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Don Pedro and beautiful Benin, By Suyi Ayodele

A few years ago, a telecommunications outfit set out to erect a Base Transceiver Station (BTS) at the back of the palace of Oba of Benin. The coordinate fell on Alaka Street, directly behind the palace. Civil works commenced and completed without incident. The next phase involved assembling the tower components of the 75-metre mast. As the riggers worked, the structure began to take shape within hours. However, as the tower rose and became taller than any building in the surrounding area, trouble began. 

A group of Benin Palace chiefs arrived and issued an immediate ‘stop work’ order. The riggers climbed down, and the company’s management intervened. Explaining the directive, the chiefs said that the height of the tower would enable anyone on the tower to   see the inner recesses of the palace, especially the section where the Oba’s harem lives! They stressed that Benin custom and tradition would not permit such a situation. They noted that around the palace, expansive as it is, no structure is allowed to be taller than the palace itself. The development resulted in a stalemate.

The reigning Oba then, Omo N’Oba N’Edo Uku Akpolokpolo, Oba Erediauwa, was contacted. The company pleaded with him to intervene. A diplomat par excellence, Oba Erediauwa listened to all the parties. He agreed with the submissions of his palace chiefs from the Ewebo and Ibiwe groups. Then, he also considered the economic, social and developmental effects of the telecommunications towers on the people of Benin, his subjects, and other residents. 

Oba Erediauwa said that since the mast would be of immense benefits to the people and since the company had committed so much money into the venture, it would not be fair to ask the company to rig down. But more importantly, Oba Erediauwa reasoned, the people would lose should the construction of the mast be disallowed. He then found a middle way for the problem to be resolved.

Oba Erediauwa ordered that whenever the company’s engineers and riggers intended to climb the tower, they should first notify the palace. By doing so, the monarch said that he would have sufficient time to inform his wives and instruct them to stay indoors for the duration of the work. Everyone present at the meeting chorused Oba gha to kpere (Long live the Oba). Till date, that mast is still standing, and fully operational, contributing to the economic and social development of Benin City.

Yet another encounter with Oba Erediauwa. A few years after the Alaka Street mast erection, the company needed to optimise its network around Ring Road. The problem was that from the Sapele and Sokponba Roads ends of the Ring Road, there used to be a blind spot that cut off communication as one drove to negotiate either Forestry, Mission or Oba Market Roads. The technical unit of the company suggested a booster BTS around the Ring Road. The coordinate fell on the Benin Museum ground and the Roll Out managers negotiated with the museum and got a spot for the mast.

As the excavation work for the civil engineering structure began, a new set of Benin Palace Chiefs appeared. They contended that the entire Benin Museum ground was the bedroom of Omo N’Oba Ovonramwen Nogbaisi of the 1897 Benin Massacre episode. The chiefs added that any excavation beyond two metres would not be allowed as some traditional items were buried in that vicinity. The company needed at lease a 20-metre excavation for its pilling for the four legs of the tower.

The chiefs agreed that such a length of excavation would only be allowed after certain rituals were performed. They fixed the ritual items at N2 million. When the negotiation to beat down the cost failed, an ex-member of staff of the museum, whose mother was a Benin princess, intervened and approached the Oba.

Again, Oba Erediauwa agreed with his chiefs that the museum ground is sacred and any digging beyond two metres would require certain rituals to be performed. Then, having listened to the reasons why a new mast was needed and confirmed that he had received reports of the blind spot in communication around the Ring Road, he agreed that a new mast was desirable. The monarch was shown the picture of the pine tree mast to be erected and how effectively it blended with the vegetation in the museum ground. He then asked why the company was not willing to perform the rituals.

The company’s representatives told the Omo N’Oba about the cost. The Oba kept quiet for a while. Then he addressed his chiefs in the Benin Language. Thereafter, he spoke: “My chiefs have agreed that N50,000 will be enough for the ritual items. Give them and after they have done what they need to do, continue with your work. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Today, Oba Erediauwa has long joined his ancestors, but the mast is standing gidigba on the museum ground and the blind spot is eliminated! May the soul of Oba Erediauwa continue to occupy its rightful position among his forebears, Ise!

 I have brought out these two narratives to show that justice, fairness and civility reside in the Palace of Oba of Benin. During the height of the misrule of the expired Head of State, General Sani Abacha, when his deputy, General Oladipo Diya and other top military brass were arrested for a phantom  coup plot, it is on record that of all the traditional rulers who visited Abacha in Aso Rock Villa, only Oba Erediauwa and the late Awujale of Ijebuland, Oba  Sikiru Kayode Adetona, refused to make comments. The two monarchs said that having listened to Abacha, they needed to also hear from Diya and his fellow detainees. When that request was declined, the two kings departed Abuja without saying anything about the coup plot. That is tradition, that is culture.

Today, a lot of issues are happening in Benin and the name of Omo N’Oba Ewuare II, the current king is being dragged to them. The Benin throne, unarguably, is one of the last vestiges of the pride of the African Race. The dignity of that throne is too significant to an average Black man for the negative narratives in Benin now. Any child of history, any proud son and daughter of the Black Race, must be worried, greatly troubled and very apprehensive that the revered Benin throne is being mentioned in many negative forms recently.

On a personal note, I would be long dead before I would believe that the Oba of Benin would mobilise, in any slightest imagination, thugs, parading as keepers of Benin tradition and custom, to attack diplomats as it happened two months ago during the ceremony organised at the premises of the controversial Museum of West African Art (MOWAA) for some diplomats and other arts enthusiasts. Unfortunately, the characters who caused such a monumental embarrassment claimed to have acted in the interest of the Benin Palace.

The issue of MOWAA had hardly died down when another set of street urchins, acting in the name of defending the Benin monarch, stormed a football field and kidnapped one of the prominent sons of Benin, Dr Don Pedro Obaseki. The excuse given was that in his closing remarks at a function in the United Kingdom sometime ago, Obaseki ended his contributions with the clause: “Edo gha to kpere” (Long live the Edo people) instead of the usual salutation of “Oba gha to kpere” (Long live the Oba of Benin).” (Long live the Oba). For that infraction, Obaseki was declared an Oghion-Oba (enemy of the Oba) He was beaten and stripped to his boxers before he was dragged to the palace and ended up at the Oba Market Police Station.

The most disturbing aspect of the ugly incident is the claim by Obaseki that while he was in that humiliating position “inside the Oba Palace, I was slapped, beaten, gagged, and forced to kneel while naked. While in this condition, I attempted to plead for my life and dignity as the Oba drove past me.” I earnestly pray that this account is an exaggeration. I cannot not believe that the Omo N’Oba drove past one of his sons in such a degrading state. It is inconceivable that the Omo N’Oba would be informed of such a commotion within the palace and fail to inquire into it or address it appropriately. May Benin Palace never degenerate to that level; may the gods and ancestors never permit it.

