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Why South Africans murder Nigerians in cold blood

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By Festus Adedayo


A commenter on X, obviously a South African national, with the name Paul, reacted to a CableNews April 27 report that two Nigerians were killed in recent spike in South Africa’s xenophobic attacks on fellow Africans. He said: “They were burnt alive…our country isn’t a playing zone. They (sic) will be more Nigerian criminals to be buried this Saturday.” Paul was writing with the handle, @blewcash.easymoney.referral, with the South African national flag hoisted on his comment. A BBC report had earlier quoted a 43-year-old Democratic Republic of Congo national living in Hillbrow, S.A. as saying he felt lucky to be alive: “My best friend was attacked one morning… He was stoned to death like a dog. Imagine someone runs away from his own land and comes here to find peace but ends up getting killed.”

A 2017 report cited by Nigeria’s House of Representatives said that 116 Nigerians were killed in South Africa over a preceding two-year period, out of which, roughly 20 were killed in 2016. Though not a recent phenomenon, xenophobic attacks in South Africa have assumed epidemic proportion. As far back as 1994, in the rush for scarce resources, immigrants face stiff push, leading to violent discrimination. Record has it that in 2008, South Africa harvested 62 deaths from xenophobic uprising and attacks. A 2018 Pew research poll reported that 62% of South Africans believed immigrants constituted social and economic burdens and were responsible for crimes. At the moment, South Africa’s rate of unemployment, ranked as one of the highest in the world, oscillates around 33%. Xenophobia attacks increased after Nelson Mandela and a black majority government deposed white rule, inflicted by assailants who allege that job losses result from foreigners’ infiltration.

Julius Malema, South African opposition politician and leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters, had a stinging remark against such claims. Last Thursday, at the 14th anniversary of Collen Mashawana Foundation, he took a swipe at xenophobia by saying, “I want to challenge you who say ‘Zimbabweans take your jobs, Nigerians take your jobs’ and you march, close shops, and beat up people. Tell us after doing that, how many jobs have you created?… Unskilled men, with no skill whatsoever, say somebody took their jobs. The skill they know is to drink and want to pretend like revolutionaries.”

South African politicians, like ones in uMkhonto weSizwe, (MK) led by ex-President Jacob Zuma, latch on this to make xenophobic comments to gain political advantage. Early this year, Zulu king, Misuzulu kaZwelithini, used highly derogatory term for immigrants while calling for their eviction. He spoke by the rocky Isandlwana hill, in a place where history recorded that, 147 years ago, his forefathers, commanding 20,000 Zulu warriors in the Anglo-Zulu war, defeated 1,800 British soldiers in the battle of Isandlwana.

The 51-year king said: “The kwerekwere must leave,” kwerekwere being a derogatory word for African migrants. His late father, Goodwill Zwelithini, made similar offensive call in 2015, asking immigrants to “pack their belongings”. This led to a rise in vigilante anti-migrant groups, chief of which is the Operation Dudula (Dudula in Zulu language meaning, “to be removed by force”) as well as March on March, with their notoriety flourishing daily.

There is no way we can locate South Africans’ violence against fellow blacks unless we go into history. In 2019, South Africans unleashed an unprecedented assault on Nigerians which resulted in loss of property worth billions of Naira. To understand this hate, we have to trace its genealogy. It will explain the infliction of horrendous pains on fellow blacks by South Africans.

Historically, since 1948, Black South Africans have harboured bile, violence and rancid hatred for other races. 1948 was the year Apartheid was institutionalized as a system of white minority rule. It led to acute racial segregation. The Apartheid system also forced non-white into segregated areas, restricted their rights to mingle with whites and took away their voting rights. These further inflicted incalculable damage on their psyche. The National Party, led by such leaders like Pieter Willem Botha, enforced this oppressive policy of “apartness”.

Today, though Apartheid was defeated by the collective voices of the world in 1994, it has not died. Odour of economic inequality still lingers, leaving wide social and economic disparities created by Apartheid. This includes wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, spatial segregation and unquenchable anger against anyone felt to be responsible for their existential maroon on a spot. Today, you could still see systemic poverty of blacks, carry-overs of the Frederick de Clark era, with a wide gap of unequal access to resources and education.

While you may see imposing infrastructural relics of white rule in South Africa, its innards are made of up irreconcilable dysfunction, hate and quest for vengeance of 1948 to 1994. You cannot succeed in a psychological download of the mental constitution of an average South African unless you read its books of literature. To escape Apartheid’s mind torture, Black South African writers expressed themselves in stories that were mostly laced with thematic concerns of violence, hatred, revenge and crime.

