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The royal mistress who ran Buckingham Palace—and her great-granddaughter who stole the crown

She was a politician whisperer, financial genius, and the King’s undisputed second wife in all but name. Her exit from court was chaotic, but her bloodline grabbed the crown.

Alice Keppel made being a royal mistress an art form. And 100 years later, her great-granddaughter would do it all over again.

Born Alice Edmonstone in 1868, she grew up in Duntreath Castle in Scotland, the youngest of eleven children. Her family descended from Scottish royalty. She was beautiful—chestnut hair, blue eyes, a tiny waist—but more importantly, she was charming, witty, and devastatingly discreet.

At 23, she married Lieutenant Colonel George Keppel, a handsome army officer from a noble family. There was just one problem: George had no money. As a younger son, he’d inherited a prestigious name and absolutely nothing else.

Alice needed to maintain their lifestyle in London’s high society. So she did what many ambitious women of that era did: she took wealthy lovers.
Her husband didn’t object. In fact, George once said: “I do not mind what she does as long as she comes back to me in the end.”
And she always did. Their marriage, according to their daughters, was filled with “companionship, love and laughter.” George had his own affairs. They had an arrangement that somehow… worked.

But in February 1898, Alice met someone who would change everything.
At a society party in London, the 29-year-old Alice was introduced to Albert Edward, Prince of Wales—the 56-year-old heir to the British throne. The prince, known as “Bertie,” was notorious for his appetites. Food. Drink. Women. He’d had at least 55 mistresses throughout his life, earning the nickname “Dirty Bertie.”

He was also desperately bored, married to Princess Alexandra of Denmark, who preferred quiet family life to his constant need for parties, travel, and stimulation.
Within weeks of meeting, Alice became his official mistress.
And here’s where Alice’s genius showed: she made everyone happy.

The Prince got a mistress who could calm his legendary temper, keep him entertained, and never cause a scandal. George got financial security—the King arranged a high-paying job for him with Sir Thomas Lipton of the tea empire. Queen Alexandra got peace—because Alice was discreet, unlike previous mistresses who’d flaunted their positions.

Even the government ministers were relieved. They would approach Alice before presenting controversial policies to the Prince, asking her to put him in a good mood first.
The Prince visited Alice regularly at her home in Portman Square. George would conveniently leave. It was all very civilized.

Instead of giving her money directly, the King gave Alice shares in a rubber company. They gained her £50,000—equivalent to £7.5 million today. His financial advisers managed her investments. She became wealthy in her own right.
In 1901, Queen Victoria died. Bertie ascended the throne as King Edward VII. Alice’s position didn’t diminish—it strengthened. She traveled with him to Biarritz every year. She hosted the most sought-after dinner parties in London. Politicians, diplomats, and royalty competed for invitations.

She was, in every way except legally, a second queen.
For twelve years, the arrangement continued. The King loved her. The Queen tolerated her. Society accepted her. Alice Keppel had achieved what no other royal mistress had: respectability.

But in 1909, the King’s health began failing. Years of excessive eating, drinking, and smoking had caught up with him. He collapsed during a state visit. In March 1910, he collapsed again in France and spent weeks convalescing.

When he returned to England in May 1910, he suffered multiple heart attacks.
Lying in bed at Buckingham Palace, King Edward VII asked for Alice. Queen Alexandra reluctantly allowed her into his bedroom while he was still conscious.

Then, on May 6, 1910, the King lost consciousness. Queen Alexandra turned to the doctor and hissed: “Get that woman away.”
But Alice couldn’t be moved. The normally composed, perfectly discreet Alice Keppel completely broke down. She screamed. She wailed. She had to be physically dragged from the room by members of the Royal Household.

At 11:30 PM that night, King Edward VII died at age 68.
Alice was so mortified by her outburst that she spent years downplaying it, pretending it hadn’t been that dramatic. But eventually, she admitted the truth: she had loved him, and she’d been unable to control herself.

Ten days later, at the King’s funeral, Queen Alexandra made a final gesture. She allowed Alice to attend.
But Alice’s time was over. The new King, George V, didn’t approve of his father’s lifestyle. He excluded Alice from court entirely. In November 1910, just months after the King’s death, the Keppels left England.

They traveled for two years—Ceylon, China, across Asia—before returning to London in 1912. But the Edwardian era was finished. Alice continued hosting parties, but she was a relic of a bygone age.
In 1925, Alice and George moved permanently to Italy, buying Villa dell’Ombrellino near Florence—a palazzo once owned by Galileo. They entertained exiled royalty and Winston Churchill at lavish gatherings.

Then in 1936, everything came full circle.
King Edward VIII—grandson of Alice’s former lover—abdicated the throne to marry Wallis Simpson, an American divorcée. The scandal rocked Britain.
Alice, dining at the Ritz Hotel when the news broke, was heard to declare: “Things were done much better in my day.”

She was right. In her era, royal mistresses knew their place. They were discreet. They didn’t break up the monarchy. They certainly didn’t make the King give up his throne.
During World War II, the Keppels returned to England. Alice famously said she preferred “bombs to boredom” and moved into the Ritz rather than stay in the countryside.