That said, I sincerely believe that Omo N’Oba Ewuare II must do something about the men going about harassing people all in the name of the Palace. No African child in his or her right senses would subscribe to any insult directed at any king, more so the Oba of Benin. An average sensible Benin child knows the grave implications of the Benin Palace declaring him or her as an enemy.

With the known acrimonious issues between the current Esama of Benin Kingdom, Chief Gabriel Osawaru Igbinedion, and the immediate Oba Erediauwa, the monarch never declared Igbinedion an Oghion-Oba because he knew the implications. The consequences of anyone becoming an enemy of the Oba of Benin go beyond the Biblical fourth generation! That is the culture. So, the question is: where did these men derive the power to declare anyone the enemy of the Oba when the Omo N’Oba himself has not made such a declaration?

It beats commonsense that in the 21st century, a group of people would descend to the level of barbarism exhibited on Sunday, December 28, 2025, in the stripping of Don Pedro Obaseki, and dragging him from Igbesanmwan Street through Holy Aruosa Church to Ring Road and the ancient Benin Palace all because he allegedly disparaged Benin culture! In my over a quarter of century residence in Benin, I have yet to come across any Benin culture that allows such an animalistic behaviour.

Every tribe has its good, bad and ugly. Benin is no exception. But I must confess here: If you are looking for civilisation and culture, visit Benin. It is no fun when the Benin forebears submit that Aghasoghe Edo, Edo Odion (When you get to Edo- Benin- Edo is still senior). They did not stop there. They added Aghase Edo, Edo Yere’re (When you get to Benin, Benin is still far), to show how complex the culture of the people can be. Benin home and in the Diaspora, have utmost regard for their Oba and believe that Edo Noba ye (Benin is where the Oba resides) and no other place, hence, they conclude Edo ni mose (Benin is beautiful)!

Where the king resides is where justice inhabits and is upheld. Benin cannot be beautiful when we keep recording these ugly incidents in torrents! This is why Oba Ewuare II must act. This is the reason why Umogun, the Uku Akpolokpolo must come out and denounce these charlatans. The time for the Oba to roar like the Ogidigan (great warrior) that he is, is now! Enough of the embarrassment, enough of the image denting. All that is required to end the trend is for the Omo N’Oba to issue a public statement distancing himself from anyone engaged in such barbaric acts. May the gods and the ancestors grant Oba Ewuare II the wisdom to pilot the affairs of his subjects peacefully. Oba gha to kpere Ise!

Sweet Christmas gift of death from America

Otokunado! That is a Benin street lingo. It simply means he who talks and acts the same way (talk and do). If President Donald Trump of America needs an appellation, Otokunado fits perfectly! My old boss has a saying when anything pleasant happens: E sweet my belle.

The Christmas Day bombing of the enclave of the terrorist of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) in Sokoto State by the American Government, in line with President Trump’s promise, is one event one should not forget easily. It does not matter if America informed President Bola Tinubu before the bombing or it did not inform him. It doesn’t even matter if the claims by the Tinubu administration that it supplied the intelligence to America turned out to be another of the numerous bovine propagandas by the government.

My people say: ró aso mó ìdí, ró ìdí mó aso, kí ìdí má ti s’òfo ni (tie the wrapper round the waist or tie the waist round the wrapper, just ensure the waist is not exposed). The most important news is that the enclaves of the felons were bombed and many of them died! Nigerians should just allow our government to keep telling itself the narratives it chooses to propagate. We should not bother about why the Federal Government, and our Military could not use the same ‘intelligence’ it supplied the American Military, or why Aso Rock waited for President Trump to announce the encounter before it issued its usual nauseating statement!

If an average Nigerian does not know the truth, the nation which carried out the bombing knows how it did it and how many people knew about the plan. President Tinubu, while joining the victory dance, should be encouraged to ponder on the saying of the elders of my place to wit: Alágbò so àgbò sí ojú ebo, oníkálukú dé ibè fi wúre; ebora mo ohùn Alágbò, ebora mo ohún eni tó únwúre ( A man brings  a ram to the shrine for sacrifice and another one takes it to pray for goodness from the deity. The deity knows the voice of the ram provider and the voice of the one using it to pray). While thanking him for the Christmas gifts of death to the most undesirable felons sent to hell, can we remind President Trump that a New Year gift of greater measure would not be a bad idea!

God bless the United States of America and God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Hell to terrorists, the world over!

Makinde and Fayose: The dog and its puppies

Governor Seyi Makinde of Oyo State and his erstwhile friend, former Governor Ayodele Fayose of Ekiti State, are in the news. They are fighting today because they no longer share the same political ideology. Ironically, Fayose still claims to be a member of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP). That itself defines who our politicians are. I don’t know if I am the only one feeling like puking each time Fayose or his new paymaster, Nyesom Wike, the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), claim to be in the PDP. The idea is too disgusting for me.

Fayose is after Makinde because the latter said he would not be supporting President Tinubu in 2027. Another disgusting fact is that Makinde in 2023 supported Tinubu against the PDP’s presidential candidate, Abubakar Atiku. How the PDP accommodated that rebellion beats my imagination till this minute. The ex-Ekiti State governor is pissed off because Makinde had the effrontery to declare that he would not be backing Fayose’s god in 2027. To show how an ‘ingrate’ Makinde has turned out to be, Fayose said that the Oyo State governor collected a whopping N50 billion for the Bodija, Ibadan, bomb disaster, and gave the victims a paltry N4.5 billion.

Like he claimed years ago when he said that the late General Muhammadu Buhari would die by the minute, Fayose again added in 2025 that he had the evidence of the payment of the N50 billion to Governor Makinde. When he was dared to publish the evidence, like his front page announsorials of Buhari’s imminent death, Fayose published what turned out to be a request for the sum of N50 billion by the Oyo State Government for the Bodija bomb blast victims.

Did Fayose read the document? Or did his aides read it before it was published? How on earth would a man of Fayose’s standing equate a request memo to actual disbursement when the memo itself is self-explanatory? But he is Fayose and only an Ayodele Fayose could arrive at such a laughable conclusion. That, however, is not my worry here.

I must confess that I was scandalised when Makinde’s media aide, Dr Suliman Olanrewaju, issued a rejoinder, explaining how much was given, how much was disbursed to the victims directly and how the rest was used or is being used. Why would anyone trouble himself to dignify Fayose with a response over a matter that the public has turned to a joke?

Even from President Tinubu’s camp, not a few of them are having fun about how ridiculous Fayose could be when it comes to producing documentary evidence to back up his numerous spurious claims. The same gang that gave Fayose the fake pictures of a ‘dead’ Buhari on a London hospital bed also gave him the information of a N50 billion donation and the ‘evidence’ he published! They told a father that his child is stupid, and he answered that it was fine as long as he was not dead. Pray, what kills faster than stupidity?

Someone I discussed the Makinde-Fayose debacle with asked me what would have been my advice if Governor Makinde had consulted me over the matter. My response was a simple saying of our elders. Those men of wisdom say: A dog that eats its puppies should never be engaged to guard a corpse (Ajá tó ńje omo è, a kìí té òkú tìí).