If you read the works of authors like Mazisi Kunene, Ezekiel Mphalele, Peter Abrahams, Alf Wannenburg and many others, you will understand why South Africans haven’t purged themselves of their bond with violence. In fact, if you read Can Themba’s The Dube Train, its theme is the ordinariness of death and violence under Apartheid. The narrator of the book prefaces the short story with a description of fellow commuters as “sour-smelling humanity” and exhibits his impatience with this “hostile life” and “the shoving savagery of the crowd.” With this short story, Themba explains the banality and ordinariness of death in the Apartheid era, ending the story by telling the readers that the murder of a tout, called tsotsi, “was just another incident in the morning Dube Train”, with the crowd “greedily relishing the thrilling episode.”

I have searched frantically for the lure of the gruesome murders of Nigerians and other African nationals at the drop of a hat by South Africans. My findings revealed a retained savagery of Apartheid. Placing stories of blood spillage under Apartheid with the recent ease with which South Africans hack fellow Blacks to death, a knowledge of the country’s historical development will bail you out of wonderment. If you now read Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and William Golding’s classic, Lord of the Flies, place the bestiality in the books beside the black-on-black hate in South Africa today and you will agree with white theorists’ submission that the Blackman has within him innate bestiality. Today, South African blacks only need very little provocation to unleash an ancestry of savagery, like Golding’s little boys marooned on an island, whose animalism took the better part of them.

Like Fela Anikulapo-Kuti sang, quoting Botha, Apartheid indeed brought out the beast in South Africans. Today, fellow blacks have replaced whites in their subconscious. The moment the system castrated the Blackman’s manhood, he became a lot less than an animal, with no difference between his behaviour and those of his ape ancestors. If you read the history of the South African liberation struggle, it is replete with macabre and a number of horrendous murders that would make a civilized world shudder. In the name of the struggle, many of those atrocities were excused and overlooked; indeed, they came to the world’s knowledge seldom. The world focused, on the reverse, on the evil regime of Frederick de Clark and the atrocities of segregating white from Indians, the black and coloured. The dastardly act of murdering fellow blacks they labeled Askaris, who were alleged to have betrayed the liberation struggle, were never heard. Thus, we never knew how ignoble and bloodless the hearts of our South African brothers were.

You will recall the trial of Winnie Mandela and the allegation of her involvement in the murder of some youths, who went by the façade of a football club. The murdered boys were alleged to be squealing on the liberation struggle. They were summarily tried by the “Winnie Boys”, sentenced to death and executed, similar to how a Nigerian police officer, ASP Nuhu Usman, was captured on video executing a 28-year-old suspect, Mene Ogidi, last week in Effurun, Delta State. Winnie was eventually tried for these murders which constituted one of the thousands of gruesome killings by blacks under Apartheid.

If you read some of the works of Alex la Guma, like A Walk In the Night, you will encounter District Six, the inner city of Cape Town, home to all sorts of sub-human activities and why horrendous murder became part and parcel of the people’s existence. Mutual knifing, unprovoked arson, murders and all sorts were carried out with a clinical finish that would make a decent man shudder. In Quartet and In the Fog of the Seasons’ End, you will encounter the bestiality that Apartheid wrought on the psyche of our so-called brothers. Many black South Africans lost their humanity in the process.

Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the African National Congress (ANC) founded by Mandela in 1961, perpetrated a lot of criminal activities and mindless murders that were swept under the rug while Mandela was in jail. Several South Africans who were accused of betraying the struggle were tagged Askari or “cockroaches” got summarily executed and nobody ever heard of their deaths thereafter.

If Gen Z South Africans who hate Nigerians this much, apparently not born in 1994 or are too young to appreciate the roles Nigeria played to get them the freedom that made them fiefs in their own land, methinks elderly South Africans should retell the story to them. After all, my people say if a child was not alive to witness history (Ìtàn) in manifestation, they will at least hear historical narratives (àróbá). In total, it is said that, from 1960 when Tafawa Balewa made Africa the centerpiece of Nigeria’s foreign policy, to 1994 during Sani Abacha regime, Nigeria wasted an estimated $60 billion on funding the anti-Apartheid struggle.

That Nigerian intervention actually began with the Sharpeville Massacre of March 21, 1960. Police had opened fire on a crowd of protesters outside a police station in the township of Sharpeville. They were protesting Apartheid system’s Pass laws which required Blacks to obtain passes to move around. 72 blacks were killed and about 184 wounded in one fell swoop. In protest, Nigerian university students voluntarily skipped their lunch for a month, and the proceeds remitted to South Africa. It was called the Mandela Tax. Not only did they make fetish of the evil of Apartheid, Nigerian students mobilized public opinion in support of people they felt were their brothers, with many young Nigerians contributing from their little pocket monies in aid of the struggle.

