By Sonnie Ekwowusi

It is unfortunate that despite the clear and unassailable pronouncements and of our law courts, widows in many towns across Igboland are still treated as the property of their deceased husbands. Flowing from this warped logic, many widows in Igboland and their children are barred from fixing the burial date or organizing the burial of their late husbands and fathers.

As soon as a man dies, his brothers often emerge from their various hideouts to confront his widow and children, insisting that they alone have the exclusive right to dictate how their deceased brother should be buried, including the exclusive right to print obituary posters and conduct the entire funeral rites.

As I write this, some people in a town in Anambra State are embroiled in a life-threatening altercation over who has the right to conduct a deceased person’s funeral. In this particular case, a woman lost her husband a few months ago. About three weeks ago, the widow and her children released a funeral poster announcing the burial rites of the deceased.

This obviously did not go down well with the late man’s brothers and relatives. Bitterly opposing the actions of their brother’s widow, his brothers, relatives, and other idle troublemakers in the town confronted the widow, warning her to desist from organizing the funeral on the unfounded allegation that local custom requires them—and not the widow or her children—to organize their brother’s burial. In response, the widow has been asserting that it is her and her children’s right to bury her husband as they deem fit. However, the deceased man’s brothers and relatives have ganged up and sworn that under no circumstance should the widow or her children announce the burial date or organize the funeral.

What then is the position of Nigerian law on this matter?

Before answering this question, it is pertinent to note that Igbo society is traditionally patrilineal, meaning that the husband’s family—especially his brothers, uncles, or eldest male relatives—play a central role in burial arrangements. They are regarded as custodians of the man’s lineage and ancestral rites. While the widow in Igboland is expected to observe mourning rites and may be consulted, she often has limited decision-making power. In many Igbo communities, she cannot unilaterally choose the burial date or location, especially if the husband died intestate (without a will). Ikwa ozu(burial rites) is not merely a family affair but a communal and spiritual event. These rites of passage must be performed to ensure that the deceased properly joins the ancestors, and they are usually coordinated by the husband’s kindred.

However, in urban areas such as Lagos, or among more progressive families—especially where the widow is financially independent or where the husband left a will—she may have greater influence over burial arrangements. This, however, varies widely by community and family dynamics.

There are no widely reported Nigerian court cases that specifically address a widow’s right to fix her husband’s burial date within Igbo culture.

However, broader legal discussions and judgments have challenged harmful widowhood practices and upheld widows’ rights under Nigerian law. These harmful widowhood practices in Igboland have been criticized as discriminatory and unconstitutional by virtue of Sections 37 (right to private and family life), 38 (right to freedom of thought), 39 (right to freedom of expression), and 42(1) (right to freedom from discrimination) of the 1999 Constitution.

Therefore, cultural practices in Igboland—including widow marginalization or the disallowance of widows from choosing the burial date or conducting the burial of their late husbands—violate the aforesaid constitutional provisions and are consequently illegal and unconstitutional.

Lest we forget, the 1999 Constitution is the supreme law of the land. Hence, any Igbo custom or tradition that conflicts with the provisions of the Constitution is, to the extent of its inconsistency, null, void, and unenforceable.

While Igbo customs may traditionally restrict a widow’s role in burial planning, Nigerian law increasingly supports her right to fix a date for her husband’s burial, her right to dignity, and her right to participate fully in the burial of her husband.

Therefore, Igbo widows can challenge their exclusion from fixing the burial date of their husbands through civil litigation or by filing petitions under the Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act (VAPP Act).

In some cases, families resolve burial disputes through dialogue with elders, religious leaders, or local chiefs. However, the position of Nigerian law is clear: widows in Igboland cannot be treated as the property of their deceased husbands, nor can they be lawfully disallowed from fixing the burial date or organizing the funerals of their late husbands.

The recent judgment of the Lagos High Court, Ikeja Division, which held that wives are joint owners of property with their husbands, represents yet another resounding triumph of justice for Nigerian women. The Lagos High Court in Ikeja, presided over by Hon. Justice Dorcas T. Olatokun, made this pronouncement in a case between Mr. Pius Aina and his wife, Caroline, over a property located at Festac Town, Lagos. The property was acquired by the husband while he was employed with the Federal Housing Authority (FHA) in the early 1980s.

Succinctly put, Mr. Pius Aina and his wife had been married for thirty-five years. They lived in the Festac property with their three children for more than thirty years. After his retirement in 2018, Mr. Aina sold the property for ₦20 million and relocated to his hometown in Ondo State. However, his wife, Mrs. Aina, challenged the sale, claiming that as his wife and joint owner, her husband could not sell the property without her consent. Consequently, she sued her husband, asking the court to void the sale. The purported buyer of the property and two other defendants—agents who facilitated the sale—were also joined in the suit.

