What we have today in Nigeria is not governance. Not leadership. Listen carefully. What you are witnessing is not statecraft, it is performance. A theater of sound, a government of audio, for audio, and propagated by propagandized audio. Words everywhere, yet meaning nowhere. Echoes in the void. That, my friends, is the unmistakable signature of a do-nothing Presidency.
Around this hollow throne, a council of shadows shuffles. They are not loyal. They are not competent. They are opportunists, false lovers of
@officialABAT, purveyors of iniquity, pretending devotion while filling their pockets with the currency of betrayal. The APC, a party that once promised progress, has perfected corruption, impunity, and treachery at levels that defy comprehension. Its schemes are not subtle; they are meticulous, deliberate, and viciously elegant. They take the pulse of a nation, then squeeze until life itself leaks away.
Tinubu understands this game, and he plays it with unmatched cunning. They call him the Jagaban of strategy, and for good reason: he has perfected the art of buying men’s souls. He holds the national purse in his hands, and he will squeeze it, purge it, distribute it, until every person of influence is, in his terms, humanly buyable.
And yet, tragically, every living thing within Nigeria’s echo chambers is for sale. Every whisper, every allegiance, every smile has a price. The question is simple: what are you offering? And even more tragically, their worth is pitifully low, cheaper than public whores.
And yet again, whisper a hint of scrutiny from a foreign power, and watch them scatter like cockroaches. The events of the past weeks prove this; a caution from the
@realDonaldTrump's White House sends them into fits of irrational panic, behaving like sedated madmen. No plan. No foresight. No tact. But hand them a police escort, a secret service shadow, and suddenly they strut as gods; oppressive, indifferent, intoxicated by the illusion of authority, deaf to the cries of the very people they swore to serve.
This is the true face of arrogance. Not the arrogance of strength, but the arrogance of impotence, a people’s trust pillaged by empty skulls. They have built their empire on fear, silence, and complicity. Yet, history is patient. Justice is patient. And the Nigerian people, they are beginning to remember that no throne, no badge, no excuse can hide the rot forever.
Mark my words: cockroaches scatter in the light. And when the light comes, surely it will come; it will be brilliant, unyielding, and merciless.