In the same vein, many tertiary institutions formed clubs like Youth Solidarity on South Africa. Nigeria then boycotted the 1976 Olympics and 1979 Commonwealth games, leading to national losses. To get South Africa liberated quickly, Nigeria declined selling oil to the apartheid regime. Aside these, Nigeria played a vital role in the anti-apartheid struggle through music, using powerful songs to mobilize awareness and solidarity across Africa and beyond. Artists like Fela Kuti and Sonny Okosun used their voices to condemn oppression, inspire resistance, and amplify the call for freedom in South Africa.

Apart from frontline states like Zimbabwe, Zambia, Angola, Mozambique and Namibia, no nation could rival Nigeria in contributions to the struggle against apartheid. If you read the book, Diplomatic Soldiering (1987) written by Gen. Joe Garba, Nigeria’s foreign affairs minister under Gens. Murtala Muhammed/Olusegun Obasanjo, you will have an idea of the quantum of fortune Nigeria sank into the liberation of South Africa and South African states. On many occasions, Nigeria single-handedly picked the bills of programmes associated with the struggle. Thousands of South African youths received scholarship to study in Nigerian universities, nursing schools, polytechnics and colleges of education. Frustrated at some point, Obasanjo, as Head of State, once threatened to deploy all means possible to fight Apartheid to a standstill, including invoking what he called the Blackman’s magical power.

At some point, Nigeria was home to South African freedom fighters like Thabo Mbeki’s father, Govan Mbeki; Albert Luthuli and other ANC leaders who were here on asylum. Nigeria also richly funded ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe. Thabo, Mbeki’s son, was also on exile in Nigeria from 1976 to 1979.

On May 13, 1990, upon his release from a combination of terms in Robben Island, Pollsmoor, and Victor Verster Prisons which cumulatively stood at 27 years, President Nelson Mandela was on a courtesy visit to Nigeria. At the Murtala Square, Kaduna, he affirmed that Nigeria made the highest donation to South Africa’s liberation. To further underscore this, on April 27, on the Freedom Day which marks South Africa’s first democratic elections in 1994, President Cyril Ramaphosa reminded his country of the debt it owes other nations on the continent who supported their struggle against the racist system of apartheid.

The children and grandchildren of Nigerians who made those huge sacrifices are now the ones being killed in South Africa today. As Nigerians, we have our own drawbacks, but violence of the South African kind is alien to us.

My take is that, if Nigerian governments, from independence to 1994, had spent the estimated $60b frittered on South Africa on the future of Nigerians, their offspring would not be hibernating in South Africa today. South Africans may also jolly well still be in captivity. We owe it a duty to both ourselves and country to make Nigeria too a pleasant country, a country which, travelling out of it would be for mere sight-seeing, rather than for economic liberation. The hopelessness at home and the serial plunder of our country by our own kin, the notoriety of which is a tale told in all the four corners of the globe, are reasons we weigh little in the estimation of the world. Again, the criminal lifestyles, drug-pushing and excessive self-underscore that our nationals live abroad cannot but make us objects of xenophobia.

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Why Yayi Should Not Be The Next Governor Of Ogun State

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By Temitope Orefuja

As Ogun State gradually moves towards another crucial governorship election cycle, it is important that citizens carefully examine not only the personalities seeking leadership but also the principles, experiences, and circumstances surrounding their aspirations.

The debate about who should succeed the current administration must be guided by what is best for Ogun State and not merely by political popularity, financial influence, or media hype. It is against this background that I present reasons why Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola, popularly known as Yayi, should not be the next Governor of Ogun State.

1. Ogun State Needs Home-Grown Leadership

Leadership is not merely about occupying public office; it is about understanding the history, culture, challenges, and aspirations of a people.

For nearly two decades, Senator Yayi built his political career in Lagos State, serving in the Lagos State House of Assembly, the House of Representatives, and the Senate representing Lagos constituencies before relocating his political focus to Ogun State. Public records show that he represented Lagos constituencies for several electoral cycles before becoming Senator for Ogun West.

The question many Ogun citizens continue to ask is whether someone whose political identity was largely built elsewhere should automatically become the chief executive of Ogun State.

Ogun State is blessed with competent sons and daughters who have lived, worked, and participated consistently in the political and developmental evolution of the state. The governorship should not become a reward for political migration.

2. Political Longevity Is Not the Same as Executive Competence

Supporters of Senator Yayi often point to his long years in legislative offices as proof of preparedness for the governorship. However, legislative experience and executive leadership are fundamentally different.

A governor is required to manage ministries, formulate policies, supervise implementation, coordinate local governments, attract investments, and directly administer the machinery of government.

The ability to sponsor projects or facilitate constituency interventions does not automatically translate into the capacity to govern an entire state effectively.

