Unleashing Miyettiddon, El Rufai rascality and Tinubu 2023

Unleashing Miyettiddon, El Rufai rascality and Tinubu 2023

By Taju Tijani

“Official records of the early history of Miyetti Allah is sparse, the oral history by some members trace it to the 1960s while others to 1972 when the association was formed in Kaduna. The association’s early members were largely dominated by settled Fulanis whose early concept of Miyetti Allah was to promote the welfare of all Fulanis through self-help. In the 1970s, the organization was led by Muhammadu Sa’adu with membership in Kaduna and Plateau States. Sa’adu who was born in Jos but spent his adulthood in Kaduna was a key figure in the campaigns to get new members to join.

Both Kaduna and Plateau states had local branches affiliated with a local government or community. Meetings were irregular and not all national or state level resolutions were adhered to. But as the association expanded to more states, aims favouring nomadic education and access of grazing reserves by cattle breeders became a common theme.

A major goal of MACBAN is to be the umbrella organization of Fulani herdsmen within the country. The activities of the organization involves liaising with the government on behalf of pastoralists, land use rights, nomadic education and conflict resolution between pastoralists and farmers. The group also supports protecting and increasing grazing reserves for cattle breeders in the country. However, not all pastoralists intend to stay within grazing reserves and the organization provides information to convince grazing reserve sceptics among the nomads to buy into the idea.

As the major promoter of welfare of Fulani pastoralists, increase incidence of farmer-herder conflicts and cattle rustling since 2011 brought the previously unknown group into wider consciousness.

The group’s board of trustees is led by the Sultan of Sokoto and it receives funding from the board and other donors. The national chairman is elected every four years. When MACBAN was founded it received support from Sultan Abubakar III, Aminu, Emir Zazzau, Usman Nagogo, the Emir of Katsina and Ado Bayero, late Emir of Kano. The emirs of these emirates compose a part of the group’s board of trustees. MACBAN has a national secretariat at Kaduna and state offices”

Above is a clean sweep of Miyetti Allah’s history borrowed from Wikipedia. Today MA is no longer a localised and tribalised defender of Fulani cattle herders’ right, but a global self-idolising cabal of well-armed Nomads who are daily clogging this nation’s security aspirational artery.

They are now regarded as a privileged terrorist group. MA group is becoming too settled in their lawlessness so much that they have morphed into the fiercest demons. They possess such powers that the Federal might could not even cast out. I will therefore substitute the Allah here with Satan. Any group that is primed to do the will of Allah will not go about killing mindlessly as we see in Miyetti Satan’s operational doctrine across Nigeria. Their tenet is to kill for the protection of cows. The phenomenal growth of Miyetti Satan from a sleepy, docile, rag tag Nomadic cattle shepherds into a monstrous, notorious, demon-driven and hawk-eyed zealots boggle the mind. They have been managing to hold and control the murder hegemony in Nigeria for decades now. They have been able to sell into our consciousness fabled tales of invincibility, valour, fearlessness and mercilessness. They are now regarded as a privileged terrorist group. Nobody has punctured this orthodoxy.

Worse is the stoical silence of President Muhammadu Buhari to rein in the violence and murderous atrocities of Miyetti Satan. Rather the president has been retreating into the old essentialism of Fulani clannishness, tribal solidarity and that queer sense of belonging because he also own cows in his Daura cattle ranch. Nigerians have been shrill in their outrage against the blood lust tendencies of Miyetti Satan, but that strident condemnation has been contained with a brick wall of silence and weak response. Instead, placatory carrots have been offered to the Fulani herdsmen to contain their rage against defenseless and helpless Nigerians. The price is N100billion naira!!! That ugly tribe I called government has come to deny this humongous gift to Miyetti Satan high command, but there is no smoke without fire. Armageddon, I know. Welcome to Miyettiddon!!! More on this later.

The governor of Kaduna State, Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai is a venomous, courageous and direct talker. This Daudawa man holds an impressive academic record – University of London and Harvard Business degrees. He was the wiz kid Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja from 16 July 2003 to 29 May 2007.  He raised dust, created legend and left footprints of both achievements and controversies. Vainglory is essentially one of Rufai’s great attributes. Last week, he raised a storm by lobbing a grenade against the Jagaban of Borgu, the Asiwaju of Lagos and the National Leader of APC, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, BAT, for short. His argument, narrative, polemical assault, crude vulgarities and disrespect of Tinubu are all design to further reinforce his iconic signature as a dismantler of godfatherism in politics. He wants to be seen as an epochal figure that will redirect the course of Lagos political history of slavish and subservience attitude towards the whims and caprices of the mythic Tinubu, who, in all honesty, looms larger than life in South West politics.

El Rufai is a child of radical politics and a dedicated apostle to political belligerency that seeks to destroy hierarchical monolithic foe like Tinubu through polemical interventions, though theatrical and crude vulgarity. Someday, El-Rufai will embrace Tinubu and apologise for puncturing the delicate ego of the god of the Yoruba.

Is Bola Ahmed Tinubu in the race for 2023 or still mired the valley of decision? The full lunacy of our politicians is now full on. We are yet to inaugurate President Muhammadu Buhari and some selfish, power-driven, egomaniac and desperate politicians are about to start heating the polity with vaunting personal ambition that has nothing to do with the welfare of the pulverised Nigerian masses. Yes, desperate politicians may want to justify the virtues of preparing for 2023 poll now, but such blind obduracy and irrational haste for power must yield to reason. The ember of fire we all started in 2019 election – anger, distrust, bitterness, distrust, election rigging, judicial adjudication, appeal court errands and disenchantment – are yet to find a rational closure, so why would a Yoruba Jagaban Borgu or an Asiwaju stretch out his head on the carapace and expect not to be mercilessly cut down by the menacing and raging sword of that ambitious, feudal and hegemonic-driven Fulani man called El-Rufai?