My interlocutor asked me to explain, and I said if the governor had sought my advice, I would simply send him the last month’s video of Fayose’s mother lamenting that the ex-Ekiti State governor and his children were about sending her out of the house Fayose gave to her to stay. I also said that I would add the videos of Fayose’s younger brother, Isaac Fayose, and the last of his siblings, and ask Governor Makinde to watch and determine the character of the man who is fighting him. It is not every issue that requires a response.

The character of the one raising an issue counts and counts very importantly. A man who could treat his mother and siblings shabbily would not spare anyone. Those men of knowledge in my place caution that when you see a man who intentionally steps on his own cloth, know that he can set yours on fire. That would have been my closing remarks to Governor Makinde!

This is wishing you a fruitful New Year. See you in 2026, Insha Allah!

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Nigerian schoolboy’s death sparks negligence allegations, conflicting accounts

A Child, a Clinic, and a Question Nigeria Can’t Ignore

The death of 13-year-old Oscar Ezeani, a student of British Spring College, Awka, has ignited public outrage, grief, and sharply conflicting accounts from the boy’s family, the school, and medical professionals—raising urgent questions about student safety, medical consent, and accountability in Nigerian boarding schools.

Oscar died on Tuesday, October 21, 2025, after falling ill while in school custody. His mother, Mrs Odera Ezeani, has accused the school and its medical partners of negligence, alleging that her explicit instructions regarding her son’s treatment were ignored, leading to his death.

“This was not an accident,” she said in a public statement. “It was negligence. It was carelessness. It was a failure of duty, compassion, and humanity.”

A Mother’s Account

According to Mrs Ezeani, she was contacted on Monday, October 20, and informed that Oscar was coughing. She said she advised the school to administer cough medication and explicitly warned against giving a specific antimalarial drug, Amatem, insisting instead on Coartem, which her family routinely used.

She alleges her instruction was disregarded.

The following morning, she said, the school informed her that Oscar was “not responding to treatment.” Her husband rushed to JoyVille Specialist Hospital, Awka, where Oscar had been taken.

What he found, she said, was devastating.

Oscar was reportedly unresponsive, his body cold, and restrained at multiple points. Fluids were allegedly coming from his mouth, nose, and eyes. He was pronounced dead shortly after.

Mrs Ezeani further claimed that no one contacted the family overnight as Oscar’s condition worsened, and that medical attention was delayed. She also alleged that CCTV footage covering the clinic and hostel areas had been deleted or disconnected after her son’s death.

“These inconsistencies and silence forced me to speak out,” she said.

School and Hospital Push Back

In a detailed rebuttal, Dr. Ezinne Nwaneli, a consultant paediatrician who oversees the school clinic and also works with JoyVille Specialist Hospital, rejected claims of negligence and cover-up.

Dr. Nwaneli said British Spring College employs multiple medical staff and follows strict protocols requiring clinical examination and diagnostic tests before treatment. She stated that Oscar’s mother refused consent for blood tests, insisting instead on antimalarial medication and planning to pick him up later for the mid-term break.

“A parent who is not a doctor cannot insist on a diagnosis,” she said, adding that she instructed the school doctor to ask the mother to pick up Oscar if she would not consent to testing.

According to Dr. Nwaneli, Oscar was later given medication purchased from a chemist at the mother’s direction. He returned to his hostel walking unaided.

Early the next morning, Oscar reportedly became weak and was rushed to the clinic on a stretcher. CPR was initiated and he was transferred to the hospital within 30 minutes, but he was pronounced “brought in dead.”

Dr. Nwaneli said an autopsy is pending, and denied allegations that CCTV cameras were tampered with, stating that police had reviewed the footage at the parents’ request.

She suggested that self-medication and refusal of medical advice may have contributed to Oscar’s death, while expressing sympathy to the family.

Unanswered Questions

Despite the competing narratives, several questions remain unresolved:

  • Why was Oscar not referred earlier to a hospital?
  • Was overnight monitoring adequate?
  • Were restraints medically justified?
  • Why do accounts from the family, school, and hospital diverge so sharply?
  • What will the autopsy reveal?

Oscar’s elder sister, also a student at the school, reportedly said he had previously complained of being turned away from the clinic. She said he was active and playing sports hours before he fell critically ill.

Calls for Accountability

Oscar’s family is demanding:

  • A full, independent investigation
  • A transparent autopsy and medical review
  • Public accountability from the school and hospital
  • Stronger safeguards to prevent similar deaths

As investigations continue, the case has reignited a broader debate in Nigeria about boarding-school healthcare, parental consent, self-medication, and oversight—and whether existing systems adequately protect children when they are away from home.

For many Nigerians following the case online, one fact is uncontested: a 13-year-old boy is dead, and the truth of how and why remains painfully disputed.

Tax Reform Crisis:  Reps Minority demands immediate halt over alleged alterations

The Minority Caucus of the House of Representatives has called on the federal government to suspend the implementation of the newly enacted tax reform laws pending the conclusion of investigations into allegations that the laws were altered after being passed by the National Assembly and assented to by President Bola Tinubu.

In a statement issued on Sunday and jointly signed by the Minority Leader, Kingsley Chinda; Deputy Minority Leader, Ali Isa; Minority Whip, Aliyu Madaki; and Deputy Minority Whip, George Ozodinobi, the caucus described the controversy surrounding the tax laws as troubling and deserving of thorough investigation.

“We call on the government to suspend the implementation of the tax laws until investigations are concluded and there is clarity and certainty of the law to be implemented,” part of the statement read.

The lawmakers said the allegations, which centre on claims that versions of the tax laws gazetted and circulated to the public differ from what was passed by both chambers of the National Assembly, could not be dismissed as trivial, given their implications for the rule of law and legislative integrity.

“The gravity of the cause of the controversy is an issue of great concern to all Nigerians, especially since it borders on the accusations of unlawful alterations to the laws as passed by both Chambers of the National Assembly and subsequently signed by the president,” the caucus said.

The caucus confirmed that the issue was formally brought to the attention of the House during plenary by a member, Abdulsamad Dasuki (PDP, Sokoto), who raised concerns over alleged discrepancies between the tax laws passed by parliament and the versions later gazetted and made public.

Mr Dasuki had noted that certain provisions appeared to have been altered outside the legislative process, raising questions about the authenticity and legality of the circulating documents.

Following the lawmaker’s intervention, the House, at plenary the next day, resolved to constitute an ad hoc committee to investigate the allegations of fraudulent alteration, gazetting and circulation of the tax laws.

According to the minority caucus, the decision to set up the committee underscores the seriousness of the matter and the need to protect the constitutional role of the legislature.

“We want to assure Nigerians that the Minority Caucus of the House of Representatives will stand with the entire House to see that the circumstances surrounding this illegality are exposed and the culprits brought to book in the interest of justice for all Nigerians,” the statement said.