In her claim before the court, Mrs. Aina alleged that she jointly owned the house with her husband. She further stated that after her husband’s retirement on July 4, 2001, his employer, the Federal Housing Authority (FHA), offered him the right of first refusal to purchase the property at a price of ₦400,000. She claimed that she contributed ₦200,000 toward the purchase, while her husband paid the balance of ₦200,000. She also alleged that she had been making other direct and indirect contributions as a wife to the marital property, entitling her to a share in the proceeds of the sale.

However, in his defense, Mr. Aina contended that the property was solely his, by virtue of the private contract between him and the FHA. He argued that his wife was not a party to the contract and therefore could not challenge his right to transfer the property to any other person as he deemed fit. He further alleged that the statutory marriage between him and Mrs. Aina was contracted in 2001 during the subsistence of a valid customary marriage between him and his first wife, which Mrs. Aina was aware of. He claimed that he consulted both wives before deciding to sell the house and retire to his hometown in Ondo State, and that both had consented. He further alleged that, in equity and good conscience, after selling the house, he purchased a three-bedroom flat at Block 147, Flat 2, Amuwo Odofin Low-Cost Housing Estate, Mile 2, Lagos, for Mrs. Aina and her children, which she graciously accepted.

While setting aside the sale of the property, Hon. Justice Dorcas T. Olatokun held that a valid marriage existed between Mr. and Mrs. Aina, and that both had made financial contributions to the marriage and the acquisition of the property. Therefore, both were joint owners of the property in equity. The court further held as follows:

“Where joint ownership of property exists, it means that each party has an equal proprietary right of ownership in the said land, notwithstanding the weight of contribution made by each party, and can jointly exercise such right in respect of the property. The position of the law is settled that where a property is jointly owned, the consent of the other is required before disposing of the property.”

I heartily applaud the judgment of the Lagos High Court, Ikeja. Not only is it in consonance with the landmark decisions of Nigerian courts—especially the case of OKERE V AKALUKA (2014), where the court held that it would be unconscionable to deprive a woman and her children of rights to a property to which she contributed substantially in its acquisition and development—but the judgment is also consistent with domestic and international human rights instruments and covenants.

I equally commend Mrs. Aina for gallantly pursuing her case in court. There is no doubt that she has charted an unprecedented course in the struggle for women’s human rights in Nigeria. Men and women are complementary beings. Women are not objects of pleasure for men or properties to be used as men please. Indeed, women possess the same intrinsic worth as men.

However, beyond the euphoria of the current Lagos High Court judgment, the impediments to the enforcement of women’s inheritance rights that persist in various states across the federation should be removed to pave the way for their effective implementation in favor of Nigerian women. Governments, NGOs, members of civil society, and other stakeholders should rally to the assistance of oppressed women and widows who lack access to justice.

Traditional rulers and community leaders should also embark on effective mass enlightenment on the importance of upholding women’s inheritance rights in their rural communities.

The law in Nigeria today is clear: any Igbo custom that seeks to treat women as inferior to men or as the property of their husbands cannot stand the test of civilized times. This position aligns with the judgments of the Supreme Court of Nigeria in JULIE NEZIANYA & OTHERS V. ANTHONY OKAGBUE, NZEKWU V. NZEKWU, MOJEKWU V. MOJEKWU, AND UKEJE V. UKEJE.

The Supreme Court judgment in UKEJE V. UKEJE, endorsed the right of Nnewi Igbo women to inherit family property and estates. It is, to say the least, a resounding triumph of justice for Igbo women. The Supreme Court’s decision arose from a suit filed by one Gladys Ada Ukeje at the Lagos High Court, in which she claimed that, as the daughter of her late father, she was entitled to administer and inherit his property. The Lagos High Court ruled in favour of Gladys Ukeje, prompting appeals to both the Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court. Both appellate courts respectively affirmed the judgment of the Lagos High Court in her favour.

In upholding the decisions of the High Court and the Court of Appeal, the Supreme Court held that the Igbo customary law which bars an Igbo female child—regardless of the circumstances of her birth—from inheriting or partaking in the sharing of her father’s property and estate, is, among other things, a violation of her right to freedom from discrimination as enshrined in Section 42(1) and (2) of the 1999 Constitution.

I applaud the aforesaid judgment of the Supreme Court. Not only is it in consonance with the earlier landmark decisions of Nigerian courts in JULIE NEZIANYA & OTHERS V. ANTHONY OKAGBUE & ANOTHER, NZEKWU V. NZEKWU, AND MOJEKWU V. MOJEKWU and others, it is also consistent with domestic and international human rights instruments and covenants.