In 1946, they returned to their Italian villa. Alice was ill by then. On September 11, 1947, at age 79, she died of cirrhosis of the liver.
George Keppel was devastated. After 56 years of marriage—through affairs, scandals, and a King—he’d never stopped loving her.

Two and a half months later, on November 22, 1947, George died at the Ritz Hotel in London.
They said he couldn’t live without her.
They’re buried together in Florence.

And here’s where history gets deliciously ironic:
Through Alice’s younger daughter Sonia, she became the great-grandmother of Camilla Parker Bowles—now Queen Camilla.

And Camilla, like her great-grandmother before her, became the mistress of a Prince of Wales. Charles, the great-great-grandson of Alice’s King Edward VII, loved Camilla for decades while married to someone else.
History didn’t just rhyme. It repeated exactly.

Two women, related by blood but born a century apart, both fell in love with married heirs to the British throne. Both endured scandal. Both eventually triumphed.
The difference? Alice never became queen. She died a mistress.

Camilla did what Alice never could. She married her prince and wore the crown.
The British Royal Mail issued a 1995 “Greetings in Art” stamp featuring a photograph titled “Alice Keppel with her Daughter” taken by Alice Hughes in 1899. The mother was Alice Keppel and her eldest daughter, Violet. Queen Elizabeth II approved it personally. Because by then, everyone understood: Alice Keppel hadn’t been scandalous. She’d been ahead of her time. She’d found a way to make an impossible situation work for everyone involved.

She was the King’s mistress. Her husband knew. The Queen knew. Society knew.
And for twelve glorious years, nobody minded at all.

Read More here. https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/arts-and-culture/a34659540/alice-keppel-camilla-ancestor-mistress/

The ₦20m Signal: As Nigeria’s ‘Olodo uprising’ gathers steam, Sanwo-Olu bets big on brains over celebrity

LAGOS — In a country where academic brilliance has too often been rewarded with little more than applause, certificates, plaques—and, in some notorious cases, a handshake—Lagos State Governor and Visitor to Lagos State University (LASU), Babajide Sanwo-Olu, has sent a powerful signal in a different direction.

At the university’s 29th and 30th combined convocation ceremonies on Wednesday, August 19, the governor awarded N20 million each to the overall best graduating students for the 2024/2025 and 2025/2026 academic sessions, bringing the total personal cash reward to N40 million.

The beneficiaries are Ayilara Olawale, who graduated from the Department of Project Management with a remarkable 4.96 CGPA, and Adebanjo Samuel Oluolamide, an Aerospace Engineering graduate who recorded an even higher 4.97 CGPA.

The gesture deserves to be viewed as more than an act of generosity. It is a statement about what society chooses to value.

For decades, Nigeria has struggled with a deeply distorted reward culture in which exceptional academic performance has frequently attracted derisory prizes, while entertainment, reality television and celebrity culture command enormous financial rewards and publicity.

That contrast has not gone unnoticed by young Nigerians.

From handshake to N20 million

The irony has, at various times, been almost embarrassing.

Investigations and commentaries over the years have documented extraordinary disparities in the way Nigeria rewards intellectual achievement. One widely reported account found cases in which best graduating students received sums ranging from N200 to a few thousand naira, with some academic prizes consisting of items as modest as a tuber of yam or a fowl.

In another reported case, a student who won seven academic awards after years of outstanding study received just N540,000 in total. Meanwhile, reality-show winners were receiving tens of millions of naira, cars and other valuable prizes.

The disparity became particularly conspicuous with the rise of Big Brother Naija and similar reality shows. At various points, winners have walked away with enormous cash prizes and substantial material rewards, while students who spent four, five, six or more years pursuing academic excellence were sometimes rewarded with amounts that barely acknowledged the effort involved.

This is not an argument against rewarding entertainment.

Entertainment has economic value. Popular culture creates jobs, attracts investment, generates advertising revenue and provides leisure. Reality television contestants are entitled to compete for whatever prizes sponsors are prepared to offer.

The problem is the message created when entertainment is consistently valued in millions while intellectual achievement is treated as though it were a hobby.

A society teaches its young people what it truly values not only through speeches, but through its reward systems.

The dangerous message of “Olodo uprising”

It is against this background that Nigeria’s increasingly visible “school na scam” mentality—and what may loosely be described as an “Olodo uprising”—should be understood.

The phrase is deliberately provocative, but the underlying phenomenon is serious.

When young people repeatedly see academic distinction produce little economic or social dividend, while visibility, controversy, entertainment and celebrity can produce instant wealth, it becomes increasingly difficult to persuade them that years of disciplined study, intellectual curiosity and academic excellence matter.

Why spend years reading, researching and competing for First Class honours if the ultimate reward is a handshake, a certificate and uncertainty about employment?

Why endure the rigours of professional education when someone can become a multimillionaire from a television show?

Those questions may be simplistic, but they are not entirely irrational responses to the incentives young Nigerians have observed around them.

A 2025 Guardian analysis captured the problem starkly, reporting that some of Nigeria’s best graduating students and young innovators were still receiving prizes ranging from N200 to N2,500, certificates or even a handshake, while sports and entertainment stars could attract awards worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. The paper argued that such disparities risk reinforcing the perception that education is a poor investment.