National Assembly moves to re-gazette Acts

Amid the controversy, the leadership of the National Assembly last Friday announced measures to address the dispute and restore public confidence in the legislative process.

The leadership disclosed that it had directed the Clerk to the National Assembly (CNA) to re-gazette the tax reform Acts and issue certified true copies of the versions duly passed by both the Senate and the House of Representatives.

The move, according to the leadership, is aimed at ensuring that only the authentic texts approved by parliament and assented to by the president are in circulation.

The Minority Caucus reiterated that, by law, the National Assembly remains the custodian of the genuine versions of all Acts of the federation, as the CNA is responsible for transmitting duly passed laws to the appropriate federal agency for gazetting.

They therefore urged Nigerians to disregard any purported tax laws in circulation that do not bear the signatures of the CNA and the President.

“Such did not originate from the National Assembly, and neither do they reflect the true character of what was actually passed by the Legislature and signed by the president,” the caucus said.

Any attempt to impose what it described as “fake laws” on Nigerians, the caucus warned, amounts to an attack on the independence of the legislature and a threat to democratic governance.

Implementation

The implementation of the tax reform laws is scheduled to commence on 1 January 2026.

The Chairman of the Presidential Fiscal Policy and Tax Reforms Committee, Taiwo Oyedele, has cautioned against delaying the implementation beyond that date.

Speaking on Channels Television’s The Morning Brief last Monday (22 December), Mr Oyedele warned that postponing the reforms would have serious consequences for workers and businesses.

According to him, as many as 98 per cent of Nigerian workers would continue to be subjected to multiple taxation if the new tax laws are not enforced as planned.

Credits: Premium Times

The Sokoto Strike: Confronting the Nigerian genocide claim

By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

The smoke rising from the recent precision strike against ISWAP targets in Sokoto is more than just a tactical victory in a distant theatre of the global war on terror. For the embattled communities of Nigeria’s Middle Belt and North East, those plumes of smoke represent a long-overdue acknowledgement of a harrowing reality: Nigeria has become a killing field, and the international community can no longer afford the luxury of diplomatic silence.

As Nigerians and the world grapple with the implications of direct military intervention on Nigerian soil, the discourse has largely centred on the abstractions of “sovereignty” and “geopolitics.” But to view this event through a purely political lens is to ignore the visceral, blood-soaked context that necessitated it. We must ground this conversation in a truth that many in Abuja and Western capitals find inconvenient: the targeted violence against Christians in Nigeria has evolved beyond mere “insecurity.” It has met the grim, legal, and moral threshold of genocide.

Genocide is not a term to be used lightly; it is the “crime of crimes,” defined by the intentional and systematic elimination of a group. This is achieved through mass killing, violent eviction from ancestral lands, and the calculated destruction of the means of survival. In Nigeria, this definition is being fulfilled with terrifying precision.

For over a decade, a pattern has emerged that defies the “clash of farmers and herders” narrative so often peddled by the state. This is not a resource war; it is an existential one. The evidence is stark: over 90% of the millions of Nigerians languishing in Internally Displaced Person (IDP) camps are Christians. Their villages are not just attacked; they are occupied. Their churches are not just burned; they are replaced. Their farms—the very heartbeat of their survival—are seized by invaders, leaving survivors with no home to return to and no means to feed their children.

Critics often argue that because Muslims are also killed by groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, the label of genocide is inapplicable. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of international law. The fact that a wildfire consumes everything in its path does not mean the arsonist didn’t have a specific target. What defines genocide is the intent to eliminate a specific group. The relentless, documented targeting of Christian clergy, the destruction of Christian villages, and the rhetoric of the perpetrators—who openly declare their mission to establish a fundamentalist Caliphate—provide the smoking gun of genocidal intent.

The cries for help from the Middle Belt have been piercing, yet they have largely fallen on deaf ears within the corridors of the Nigerian state power. For years, advocacy groups and traditional rulers have submitted petitions and provided GPS coordinates of terrorist hideouts, only to be met with lethargy or, worse, complicity.

When a government fails to protect its citizens, or when sections of its security apparatus are seen to be shielding the aggressors, the social contract is voided. This institutional failure forced the victims to look beyond their borders. Frustrated by a domestic government that seemed more interested in “rehabilitating” terrorists than protecting their victims, Nigerian Christians turned to their global faith community.

That advocacy reached the highest levels of the US government, leading to the decisive action we see today.
Some observers, including recent reports from international outlets like Sky News, have questioned the choice of Sokoto as the strike zone, noting that the most notorious “killing fields” are situated in the Middle Belt and the North East. On the surface, this geographical shift seems puzzling—until one considers the source of intelligence. As one astute commentator recently noted, if the US had relied solely on intelligence supplied by the Nigerian government, it is highly doubtful that Sokoto would have appeared on the radar at all.

The strike suggests that the US is no longer looking through the filtered lens provided by Abuja. It indicates a bypass of local obfuscation, targeting the logistical hubs and gathering points of groups like ISWAP and the Lakurawa militants before they can descend upon the vulnerable populations of the South and Middle Belt. By striking in Sokoto, the US is not ignoring the genocide in the Middle Belt; it is cutting off the head of the snake in the areas the Nigerian state has historically claimed were “secure.”

A curious criticism has also emerged in the wake of the strike: why should one victim group receive “special” international attention? This question misses the mark. If other groups affected by the violence have not mounted similar global advocacy efforts, we must ask why. Did they accept the carnage as an immutable “will of God”? If so, that is a theological choice. But it is a choice that cannot be forced upon those who refuse to be slaughtered in silence.

The Christians of Nigeria have chosen to fight for their right to exist. To object to their seeking of international protection is to essentially demand that they participate in their own extermination for the sake of a false national unity.

The perpetrators are primarily Fulani militants—ranked as one of the deadliest terror groups globally—and jihadist organisations like ISWAP and Boko Haram. These groups share a radical ideology that views the “infidel” as targets for elimination. The Sokoto strike targeted the infrastructure of this extremism. By doing so, the US has signalled that the era of “strategic patience” with Nigerian terror is over.

However, a single mission does not stop a genocide. Sustained action is required on several fronts: an official international inquiry to designate these killings as genocide, accountability for Nigerian officials aiding or abetting militants, and a Marshall Plan for IDPs to ensure Christians can return to their ancestral lands with guaranteed security.

As Nigerians, we must look past the knee-jerk reactions of wounded national pride. Sovereignty is not a shield for state-sponsored or state-ignored mass murder. The lives and dignity of our citizens must be the ultimate priority. The world is finally watching, and more importantly, the world is acting.

The Sokoto strike is a clarion call. It tells the victims that they are seen, and it tells the perpetrators that the world’s most powerful forces are no longer content to watch from the sidelines. It is time to end the bloodshed, seek justice for the martyred, and rebuild a Nigeria where “faith” is a source of peace, not a death sentence.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Bandits insist on ₦500m or nothing for snatched Kwara road workers, as ex-customs officer kidnapped in Osun remains in captivity

Bandits have demanded a ₦500 million ransom for the release of five road construction workers abducted at a government project site in Kwara State, as a separate kidnapping in Osun State enters its third week with captors insisting on ₦200 million.