Ogun voters must therefore assess candidates based on executive vision and administrative competence rather than political longevity alone.

3. Ogun State Must Reject the Politics of Entitlement

No individual should be considered governor simply because they have held several political offices.

Democracy thrives when leadership emerges from a competitive contest of ideas, performance, and vision.

The notion that years spent in public office automatically confer a right to govern Ogun State is inconsistent with democratic values.

The next governor must earn the trust of the people through a convincing agenda for economic growth, education, healthcare, security, agriculture, youth empowerment, and infrastructure development.

4. The Future of Ogun State Requires Fresh Ideas

Ogun State stands at a critical stage of development.

The state requires innovative solutions to youth unemployment, industrial expansion, rural development, agricultural modernization, housing deficits, and infrastructure challenges.

The next administration must be driven by fresh thinking and bold reforms rather than relying primarily on established political structures and traditional patronage networks.

Our people deserve a governor whose primary focus is building sustainable institutions rather than expanding political influence.

5. Regional Balance and Equity Must Be Respected

One of the pillars of political stability in Ogun State has been the recognition of fairness, inclusiveness, and equitable power sharing among the various regions and interests within the state.

Any governorship aspiration must be examined within the context of maintaining political harmony and ensuring that no section of the state feels marginalized.

Ogun State’s unity should remain more important than the ambition of any individual politician.

6. Elections Should Be About Issues, Not Political Machinery

The future of Ogun State cannot be determined by financial power, endorsements, or political structures alone.

The people must insist on issue-based campaigns that focus on:

– Job creation.
– Security improvement.
– Rural road development.
– Agricultural transformation.
– Educational advancement.
– Healthcare accessibility.
– Industrial expansion.
– Youth and women empowerment.

The candidate who provides the most practical solutions to these challenges should receive the mandate of the people.

Conclusion

This position is not a personal attack on Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola. Indeed, his years of public service and contributions to his constituents are matters of public record. However, public service alone should not be the sole basis for occupying the highest office in Ogun State.

The governorship of Ogun State is too important to be decided by popularity, political influence, or financial strength. It must be determined by competence, vision, fairness, and the ability to provide transformational leadership.

As citizens, we owe ourselves and future generations the responsibility of asking difficult questions and making informed choices.

Ogun State deserves a governor whose emergence reflects the collective aspirations of the people and whose administration will deliver sustainable progress for every community across the state.

The future of Ogun State must be built on merit, vision, and genuine commitment to the welfare of the people.

Thank you.

Temitope Orefuja
Deputy State Chairman
Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC), Ogun State.

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June 12 And A Democracy Without Democrats

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By Habib Aruna

“A republic, if you can keep it,”

The above were Benjamin Franklin famous and iconic words, which according to the Library of Congress, was in response to Elizabeth Willing Powel’s question about whether the new government about to be formed in the United States, was a republic or a monarchy.

This exchange occurred on September 17, 1787, after the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, when Mrs. Powel asked Franklin, “Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?” he replied succinctly, “A republic, if you can keep it”. Franklin was recorded as the oldest delegate at the convention and his response was in consonance with the idea that the success of a republic or a democratic process depends on the active participation and vigilance of its citizens to maintain it. And with few weeks to go for the world notable and biggest democratic experiment, United States, to be 250 years old, it’s indeed, quite discernible that given the many challenges that the country has faced over more than two centuries and a half, “democracy is not a destination but a journey”

So, how has Nigeria fared since the current dispensation in 1999? A democratic process that is a product of the annulment of June 12 1993 presidential election, an election adjudged to be the most credible, transparent and free and fair one in the not so enviable Nigeria’s electoral process. An election and outcome that kept reminding us that we are yet to get it right and that the ballot box is yet to be sacrosanct.

Nevertheless, Nigerians will again come out today to celebrate the winner of the June 12 presidential election, Bashorun Moshood Abiola and to mark the symbolic day that has been rightly declared Democracy Day by the Muhammadu Buhari administration.

It was a day that Nigerians came out in their millions to vote for their preferred candidate; a day that religion, tribe and other primordial considerations took a back seat and voters were determined to get it right for once, even though the process that led to the election was stained with credibility crisis. The inclement weather in some parts of the country on that day did not prevent them from coming out to queue behind their preferred candidate.

This writer voted in Kano at that time and witnessed how enthusiastic voters in that ancient city were lining behind the picture of Abiola in conformity with Professor Humphery Nwosu’s Option A4. That was the scenario painted all over the country; of a people desirous of change and putting their destiny in the hands of who they believe is capable of taking them to the Promised Land. Their hope was however cut short few days later when the military junta, led by General Badamasi Babangida shockingly annulled the election, when it was clear that Abiola was coasting to victory.