Atiku, Money, Tears and Social Media Rats.

Atiku, Money, Tears and Social Media Rats.

By Taju Tijani

Like the black raven in Edgar Allan Poe, nobody foresees that the defeat of Alhaji Atiku Abubakar, Nigeria’s former Vice President, will be a deadly harbinger of political grandstanding, rebelliousness, rascally attitude and treasonable machinations. What is been seen today is a clearer articulation of Atiku’s stubbornness, over-bloated ego, hell raiser-instinct and a dark desire to overturn the victory of President Muhammadu Buhari in a surreptitious US-assisted coup against the newly elected leader of Nigeria. Olorun koni fun e she……. This self-harming tendencies, this grand hostility and the ferocious ambition being played out to the PDP gallery and his large but disgruntled followers is becoming unsettling.

There has been disquiet, discomfort and a sort of dark cloud over the political landscape of Nigeria from the moment Atiku was declared a loser. A loser he is indeed!!! He has been making loud groans through the jaundiced mainstream and social media platforms that supported his presidential ambition. He has been denouncing the last election and deluding his alter ego by regarding himself as the authentic winner of that electoral process. This delusion is daily compounded by a kind of myopia that is common among the so called Nigeria’s ruling class who see themselves as demi-gods of sort.

I have no sympathy for this rock of Adamawa. Adamawa is Atiku’s imperial Rome. He is the most famous product from that state. His word there is law. The high and mighty of Adamawa pay obeisance to their rich mogul son, who, underneath, is a dubious chancer and a thief according to his former boss, ex-President Olusegun Obasanjo.  He is Adamawa’s social and economic redeemer, who, I gathered, is the largest employer of labour in that hapless state that has come under the ugly charm of his Shylock-styled business wizardry. He struts about Adamawa like an immortal.

Atiku’s moment has come and gone. His mythical 8 years of oxygenated fame under former President Olusegun Obasanjo was the finest years of his life. He oversaw the economic destiny or destruction of Nigeria. He appropriated juicy government contracts to himself, his cronies, his concubines and his friends. He filibustered Nigeria for eight years and made mockery of our democratic system.  He was allowed to run riot with Nigeria’s wealth. Nobody dare reported a powerful Vice-President to the compliant section of our society. Eventually, his many woes will later determine his shameful exit from power but not into discomfiting oblivion.

Rather than melt into socio and political wilderness, Atiku became the maypole around which corrupt politicians will find a perfect home. They massed around him, lapping his money all the way. He bought out competitors, silenced Senate President Bukola Saraki with dollars and used his devilish charm on his earthly enemy – Olusegun Obasanjo – until that baba submitted his dignity for a plate of porridge. Like Croesus, he spent both dollar and naira in a mad and misguided ambition to return back to power and re-rape, re-loot and reset Nigeria of her resources. Atiku got many social media hawks into profitable employment. Yes, the merciless digital court of social media can destroy the political ambition of any candidate in a matter of seconds. Buhari’s security and economic policies became the soft targets of the media hawks engaged and paid by Atiku. Writers, opinion moulders, newscasters and public discourse analysts who were meant to hold a rapacious Atiku to account, expose his lies, his chicanery, his corruption, his dark design for Nigeria of the future all fell under the spell of his M-O-N-E-Y. Atiku was able to criminalize ordinary decent people with his money. I called this new chapter among media supporters of Atiku the submissive void of the Fourth Estate.

The cloud of reasoned engagement and intelligent discourse were darkened by blustering, combating and gabbled defence of his prowess as a businessman and his innate competency to perform fabled miracle with the economy. Shady and dodgy writers without any antecedent suddenly colonized the social media space to articulate for Atiku, a man of complex persona and zilch integrity. Articulating, Atiku articulators most of whom were undiscerning writers began to comb the savannah of social commentary where they lobbed grenades and WMD against anyone who will not inhale the opium of “Articulate”.

It was a well-coordinated act of political mutiny against anyone who will not smell the brewing coffee of Atiku/Obi political matrimony. All the raging but suppressed political hormone of all my Ndigbo friends found release through the opium of “Articulate”. The deeper symbolism for my Igbo friends who supported a damaged good called Atiku was immediately apparent. All the stricture of bad labels on Atiku’s integrity will not deter them. Then I realized that to an average Ndigbo, the notion of possession is more than a clannish necessity. Mr. Peter Obi is Ndigbo. He is their proud possession. Therefore, if Atiku morphed into Satan, they will not abandon their son. Come hell or high water!

Today, Atiku is all alone. Segun Sowunmi and Kola Ologbodiyan, his two impulsive, combative, arrogant, misguided and shameless propagandists have retreated into the orb of their 9-5 shitholes. Honestly, the emergence of Atiku as a presidential candidate will remain a deep scar across our collective soul. In a rogue gallery, Atiku will be sitting comfortably ahead of the pile. On integrity audit, Atiku scores zero. He represents both the revulsion and attraction of corruption – depends where your bum is! In China, Atiku would have been shot for embezzling state money – a fact documented in a book written by his boss.