The incidents underscore Nigeria’s worsening kidnapping crisis, where ransom demands are rising even as families say they have been left to fend for themselves.

The five construction workers were abducted on December 15, 2025, at a Kwara State Government road project along the Sabaja–Owa-Onire Road in Isin Local Government Area. According to relatives, gunmen stormed the site around 11:40 a.m., seizing Ademola Afolabi, Abdullahi Lade, Emmanuel Okuwadare Kayode, Fatai Akin, and their driver, Yusuf.

Speaking to journalists in Ilorin on Monday, family spokesperson Dare Boyinbogun accused the state government of neglect, saying the kidnappers had contacted them with what he described as an “impossible” ransom demand.

“They demanded ₦500 million. Since that day, our lives have been suspended between hope and despair,” Boyinbogun said. “These are innocent workers contributing to the development of Kwara State. They went to work believing they would return home safely.”

While acknowledging the efforts of security agencies, he warned that time was running out.

“Every passing hour deepens the trauma—especially for the wives, children and elderly parents who depend entirely on these men,” he said, adding that some families were already facing hunger and severe psychological distress.

One of the wives, Idayat Lade, broke down in tears while appealing for her husband’s release, revealing that she had lost a baby due to the emotional trauma caused by the abduction.

“We just want our husbands back alive,” she said.

The families appealed to the Kwara State Government to establish direct communication with them, provide welfare and counselling support, and strengthen security along construction corridors and rural roads.

Meanwhile, a separate kidnapping case in Osun State has followed a similar pattern of high ransom demands and prolonged captivity.

Emmanuel Owolabi, a retired Customs officer, was abducted near his home in Ora, along the Osun–Kwara boundary, nearly two weeks ago. His captors are demanding ₦200 million, a sum his family says it cannot raise.

Owolabi’s wife, Titilayo, told reporters that the gunmen struck shortly before 7 p.m., firing sporadic shots before dragging her husband away on a motorcycle.

“They were young boys,” she said. “I pleaded with one of them in Hausa. Instead, he beat me and demanded money. Then I heard the sound of the motorcycle taking my husband into the bush.”

During the attack, the gunmen also reportedly killed a village chief identified only as Dennis, who was returning from his farm.

A source close to the family said the abductors used Owolabi’s phone to contact relatives and have allowed him to speak briefly with family members, but negotiations remain stalled.

“They are insisting on ₦200 million. We offered an amount, but they rejected it,” the source said. “He is alive, but still with them.”

The Osun State Police Command confirmed that search-and-rescue operations are ongoing but complained of limited cooperation from the victim’s family.

Police spokesperson Abiodun Ojelabi said authorities were not informed when the kidnappers first made contact. “We are working with the little information available, and the anti-kidnapping squad is on the case,” he said.

In Kwara, the security situation has drawn further attention after a viral video showed suspected hoodlums attacking women protesters near the under-construction Government House in Ilorin.

Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq condemned the assault, ordering police to identify and prosecute those responsible.

“Peaceful protest is a democratic right,” the governor said through his spokesman, Rafiu Ajakaye, adding that the state was intensifying security measures, including the deployment of armed forest guards to flush out kidnappers from forest zones.

For the families of the abducted workers and Owolabi, however, official assurances offer little comfort as ransom demands soar and captivity drags on.

From Barefoot Almajiri to University Graduate: One act of kindness that changed a life

Years ago, a small, barefoot almajiri boy wandered the streets of Dutse, Jigawa State, clutching nothing but hope, hunger, and a desire to learn the Qur’an.

Today, that boy—Ahmad Isa, from Gaya Local Government Area of Kano State—is a university graduate and newly certified member of Nigeria’s National Youth Service Corps (NYSC).

His journey, from street survival to national service, is a quiet but powerful reminder of what compassion, education, and belief can achieve.

Ahmad arrived in Dutse as a child in search of Islamic knowledge. Life was harsh. Like many Almajiri children, he struggled daily—but he refused to beg. Instead, he ran errands, took odd jobs, and worked for families, attending Islamiyya classes before and after his chores.

Everything changed when he met Mr Alan Maiyaki, a Federal Government worker from Edo State posted to Dutse.

Struck by the boy’s honesty, humility, and determination, Maiyaki made a life-altering decision: he enrolled Ahmad in primary school.

Maiyaki says the choice was deeply personal. Raised by a mother who spent 35 years as a teacher, and shaped by his own NYSC experience and work on Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) projects, he had long resolved to support universal access to education.

“After receiving an NYSC award in Niger State in 2006, I promised myself I would help keep at least one child in school,” he recalled. “Enrolling Ahmad was my contribution. Today, he is a graduate.”

With steady guidance, Ahmad balanced Qur’anic studies with formal education. He excelled—graduating from Dutse Capital Secondary School with strong results and scoring 217 in JAMB on his first attempt.

In 2019, he gained admission into the Federal University Dutse, where he studied Criminology and Security Studies, graduating with a Second Class Upper Division.

Throughout the journey, Ahmad says his mentor never allowed his past to define his future.

“He always told me where I came from would not determine where I would end up,” Ahmad said.

On December 18, 2025, Ahmad completed his NYSC in Zaria, Kaduna State, officially bringing to a close a chapter that began on the streets of Dutse.

For his mother, Halima Isa, the moment is deeply emotional. Widowed when Ahmad was just two years old, she never imagined her son would receive a Western education.

“Today,” she said quietly, “I am the mother of a graduate.”

His Islamic teacher, Malam Hassan Yalwawa, who began teaching Ahmad at age five, says the story proves what is possible when Almajiri children receive support.

“Given opportunity and care, they can succeed like any other child,” he said.

Beyond academics, Ahmad also learned tailoring during school. He now runs a tailoring shop in Dutse, where he trains five apprentices, paying forward the opportunity that changed his life.

To many Nigerians, Ahmad’s story is about more than escaping poverty. It is about the unlikely bond between a Kano-born almajiri and an Edo-born civil servant—and a reminder that one act of kindness can still rewrite a nation’s story.

A Mother of 12, Widowed and Fired: How a woman who ‘couldn’t cook’ transformed modern kitchens


In 1924, Lillian Gilbreth’s world shattered. Her husband and business partner, Frank, died suddenly of a heart attack, leaving her with 12 children and a consulting business that immediately collapsed.

Every single corporate client cancelled their contracts. The message was clear: they’d been hiring Frank. A woman—even one with a PhD—couldn’t possibly understand efficiency, business, or engineering. They were catastrophically wrong.

Born in 1878 to a wealthy California family, Lillian had defied expectations her entire life. While most women of her era were denied higher education, she convinced her sceptical father to let her attend UC Berkeley.