For sure, the military regime did not envisage the amount of protests and demonstrations that came in the wake of the mindless and senseless annulment. Led by pro-democracy and human rights activists like the late Gani Fawehinmi, Wole Soyinka, Femi Falana, Olisa Agbakoba, Ayo Obe, Ayo Opadokun, Shehu Sanni, the late Beko Ransome-Kuti, amongst other notable figures, Nigerians expressed their anger and reservations against annulment and vowed to make sure that the winner, Abiola is declared the winner and sworn in as president.

The protests continued until Babangida stepped aside and General Sani Abacha, the goggled and brutal dictator, took over. He was so brutal that many activists were not spared from either being imprisoned or even outrightly killed. Kudirat, wife of the winner of the election was shot in Lagos and died a few hours after. Bagauda Khalto, a journalist was not spared by the military goons and many journalists, including activists were forced to go on exile to continue the struggle against military dictatorship. It was in the midst of this crisis and attempt by Abacha to drop his khaki uniform for babaringa that he dropped dead and the country was saved from the precipice.

The military then decided to save its face by coming up with a more credible transition programme. The Abdulsalami Abubakar regime that took over from Abacha knew that Nigerians and the world will not tolerate a longer and unwarranted stay in office by the military, so he and the Armed Forces Ruling Council (AFRC) quickly organized a transition that led the country back to civilian rule. Before then, Moshood Abiola, who had been incarcerated by Abacha had died in detention, putting the Abdulsalami in a fix. Indeed, the death and the attendant effects made Abiola more popular, made him a hero of democracy and created a climate of urgency on the need to ease tension in the polity by making sure that the next president comes from the South Western part of the country.

Perhaps, it was this rush to handover that led to the failure by the military to put in place viable and enduring institutions to guide the embryonic democratic rule. There was little or no pragmatic attempt to make sure that the constitution and other working principles were put in place to protect and promote democracy which Abiola and others paid the ultimate price for. And largely because of this, the politicians that took over from the military were not those who fought for democracy. On the contrary, many of the beneficiaries were on the side of the military with some of them openly working against the validation of June 12 election results.

Since 1999 we have seen parasitic, capricious and opportunistic politicians parading the political space. Politicians who care less about the welfare and wellbeing of those they represent; politicians who want to win election by all means; politicians who circumvent the electoral process to promote their selfish interests; politicians who want to hold on to power forever, even at the detriment of their states and country; and we have seen politicians who are not bothered about the fragility of the democratic process in so far as they have their ways. The chairman of a ruling party even boasted that his party will rule the country for 50 years. Such callous and insensitive statements that have no place in a decent political environment were frequently by our politicians.

The solace however is that a day like this reminds those who occupy political positions in the country that some people laid down their lives for us to have democracy. It’s a day like this that we all remember the sacrifices made by Abiola and other patriots. The billionaire businessman would have chickened out by negotiating with the junta and smiling home with his billions, but he refused to capitulate and fought to the end. He lost his life and his businesses in the process, but his name will ring loud forever. And since we cannot act Hamlet without the Prince, we cannot equally mark June 12 without celebrating the contributions of Abiola to the current civilian rule.

This day will remain a symbolic and sacred one many decades to come and will be a veritable reminder that good deeds will always bear positive fruits. However, in the same corollary, June 12 will be a day to remember, though in a negative way, those who annulled the election. It will indeed, be a day to vilify, demonize and berate people like Babangida, Abacha and all those who collude with them in destroying the will of the people and denying them the opportunity to have a sincere and good governance. Events have since shown that IBB and his co-travelers are on the wrong side of history and their various attempts to rewrite what happened have proved abortive. Nigerians have not forgotten nor have they forgiven those who denied Abiola his mandate and ultimately refused to release him until he died in captivity.

Thus, as we again mark this all important day, the minimum demand is that our politicians must play by the rules; now that the country is facing enormous security challenge, all hands must be on deck to solve it; those at the helm should know that the country is bigger than anyone and that power is transient. And failure to build enduring democratic institutions will come back to haunt all of them.

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Sunday Igboho’s Iru Ekun as Sòbìà, the guinea worm

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By Festus Adedayo

Make no mistake about it: Yorubaland is encircled by terrorists. And Nigeria is today as sour as vinegar. The president’s birthplace is now a terrorist enclave. Since the Ahoro-Esinele tragedy in Oriire LG of Oyo State on May 15, a lot more blood has been spilled. Blood spillage has become, in the words of Bob Marley, a natural mystique and “many more will have to suffer; many more will have to die.” Ondo, Ekiti, Ogun, Osun have since been taking bites of their own blood. On Friday, bandits stormed the Igbosi area of Idogun in Ose Local Government Area of Ondo State. They destroyed two buildings and kidnapped a nine-year-old boy. On the whole, Nigerians can taste the bitter feel of blood in their mouths. Or see a picturesque of blood flowing on the horizon. News of violent deaths in the hands of terrorists, kidnaps for ransom and violent abductions have become daily existential realities.