Atiku’s politics, at best only answers to personal pathologies. He promised that if elected the president of Nigeria, he will enrich his friends. He will hitch Nigeria to the loin of America to be regarded as US colonized outpost by the virtue of Atiku’s plan to sell NNPC to American oil men. Yet, such a dangerous demagogue still made us zombies because of his stolen wealth. Yes, I recognize that we live in a society of moral fragility where the all-purpose power of money could silence conscience, stifle common sense, truth, confuse rational choice and blind us all into the inner depth of unusual bifurcation.

The aftermath of Atiku’s presidential nightmare eventually left behind a deep division among competing tribes of Yoruba and Ndigbo. The man has also fell into a political quagmire of nationality identity. I read that the Waziri of Adamawa is from Northern Cameroon. Atiku has been accused of seeking the assistance of a powerful lobby group in the US to declare him the winner of the last presidential election. Treasonable posters have gone up in Abuja, a subtext for psychological war against President Muhammadu Buhari.

It is too sad to watch the political evolution of Abubakar Atiku sliding downwards to a narrow spectrum of bitter, over-ambitious, greedy, do-or-die, adversarial and me-me politics that tainted the political fortunes of PDP for 16 years. When will Atiku, the cry baby, wipe off his tears and bounce off from the politics of bitterness? What is the purpose of actively advocating for the US to help rescue his stolen ‘presidency’? And that’s the way I see it!!!

The conversation continues next week.

***After a long vacation, I am back to the noble track of writeosphere******



Are we cursed in black Africa? (Part 1)

Are we cursed in black Africa? (Part 1)

By Taju Tijani

Black Africans derive great joy from their ancient heritage and history and millions are still proudly Africans despite the mayhem and poverty of their resource –rich continent. Black scholars and Afrocentrists from all corners of the world salute Africa as the veritable and undisputable birthplace of civilization. Countless stolen artefacts in Western museums attest to the greatness of this sun-drenched continent.  When we thumb through the glorious past of mother Africa, we may be prone to accident by falling into a frozen time warp of ‘gloria Africana’ and one may also be guilty of putting a sentimental halo on our yesterday.

Today, black Africa sits on a pressure cooker that is building menacingly like a time bomb set to explode and cause ripples and shock all over the world. Black Africa is today an observer and part player in the dynamism of globalisation that has bless and curse our modern world. As waves after waves of humanitarian, social, economic and political change sweep across the world, black Africa stagnates and falls deeper into wasting poverty. Our destiny is arrested by a band of blood sucking cabal and we are forever thrown into the miry clay of helplessness and quiescence. Our shared values are in diametric opposition with the rest of the world.

The communal-centred society, romanticised by pan-Africanists and other apologists of ‘gloria Africana’ has long disappeared and in its place, we have erected a tombstone proclaiming our degeneracy into a continent of fathomless pit where man must eat man to survive. Communal living, which was once our best weapon against the soulless individualism of the West has long evaporated as greed and materialism infected us, and destroyed for good, our noble ideal of being our brother’s keeper. Through wrong-headed economic planning and astonishing daily wastage of resources, black Africans brought about self-inflicted poverty and moral decay on a continent blessed with peaceful and law-abiding citizens.

Yet, black Africa desperately wants to lead a double life. We want to be seen as a progressive, modern, democracy-driven continent but unmindful that beneath our facade lurks a thoroughly repressed, angry and stratified humanity clamouring for real equitable redistribution of wealth held down by leader-looters.  Let me quickly declare an interest. This writer belongs to a tiny band of radical realists who are less overawed by the theme of gloriana in black African turbulent history.  Black Africa’s past is bygone while the present is a long tale of pain, shame and hopelessness. Our recorded history of utopia and native innocence has given way to a hardening of compassion and wickedness.

It is often said that nations of the world have weaknesses and almost all of them carry dark spots on their backs, which, ironically, they cannot see. Germany, it must be said, is still saddled with the horror of the final solution of the Jews. Russia’s own demon is in its shameless gulag. France reeks of Vichy. United States hubris is located in the genocide of slavery. Britain is weigh down by the shame of its colonialism and rapacious stripping of black Africa’s resources. Japan has its Pearl Harbour disaster. South Africa is tormented by the iniquity of apartheid. Rwanda agonises over its genocide.  Nigeria, my own Nigeria, embodies the decay of the entire black African continent. She is massively corrupt, decadently poor, rudderless, selfish, uncaring and unpredictable.

Some of these countries have been able to confront their shameful past and re-entered the world with dynamism and a pledge to re-write their present in glowing progress and social justice. They have been able to sow strong foundation of peace, economic progress, harmony and freedom as we have seen in US, UK, Germany, France and Japan. However, black Africa remains a stubborn giant, unable to confront her demons and lay sound foundations for a forward trajectory in her disastrous history. Rather, the continent has degenerated so badly that we urgently need to confront the disturbing truth about ourselves. So, what happen? Why are we disconnected with the global sphere? Who are we? Why are we so radically different from the rest of mankind? Why is our society in a permanent state of chaos and underdevelopment? What is keeping us down? Why do we convey to the rest of the world an ugly impression of naked evil, brutality and unimaginable viciousness and cruelty? Why are we like Cassandra who is able to foresee the future, but utterly powerless to embrace it?

Why do we stagnate while the rest of the world is at a supersonic speed to create a better society where there is peace, progress, freedom, happiness and equalities for all? For a start, who are we, is a nebulous question in its entirety. We can say, like the United Nations, that mankind is one and black Africans are part of humanity. In this statement, we merely offer a temporary comfort to black Africans who are blind to the wide chasm separating the black race with the rest of other colours. Equally, mankind is one, may be a deliberate double-speak honed to offer blacks some acceptance in a runaway world that has turned its back on black Africa. We are regarded as part of humanity to remove the notion of difference and superiority of races being readily peddled by race merchants who are shocked at the state of our development.