That is why the LASU gesture is significant.

Rewarding excellence is also nation-building

Sanwo-Olu’s decision effectively says to students: Your intellectual labour has value.

It tells the student who spends nights studying, researching and solving difficult problems that excellence will not necessarily go unnoticed.

It tells parents that academic achievement can still be celebrated in material terms.

It tells universities that their best students deserve more than ceremonial recognition.

And, perhaps most importantly, it tells society that brains are worth investing in.

The timing is particularly significant.

LASU says the 2024/2025 and 2025/2026 graduating cohorts comprise 20,604 graduates, including 494 First Class graduates and 3,383 postgraduate students, among them 238 PhD graduates.

Those numbers represent thousands of young people entering a difficult economy at a moment when Nigeria desperately needs competence—in science, engineering, medicine, law, technology, public administration, business, education and the humanities.

Among them is Oluolamide, the Aerospace Engineering graduate with a 4.97 CGPA. That is not merely a transcript. It represents years of discipline, intellectual stamina and sustained performance.

Putting N20 million behind such achievement gives that accomplishment a visibility that a certificate alone cannot provide.

A model that deserves to spread

There is another encouraging dimension to the story.

The N20 million award did not emerge in isolation. Oluolamide had already been recognised under the Sunbeth Excellence Partnership Programme, which presented him with a N10 million award before the governor’s additional N20 million personal gift.

This is precisely the kind of ecosystem Nigeria should be building.

Government, universities, foundations, corporations and philanthropists can all participate in creating a culture where excellence attracts meaningful recognition.

Imagine if every state governor adopted a similar programme.

Imagine if major Nigerian corporations competed—not merely for celebrity endorsements—but for the opportunity to sponsor the best graduating student in engineering, medicine, law, computer science, agriculture, economics or the sciences.

Imagine if universities had properly endowed prizes capable of changing the lives of their highest-performing students.

Imagine if academic competitions received the same publicity and sponsorship machinery routinely deployed for entertainment.

The effect would go beyond the individual winners. It would alter aspiration.

From “school na scam” to “school pays”

For too long, Nigeria has allowed its reward system to undermine its educational message.

We tell young people to study hard, acquire skills and become useful citizens. Then society sometimes rewards entirely different attributes more handsomely.

That contradiction cannot continue indefinitely without consequences.

The answer is not to diminish entertainment or begrudge reality-show winners their prizes. The answer is to raise the value placed on education, research, innovation and intellectual achievement.

The ₦20 million LASU awards therefore deserve to be celebrated not simply because two graduates have become richer.

They deserve attention because they represent a potentially important change in the national conversation about merit. Sanwo-Olu has put a substantial price tag on academic excellence.

Perhaps more governors, universities, businesses and wealthy Nigerians will now ask themselves a simple question:

What would happen if we made being brilliant, disciplined and academically exceptional worth celebrating—and worth something substantial?

In a country where the “Olodo uprising” sometimes appears louder than the culture of scholarship, N20 million for excellence is more than money. It is a signpost. And it points in the right direction. Nigeria should follow it.

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When the Law Begins to Understand: FEC moves to decriminalise attempted suicide

ABUJA — Nigeria may be approaching an important turning point in the way it treats people who attempt suicide.

The Federal Executive Council (FEC) has approved a proposal to amend the country’s mental-health legislation and decriminalise attempted suicide, moving away from a system that can treat a person in acute psychological distress as a criminal offender rather than someone in need of care.

Announcing the decision after Wednesday’s FEC meeting, the Coordinating Minister of Health and Social Welfare, Professor Muhammad Ali Pate, said the proposed amendment would be transmitted to the National Assembly for consideration.

It must be noted however, that FEC’s approval is the beginning of the legislative process, not the repeal of the existing provisions.

Under Section 327 of the Criminal Code, attempting to kill oneself is a misdemeanour punishable by up to one year in prison, while Section 231 of the Penal Code provides similar sanctions in northern Nigeria.

The proposed reform would fundamentally change the philosophy behind those provisions.

Instead of asking how a person who attempted suicide should be punished, the state would be required to ask what drove that person to such a point—and what can be done to keep them alive.

That argument is not new.

The question Ibe Ikwechegh raised

In 2018, lawyer Ibe Ikwechegh, writing in Law and Society Magazine under the title “What the Law Doesn’t Know About Suicide,” questioned whether criminal law adequately understood the circumstances surrounding suicidal behaviour.

His intervention remains remarkably relevant.

Ikwechegh’s argument was that the law could identify the act and prescribe punishment without necessarily understanding the human being behind it. A person who reaches the point of attempting suicide may be dealing with depression, trauma, grief, abuse, isolation, financial distress or a combination of circumstances that cannot be addressed through prosecution.

The question, therefore, is a practical one: What does imprisonment achieve when the person may already be in profound psychological distress?

The Federal Government now appears to be answering that question differently.

Pate said the criminalisation of attempted suicide is inconsistent with the supportive and treatment-oriented approach of the National Mental Health Act 2021 and can discourage people from seeking help.