Sending children to school today is risky. It is like hopping over an IED-buried land. The victory of Boko Haram terrorists, who declared war on education, against a Southwest which prides itself as beacon of education, couldn’t receive more fitting finality than now. Late last week, an unverified claim was made that terrorists keeping vigil with menacing guns over our children and their teachers inside the forest of Oyo National Park have made depressing ransom demands.

War has indeed begun. But, for the president, 2027 votes seem more precious than his people’s blood. And since, as his people say, even if one beholds a thousand heads in the marketplace, it shouldn’t be difficult to identify one’s, the people are bothered whether the president has identified his in this cadaver-counting arithmetic. The president has effectively mutated from his constitutionally-guaranteed role as actor-in-chief into a national mourner-in-chief, running a government of bereavement and weekly national condolences.

As I write this, news filtered in that terrorists have again struck Borno State, beheading soldiers and vigilante members. Like other parts of Nigeria, Southwest Nigeria is terrified. It is almost a crime to celebrate. Killings no longer make front page news. Nor the number of our countrymen sent to the graveyards. You can compare our situation to someone’s whose mother was offered as sacrifice to Yemoja, the goddess of the river, for whom smiling is an anathema. Killings by terrorists have become a roulette. Since they stormed Ahoro-Esinele and Yawota, killing a teacher, abducting 46 pupils, teachers and decapitating one, Southwest has been the proverbial cycle of conspiracies (Egbìnrìn òtè) which, as you attempt to grapple with one, a multitude spring up.

Many parts of Nigeria bear virtually all chaotic symptoms of rebel-occupied spaces in far-flung places of Africa. Anarchy is fast becoming the new normal. Indices of ungovernable Nigeria are evident.

The chaotic, violent and blood-soaked situation today in Southwest Nigeria is almost akin to that of the 19th century. According to J. F. Ade Ajayi and S. A. Akintoye, in their “Yorubaland in the Nineteenth century” published in Groundwork of Nigerian history (1980) edited by Obaro Ikime, it was the century the Binis succeeded in making incursion into Northern Yoruba towns of Owo, Akoko, Ekiti and Ikare. Between 1830 and 1850, extreme Northeastern Yorubaland towns of Oworo, Bunu, Iyagba, Owe and Ijumu had been taken over by Jihadist Fulanis. Led by the Nupe Malam Dendo, the Jihadists later made incursions into Igbomina, Akoko and northern Ekiti. Ilorin cavalry’s forays also met with huge success. The rivalry between the Ibadan and Ijaye for dominance left blood and sorrows. By 1847, highly feared Ibadan forces had occupied Ekiti, expelled the Ilorin and by 1860, spread their tentacles of dominance over it, Ijesa, Akoko, Igbomina and vast territories of Osun and Ife kingdom. The 16-year war against the Ibadan in the Kiriji war, also known as the Ekitiparapo war, was to later truncate Ibadan’s dominance.

All these led to, in the words of Ade-Ajayi in another journal article with the title, “Professional Warriors in 19th century Yoruba politics” a shift from part-time militias to professional standing armies. Leaders of the armies of Yorubaland during this troublous era were: Aare Latoosa, who commanded Ibadan forces in the Kiriji War; Balogun Oderinlo, a tactical genius who fought and decimated Fulani forces in the Osogbo War; Balogun Ogunmola, a ruthless strategist; as well as Basorun Oluyole and Balogun Ibikunle. The Kiriji war also produced Ogedengbe Agbogungboro of Ilesa, who became the supreme commander of the allied Ekiti-Parapo forces. He was renowned for his military prowess. Then, we had Fabunmi of Oke-Mesi, who was a dreaded key strategist whose beheading of an Ibadan tax administrator became the catalyst of the Ekitiparapo war; as well as Ijaye and Abeokuta (Egba) Commander Kurunmi of Ijaiye.

These militia leaders were spurred on by the collapse of the Old Oyo Empire in the same 19th-century. They became a new class of warlords who rose from the ashes of the incursions of external and internal forces into the domains of territorial powers. These militias sidestepped traditional hereditary lines and went ahead to acquire immense political power. By doing this, they fundamentally transformed the powers of Yoruba constitutional monarchies. Their military expeditions also led to a shift and reshape of Yoruba societal norms, recalibrating might to be right. As said by Ade-Ajayi, the control of violence, access to firearms, and war tactics during this time became central pillars of political authority. It led to a total militarization of the whole of Yorubaland. This pervaded the land until British colonial intervention became the sole enforcer of normalcy and peace in the late 1890s.