Mankind is one is an emotion-laden statement consciously coined by the United Nations to obliterate the permanent stain of slavery and colonialism on the damaged psyche of the black race. Today, our modern world is less accommodating. Race merchants are now on the loose and are becoming more emboldened in their desire to offend and dispensed with the worn-out flattery of black Africans.

We are seen through the cold prism of our society which offers them ammunition to describe us in less flattering terms. We are still been perceived as unintelligent, dirty, noisy, monsters, barbarians, brainless, organically corrupt, sexually incontinent, violent, greedy, inhuman, adulterous, pagan, liars and material-minded.  The self-created millions of permanent underclass in a continent of material and human resources, continue to reinforce the belief of race merchants that black Africans are imbeciles and genetically close to apes than mankind.  In defence, black scholars and Afrocentrists are excavating the buried glory of Egyptian civilization as measurable yardstick for our high intelligence. By the way, Egyptians are not Negroid like you and I! We have to admit that we are sensationally different from our Maghreb cousins. Black Africans are endowed with abundant mass of flesh on the nose and generous thick lips. The nose of our Egyptian cousins is distinctly aquiline and the hair is wavy.

Ancient black Africa, we are told was blessed with mortals with superhuman abilities. Our ancestors built the pyramid, invented scientific instruments, founded the world’s religions and many ancient local chiefs could knock out six voluptuous women in a row without Pfizer’s Viagra! As a radical post-modernist, I found this timeless sentiment, tirelessly hilarious. Who pulled the plug on our past abilities? Who is the Dracula that drained our medieval intelligence and left us in this rut? Could it be the white man, the perpetual victim of black Africa’s fall from grace to mindless profligacy? What’s going on in black Africa for heaven’s sake?



Ha! Atiku, You Again!

Ha! Atiku, You Again!

By Taju Tijani

Note: This article was written over 7 years ago. Atiku is unravelling yet again in 2018 as the most confused and Nigeria’s greatest political hustler and prostitute.

Pundits, political commentators, columnists and studio discussants have all bemoaned the sheer rascality of former Vice President Atiku Abubakar at the just concluded Peoples Democratic Party’s (PDP) convention in Abuja. That Atiku, the chief mourner, should ended up as a hectoring, vituperative and toxic grammarian against President Goodluck Jonathan is unsettling many disciples of genteel public conduct. Nobody, not even his PDPian cousins, ever thought that the urbane former VP carries the genetic imprint of a negative epigrammatist. What catalyzed the overdrive of his acerbic tongue was the fear of losing the primary to his arch foe, President Goodluck Jonathan. At last, the Jobian debacle found a bitter fulfilment: what he feared most eventually happened to him. He lost and lost brilliantly. Atiku was unplugged!

Thursday January 13 was a date with fate. A day when fatalists celebrate fatalism. The whirlwind of fatalism washed Atiku ashore in a spectacularly tsunamical fury. Rather than walk in from the cold all wet and jittery, Atiku soaked himself in baleful bile against a humble Jonathan who later emptied his political dream. Landslide became respectable once more as a political lexicon on that fateful day. Atiku Abubakar, like his political cousin Ibrahim Babangida, is a restless politician still prowling the grassland of this blessed nation for delicious game to feed his voracious appetite. His former position of Vice President gave him that rare chance to hunt and he hunted as far afield as Dubai and South Africa stashing up the old trophy of his hunting days. Atiku, Obasanjo, Babangida and Buhari have all proved right the theory that former leaders could only live fulfilled lives only when they are the cynosure of political activity.

Atiku’s shattering fall hinged on manifold circumstances, all of them typical aberrations of Africa’s political class. First, Atiku calibrated his lustful neighing for power on narrow ethnic irredentism of an ancient political order of a bygone era. He worked on the emotion of his Northern sympathizers as to make Jihadism a no contest. The disappointment of it all was that the destiny of Jonathan would not allow the old hegemonic contradictions between the North and South play out as to serve the wilful desire of Atiku. Even, the Jonathan magic worked its sorcery on neoconservative wannabe Northerner like Bukola Saraki. Saraki turned out to be a bad tooth and a foot out of joint in Atiku’s bid for victory at the PDP convention. A hard lesson in placing confidence in an unfaithful man. Saraki was the burglar who stole Atiku’s coat in cold weather.

And Saraki, being a pragmatist rat, unleashed the most fatal blow of the primary’s shenanigan and delivered his Kwara fiefdom to Jonathan. Enfeebled by Jonathan’s sorcery at the moment of decision, Saraki had to opt out of the antinomian deal requiring his support for Atiku and further damaging the myth of an impregnable Northern political hegemony.

Secondly, Atiku started on a wrong bellicose footing. He opened a floodgate of nasty spat with an incumbent Jonathan who calmly and methodically seized on the lofty dream he has for a future Nigeria. Atiku cavilled more on the old corruption charges levelled against Jonathan by EFCC when he was in charge of Bayelsa State. The irony here is huge. A case of a pot calling the kettle black. Atiku’s handlers in going for Jonathan’s scandalous money laundering scam may be shameless victims of amnesia. Patients of memory barricade! As at the inception of the primary contest, Atiku had the controversial PTDF indictment hanging like a sword of Damocles on his head. On the day of the primary, a devastating, character-sinking advert of US Congressional investigation of Atiku’s unresolved money laundering littered all the dailies. Atiku’s past became fair game and a treasure trove for Jonathan’s men to dig for dirt and death.