There is nothing more morally reprehensible than treating women with contempt and denying them the right of inheritance or the right to jointly own property with their husbands and the right to organize the bural of their husbands.. Joint ownership of property promotes shared decision-making between spouses. It allows both partners to have a say in matters related to the property, including maintenance, renovations, and financial decisions. This fosters a sense of partnership and equality within the marriage.

In sum, the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended)—as I earlier stated, is the supreme law of the land. It is founded on the principles of equality and justice. It guarantees the right of every person to acquire and own property in Nigeria. Section 42 expressly provides that “every citizen, whether male or female, has the right not to be discriminated against on the basis of sex, ethnic group, place of origin, religion, or political opinion.”

Therefore, any custom or tradition in any part of Igboland that is in conflict or inconsistent with the 1999 Constitution is, as I earlier stated, to the extent of the conflict or inconsistency, null and void and of no effect whatsoever.

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

By Reuben Abati 

Yesterday was October 20, the fifth anniversary of the Lekki Toll Gate Massacre, aftermath of the #EndSARS youth protest in Lagos. Scores of young persons were reportedly killed, maimed, made to inhale tear gas, or jump into the Lagoon and till date there has been no full closure on that event, despite attempts by the Federal and state governments to investigate what exactly happened, and make some form of restitution in some of the states.  It was the equivalent of a Gen Z protest in Nigeria, an expression of youth affirmation and protest, similar to what has now happened in Nepal in September 2025. In Nepal, angry youths practically removed a government from office after protesting over social media ban and government corruption. The Prime Minister, KP Sharma Oli had to step down. Other government officials fled.  Those who tarried were humiliated. There have been similar protests by young people in recent times in Madagascar, Peru, and Morocco. As in Nepal, the government in Madagascar was also toppled, providing an opportunity for the military to seize power, yet another major setback for democracy in the continent. 

In the face of these youth-led protests in Africa, Asia and South America, the governments are frightened. The issues may differ: police violence and misconduct in Nigeria, social media ban and corruption in Nepal, economic disempowerment in Bangladesh in 2024, misplaced priorities, need for social services reforms as stated by the GENZ212 movement in Morocco, tax bill and cost of living crisis in Kenya, election issues, inequality, corruption in Mozambique in the words of GENZ Mozambique, and demand for better wages and pensions in Peru. A common denominator is the rise of youth power, and the determination by young people who constitute the majority of the populations in Africa, Asia and South America seeking to take charge of their own destinies, and demand the exit of non-performing governments. They ask for transparency, accountability, good governance, reforms and change. They come across as leaderless, a movement using both their voices and technology to get heard, and reject traditional political systems. In Nigeria, the slogan was “Sorosoke” (speak out loud and be heard), Moroccan youths used their country’s international dialling code: 212. The youths of the world seem to be taking cues from each other, inspiring a wave of global protests. They remind us afresh of Occupy Wall Street in 2011, the Arab Spring in 2010 -2012; the Umbrella Revolution in Hong Kong in 2014, and the all-dominating power of social media. 

Are the leaders listening, frightened as they appear to be? Not quite. In Peru, one person died, 100 were injured; 72 persons were killed in Nepal in September, persons also died in Morocco (more than 3) and Mozambique (more than 33 killed, 15 injured) and in Madagascar, more than 22 persons were killed. The standard response of the incumbent authoritarian governments is to meet the people’s revolt with accustomed high-handedness. This raises concerns about the destiny of democracy and the fortunes of leadership and governance in otherwise representative systems.

Our main concern is how the emerging global trend is all too present and alive in Nigeria. The state either in Peru, Madagascar, Lagos or Abuja acts out of fear. In Lagos, to mark the fifth anniversary of #EndSARS alleged massacre in Lagos (please note that the word alleged is used allegedly), Opeyemi Adamolekun, a seasoned civil society activist who runs an active group known as Enough is Enough (EiE), yesterday had brought a bouquet of flowers to lay as a wreath at the Lekki Toll Gate in memory of those who fell at that location in 2000. Security operatives harassed her, and asked not to lay any wreath. No flowers. She was not carrying any weapon. Just flowers. But the state operatives of Nigeria were afraid of ordinary bush shrubs. What could have been frightening about ordinary flowers? The state is so scared it cannot even deal with ordinary symbolism. They pushed the poor lady. They asked her to get lost with her flowers. Flowers oh. The assailants wore brown uniform. There are so many agencies whose officials wear all kinds of uniforms in Nigeria, it is difficult to keep count or know their true identity. Can someone please help? Have they created an anti-flower bearing squad in Lagos? What part of state law makes it a crime to hold flowers on the streets of Lagos? They grabbed the flowers from Adamolekun and shared among themselves. Did they think the leaves would make good addition to their wives’ pots of soup? It is a crazy country, and the people in uniform are the most afflicted. They are victims themselves. They are poorly and rarely paid. When they retire, they rarely receive their pensions, but the moment they wear that uniform of whatever colour, their quick instinct is to oppress their fellow citizens. 