That is perhaps the most compelling argument for reform. If someone contemplating suicide fears that disclosure could result in arrest or prosecution, the law may inadvertently become another barrier between that person and help.

Decriminalisation is only the first step

Removing attempted suicide from the criminal law would be significant, but it would not by itself solve Nigeria’s mental-health crisis.

A person who survives an attempt needs somewhere to go after the emergency has passed: access to psychological assessment, counselling, psychiatric care where necessary and sustained follow-up. Families need guidance. Schools, universities and workplaces need systems for recognising serious distress and responding appropriately.

Nigeria also needs to invest substantially more in mental-health services.

Pate cited estimates of more than 7,000 suicide deaths annually, about 300,000 attempts and more than 450,000 people requiring psychosocial support each year. The Federal Government has set a target of reducing suicide deaths and attempts by 15 per cent by 2030.

Whatever the limitations of suicide data collection, the figures point to a problem far too large for the criminal justice system to address.

The issue is fundamentally about prevention and care.

A conversation whose time has come

Nigeria has been debating this reform for several years. Previous legislative proposals have sought to replace criminal sanctions with counselling and other rehabilitative measures, reflecting growing recognition that punishment is an inadequate response to suicidal behaviour.

FEC’s decision now gives the reform significant executive backing.

The National Assembly should use the opportunity not merely to remove the offence, but to strengthen the wider framework for suicide prevention, crisis intervention and mental-health care. That is where the real test will lie.

A change in the statute book matters, but a person in crisis ultimately needs more than a better law. They need a healthcare system capable of reaching them, a family that knows where to turn, professionals who can help and a society prepared to treat psychological distress with the same seriousness accorded to physical illness.

This is why Ikwechegh’s question reamins relevant. The law has traditionally focused on what the person did. The emerging approach asks a more important question: What happened to the person?

Nigeria’s proposed reform suggests that, at last, the second question is beginning to matter as much as the first. And that could be a significant step towards a more humane mental-health policy.

Editor’s note: FEC has approved the proposed amendment, but attempted suicide remains a criminal offence until the National Assembly completes the legislative process and the amendment takes legal effect.

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Port Harcourt takes centre stage as NBA’s 66th Annual General Conference begins tomorrow

PORT HARCOURT, RIVERS STATE — Port Harcourt is taking centre stage as thousands of lawyers and leading figures from Nigeria’s legal, judicial, public and business communities converge on the Rivers State capital for the 66th Annual General Conference of the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA).

The conference, scheduled for 21–28 August 2026 at the Yakubu Gowon Stadium, Port Harcourt, is being held under the theme “Beyond Limits”—a forward-looking call for the Nigerian legal profession to transcend conventional boundaries, embrace innovation and respond more decisively to the changing demands of justice, governance and professional practice.

The NBA describes the Annual General Conference as its flagship gathering, bringing together thousands of legal practitioners, members of the judiciary, policymakers and corporate and institutional partners for a week of professional learning, policy conversations, networking and social engagement. The official conference platform bills the Port Harcourt edition as “The Greatest Legal Gathering in Africa,” while the association’s sponsorship materials describe it as Africa’s largest legal conference.

A Conference Designed to Push the Profession “Beyond Limits”

The choice of “Beyond Limits” as the conference theme was announced by NBA President Mazi Afam Osigwe, SAN, in January 2026. According to the NBA, the theme represents a challenge to the profession to move beyond established boundaries, embrace innovation and confront the evolving demands of justice delivery, governance and professional excellence.

The Port Harcourt conference is therefore expected to go beyond the traditional format of lectures and professional meetings. Its programme combines plenary discussions, specialised sessions, exhibitions, networking opportunities, institutional business and social events, while also providing a platform for lawyers to examine developments shaping the future of legal practice in Nigeria.

The official programme includes plenary sessions, legal and corporate exhibitions, committee and Special Interest Group sessions, the Young Lawyers’ Forum, the Friendship Centre, the President’s Dinner and UNBARRED, among other activities.

Port Harcourt Gets Ready

The build-up to the conference has already generated considerable momentum. In July, the NBA announced that conference materials were ready for collection by delegates, while the Association’s leadership undertook an inspection tour of the Yakubu Gowon Stadium to assess facilities and preparations for the event.

NBA President Afam Osigwe, SAN, said the inspection was intended to ensure that the venue and other arrangements met the standards expected of the Association’s flagship conference. The NBA subsequently declared that preparations were gathering momentum and that Port Harcourt was ready to welcome the Bar.

The scale of interest was evident much earlier in the year. By 1 April 2026, more than 18,345 delegates had registered, according to the NBA’s Conference Planning Committee. The Association said the figure reflected the strong response to the Port Harcourt edition and urged intending participants to complete their registration.

A Week of Professional, Institutional and Social Engagement

The conference opens on Friday, 21 August, setting the tone for a week that combines professional activities with religious, community and social engagements.

The opening days will feature activities designed to encourage interaction among delegates and strengthen the connection between the Bar and the host city. These include religious services, a health walk, environmental and community initiatives, meetings of NBA leadership structures and opportunities for delegates to network ahead of the formal opening.