Thirdly, Atiku’s gratuitous attacks against the PDP when the honeymoon was over were exhumed. Jonathan’s men converted them to long nails that sealed off Atiku’s coffin. There were relentless public reminders of the damning and damaging comments he infamously made when he morphed from a sceptic PDPer to a converted ACN.

His epic migration from PDP to ACN and back to PDP is a stuff of political harlotry of Adamawan orientation. He fulfilled the proverbial dog returning to his own vomit and by extension, a fool repeating his folly. This restless political hustler and prostitute is in 2018 doing the same thing – moving forward and backward. Habit die hard you might say? Hmmm!!

Alternative theories clustered around his fall like steel filings to a magnet. Atiku is perceived as dynastic-driven, irascible, tyrannical, bellicose zealot, lover of political turmoil and hero of hectoring dissonance against political foes. Atiku’s combative language deployed so assiduously mirrors the unbroken command and control mentality of the North toward uppity Southerners looking for power- power which the North has long hijacked as their birth right! He led a political rebellion against both the PDP and Jonathan through the firestorm fusillade of rebellious words. While the ugly effusion lasted, he committed sin against public decency all the way. All agreed that his political obliteration was a just and resounding punishment for his hubris. Atiku, while the primary election lasted may have injected opprobrium, colour, malice, anger, tribal antipathy, jealousy and abuse into the sterile governance of Jonathan, but was he ennobled by it all or brought down to earth from his ethnic perch?

Did his sermons announce him or was he announced by his own ill-sounding sermons? Articulating Atiku to be disarticulated even in Adamawa, his home state, announced the obituary of his political life. However, there is life after politics. He could do a John Stonehouse, the errant New Yorker who assumed a new identity and walked away into the dark night. He could also embark on a prolong Indian summer which would give him plenteous time to interrogate his restless soul. Whichever way, Atiku has ditched into a crushing political dilemma.



CUPP: Coalition of Traitors! Traitors!!Traitors!!!

CUPP: Coalition of Traitors! Traitors!!Traitors!!!

By Taju Tijani

Perfidious! Perfidious!!Perfidious that is what they are. Political vultures that is what they are! Political prostitutes that is what they are! Political scavengers that is what they are! Political rascals that is what they are! Political jobbers that is what they are! Political cowards that is what they are! We are seeing the entry of a pugnacious phase in the evolution of political associations in Nigeria. We are watching with sneering disdain how man, the rapacious and scavenging variants, can form a wicked confederacy of adversarial fraternity to pursue a depraved agenda of unseating just one man – President Muhammadu Buhari.

Our democracy is now going gothic where the twin evil of greed and revolting selfishness continue to drive public service and citizen engagement. We are also seeing the evolution of the barbarians trying to fight the virtuous. Olusegun Obasanjo, the king of the center of the universe, has metamorphosed again. Abubakar Atiku, the guy who owns half of Dubai, is out of the wood. Olu Falae is dug out of his pit to offer a gloss of legitimacy to a disparaging, inconsequential and political buffoons who shelter under the leaky umbrella of Coalition of United Political Parties. As I write, CUPP is an illegal entity that has been able to re-gathered incongruous characters with differing nuisance variables.

Most of the political assassins under the CUPP fold are ungracious, ungrateful, ill-mannered, boorish, clowns, ignorant, bullies and dangerous to our democracy. The supposed amalgamation of coalition of the so-called third force is nothing but byword for desperation, anarchism and disruption. One by one, members of this rogue gallery have, through sheer arrogance and cavalier insolence, pronounced annus horribilis over the APC government. Every articulation of President Mohammadu Buhari’s misses and slips are wrapped in savage attacks and mindless abuses. The ranks of R-APC to the least of the confederating party is now infested with delusional fantasy of seizing government by 2019 and sending President Mohammadu Buhari back to Daura. Deadpan easy? Is it?

There is no social compliance in their methodology. There is no political compliance in their operation. There is no ethical compliance in their ethos. There is no cultural synergy in their posturing.

All they know is that Nigeria is their Imperial Rome that must be taken back through stolen money, more money and nothing but money. There is no integrity capital among members of this noonday cowards, who, in their whimsical calculations, Nigerians are seen as fools who have no memory of the merciless plundering and balkanization carried out on the nations treasury by PDP from 2009 till 2015. Nigeria was obliterated morally, socially and politically.

Before May 2015 national rescue by President Mohammadu Buhari, Nigeria occupied the bottom place in all the mystery index you could imagine. Corruption was helped, sad to say, by ex-President Goodluck Jonathan who, in a moment of psychiatric seizure, pronounced that stealing was not corruption. Further, corruption was helped, sad to say, by the media that was bought over by the PDP, and the media in turn, offered its editorial boards, column spaces, airwaves as sounding boards of PDP misinformation, propaganda and social re-engineering.

In an apparently coordinated act of solidarity, nearly all media houses took money from Sambo Dasuki to help launder both the damaged ego of ex-President Jonathan and also wrap PDP as a party of progressive idealism as opposed to regressive and right wing populism that it truly was. Today, all the raging political hormone of CUPP is towards one agenda: destabilize the APC government, reject the politics of integrity and then rewrite the history of Nigeria in another painful chapter of corruption, bourgeois governance and reckless oppression of the Nigerian masses through monetized politics.