The same drama played out in Abuja yesterday at the protest summoned by Omoyele Sowore, the 2023 Presidential candidate of the African Action Congress (AAC). Sowore is a professional civil society activist and pro-democracy campaigner. In the past week, he had tried to mobilise all categories of citizens to come forward to campaign for the release of Mazi Nnamdi Kanu – the detained leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) who has been standing trial since 2015, for criminal charges relating to terrorism, treason, defamation, and conspiracy to commit violence. He was released from detention in 2017, and was later re-arrested in Kenya in June 2021 by Interpol and extradited to Nigeria. He has been in state custody since then. He was accused of jumping bail.  Sowore wants him released: #ReleaseNnamdiKanu. His plan was to put one million people on the streets of Abuja on Monday, October 20, to protest from the Transcorp Hilton, the convergence point, to be joined by “all online protesters, activists, citizens, and allies everywhere to turn every platform into a space for truth and resistance”. 

In a tone reminiscent of the youth rebellion in Nepal, Sowore wrote: “From today, the internet becomes our rally ground, a united digital front for freedom and conscience. We are online, we are everywhere, and we are unstoppable”. Those words are ominous. A week ago, Sowore had announced that he had the consent of prominent national figures such as former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, President Goodluck Jonathan, Femi Falana SAN, and Senator Shehu Sani.  He also called on South East leaders: Mr. Peter Obi, and the Governors – bCharles Chukwuma Soludo (Anambra) Alex Otti (Abia), Francis Nwifuru (Ebonyi) Peter Mbah (Enugu), Hope Uzodinnma (Imo), Ndigbo in general and other voices of conscience. He asked Igbo leaders and others to turn rhetoric into action. Yesterday, the protest held. As early as 6.30 am, the protesters had trooped onto the streets of Abuja: the Three Arms Zone, Transcorp Hilton, Jabi and elsewhere, they were out in their numbers. 

Nobody sighted any prominent Nigerian among the protesters, but Aloy Ejimakor, Kanu’s counsel was among them. Mr. Bayo Onanuga, Presidential Spokesperson, has complained about the ugliness of a lawyer who is representing his client in a pending matter in a court of law also resorting to self-help on the streets. It is indeed an infamous act of a high proportion, and the whole exercise, by that objective fact alone, would seem like an attempt to intimidate and overwhelm the court. Nnamdi Kanu has an on-going case at the Federal High Court in Abuja. The Court of Justice James Omotoso had ruled, most recently that Kanu has a case to answer in response to a “No Case application” by his lawyers; on the basis of which his trial is scheduled to begin on Thursday. On the surface of it therefore, the judicial process in the matter has not been exhausted. But this is also what makes the matter delicate and complicated. There is an even an international dimension. Nigeria has a Mutual Legal Assistance pact with other countries including Finland where Simon Ekpa, associated with the Kanu charges has now been convicted. Should Nigeria abort the trial of Kanu, midway, on the basis of street sentiments?  

The state security services felt obliged to defend the city of Abuja against the protesters. They barricaded the streets and unleashed cannisters of tear gas on the protesters, It has even been reported that when that was not enough, they resorted to live bullets. The protesters ran so fast in all directions, many of them lost their footwears. Abuja residents became hostages in their own city. Vehicular movement and businesses were affected. It must be re-emphasised that the right to protest, the right to assemble and the right to express an opinion are constitutional rights. The expression of those rights should not be met with bullets. By the same token, however, the same rights should be exercised within the bounds of reason and sanity. The protesters reportedly called for revolution and change. At this time, there had been speculations about the threat of coup-making, coup-thinking in Nigeria. This then would seem like the very wrong time to suggest anything remotely revolutionary. Nonetheless, that would not justify the excessive use of force even as dire as the situation in the Federal Capital Territory may have been: the 5^th anniversary of #EndSARS and the #FreeNnamdiKanu protest, both converging as potent threats to the seat of government on the same day. There were no open protests elsewhere, but the entire South East was quiet. In Abia, Ebonyi, Enugu, Anambra, and Imo, the markets were closed. People stayed at home. In Abuja, the police harassed the protesters and arrested many, including journalists. Journalists do not deserve to be demonized, harassed or punished for doing their work. They should be released immediately. The protesters should be allowed to go too: non-violent protest is not a crime and there is nowhere in the books where a peaceful protest is a threat to the state. The security agencies can claim that they did not want a blow out, and having achieved that, they should allow the detained persons to go.