The programme also provides for the Opening Ceremony on Sunday, 23 August, alongside the opening of the Friendship Centre, before the conference moves into its substantive professional sessions.

From 24 to 26 August, attention will increasingly turn to the core business of the conference, with plenary and specialised sessions examining issues relevant to legal practice, justice delivery, governance, business and emerging developments in the profession.

Among the subjects already highlighted by the NBA is the business of legal fees, with a dedicated session scheduled for Wednesday, 26 August. The session is expected to examine the valuation of legal services, sustainable pricing and effective recovery of professional fees—issues with direct implications for the economic sustainability of legal practice.

Distinguished Voices from the Bench, Bar and Public Life

The conference is also attracting prominent figures from the legal profession and wider public life.

One of the recently announced highlights is the participation of Professor Yemi Osinbajo, GCON, SAN, former Vice President of Nigeria and a professor of law, who will deliver the President’s Dinner Talk. Osinbajo will also participate in a plenary session, where he is expected to share perspectives on leadership, governance, the legal profession and Nigeria’s future.

The NBA has also announced the participation of Hon. Justice Amina Augie, JSC (Rtd.), former Justice of the Supreme Court of Nigeria, further underscoring the emphasis on engagement between the Bench, Bar and wider legal community.

The programme is expected to bring together senior advocates, judges, academics, policymakers, government officials, business executives, legal technology providers and other stakeholders whose work intersects with law and justice.

More Than a Lawyers’ Conference

Beyond the conference hall, the NBA AGC is positioning itself as a major networking and professional marketplace.

The official conference exhibition is expected to provide a platform for law firms, financial institutions, legal technology companies, publishers and professional service organisations to showcase their products and services. The NBA estimates a delegate footfall of more than 20,000, highlighting the growing economic and institutional significance of the annual gathering.

The social calendar is equally substantial. The President’s Dinner, scheduled for 25 August, is designed to bring together members of the Bench and Bar, senior advocates, public officials, business leaders and distinguished guests. The conference programme also features UNBARRED, the NBA’s signature social experience combining entertainment, culture, conversation and networking.

A South-South Return

The choice of Port Harcourt carries significance beyond logistics.

When the NBA unveiled the 2026 theme and logo, President Afam Osigwe said the decision to return the Association’s flagship conference to the South-South region reflected a commitment to national inclusion, balance and deliberate engagement with lawyers across Nigeria’s regions.

For Rivers State and Port Harcourt, the conference also presents an opportunity to showcase the city to thousands of legal professionals and business leaders from across Nigeria and beyond.

As delegates begin arriving, the Garden City is consequently assuming a different role—not merely as host to a professional conference, but as the meeting point for conversations about the future of law, justice, governance and professional excellence in Nigeria.

With the Bar, Bench, government, academia and business community expected to share the same platform, the central question of the 2026 gathering is captured in its theme: How far can the Nigerian legal profession go when it chooses to move beyond its established limits?

For the next seven days, Port Harcourt will be where that conversation takes place.

Conference: Nigerian Bar Association 66th Annual General Conference
Theme: Beyond Limits
Date: 21–28 August 2026
Venue: Yakubu Gowon Stadium, Port Harcourt, Rivers State
Host: Nigerian Bar Association
Conference Planning Committee Chairman: Abdul Mohammed, SAN
NBA President: Mazi Afam Osigwe, SAN

Official conference portal: NBA AGC 2026

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She survived being set ablaze. Now she wants her husband freed.

Berida Irawo suffered life-threatening burns after police say her husband poured petrol on her and set her ablaze. Days later, she is asking that he be forgiven—a heartbreaking pattern experts say is all too common in domestic violence cases.

The decision by a Kogi woman to plead for the release of the husband accused of setting her on fire has rekindled debate about one of the least understood aspects of domestic violence: Why victims of extreme abuse often become their alleged attackers’ strongest defenders.

Mrs. Berida Irawo, who remains hospitalised after suffering severe burns in what police describe as an attempted homicide, has reportedly appealed for forgiveness for her husband, Jacob Irawo, despite allegations that he deliberately doused her with petrol and set her ablaze during a domestic dispute.

Her plea, confirmed after a visit by cleric John Esiga Abu, has surprised many Nigerians. For professionals who work with survivors of domestic abuse, however, it is a tragically familiar response.

The Kogi State Police Command arrested Jacob Irawo following the incident, which occurred on August 14 at Oworo Estate in the Felele area of Lokoja.

According to police, preliminary investigations indicate that an argument broke out after Mrs. Irawo allegedly disposed of some of her husband’s clothes, believing he no longer needed them.

Investigators say the disagreement escalated dramatically. The suspect allegedly threatened his wife, retrieved petrol from his motorcycle and set her on fire.

He was subsequently arrested and is being investigated for alleged attempted culpable homicide.

During a visit to the hospital on Tuesday, Pastor John Esiga Abu disclosed that the victim had appealed for mercy.

He also dismissed widespread claims circulating on social media that the suspect is a pastor, clarifying that he is a schoolteacher and an ordinary member of his church.