Another example was the Agbekoya Parapo Revolt of 1968–1969 led by Tafa Adeoye. It was a peasant revolt in the Western Region, fought and won against the Federal Government by the Ibadan, spearheaded by two villages of Akanran and Akufo.

I went into this small history to be able to situate what is playing out today. All the above militia leaders of Yorubaland were ex-bandits who became respected military Generals. Ogedengbe Agbogungboro of Ilesa was a local fearless bandit who, as a young boy, terrorized his Atori village. In 1851, he fought on the side of Ijesa against Ibadan in the Ijebu Ere (Ijebu-Jesa) war. He also fought the Igbajo war. It was in this latter war that Ibadan captured him and he became a prisoner of Basorun Ogunmola. He later transformed into a major war commander in the Kiriji war. He died in 1910 as holder of the title of Odole of Ijesaland. Fabunmi of Oke-Mesi was also a local bandit who beheaded an Ibadan Ajele named Oyepetun in retaliation for an assault on his wife.

To validate why a people who lay store by good conduct could accommodate bandits as their leaders, Yoruba validate this in a saying that weaponizes necessity as mother of invention. It is rendered as, “ojó t’áa bá pà’jùbà làá níran àdá, ojó ogun bá le làá níran omo t’ó le”. Literally, it means, it is on the day of cultivation of a virgin forest that a machete becomes a close companion, just as a moment of being besieged makes the tough son in the closet the most useful weapon of defence. By the way, Ibadan veteran broadcaster, Fresh FM’s Abolade Salami gave me this saying some years ago.

A few weeks ago, self-labeled Yoruba nation activist, Sunday Adeniyi Adeyemo, popularly known as Sunday Igboho, again hit headlines. He had earlier come into national reckoning in January 2021 when he gave a controversial seven-day ultimatum to suspected Fulani herdsmen allegedly terrorizing the Ibarapa area of Oyo State to vacate the space. Public accusation then was that these herders were behind the orgy of kidnapping and killing of local farmers in the area. He instantly hit the klieg light as a folk hero in Yorubaland. The Muhammadu Buhari government however hounded him. It led to an Operation Get Igboho which, on July 1, 2021, had a joint team of security operatives haunt him at his Soka, Ibadan, residence. The Department claimed it recovered seven AK-47 assault rifles, three Pump Action guns, 30 fully charged AK-47 magazines, 5,000 rounds of 7.62mm ammunition, and 18 Walkie-Talkies, among others, from his house. Igboho thereafter fled the country.

After being granted pardon and he returned from exile, Igboho recently announced the formation of a security outfit he called “Ìrù Ekùn Security Network”. In his words, it would collaborate with the Police, Department of State Services, Nigeria Army and other relevant stakeholders to flush out terrorists, kidnappers, bandits, and other hoodlums, who are threatening the peace and safety of the people. He also claimed to want to work with South-West governors to fortify state-backed security outfits like the Amotekun corps.

Igboho deserves kudos for the spiritual significance of his security outfit. In Yoruba Ifa corpus (Odu Ifá), Iru Ekun, literally translated to mean a leopard’s tail, is a profound verse with prophetic invocation. An Irete family of the Ifa corpus, it represents fierce protection, wealth and status, as well as wisdom and strategy. While children sang those days that the fierce eyes of the leopard are reddish and its tail stiff, “Ojú ẹkùn yí pọn, ìrù ẹkùn yí le”, Iru Ekun then means confidence, power and alert readiness. In the wild, when it confronts an assailant, the leopard, for a split second, remains calm but when it pounces on the enemy, it tears them into pieces. In praise of this strategically alert animal, the Yoruba say its calmness is not a sign of timidity, “Didake ekun, t’ojo ko”.

In the wake of the abduction of pupils and teachers at Oriire, Igboho has again come out to say he knew the politicians behind it. He said they were Tinubu haters.

Voluble, illiterate, unpretentious but bold, those who know Igboho know of his trajectory as an anvil in the hands of politicians. He is also a notorious land-grabber. The Elebu area in Ibadan has repeatedly witnessed his notoriety in this regard. However, this is not a time for recriminations. It is a time to seek ways of wiping away the caked blood of sorrow from our brows as a people and who can effectively do this. Thus, Igboho’s offer to tame insecurity in the Southwest, even claiming to be able to spread his Ìrù Ekùn’s tentacles to Kogi and Kwara States, deserves thorough examination.