Two more things. The first is that there is a touch of irony to the Sowore-inspired protest. Sowore is an Ilaje Yoruba man, Arogbo-Ijaw from Ondo State. In this country, the politics of ethnicity and regionalism is at the heart of almost every relationship. His involvement in the Kanu struggle shows that the struggle for justice is above ethnic or regional considerations. It also exposes the contradictions at the heart of Igbo politics and the hypocrisy of the Igbo leadership elite. On the Nnamdi Kanu question, Igbo leaders are very good at diplomacy and rhetoric, none of them will ever dare identify pro-actively with Sowore’s revolutionary tactics. They would rather toe the line that I had identified earlier: that Nigeria has an obligation not to be seen to be sabotaging a live judicial process, or supporting mob action to truncate a judicial process. The court says Nnamdi Kanu has a case to answer, and that he is healthy enough to stand trial: Would it not be a better idea to wait for the process to run its course and then insist on Presidential pardon subsequently?

Secondly, this in itself is a proposal that many would pooh-pooh because we have reached a point in this country where nobody, including those running the same government, trusts government anymore. This is borne out of the haphazard manner in which government is run. In the days to come, the Tinubu administration is likely to be reminded that the argument about legal process and international legal co-operation cannot stand coming from a government that has just pardoned or commuted the prison sentences of 175 persons in line with Section 175 of the 1999 Constitution. The correlation between the number of pardoned persons and the actual section of the law shows a curious juvenile reasoning behind the exercise, made worse by the fact that most of the persons on the list are convicted murderers, drug traffickers, kidnappers, drug addicts, economic saboteurs and human rights criminals.

President Tinubu is therefore confronted with a moral question: why not Nnamdi Kanu, since this is a season of clemency, and he, the President has the powers within the Constitution to turn black into white, and make persons whole again? This is the urgent question of the moment in the eyes of Sowore and his band of protesters. But they may have to wait till sometime close to the 2027 general elections when President Tinubu may decide to use the Kanu matter as a potent political game changer in Nigeria’s game of chess and opportunism.      

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

By Suyi Ayodele

Years ago, when the sun used to rise and set at its time, a powerful farmer lived. History has it that at his coming of age, the man boasted that he would have the largest farm in his neighbourhood. He was said to have also told those who heard him boast that he would not work harder than any average farmer to achieve the feat. His strength, the powerful farmer told his listeners, is that he would do what nobody would ever do.

And true to his boast, the man’s farm became the talk of the town. He cultivated virgin lands and acquired old farms from their owners. Some voluntarily yielded their plantations to him. Many others were forced to give up their farmlands by circumstances beyond their control. Not a few ‘recalcitrant’ farmers, who resisted the acquisition of their farmlands, died mysteriously. The situation got to a point that nobody was willing to share farm boundaries with the powerful farmer.

He became the only farmer around. Other farmers ‘willingly’ turned farmhands on his plantation. At that point, the powerful farmer became a demigod. He decided who ate and who should go hungry. Even when a few others struggled to farm, the yields from their fields were too miserable. Yet, the harvests from the powerful farmer were bountiful. He sold, became rich and had in excess while others wallowed in abject poverty.

The elders of the land knew something was wrong. They knew that the trajectory was no longer normal. They decided to act. A powerful diviner was consulted. What came from the divination board was shocking. The Oracle revealed that the powerful farmer was not ordinary. Ifa disclosed that while the other farmers were relying on the strength of their hands, the powerful farmer did something esoteric.

According to Opèle, the powerful man consulted a sorcerer who made a charm that makes other people’s farm produce reduce in size while that of the powerful man grew in leaps and bounds. That metaphysics is known as Ako. Ako, Yoruba metaphysics says, is twofold. One, the worse of the two, kills individuals and makes their ghosts work on the charmer’s farm. The other simply makes the other farmers’ produce grow wretched while the charmer’s produce prospers. In the case of the powerful farmer, Ifa said he combined the two. That was why those who resisted him died prematurely.

What was the solution? The divination said that if they must get rid of the powerful farmer, the people must make a sacrifice of all edibles and add what is forbidden for the powerful farmer to eat. Once the man sees the sacrifice, the divination said, he would lose all his powers. And what was that item? They asked. Ifa responded that the people should find out by themselves. After all, it is said that there is nothing as accurate as a self-applied divination.

The elders left and made arrangements for the sacrifice. All the edibles were added and the pot placed on the farm road the powerful man takes to his farm. But after about three attempts and nothing happened, the elders returned to their diviner. The message they got was that there was something they did not add. Ifa asked them to go and think deeply at home.

To solve the riddle, the elders took counsel and decided to prepare another pot of sacrifice. But this time around, they appointed some men to hide in the bush to spy on the man and his reaction when he saw the sacrifice. The strategy worked. Early the following morning, when the man stumbled on the new pot of sacrifice, he laughed. He used his cutlass to check the items in the pot and laughed again. He then wondered aloud why the people would keep doing the same thing and expecting a different result. In his arrogance, he said, loudly to himself: “But they tried this time around. The only thing missing here is a lizard.” He upturned the pot and left for his farm.