According to Abu, Mrs. Irawo has responded well to treatment and is expected to be discharged in the coming days.

He added that, in his view, the suspect should undergo psychiatric evaluation and rehabilitation before any consideration of forgiveness, while recommending that the couple live apart for the time being.

His comments have generated widespread discussion online, but the victim’s appeal has drawn even greater attention because it reflects a pattern repeatedly documented in domestic violence cases.

For many survivors, leaving an abusive relationship—or supporting the prosecution of an abusive partner—is rarely straightforward.

Psychologists describe a range of factors that may influence such decisions, including trauma bonding, fear of retaliation, financial dependence, concern for children, emotional attachment, religious convictions, family pressure and the hope that the abuse will not happen again. These dynamics can make victims reluctant to cooperate with investigators even after life-threatening assaults.

Women’s rights advocates in Nigeria say the problem is compounded by social expectations that encourage women to preserve marriages at almost any cost, even where their safety is at risk.

The consequences extend beyond individual families.

Prosecutors handling domestic violence cases have frequently complained that victims later withdraw complaints, refuse to testify or ask that charges be dropped. Those decisions, while deeply personal, can complicate criminal proceedings, particularly where prosecutions depend heavily on a victim’s evidence.

Legal experts, however, note that offences involving attempted murder or grievous bodily harm are crimes against the State, not merely private disputes between spouses. As a result, prosecutors may proceed with charges where sufficient independent evidence exists, even if a victim later asks that the suspect be forgiven.

That principle has become increasingly important as Nigeria seeks to strengthen its response to gender-based violence.

Campaigners argue that treating serious domestic abuse as a private family matter has, for decades, enabled cycles of violence to continue behind closed doors. They contend that meaningful accountability requires investigations to proceed on the strength of available evidence rather than solely on whether traumatised victims are willing—or able—to pursue prosecution.

The Kogi case has once again brought that difficult reality into public view.

For many observers, the question is no longer simply why a woman would forgive a man accused of setting her on fire. The more difficult question is whether Nigeria’s justice system is equipped to protect victims whose first instinct, even after surviving extreme violence, is to shield the very person accused of inflicting it.

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State Of Osun and allied matters, By Olufunke Baruwa

Osun has once again demonstrated that Nigerian politics is less about permanent friendships than temporary arithmetic. In the space of one electoral cycle, yesterday’s allies became today’s adversaries, former adversaries discovered new reasons to cooperate, political parties changed candidates and candidates changed parties without necessarily losing their political structures.

When the votes were finally counted, Ademola Adeleke had won a second term, but the more revealing story was how he won it: by navigating shifting loyalties, old grudges, new alliances and the ever-present shadow of 2027.

There was, however, another player in the election that did not appear on the ballot: the state of the Nigerian economy. Voters do not live in party headquarters; they live in households, markets, farms and offices, judging politics against the daily price of food, transport, electricity and other necessities. That may be one of the most important messages from Osun for the All Progressives Congress (APC) as 2027 approaches.

The Election Behind the Election

On the surface, the result was straightforward. Adeleke, running on the Accord platform, defeated APC candidate Bola Oyebamiji, winning 19 of the state’s 30 local government areas, while the ADC’s Najeem Salaam came a distant third.

But Osun 2026 was never simply Accord versus APC. The APC’s defeat then was aided by internal fractures, particularly the bitter estrangement between the camps of former governor Rauf Aregbesola and Gboyega Oyetola. Four years later, those political histories continued to cast long shadows.

Aregbesola was now associated with the African Democratic Congress, while Oyebamiji emerged as the APC candidate. Meanwhile, Adeleke demonstrated one of the peculiarities of Nigerian politics: changing a party does not necessarily mean abandoning one’s political structure. Although he contested under Accord, significant PDP interests in the state rallied behind him. The PDP itself did not present a candidate. This was politics as network rather than ideology.

The APC understood the danger and attempted to reconcile its factions. But reports after the election suggested that some internal grievances remained unresolved and that some party stakeholders were reluctant to mobilise fully for Oyebamiji. The lesson is an old one, but Nigerian parties repeatedly rediscover it at great electoral cost: a party can possess an impressive national structure and still lose a state if its local political family is divided.

The Economy Was Also on the Ballot

It would be a mistake to explain APC’s defeat entirely through Osun’s internal political arithmetic. There was an economic undercurrent to the election that should concern the ruling party.

The current administration has legitimate economic achievements to point to. Inflation has fallen considerably from the extraordinarily high levels that followed the initial phase of the administration’s reforms; the government points to stronger growth, improved foreign-exchange stability and increased investor confidence.

The problem is that macroeconomic improvement and household experience are not the same thing. Many households continue to struggle with food, transport, fuel and other essential costs. This is where politics becomes dangerous for an incumbent government.

A government may correctly say that inflation has fallen. The voter may correctly respond that prices are still far higher than they were before the crisis. The government may point to improved foreign-exchange liquidity. The trader may respond that imported goods remain expensive. The government may cite GDP growth. The unemployed graduate asks where the job is.

Elections, however, are ultimately decided by the voter who asks not whether the economy is improving statistically, but whether his or her life is improving.