Thus, that Igboho is transmuting from villainy into a people’s heroes has its historical trajectory as analyzed above. However, if the aim is for the Yoruba, through Igboho, to harvest their share of the national cake as Niger Deltans are doing with the Tantita Security Services, which claims to be protecting critical oil pipelines and gas sector installations, Igboho’s Ìrù Ekùn is all well and good. If, conversely, the aim is to provide security for the Southwest, it may be deadly in the long run. Igboho may succeed in bailing out some children from the grips of terrorists inside the Oyo National Park. Many may even die in the process. Ultimately, the end result may prove catastrophic for the people.

First is, to hand over such tremendous power to a non-state actor of Igboho’s pedigree and educational depth is dangerous. What knowledge does he have in modern warfare? A similar outing proved fatal which Nigeria has yet to recover from. Mohammed Yusuf, founder of Boko Haram, was known as provider of security cover for then Borno governor, Ali Modu Sheriff. In the 2003 elections, Sheriff reportedly provided him financial backing, government appointments and even protection. His sect, in exchange, then gave him grassroots support and protection. By 2003, the glue to the rapport came in the form of political alliance, with a deal struck to give the sect concessions. One was the release of its imprisoned members and appointment of its allies into local government offices. Yusuff however sensed betrayal and abandonment. After election and Sheriff government sought to do away with Yusuff, the bubble burst. This led to its radicalization and clashes with local security forces. The subsequent deadly 2009 uprising which later arose became a fait accompli. And Yusuff’s elimination. The whole of Nigeria is today suffering from this unholy alliance.

Second, as the Yoruba say, even when a mad person is cured of their malady, there always remains fragments within them, a moment of insanity in sanity. To give Igboho, an ally of political players, such huge security powers is potentially dangerous for the polity. The timing of the outfit is everything but right. Handing total security to a non-state actor, one who has expressed his angst at alleged persons who want to stop “our son” from being president, would be akin to arming deadly political thugs. HURIWA, the human rights group, might have had this in mind when, in its reaction to Igboho’s Ìrù Ekùn, said it would threaten national security

Third is that Ìrù Ekùn Ekun would empower other nationalities facing insurgency like the Southwest to equally demand national imprimatur for their own militia. It will be unfair not to grant them, or else it becomes an exercise in ethnic favouritism.

The president’s immediate response to the Oriire kidnap, after the tragedy of his sending a delegation to the place last Sunday, rather than his physical presence, is equally a placebo that cannot cure this national ailment. He had announced the recruitment of 1000 forest guards to be deployed to the forests, in partnership with the Oyo State government. Not only will the presidency, as usual, dilly-dally on this, no one knows the guards’ modus operandi nor when it will take off. Its effectiveness is also suspect except government veers off constitutional provisions by empowering it to carry sophisticated guns.

If, almost three weeks after 46 pupils and teachers were taken into captivity, 1000 forest guards idea is the only plausible word we have heard from government, it is frightening and disheartening. Government should confess its limitations. When a person exhibits palpable incapacity as this, Yoruba compare them to the scruffy whom they ask to confess their dirt affliction so that they could receive help. They say, “Jéwó, òbùn k’án dáso ró e”. It is apparent that government is too tame to rescue us. Could it confess?

In all, the current state of insecurity in Nigeria is the ripening of fruits of decades of neglect of security issues. A Buhari minister once openly told Nigerians that Fulani herders of all countries in Africa were free to ingress and egress into Nigeria. Current holders of power were too timid, apparently due to their eyes on power, to condemn the seeds of sorrow Buhari sowed.

The state police idea is apparently the most effective path to tread. Unfortunately, because of votes, necessity to act right politically, and in supine bow to the region where massive votes could come from, the presidency is dilly-dallying on the implementation of the lofty anti-insecurity idea. IGP Tunji Disu’s timeline implementation of 60 months equally gave indication of the peremptory approach government wanted to give the idea.

To combat guinea worm, which Yoruba call Sòbìà, native doctors found a herbal remedy in the Olúgànbe leaf. It is usually boiled and its water used to clean the ulcer. The leaves are then used as plaster on the burst worm site. So, as a tribute to the rescue that the Oluganbe leaf provides those who suffer the strike of Sòbìà, a traditional Yoruba aphorism was invented as salutation to the Oluganbe. They say, “kí Sòbìà t’ó d’egbò, Olúgànbe làá ké sí,” translated to mean, before guinea worm transmutes into a dangerous sore, Oluganbe is always called to the rescue. Beyond the strike of the Sòbìà, this wise saying has assumed a broader context as call on those who have ears, upon noticing early signals of an impending disaster, to immediately seek timely solutions to it. However, what do we do when the Oluganbe is itself the affliction? That is the complexity of the Nigerian security challenge. And Igboho’s Ìrù Ekùn.

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