She graduated with honours and gave the commencement speech—the first woman allowed to do so.

She earned a master’s degree, then married Frank Gilbreth, a self-taught construction engineer obsessed with efficiency. He convinced her to switch her PhD studies from literature to psychology.

The timing was perfect: psychology was brand new, and so was industrial engineering. Lillian saw the connection no one else did—that understanding human behaviour was just as important as understanding machinery.

Together, they pioneered “time and motion study,” using the new technology of film to analyse how workers performed tasks. While Frank focused on the mechanics, Lillian focused on the people.

She studied worker fatigue, motivation, and happiness—radical concepts in an era when labourers were treated like machines. They tested their theories on the ultimate laboratory: their household of 12 children.
Everything was an experiment. They timed baths, analysed dishwashing, and optimised tooth-brushing. Their kids later wrote about it in the bestselling book “Cheaper by the Dozen”—though the story portrayed Frank as the efficiency-obsessed one. In reality, Lillian was equally fanatical.

Then Frank died, and the professional world rejected her. But Lillian was brilliant. If companies thought women belonged in the home, fine—she’d become the world’s expert on making homes efficient. She couldn’t actually cook. She admitted this freely.
But she understood motion, psychology, and human factors better than anyone alive.
So she studied kitchens like assembly lines.

In the 1920s, kitchens were chaotic—pots at one end, stove in the middle, utensils in another room. Women walked miles daily just preparing meals. Lillian saw wasted motion everywhere.

She convinced her children to help with an experiment: bake a strawberry shortcake in two different kitchen layouts with identical equipment.

The traditional kitchen required 97 separate operations and 281 steps. Her redesigned kitchen? Just 64 operations and 45 steps. What she called “circular routing” became known in the 1940s as the “kitchen work triangle”—organising the stove, sink, and refrigerator in close proximity. This single idea transformed kitchen design forever.

Open your kitchen drawer right now. That layout? Lillian designed it. But she didn’t stop there. She invented the foot-pedal trash can. The shelves inside refrigerator doors, including the butter tray and egg keeper. She partnered with General Electric, interviewing over 4,000 women to determine the optimal height for counters and appliances. Her work wasn’t just about convenience—it was about liberation.

By making housework less physically demanding and time-consuming, she believed women would have time for education, careers, and lives beyond domestic drudgery.

After World War I, she applied the same principles to help disabled veterans. She designed specialised kitchens and workspaces so people with physical disabilities could maintain independence—work that was decades ahead of modern accessibility standards.

Despite corporate rejection, she built a solo career that lasted 50 years.
She consulted for Macy’s, Johnson & Johnson, and countless manufacturers. In 1935, she became the first female engineering professor at Purdue University.
In 1965, at age 87, she became the first woman elected to the National Academy of Engineering. She received over 20 honorary degrees and was called “a genius in the art of living.” Yet even as she shattered barriers, she faced relentless discrimination.

Publishers refused to credit her on books she co-authored with Frank, believing a female author would hurt sales—despite her having a PhD while Frank never attended college.

Corporate executives dismissed her expertise. Male colleagues questioned her credentials. Society expected her to choose between being a mother and being a professional.
She refused to choose and excelled at both.

Think about what she proved: that the men who wrote her off in 1924 as just “Frank’s wife” were spectacularly wrong. That a woman with 12 children could become one of the most influential engineers of the 20th century. That being underestimated can become your greatest advantage if you’re brilliant enough to turn it into opportunity.
She took rejection and turned it into revolution.

Today, every time you step on a trash can pedal, grab butter from your fridge door, or move efficiently between your stove, sink, and refrigerator, you’re using Lillian Gilbreth’s innovations.

She proved that scientific thinking could transform not just factories, but homes. That efficiency wasn’t about squeezing more work from people—it was about giving them time to live. And she proved that the corporations who fired her because they couldn’t imagine a woman understanding business were not just wrong—they were historically, monumentally, embarrassingly wrong.

Lillian Gilbreth lived to 93. She worked until her 80s. She never remarried. She raised 12 children while earning a PhD, teaching at universities, consulting for Fortune 500 companies, and redesigning the modern kitchen.

The companies that rejected her in 1924 are mostly forgotten.
Her inventions are in every home on Earth.
From a widowed mother written off by corporate America to one of the most influential engineers of the 20th century—Lillian Gilbreth didn’t just survive rejection.
She revolutionised the way we live.

‘I Was Kidnapped, Stripped and Humiliated’ — Don Pedro Obaseki breaks silence on Oba of Benin Palace ordeal

My name is Dr. Pedro Obaseki.
On Sunday, 28th December 2025, at about 11:00–11:30 a.m., while playing football at Uwa Primary School, Igbesanmwan Street, Benin City, I was suddenly attacked by a group of men.

The attackers, some of whom were armed and brandishing guns, forcibly abducted and kidnapped me. These individuals who led this attack identified themselves and this has been duly incidented with Law Enforcement.

During the course of the abduction, they repeatedly stated that they had been sent by the Oba’s Palace to seize me. They alleged that the Palace was angry with me over a speech I had delivered to Edo people in London, which I reportedly closed with the phrase “Edo gha to kpere” (meaning “Long live the Edo people”) instead of “Oba gha to kpere” (meaning “Long live the Oba of Benin”). They further claimed that they had been sent to deal with any Obaseki, beginning with me. My abductors stated that the abduction of Dr. Pedro Obaseki will continue in further attacks on all Obasekis.

I was severely beaten, dragged along the streets, and stripped completely naked. I was dragged along Igbesanmwan Road, taken to the front of Holy Aruosa Church, and publicly paraded in my nakedness. From there, I was further dragged around Ring Road and forcibly taken into the Oba’s Palace. The public beating, stripping, and humiliation occurred over a distance of approximately five (5) kilometres.

Inside the Oba Palace premises, I was slapped, beaten, gagged, and forced to kneel while naked. While in this condition, I attempted to plead for my life and dignity as the Oba drove past me within the Palace compound. Thereafter, I was forced into a Hilux vehicle and transported to the Oba Market Police Station.

I was detained at the police station for approximately five (5) hours. During this period, the State Commissioner of Police, Monday Agbonika, visited the Station on three (3) separate occasions and informed me that I would be released pending clearance from the Oba. Eventually, at about 5:15 p.m., I was released from custody.

This statement is a true and accurate account of the events as they occurred.

-Pedro Obaseki, MBA, PhD.
(Victim)

Trump must finish what he started, By Lasisi Olagunju

There is a Yoruba proverb for our insecurity and the external help we got last Thursday: Let the man see the snake; let the woman kill it. What matters is that the snake dies (Kí ọkùnrin rí ejò, kí obìnrin pa á; ohun tí ó ṣe pàtàkì ni pé kí ejò kú). The proverb is a lesson in pragmatism over pride. It is a proverb of necessity. When danger appears, pride must step aside. Whoever can strike should strike, so long the threat is neutralised. The proverb does not shame the man for failing to act as a man; it does not unduly glorify the woman for wielding the blow. It insists only on outcome: the danger must die.