They want to return Nigeria back to the caves. Bukola Saraki and all his paid acolytes has one agenda: line behind their shepherd (Saraki) and prettify his image as the new messiah who could rescue Nigeria from all the blustering of gabbled explanations of Buhari that herdsmen could be defeated, economy is on the right tracks and anti-corruption war is on track. All the government narrative of the complexity of governance is falling on deaf ears. The R-APC rebels believe with astonishing ignorance, that Buhari is clueless. That is, their leader is clueless. Irony upon irony!

What a nation! What perfidy! To wake up one day and read that Bukola Saraki has been acquitted by the Supreme Court of 13 count charges of false declaration of assets backdated to 2003. That this shamelessly ambitious rascal is discharged of offences ranging from anticipatory declaration of assets to making false declaration of assets in forms he filed before the Code of Conduct Bureau while he was governor of Kwara state. That this crafty man was absolved of operating foreign accounts while being a public officer – Governor and Senator. The offences, the charge said, violated sections of the Fifth Schedule of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999, as amended. Mr. Saraki is also said to have breached Section 2 of the Code of Conduct Bureau and Tribunal Act which is punishable under paragraph 9 of the Fifth Schedule of the Constitution. The timing of his Supreme Court victory is not lost on intelligent Nigerians. He needs this crucial clean bill of corruption charges to ever be considered a presidential candidate for the rag tag assemblage of political jobbers plotting a democratic palace coup against President Mohammadu Buhari.

Saraki’s Republic of National Assembly has been variously regarded as a den of thieves and ritualists. Saraki, the con artist, looter, revisionist and betrayer went underground to fund insurrection and a circle of critics to savage Buhari over insecurity and herdsmen genocide without realizing that he is part of the clueless and inefficient APC government in power.

At a time when he needs to rally round his leader and show unflinching solidarity by sending strong messages to the herdsmen killers through party unity, he jumped ship and failed the test of collective responsibility.

Bukola Saraki has consistently demonstrates a post-modern political posturing that shrugs off collective ownership at the expense of selfish expediency. President Donald Trump of USA is a blustering racist, misogynist, ill-mannered, elitist, volatile, emotionally complex, unpredictable, unstable, trouble maker and dangerous. He has offended every government in every continent. His addiction to twittering is a bane and its real-time effectiveness has been abused by Trump to cause offence almost daily. Yet, and this is a big yet, the Republican Party has not fragmented because of the mental depravity of its leader.

The Republican Party has not collapsed because of Trump’s political shenanigans. The party members are is still supportive, loyal and long-suffering because of its steadfast bond of conservative ideology.  Members of the US Congress are not shut up with stolen cash as Saraki has done to our National Assembly members. Senators in the US Congress are not fair-weather and calculating politicians looking for ways to destabilize Trump’s tenure.

This is the time to start to question the unquestioned tradition of political prostitution of the likes of Obasanjo, Saraki, Melaye and many other politicians whose purpose in politics is blatantly selfish interest as opposed to the nobler enterprise of national interests.

The ongoing contemporary political culture, which, turbo-charged by social media, only encourages narrow spectrum, personality-driven politics devoid of ideology which almost always opens door to traitors to destroy, balkanize and eventually abscond to form another cluster of disgruntled elements who have no integrity, character, principle and known political ideology. CUPP is not a benign entity that could deliver Nigeria from the complexity of its governance. Rather, it is the abyss of hell where Saraki wants to hand all members to Satan to string them on his hooks like suya.

President Mohammadu Buhari will win 2019 elections without any doubt. Nigerian voters are not fools. They have seen the interior compass and emptiness of past PDP’s massive looting of Nigeria’s resources. They have come to realize that rogue and desperate politicians are nothing but political prostitutes with zero visions of how to change the status quo. Rather they would rather reinforce its excesses and return governance to stealing and corruption. The CUPP gladiators are going for broke because they are already broken, defeated and subdued before the 2019 race. Away with traitors! Away with CUPP!! Away with desperate politics!!! Away with political parasites and lechers!

Griiingggg……….griiiiiinnnng…………Is JKF there? Thanks for vindicating all my postulations on Ekiti under its thoroughly beaten, bruised and roundly defeated head of Okada politics, Peter Ayo Fayose. He needs 39 lashes minus one on his broken back!!!


On being Nigerian and Hating It.

On being Nigerian and Hating It.

By Taju Tijani

Hackney, East London. In a red London bus travelling from Dalston to Shoreditch where I earn my income. A middle aged woman sized me up and requested to sit beside me. I obliged instantly. The writer in me began to rear its interrogative head. Talk to her, it began. Don’t talk to her, it cautioned. Relax and chat her later, it reasoned. Look, you are getting down soon, why bother the poor woman……let go….let….go!!! I shut down that devilish operating system confusing my mind. It was either I challenge this demon and announce that I was in charge or he will smile and wink in triumph like the absconding scoundrel he always is.

It is summer in London. We are all basking under the baking sun. Sun’s out…fun’s out!!! Sun worshippers among us have emptied into all the streets, malls, parks and gardens all across Hackney. There are soft nudity anywhere you turn. Exhibitionists are proud to offer their curves for free to every male prying eyes roaming to feast on cleavages and bums. Men now show hairy legs through their khaki shorts. Some of us who have pumped up chest are proud to display our muscles to a chorus of ooohhh and ahhhs from appreciating women.

Then my co-traveler received a call. She dissolved into Yoruba language. After lengthy gossip with the caller, she heaved a sigh of relief. Then I opened the door into her universe. I used the most potent passport that will grant me entry – I spoke in the best tradition of an Ibadan man. Shocked and ruffled, she gave me an unbelieving look. It dawned on her that I was not the Ghanaian she thought I was. Epele madam, I started. Ese sir, she responded with dignity. We talked about the baking hot weather, family, work and Nigeria.