Those hiding in the bush heard him clearly. They went back and reported their findings to the elders. The next day, another pot of sacrifice was waiting. But this time around, various types of lizards were added. The people did not want to take any chances.

When the powerful man got to the spot, he knew that something had happened to him. He did all he could to reverse the sacrifice. He chanted, moved to incantation; he did evocation and ended with invocation. All failed. The powers he had had been neutralised. The esikus (ghosts) of those working on his farm descended on him and clubbed him mercilessly. He was taken home half dead. His era of terror ended.

Our native upbringing does not allow a younger person to teach an elder the wisdom of life. But the name Ajáléonílébotìèléyin (A-já-lé-o-ní-lé-bo-ti-è-lé-yin) — he who plunders another’s house to fortify his own backyard — is instructive here.

It is also un-African for a child to say he has seen a lot when the elders are present. I subscribe to that native injunction. But it is equally safe for a child to say that the little he has seen is enough to teach a life lesson.

If President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is rejoicing today because all his political opponents are coming to his camp in droves, I will advise him to ask his diviners the implications. There is a reason why he should consult those who are wise on why nobody names his child Ajáléonílébotìèléyin.

This story above is derived from the legend of Ajáléonílébotìèléyin. Our elders say that we should tell he who removes other people’s roofs to cover his own porch to remember the day a whirlwind will remove his own roof (E so fún Ajáléonílébotìèléyin pé kó rántí ojó tí ìjì máa jà tó máa gbé ilé tiè lọ). When that time comes, they caution that there will be no place to take cover from the impending rain.

President Tinubu appears to be the luckiest man today in Nigeria. He should be happy about that. He has every reason to celebrate. His camp is also justified if the drums are rolled out in jollification. If the trend of defection continues, Tinubu will be contesting against Tinubu in 2027. But I don’t think President Tinubu should be happy because he is the only farmer whose farm harvest is bountiful.

Why do I think the President should not be happy? The story of Ajáléonílébotìèléyin tells me that. Names in my Yoruba background carry meanings. This particular one is not just a name but a legend. The wisdom of the name tells me that President Tinubu should not rejoice because he has no opposition to his painful rule over Nigeria.

Joy, in the African worldview, has a slender and delicate body. We call it ayò, abara tíntín (the tiny-bodied joy) in my place. Why did those before us give joy such a contrasting name? The elders of that era argued that within joy lies defeat, and at times, sadness.

When one is happy, they caution that such a person should not be overjoyed like the proverbial striped frog (Akere) which breaks its limbs while rejoicing. The story behind ayò àkèré (the joy of the striped frog) will, however, not be told today.

At the last count, President Tinubu’s All Progressives Congress (APC) has 24 governors in its kitty. Only God can tell if any governor will remain in the opposition parties before the 2027 general election. This is a great feat by the President. The simple implication is that President Tinubu today appears unbeatable. But is that true? Is there a man who cannot be defeated? Is there any champion for life? When a man is too powerful for his enemies to handle, what do our elders ask us to do? The answer to this last poser is the experience of life as taught by the name Ajáléonílébotìèléyin.

What President Tinubu is doing with the decimation of the opposition is exactly what the powerful farmer, Ajáléonílébotìèléyin, did to his fellow peasants. He can only thrive for a while. Those who believe that President Tinubu is the master strategist should know that very soon, the sacrificial pot waiting at the three-footpath for the President will contain an item that Tinubu is forbidden to eat. It will happen because nature does not allow an individual to answer the name “we-have-come” (Enikan kìí jé àwádé).

The president’s masquerade can dance alone for as long as he wants at the arena. It must surely exhaust all the stunts in its arsenal. Former Governor Rauf Aregbesola of Osun State hinted at that last week. We should pay more than a passing attention to the man known as Ogbeni. The whirlwind will surely come and blow off the roof of Ajáléonílébotìèléyin.

He cannot be the only one with a roof over his head. And because he had succeeded in the past in rendering other houses roofless, there will be no place of refuge from the impending inclement weather. Like they say on the street, everyone go chop breakfast. This is why I believe that it is too premature for Tinubu and his supporters to rejoice.

What the President and his APC are doing is not ordinary. The way the opposition bigwigs are rushing, like in Kwesi Brew’s poem Lest We Be The Last, to the ruling APC can only spell doom for the nation. The end, like Brew’s poem, will not be palatable to the defectors of today. Tinubu himself will find out too late that there is nothing to the defections. His harvested ‘friends’ have enough forbidden edibles in their bags.

This is one of the reasons I consider Governor Seyi Makinde of Oyo State’s reaction to the gale of defections that has hit the PDP as the most metaphorical reaction so far to the epidemic of defections sweeping across our political landscape. Looking at how politicians, especially fellow governors, are falling over one another to join the ruling APC, Makinde quipped that he was not moved by the number of the people defecting to the ruling party.