That distinction appears to have mattered in Osun, in a particularly difficult political environment before 2027. The greater political danger is that economic pain can turn an election into a judgement on the entire governing establishment. Voters may not separate federal reform from state-level performance when the same party controls both levels. In that circumstance, every increase in household costs becomes politically relevant, regardless of which tier of government caused it. This is especially important in an off-cycle election, where the ruling party cannot rely on the momentum of a presidential contest to pull its candidates along.

Adeleke won because he had a formidable political organisation, incumbency, a recognisable personal brand and an opposition that was not sufficiently united not forgetting a global music icon, Davido. But the economic mood made the APC’s task harder.

Adeleke’s Victory and the Politics of Separation

Adeleke’s most impressive achievement was his ability to make the election sufficiently about Adeleke and Osun, rather than APC versus the opposition.

The President remained politically relevant to the contest. He congratulated Adeleke after the result and urged him to unite the state, while the President’s supporters had hoped the election would demonstrate the APC’s strength in one of its most important political regions.

Adeleke managed to maintain a degree of political separation between his state-level contest and the national political contest ahead of 2027.

Nigerian voters are perfectly capable of making different choices at different levels. A voter can support Tinubu for President and Adeleke for governor, or vice versa. Party identification is increasingly elastic, especially when candidates have strong personal networks.

The warning signal is that the APC could not convert the considerable advantages of incumbency at the federal level, presidential influence and party machinery into victory in a state that should have been highly competitive. That points to a broader problem: political capital at the centre does not automatically translate into votes at the grassroots.

The 2027 Warning

Osun therefore offers at least four lessons for 2027.

First, internal cohesion will matter more than political grandstanding. The APC can win a national election and still suffer damaging losses if its state structures are consumed by primaries, succession battles and factional grievances.

Second, economic performance will be judged at the kitchen-table level. Falling inflation is good news; it becomes politically meaningful only when citizens feel an improvement in purchasing power. If the economy continues to improve on paper without a corresponding improvement in household welfare, the political dividend may be disappointingly small.

Third, alliances are becoming more fluid. Adeleke’s journey from PDP to Accord, the shifting relationships around Aregbesola and Oyetola, and the realignments around the ADC demonstrate that politicians are increasingly willing to cross traditional party boundaries. The party that wins in 2027 may therefore be the party or coalition that manages these networks most effectively.

Fourth, off-cycle elections are laboratories for the general election. Osun has shown what happens when incumbency, personality, local structures, national economic sentiment and opposition fragmentation collide.

For the opposition, it is equally a warning. The ADC and other emerging formations may attract prominent politicians, but prominence is not the same as electoral structure. And for Adeleke, victory brings its own obligation. A second term removes the excuse of unfinished business. He must now demonstrate that the political energy that delivered victory can be converted into better governance, jobs, infrastructure and a more productive state economy. That, ultimately, is the larger significance of Osun 2026.

The election was about alliances, but it was also about anxiety. It was about political loyalties, but also about livelihoods. It was about old rivalries, but also about a generation of voters asking increasingly impatient questions about what government actually does for them.

The politicians may have been counting alliances. The voters were counting the cost of living. And that is perhaps the most important number the politicians should carry from Osun into 2027.

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

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At 20, Khalifa Aminu is building a new vision for the visually impaired

Growing up in Kano, Khalifa Aminu saw first-hand the difficulties visually impaired people faced simply trying to move around their communities. Rather than accepting those difficulties as inevitable, he began looking for a technological solution.

With little more than curiosity, persistence and affordable electronic components, the self-taught 20-year-old began developing a pair of smart glasses designed to help visually impaired people detect obstacles and navigate their surroundings more safely.

His early prototype used ultrasonic and infrared sensors to identify objects in the wearer’s path and provide an alert. But Aminu did something that is often missing from the development of new technology: he put the device in the hands of someone who would actually use it.

A visually impaired man in his community tested the prototype and provided feedback that directly influenced its development. The beeping alerts were replaced with voice prompts, the hardware was made smaller and wireless controls were added.

That process of building, testing and listening helped produce Glass V2, Aminu’s latest version.

The new device goes beyond basic obstacle detection. It incorporates artificial intelligence and camera tracking to provide users with more information about their surroundings and a greater sense of spatial awareness.

The technology remains at the prototype stage and will require extensive testing before its effectiveness, safety and commercial viability can be properly established. But the significance of Aminu’s work lies partly in how he arrived at this point.

He did not start with a university laboratory, a large research team or a multinational technology company. He started with a problem he could see around him and taught himself enough electronics and programming to begin tackling it.

That is precisely the sort of grassroots innovation Nigeria should be nurturing.

Aminu’s work has now attracted attention beyond Kano. The National Commission for Persons with Disabilities invited him to Abuja to demonstrate the technology and explore its potential for local production.

He has also received backing from the Kano Patriotic Front, which has provided workspace and financial support to help him continue developing his inventions.

Such support could prove decisive. A promising prototype can easily remain just that—a prototype—without access to proper equipment, engineering expertise, testing facilities and sustained funding.