On the last, she frowned. Nigeria ke? It was as if I had struck her on the solar plexus. She descended so heavily with blistering expletives on that geographical space called Nigeria. She was throwing grenades on all our value systems: institutions, leaders, religion, lifestyle, education, marriage, our attitude to money, man inhumanity to man, herdsmen killings, political parties, politicians and at the end, pronounced bitter curses on her native land. Her reminiscences of what Nigeria did to her was lamentable.


Her nostalgia of the harm and disappointment she received from family and friends made her issued more curses on Nigeria. She renounced, rejected, divorced and vomited Nigeria. There was palpable sadness in her tone. She kissed her teeth in revulsion……Pssshhhhhh!!! She cursed Babangida, Obasanjo and Jonathan. She vowed never to set her foot on Nigeria again…..ever! Madam Kofo, let us give her that name for now, roared like thunder, her mouth foaming with saliva.  She left Nigeria 30 years ago for a greener pasture of UK. But each time she visited Nigeria in those 30 years, she returned to UK with horror stories of man’s inhumanity to man, arrested development, 419 among family members and all sorts of hard luck tales. All the money sent for investments were lost to 419 among family members. Other business startups funded by her wealth were looted by her own brothers and sisters.

Eventually, something happened. In 2008, the father died. The only magnet that kept attracting her back to her root was now gone. She visited for the burial. She celebrated her dad and fondly remembered all his evergreen values he bequeathed to his children. She left in acrimony. Baba was yet to be buried and given the final respect, yet the siblings have been warring for the houses, cars, gold, silver, brass and other warts left behind. There were threat of juju among the siblings. Madam Kofo, was cast in the mould of a rich woman by the family. She lives abroad and so she should not scavenge for her dad’s possession left for all. This idea was mooted in secret and among the more aggressive members of Madam Kofo’s family.

Two days to her departure, she was told all that was said in secret. She was shocked and dazed that her own siblings plotted to disinherit her because she lives abroad. She smelled blood, warfare and imminent death. She took her bag and fled back to the UK. Another victim of Nigeria’s theatre of wickedness and greed. She has vowed never to return to Nigeria.

Yemi, a young teckie (he works in IT) lives in the IT hub of Shoreditch. He has a wife and two small children. I see him every morning cleaning his gleaming, late model, Mitsubishi station wagon. I befriended this dapper car loving guy. With time we got talking. He, like Madam Kofo, also thought I a Ghanaian. I am learning here that appearance could be deceptive. I am learning that we should avoid presumption when it comes to nationalities. When Nigerians meet, the glue that always bond us together will remain talk and debate about Nigeria – that behemoth that still shames  my own tribe of Diaspora Nigerians.

Yemi has a bundle of horror stories to share about that nation. Nigeria, it seems, gives a bitter baptism to his children that leaves a permanent scar on their mind. Yemi once shipped buses to Nigeria to try his hand as a transporter. That business was ruined by supervisors at home who are more ambitious than Yemi. He bought a land in Lagos. The land was sold to multiple buyers. The buyer who could boast of having the most merciless Babalawo in his service won the day. He lost millions of naira.

Like Madam Kofo, death and funeral took him to Nigeria in 2008 also. A chilling coincidence! His father answered the call of heaven. After the burial, he called it a day with Nigeria. Since then he has neither visited Nigeria nor hope to do so again. Yemi is 40 years old. Madam Kofo is in her 70s. Each generation is handing the baton of rejection of the homeland to another!!

Sister Efe is also a Hackneyite. Petit, smart and beautiful. She left Nigeria in the early 80s. Her own rendition of the Nigerian story was also tinged with sadness, sorrow and horror. I never knew until one day when I teased her and asked about her last visit to Nigeria. She looked intently and gave me an angry look. She was initially speechless but then opened up. So, you still dey go Nigeria, she asked. I do, I responded. Na wa o……you dey go that stupid ….thief….thief country wey politicians don finish, she said. I hate Nigeria, she blurted out…….Yes, I hate that country. I shook my head ready for more grenade. Then she said that she was last in Nigeria over 20 years ago. Her business trips now takes her to Hong Kong and Dubai. Nigeria no be my country…..manke una hold am, she said shaking her head.

I have distilled here the depth of sorrow and shame brought on Nigeria by corrupt political class. Thousands of Nigerians abroad are denouncing Nigeria because of the shameful aberrations of our values, friends, families and politicians living in that space. Nigeria is a moral conundrum. Trust is deficient in our gene pool. You cannot put your trust on Nigerians when you live abroad. Wickedness is pervasive. Love of money has destroyed family unity. Greed has eaten deep into our souls. Diaspora Nigerians are losing pride in their country. Being Nigerian and hating it is gaining converts. Identifying with Nigeria is becoming a dying patriotism. Politicians have brought the most dishonor, disrespect and moral disruption to our nation. To many Nigerians in the diaspora, Nigeria is no longer a home to return to, but a living hell to avoid, renounce and denounce all together.


Give Me Double Shots of Musa on Ice, Please!!!

Give Me Double Shots of Musa on Ice, Please!!!

By Taju Tijani

Rupert Murdoch’s Sky media company wanted to pour sand into my garium- on-water (Gari) on Friday. I was off from work and determined to watch Nigeria play against Iceland. I had an early lunch of mansize ground rice (Gira), okro and large pieces of unroasted chicken. To flush the load down, I prepared two large glasses of pomegranate juice mixed with bitter lemon and diced with Greek, plain white yoghurt. Everything was going swimmingly until I heard a message ringtone announcing that Sky, my cable provider, is having a technical problem and that the problem is being fixed. What!!! The devil is a liar, I sighed.