He added that he would “only be moved when hunger defects into the APC.” That was classic; that was deep in all ramifications. The statement has generated a lot of negative reactions, especially by the apologists of the ruling APC and the Dictator-General of Nigeria, President Tinubu, who today is the sole beneficiary of the harvest of defections.

Many have argued that it was ‘uncharitable’ of Governor Makinde to have mocked Nigerians for being hungry. Some said that it was ‘self-indicting’ and ‘insensitive’ to talk about poverty in the land. They argue that if indeed there is hunger in the land, Makinde is part of the people who inflicted that pain on the citizenry. I don’t hold the portfolio of Makinde’s publicist, and as such, I won’t defend him on that.

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

By Lasisi Olagunju

In mid-19th-century Ibadan, military expeditions under Balogun Ibikunle were so successful in slave-catching that by 1859, the city was gripped in the apprehension that it had harvested more slaves than it could control. Professor Bolanle Awe, citing missionary Hinderer’s Half-Yearly Report of Ibadan Station for that year, wrote that the oracle of Oke Badan had to intervene with a decree that Ibadan should desist from going to war for some time because there were “too many strange people in the town.”

People choke on their own success. If you doubt this, read Awe’s ‘Ajele System: A Study of Ibadan Imperialism in the Nineteenth Century’, published in December 1964. Power that eats with ten fingers, that feeds on endless acquisition will, sooner or later, find itself choking on its own gluttony.

At about the same period Ibadan trembled over the spectre of a slave insurrection, similar fears were roiling the American South. In May, 1939, distinguished professor of history, Harvey Wish (4 September, 1909 – 7 March, 1968), published his ‘The Slave Insurrection Panic of 1856’. In 1856, according to Wish, Stewart and Montgomery counties in Tennessee were gripped by panic. The combined slave population in those places stood at about 12,000 against 19,000 whites, but in many localities, the enslaved outnumbered their masters. In the iron districts along the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers, eight to ten thousand slaves laboured in mines and furnaces under a handful of overseers. A house stuffed with captives soon loses peace especially when the enslaved start demanding rights. The fear that the captives in those American communities might rise became as real as the chains that bound them.

The twin anxieties of Ibadan and Tennessee of the 1850s should speak to today’s All Progressives Congress (APC), which seems to have embarked on its own form of political slave-raiding expeditions, capturing opposition governors, lawmakers, and chieftains in a frenzy of conquest. History teaches that those who live by conquest often reel in pains of indigestion. Ask Afonja of Ilorin. The slaves he encouraged to defect into his army proved his nemesis.

There is that Nigerian comedian who combs his bald head. He is there online feasting on APC’s defection binge. The jester’s conclusion is that by 2027, Nigeria’s epic contest will be between APC and APC, a scenario he says will burst the belly of the overfed. There is a limit to how much the human stomach can hold before it rebels against its own greed. All manner of gluttony, including the political, have their limits and dangers. What Tennessee feared in 1856 did, indeed, happen in some places. Read Harvey Wish.

The Yoruba have sweet street slangs. You’ve heard of curing madness with madness (“wèrè l’a fi nwo wèrè”). You’ve not heard of “ko were, ko were.” Packing all sorts into all sorts; orísirísi. The Yoruba word ‘were’ means madness or the mad themselves. In some contexts ‘were’ also means idiocy/idiot; stupid/stupidity. “Ko were, ko were” is what my village friends call men who go for anything in a skirt. It is also what the rapacious do with their molue: Forty-nine sitting, ninety-nine standing. The bus is “fully full”, yet, the driver and conductor still yell to the street to hop in: “Wolé! Enter! No change!” It is never enough until some cranial vessels yield to bursting.

Shakespeare’s Angelo says in ‘Measure for Measure’ that “we must not make a scarecrow of the law, setting it up to fear the birds of prey…” We do that here. All our laws are scared and afraid of power. People break the law and dare the law to say something.

A tributary is a smaller river or stream that flows into a larger river or lake. River Oba is a tributary of the Osun River; it flows into it. The law says you can divorce River Oba, if you like, but you cannot give Oba’s child to Osun, your new husband. The powerful can snatch the wife of the weak, but he cannot snatch the child of the weak. Our constitution expressly forbids lawmakers from hopping from bed to bed, party to party, doing what common prostitutes do. Section 68(1)(g) of the constitution bars senators and Reps from contracting the syphilis of defection. Section 109(1)(g) prescribes the same taboo for lawmakers at the state level. Those two sections say if you insist on courting leprosy, you must be prepared to live in a leper colony, alone.

Our constitution says that a legislator who strays from the banner that bore him to victory must surrender his seat.

