today, titles are no longer honours earned by virtue, but ornaments acquired through vice. My Etsako provenance offers one of the loudest of such titles: Oku Omolo – The sea never dries. It is meant to evoke abundance, resilience, and an endless wellspring of generosity. But in the hands of the corrupt, it has become the euphemism for bottomless theft. A celebration of plunder disguised as prosperity.
Here, the deeper the theft, the grander the welcome. The thief returns home not in shame, but in splendour. Drums beat. Praise singers chant. Clerics pray. The community gathers, not to ask questions; but to ask for favours. No one remembers how the well was filled. Only that it overflows.
Thus, a nation drowns in stolen waters while hailing the men who fetched them. How did our country get here? Slowly. Steadily. First, citizens excused the first thief. Then they praised him. Then they emulated him. Now, citizens encourage their children to steal. To cheat. To manipulate. They call it survival. But it is the death of the soul, of the country. Achebe said it best. A paraphrase of the late Irish patron-poet, W.B. Yeats’s “things fall apart” in his poem, The Second Coming: “The things that held us together have given way.” The moral straps of our country have snapped. Our values have collapsed. Citizens no longer know right from wrong. The house has fallen. As Karl Maier puts it: “This house has fallen”.
But not all is lost. Citizens can still rebuild the country. But first, they must tell themselves the truth. Stealing is stealing. Whether by the gatekeeper or the governor. Whether by the clerk or the commissioner. Whether by the mechanic or the minister. Whether by Fatima or Emefiele.
Our country and its citizens must stop decorating thieves. They must stop giving them awards. They must stop singing for them. They must stop inviting them to churches and mosques. They must stop calling them “destiny helpers.” They are criminals. Not heroes. The judiciary must act in accordance with its role. No if. The courts must bite. Not just the weak. Not just the powerless. But the high and mighty too. Justice must be blind. The law must not see pockets or positions. Only truth. The police must reform. Too many officers are gatekeepers of corruption. Roadblocks have become toll gates on our country’s highways. Bail is never free. The law is up for sale. That must end.
Religious institutions must cleanse their altars. Too many thieves denn in the pulpits. Too many pastors preach prosperity without integrity. Too many imams pray for thieves. Religion must return to its core: truth, justice, righteousness. The civil society must rise and be active again. Too many NGOs are now fronts for corruption. Too many activists have become consultants to crooks. The media must shine the light. Not dine with darkness. Too many journalists now feast on brown envelopes. The pen must return to its calling; to expose, not excuse. And citizens must resist. They must say no. No to vote buying. No to stolen mandates. No to stolen futures. They must reject rice-for-votes, stomach-infrastructure politics. They must vote conscience, not stomach.
Yes, all of this is hard; but, it is necessary. Our country and its citizens must start small. One honest act at a time. One brave whistleblower at a time. One principled and active citizen at a time. That is how countries are rebuilt. Our country must raise a new generation. A generation that sees public office as stewardship. Not an Automated Teller Machine. A generation that understands that wealth without work is theft. That leadership without sacrifice is fraud. That power without purpose is poison. Our country must change the story of itself. From “Oga na tief man” to “Oga na servant.” From “everybody dey thief” to “some of us still dey stand clean.” From “na so Naija be” to “na so we go change Naija for good”. Our country is not cursed. Our country is corrupt. Our country is not poor. Our country is poorly managed. Ours is not the absence of wealth. It is the abundance of thieves.
I fathom no illusion here. If Fatima Abdullahi must face justice, then so must the Ahmed Idrises and Emefieles. If the petty thief must be jailed, then the economic saboteur must be punished. The arc of the moral universe must bend toward justice for the big and small thieves and for our country. This house has fallen. But it can be rebuilt. Brick by brick. Truth by truth. One honest citizen at a time. That is the only hope. That is the only path forward to redemption.
“Oga na tief man”.
But so are the ordinary citizens who turn blind eyes to the thievery around them.