Slimy, slithering and deadly, terrorists are snakes. But Nigeria is an orísirísi country; a nation of assorted nations that lack consensus on everything, including on whether snakes deserve to die. Some view bandit snakes with horror and revulsion; some, like the pre-Hellenic Crete, in appeasement and supplication, feed terrorist snakes at their family altars. To them, it is a taboo to kill terrorists. America attacked (or said it attacked) those snakes last week.

Nigeria’s security crisis entered a new phase when the United States bombed terrorist targets on Nigerian soil. If the terrorists are the snake, and Nigeria merely “saw” while America “killed”, then the logic is simple: let no one quarrel over who held the machete. Men too limp to be husbands, men with permanently flaccid members, swallow pride and hire helpers. Nigeria is that husband. If bombs from afar kill those who slaughter villagers here, let no one romanticise sovereignty.

National humiliation or international collaboration? A friend from Côte d’Ivoire asked me on Saturday. Again, I read the proverb: Let the man see the snake; let the woman kill it. What matters is that the snake dies. But, in this instance, did the snake really die? Where is the carcass? If the snake did not die, then it means the stranger merely fouled the air for us. This is the point we say Yoruba proverbs are rarely so simple and rarely so innocent.

The same tongue that valourises results also prizes and protects ownership of the compound. How safe is the household if the foreign help did not kill the snake? There was a deadly bomb blast in Zamfara on Saturday, two days after the US intervention. What was that?

If the snake was merely hurt, another proverb walks briskly behind the first, slower, more suspicious: À gé kù ejò tí ń s’oro bí agbón (half-dead snake that stings like wasps). This is a proverb of incomplete decapitation, a proverb of unfinished war. Yoruba wisdom rarely travels alone. With help from President-General Donald Trump, it appears we have killed our snake halfway; now, may it not sting like wasps.

Experts and experience say a half-dead snake is more dangerous than a living one. Wounded, it no longer obeys patterns. It stops all announcement of itself. It lashes blindly, vengefully, unpredictably. What was once a visible threat becomes a roaming terror.

If the US strikes merely scattered terrorists, dislodging them without destroying their networks, their ideology, and local knowledge, then we have not killed the snake. We have only bruised it. And a bruised viper, flushed from its lair, often slithers into villages, markets, and soft targets.

The snakes terrorising Nigeria must die, their killers do not matter. If snakes must die, they must die totally and completely. My first proverb demands effectiveness. The second warns against the illusion of effectiveness. Tell Trump not to leave yet. If he has left, he must come back and finish what he started.

There is an existential reason for that demand. A foreign strike may carpet-bomb terrorist camps and dens of bandits, but it can also produce splinter, smaller, angrier cells that sting like scattered bees. As of today, what we have been told is no news about territory recaptured, ideology dismantled, long-term authority over our lives restored. Only echoes.

Yesterday, I read reports of terrified terrorists relocating from their ancestral home. “I felt their movement in my local government as well as in Agatu Local Government Area. They have been running away from Sokoto to coastal areas in Gwer West and Agatu with sophisticated arms and grazing openly. They are in my domain.” A traditional ruler in Benue State was quoted as saying this on Sunday. Someone also read it and said Trump has scared the bandits. And I asked: “really?”

In November 1893, Dallas L. Sharp wrote ‘Feigned death in Snakes’. What he wrote is a useful reminder that what looks like the enemy in flight is often a calculated performance. Sharp’s snake, he notes, does not bite itself in despair; it stages death because it finds itself outmatched in battle. So it lies still, body fouled with its own stench, selling the illusion of uselessness until danger passes.

Terrorism works the same way: not every apparent collapse is defeat, not every silence is peace. Sometimes the snake turns on its back not because it is dead, but because it knows that pretending to be dead is the most effective way to live and strike. Nigeria is a burrow of vipers; it breeds snakes and worships them. The more you kill, the more you see. That is why Mr Trump must be begged to stay and finish his unfinished business.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

Gov Makinde, his sons and his ‘friends’

Governor, Seyi Makinde of Oyo State

By Lasisi Olagunju

“Beware the quiet man; for while others speak, he watches. And while others act, he plans. And when they finally rest, he strikes.” Not all quotes have the fortune of being attributed to an inventor; the above is one of them. Author known or author not known, the quote is fit for my use and I use it here, guardedly. Reticent Oyo State governor, Seyi Makinde, packed a punch last Tuesday with a media chat that landed like a cluster bomb.

Exactly like America’s missile strike of Thursday, lethal fragments from Makinde’s verbal Tomahawk hit widely, leaving mortal marks on both intended and unintended targets. At a time when everyone ran for cover, the man stood apart and spoke as a rebel with a cause. He had enough firepower for everyone on his firing line. The whole country heard his words and took note of his allusions, what he said, what he left unsaid. That, perhaps, is the paradox of quiet men: they speak sparingly, but when they do, the impact lingers long after the echoes fade.

The quiet man has since gone back to his quiet default mode while proxies have taken up the fight on behalf of those bruised by him. History lends this posture a familiar logic. “Politics is war without bloodshed; war is politics with bloodshed” (Mao Zedong). Historian John Keegan looked at the wars of the Middle Ages and marked the pivotal roles of surrogates. From the Italian condottieri to Sweden’s companies-for-hire, contractual warriors fought at arm’s length for their principals. Surrogates and proxies are baying for the blood of the quiet man who dared to speak out. The governor made revelations and held back revelations. His ‘victims’ are using proxies. This is a season when the worst of us “are full of passionate intensity.” Get your popcorn and watch.

To be dumbstruck is “to be shocked or surprised as to be unable to speak.” The dumbstruck are answering the governor through emissaries. Read John Keegan’s ‘The History of Warfare.’ Read Geoffrey Parker’s ‘Dynastic War’ in ‘The Cambridge History of Warfare.’ Read Shakespeare’s Claudius and his agents in ‘Hamlet’, read Edmund and his tactics in ‘King Lear.’ I would have said read ‘Julius Caesar’ but I cannot see in the Abuja surrogates the moral proxy of reputable Brutus. Besides, the governor appears to be a man with enough capacity to take on adversaries shot for shot.

So, I am waiting for the quiet man’s next speech or chat. Wait for it too. “Surely some revelation is at hand; / Surely the Second Coming is at hand.”

W. B. Yeats wrote ‘The Second Coming’ in 1919. Chinua Achebe picked the title of ‘Things Fall Apart’, his best, from the first stanza of that poem; I picked the above quotes from the second. Read the entire poem, twenty-two lines, two stanzas.

The foregoing is for the ‘friends’ of Makinde; the following is for his sons.

Forty-eight hours after his hard-hitting interview, Governor Makinde calmly crossed into an entirely different realm – the almost meditative opposite of the combative warfare of the previous two days. His birthday.