That law is dead here even when the exception to the rule is not present. The exception, the law says, is that defection is allowed only when there is a division within the legislator’s party or the party has merged with another. There is no division, there is no merger, yet lawmakers after lawmakers have changed parties like pants without consequences.

When is a democracy dead? It is dead when opposition sells itself to power. It is dead when law is dead, or whenever it is helpless; when rule of men replaces the rule of law; when government of men overthrows government of laws. Rule of men is a personal rule; it is what sits on the throne in an unaccountable society; a society in the mouth of dogs.

Aristotle wrote that “It is more proper that law should govern than any one of the citizens.” American professor of Law, Paul Gowder, in the winter of 2018 wrote ‘Resisting the Rule of Men’. Gowder contrasts “the rule of men” to “the rule of law.” He says “I will say that we have ‘the rule of men’ or ‘personal rule’ when those who wield the power of the state are not obliged to give reasons to those over whom that power is being wielded—from the standpoint of the ruled, the rulers may simply act on their brute desires.” Is that not what politicians do when, with impunity, they cross the road and dash their husbands’ children to their more powerful, wealthy lover across the street? Yet, they say this is a democracy.

“Democracy—What Is It?” Theodore M. Hart in a 1948 edition of The Georgia Review asked as he threw the question at a class of veterans. He got 32 answers. The last of the answers, he says, is the “farthest thing from a definition that could well be imagined.” This is it: “The right to defy a ruler, the right to believe in the right, the right to read the truth, the right to speak the truth, the sky free of destruction, the water free of danger, the trees, the earth, the house I live in, my friends and relatives, the school I go to, the church I attend – that’s Democracy.” It is a mouthful. Before that definition, there have been shorter ones that we won’t like to teach our kids here. One of them says ‘Democracy’ is “that no man should have more power than another.” Another says it is “a government in which the source of authority (political) must be and remain in the people and not in the ruler.” The opposite holds sway here. Ruling party politicians are the law; it is into their maximum ocean that all rivers must empty their waters.

Politicians, governors and lawmakers of all tendencies are massing into one party, the ruling party, like the forces of Julius Caesar whose feet are already in the Rubicon. There is also the perception that the judiciary is collapsing (or has collapsed) its structures into the ruling party.

It is futile as it is dangerous, self-destructive and self-destructing to seek to have a Kabiyesi presidency, a democracy without opposition. French philosopher, Montesquieu, in his Esprit des Lois, published in I748, wrote: “There would be an end of everything if one man or one body, whether of princes, nobles, or people exercised these three powers: that of making the laws, of executing the public resolutions, and of judging the cases of individuals.”

William Shakespeare in ‘Measure for Measure’ warns that possessing great power tempts one toward tyranny.

Shakespeare’s character, Isabella, tells power-drunk Angelo, deputy to the Duke of Vienna:

“O! it is excellent

To have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous

To use it like a giant.”

Now, what is the value and essence of a presidential power that cannot crush, enslave or imprison governors? Where is the value?

In George Orwell’s novel, ‘1984’ we are shown that the party’s omnipotence is not freedom but imprisonment. The story teller asks humanity to accept that the pursuit of total power, total control over thought, over history, and reality, traps power and the power wielder in perpetual manipulation.

But power is powerful; it never listens to reason. Ikem Osodi, Chinua Achebe’s radical character says in ‘Anthills of the Savannah’ that “The prime failure of rulers is to forget that they are human.” Are rulers really human? In Yoruba history and belief, they are ‘alase’ (executive) deputy of the gods. Before Achebe there was Lord Acton who famously said that “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.” Someone said power, when unrestrained, imprisons its possessor in illusion.

It is not the fault of power that it extends and distends and stretches itself thin. It is because the world seductively craves the king’s dominance. So, let us not blame power; we should blame the people as they query the worth of freedom that bears no food. Because literature is life, it is there in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s ‘The Brothers Karamazov’. There, we read in The Grand Inquisitor’s monologue, a story within a story: “For who can rule men if not he who holds their conscience and their bread in his hands?” The Inquisitor informs the Lord that humanity had “taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it, of course, have rejected Thee and followed him.” They will always follow Caesar because he alone has bread to distribute from north to south.

The devil is not a liar; if he is a liar, he won’t say the truth. And what is the truth? It is in the Inquisitor’s mouth, it is that seeing freedom and bread walking together is inconceivable; that no science will give the people bread “so long as they remain free.” Governors, senators, Reps – all have surrendered to the bread and butter of power. Automatic tickets, automatic victory at the polls, cheap victory over the people. What power is saying in silence is said loudly by Dostoevsky’s Inquisitor: “In the end, they will lay their freedom at our feet and say to us, ‘Make us your slaves, but feed us.’”

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