Elaine Turley, my white, kind neighbor from Hampshire was home from work. As I banged on her door, she opened up with a grin and announced same sad news of Sky’s decapitation from the airwaves. However, she said that I should come in and watch it on normal television. Quickly, she fixed me with a glass of wine and vacated the best viewing corner on her soft, grey settee. She asked if I wanted curry. I declined and reminded her that I have just had gira. I had to explain the meaning of gira anyway. She laughed and faced her paperwork while I glued my face on the telly like a monk receiving instruction from the Dalai.

Then the match started. The duel between Nigeria and Iceland. This is a defining, glory-seeking match for the Nija team. They must win and win convincingly. I had made a vow to renounce my Nija citizenship if they lost. What is the point of dual citizenship if one of the citizenships could not make me proud in the World Cup? You reckon? England my adopted nation had beaten Tunisia 2-1. That victory created a sense of belonging for my British citizenship. Britain is a footballing universe. They worship soccer here. It goes hand in hand with brawn, hooliganism, betting, rowdiness and nationalistic passion.

Back to the Nija and Iceland football battle. It had to be seen as a battle, because, prior to the match, the entire team had vowed to die on the field rather than lose. I thought this was just a filibustering statement to rally the entire commonwealth of 178 million Nigerians behind them. Nigerians too were ready to castrate the entire Mikel Obi and his gangsters of 11 if they ever suffered defeat from the Icelanders. The sun must melt the ice.

As if the team knew what was coming, they seized the moment and defied settled preconceptions before the World Cup of Eagle’s lack of preparation, accusation of lack of stamina for gruesome 90 minutes drill and how we are not man enough to beat the speed of non-African football players. Then the tournament began. Iceland whipped our backside in the first half. Nigerian players were rolling around the field like yoyo. I did not pray for miracle. I only looked on, hoping that something must happen. Something more than miracle.

At a stage I was sipping my wine like a professional taster. I was tensed with anxiety. What is wrong with these boys? My mind kept on saying. I was like a caged tiger. I was rolling on the soft settee like a roll on deodorant. I punched my fist in the air. I guffawed. I kicked Elaine cushion skyward. She gave me a dirty look. I did not care. I must prove to the world my recent convert to football. I was known to be an ardent boxing fan. I could name all the boxing greats. The boxing genre is on my fingertips. My memory has stored pages of pages of boxing matches. But not football. But because Nija was involved……

I had to be involved – spirit, soul and adrenaline!! Then gbam, from nowhere, I saw this scrawny guy called Ahmed Musa running like Usain Bolt. Is he in Russia to run or play football, I questioned my mind. Then, inch by inch, he dribbled the invincible Icelandic players. Inch again by another inch, then, like a tornado I saw a round leather ball slammed into the net. It is a goooooaaaalllll!!! It is a goooaaalllllll!!!!! I screamed! I jumped up! I spilled my wine!!  I sank again on the seat to confirm if the goal was real. Yes, very real…..

First goal in 49th minute of play. The sun has melted the first ice! Nice one chaps! Then the duel continued. Now, the initial anxiety over my dual citizenship was temporarily suspended. I may still have the two passports if these guys win this match, my heart thought aloud. Then, emboldened and encouraged by the first goal, the entire 11 eagles on the field spread out their long wings, beaks and talons for turf war of kill, or be killed. As the eagles spread out and lock on to the prey, the head of the pack was again single out. It was Musa! When the ball was passed to him, he dribbled the defender, dislocated the orientation of the Icelandic goalkeeper and lobbed another grenade with a thunderous shot. It is a goooaaalllll!!!! It is a goooaaallllll!!! Second goal in 75th minute of play. The sun has melted the second ice!




Two goals to nothing! Up Nigeria! Up Eagles! Then the bedlam!!!  I danced toi-toi, the South African dance. I ran around Elaine’s delicately decorated living room. What is the matter with you, she cautioned me like a stentorian seminary teacher. I ignored her. This is my moment. The magic Musa moving moment!!!

This is my defining hour of glory and celebration. I felt very smug and emotional. However, a surge of electric current went through me at the 83rd minute when Iceland was given a penalty. Gylfi Sigurdsson the shooter could not hit the G-string. With baited breath, I used telepathy to move the clock forward to the end of the game. I was feeling orgiastic. When the final whistle wheezed out, the entire Nija universe went on rampage. My daughter sent a message through WhatsApp…….Dad…..dad……Nigeria is winning the World Cup, she teased. Then, Nigerians shut down WhatsApp server! We are now in control of the social media. We love celebration….no matter how innocuous like winning a World Cup match against Iceland! The drums were rolled out. It was show time in Nija unique style. It was a day that will be remembered forever – the magic Musa moving moment!

The Gernot Rohr boys have made me proud to be Nigerian. Nija for life now. Striker Ahmed Musa has saved my dual nationality status for good. But, something is round the corner that may wipe away this joy. On Tuesday, which happened to be my birthday, the eagles will go into football warfare with Argentina, the two-time World Cup champions. Help, would merciless Messi deny me my newfound football orgasm? Dunno. That is hours away. It can wait, while I enjoy my double shot of Musa on ice. Forget Prosecco, forget Guinness; my beloved baba dudu, forget the threat of Messi, let us toast to double shot of Musa on ice.  Anyone for double shot of Musa on ice?