I was invited to Governor Makinde’s birthday gathering in the thin hours of Christmas morning. As the night made to leave and the D-day raced to release its rays, the man arrived quietly, with his wife and children forming a small human hedge around him. There was music, there were quizzes, there was laughter, there was food. Delight coursed from table to table; the air held a sense of observance and warmth.

Then the celebrant was asked to speak, and the room shifted. If anyone wanted or expected further broadsides to his friend, Nyesom Wike, they were disappointed. Neither did he need to use his day to cite the weeks of darkness in Ibadan to amplify the lack of capacity of those who promised Nigeria electricity.

Makinde stepped forward, thanked everyone, turned to an introduction of members of his family. First, a young lady’s birthday falls on 24th December, and because of that, the lady claimed that she is the governor’s senior by one day. Laughter. Then, the governor called out his last child, his son, whose university in the United States had recently been visited by terror. A gunman had invaded the campus. “He called me,” the governor said, “and told me he had just left the lab when the gunman came and struck there.” The crowd gasped. What followed was not a speech so much as a testimony, a song of victory lifted from Ebenezer Obey: When a good person stands a breath away from the ditch, lightning breaks the dark to show the way. That was it. A governor singing gratitude, counting mercies, acknowledging the invisible hands that sometimes intervene between life and death. As the Book of Psalms puts it, “He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone” (Psalm 91:11-12 KJV).

Then came an introduction which turned the birthday event into a bowl of questions. His five-member family, the governor said, became seven in 2020/21. Two boys added by fate, by circumstance, and by the unexplainable. He asked them to come out. One, graduating in eight months’ time with a Law degree from a UK university. The other, eighteen months away from a Master’s degree in Architecture, also in the UK.

Who are they?

The governor offered no further details on how a family of five in 2020 became a family of seven grown-ups in 2021.

But, that moment, a whisper whistled by: “They are the Ayoola boys.”

Who?

At the beginning of this democracy, Hon. Kehinde Olatunji Ayoola stood at the centre of Oyo politics. Born in Oyo town in January 1965, Ayoola lived a life whose chapters were many in a book of 55 pages. He was Speaker of the Oyo State House of Assembly at the dawn of the Fourth Republic; a campaign organiser; a gifted narrator and storyteller; and, finally, Commissioner for Environment under Governor Makinde. Then, one bad Thursday in May 2020, he died—55 years old. He lived in a hurry and died so soon in a way that life has not bothered to explain. Ten short months after Ayoola’s death, fate returned to complete its sentence. Ayoola’s wife, Oluwakemi, Professor of Agronomy and lecturer at the Institute of Agricultural Research and Training, Ibadan, also died, leaving behind two teenage boys. The French would read this and exclaim: Quand il pleut, c’est le déluge (when it rains, it pours). Shakespeare warned in Hamlet that “when sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” For the Ayoola children, sorrow did not knock; it ambushed.

Someone said there are deaths that end a life, and there are deaths that interrogate the living. Ayoola’s was the latter. He belonged to that rare category of men who were friends to many and friendly to more. Between us there was mutuality of affection and respect. I love gifted writers; Kehinde Ayoola was one. I loved the elegance with which he glided between English and Yoruba, never losing cadence and precision in either. I admired his courage – and loyalty to his friend. I suspect I was not alone in that admiration.

When Governor Makinde announced his death in May 2020, the tribute was intimate, almost private. He did not speak as a governor mourning a commissioner; he mourned as a man remembering a friend, a comrade of trenches; he reminisced their days together in the Rashidi Ladoja campaign days of 2002, the long and unrewarding marches of 2015, and the eventual victory of 2019. It was grief stripped of protocol.

At its best, a friend said politics should be friendship with a public purpose. When Aristotle was asked, ‘What is a friend?’ he replied: ‘One soul dwelling in two bodies’. Roman orator, Cicero, gave a similar definition in his essay ‘On Friendship’. It would appear that Ayoola and Makinde embodied that ideal. In the aftermath of the transition of one, we see politics unfolding itself not as transactional but relational. We see friendship anchored in shared memories, in shared responsibilities; we see humanity in political friendship. That is my takeaway here.

The death of father and mother, almost at the same time, is enough to derail destinies of teenage children. The world is traditionally cold to orphans, and predictably unfaithful to the vulnerable. To the orphaned, there will always be promises and pledges of help and of shoulders to lean on. But, the Yoruba have always understood the fragility of promises made in the heat of grief. I will be your mother rarely survives the test of time. I will be your father often forgets itself midway. Sympathy is cheap; post-sympathy continuity is costly.

Makinde’s condolence message on Mrs Ayoola’s death in 2021 acknowledged this truth: that the mother died “at a time when her two sons and the entire family needed her the most.” It was not a ceremonial lamentation; it was a clear-eyed recognition of orphanhood, of a vacuum that flowers and fine speeches could not fill and would never fill.

In less than ten months apart, the Ayoola boys lost both parents. And that was before their flowers could bud. But they survived because friendship did not die with their parents. Makinde, their father’s friend, and his wife, stepped into the breach which society often leaves unattended. They moved the teenage survivors into their home and got them adjusted and properly integrated. Then, they lifted the boys from here to that space where first-world education awaited them. Makinde performed fatherhood and proclaimed guardianship; he provided structure, scaffolding: education, stability, direction.

The Yoruba say: Eni t’ó s’ojú ò seé, bí eni tó s’èyìn de ni. How do I translate that? Closely, I say those who stand by the dead are more faithful than those who stood beside the living. Or I say: true loyalty is measured not by who stood with you in life, but by who stood firm when you were gone. I may even go with the philosopher and add that it is not who walked with you that counts, but the one who refused to walk away after you were gone.

Mikael Rostila and Jan M. Saarela in 2011 wrote ‘Time Does Not Heal All Wounds: Mortality Following the Death of a Parent.’ They say the death of a parent, especially a mother, is not merely an emotional tragedy; it is a public-health event, one that can cast a long shadow across a child’s entire life. That is how bad the loss of a parent could be. Now, imagine losing both. Henry Longfellow once wrote that “great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.” For children, however, the harder art is surviving what should never have begun so early – in this case, it is orphanhood.

Ernest Hemingway in ‘A Farewell to Arms’ says “The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” It is a prophecy for the Ayoola family. Today, the boys have father and mother again; they are in universities abroad. Their fate is a living proof that while death may rupture tendons and threaten plans, kindness can step in and stitch the torn. In a world where people forget faces and pledges once the dirges fade, this story offers a metric of applause.

In my few years of existence, I have seen performative friendship contrasted with tested loyalty. The latter is what I salute here. Friendship is what endures after death, and it is never proven by eloquence. It is revealed in catastrophe, in who you choose to lift from the rubble when the world caves in. Our friend, Kehinde Ayoola, was a very good man. Thank you Mr and Mrs Seyi Makinde. Eni t’ó s’ojú ò seé, bí eni tó s’èyìn de ni.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

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