The need for affordable assistive technology is enormous. The World Health Organization estimates that more than 2.5 billion people worldwide need one or more assistive products, with demand expected to rise substantially in the coming decades. Access is particularly limited in low- and middle-income countries, where cost, availability and inadequate support systems remain major barriers.

Nigeria therefore needs to look beyond importing assistive devices and begin asking what can be designed and produced locally for the particular circumstances of its own people.

Aminu’s glasses are one small response to that challenge, but they point in an important direction.

If the project is to move from an impressive invention to a reliable product, Aminu will need more than encouragement. He will need experienced engineers and software developers, proper testing, access to manufacturing facilities, intellectual-property support and, above all, continued engagement with visually impaired users.

Government agencies, universities, technology companies, philanthropists and disability organisations should be asking how they can help young innovators like him make that transition.

There is a tendency in Nigeria to celebrate young inventors briefly when their work attracts public attention and then move on to the next story. That is not enough. The real test is whether the country can build an environment in which an idea developed by a 20-year-old in Kano can be tested rigorously, improved, manufactured affordably and eventually reach the people who need it.

Aminu has already done the hardest part: he saw a problem and decided to do something about it.

Now Nigeria has an opportunity to do something about his idea.

This is the kind of innovation that should be encouraged—not merely applauded.

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Angélique Kidjo breaks new ground as first black African artist to shine on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame

Beninese music icon and five-time Grammy Award winner, Angélique Kidjo, has made history as the first Black African artist to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Kidjo was selected for the honour as part of the Hollywood Walk of Fame Class of 2026 in recognition of her contribution to the recording industry.

The Hollywood Chamber of Commerce announced her selection alongside other global entertainment figures, including Miley Cyrus, Timothée Chalamet, Demi Moore and Deepika Padukone. 

The recognition makes Kidjo the first Black African artist to receive the prestigious honour, further cementing her status as one of Africa’s most influential musical exports.

During her speech at the Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony, Kidjo thanked the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, members of the Beninese delegation, the Minister of Culture, Benin’s ambassador to the United States, African artists and others who travelled to attend the event.

“Good morning, everybody. And thanks for being here. The ones that have traveled a long way to be here, the ones that live here, that are my family in Los Angeles, I want to take a moment to thank the Chamber of Commerce, Anna, the Benin delegation, the Minister of Culture, the Ambassador of Benin at the United States, and the artists that come from Africa, and also all of you.

“I want to say thank you to you for making the trip. It means the world to me. I want to thank Mr. DeFoe.

“We got story to tell. We both together when we party, you better set aside, man. We just break the whole place down.
“Thank you, William.

“Harvey, you’ve welcomed me to the Grammy, to the Academy of Music, and you’ve given me the freedom to speak on behalf of the Africans, artists, but above it all, you bring me to your vision to transform the Recording Academy. And you never stop.

“And I have to say, I love your dedication, I love your thoroughness, and you never give up. So you give me compliment, I follow your footstep in making sure that what has to be done is done. No matter how hard it is, we never give up.

“I want to thank Mr. Antoine Grieff from Warner Music. He has been in the music business for so long, and when I came in, his vision of me is very rare heard in any music business. He believed in me because he knows my capacity of working and what I do.

“Antoine, I can’t thank you enough, and all the team at Warner. I want to take a moment to thank my management, Red Light Management, Tia, Kevin, Nate, and above, and also Surefire, my PR firm.

“Now I want to thank my family, my brothers and sisters that make it, because you don’t become somebody without a family that extends beyond your real family, but around the globe.

“I have Georgiana here, that’s the first chef in Michelin. I mean, you guys can understand the impact of this on the continent of Africa or in my country. I’ve come from that country that has inspired the world through its culture, and we just don’t know it.

“We Africans don’t know what we’ve given to the world, that we continue giving to the world for the music to exist. Without us, there’s no music possible on this planet.

“So I just want to thank also Jimo.
“Jimo, my brother, I love you dearly. I haven’t seen you in a while, but you know I love you dearly, right? So now that we reconnect, let’s keep together and do what we have to do.

“The vision we have, let’s implement it and work with the leaders of our country to change our continent for the youth to have a future in Africa for us to create economy that will serve us and policies that can serve us.

“Not more, no one, everybody telling us what we got to do, and we’re going to have the Recording Academy on our side to prepare the next generation to be better.

“I want to thank the team of Bruit Africa, Sarah, all of you that came. I never make makeup like that in my face.

“I don’t do no makeup. I just put the stuff on and I’m out. So this morning I have one hour and a half makeup.

“I’m like, dude, if I have to do one hour and a half of makeup, I ain’t doing no makeup. But I’m going to take it because today is exceptional.

“So that having said, I say thank you.

Kidjo, who was born in Benin, has built a career spanning more than four decades, blending West African musical traditions with genres including Afrobeat, jazz, funk, R&B and Latin music.

She has won five Grammy Awards and has collaborated with several internationally renowned artists throughout her career.

Her selection for the Hollywood Walk of Fame was announced in July 2025 as part of the 2026 class of honourees. The Recording category includes Kidjo, Air Supply, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Paulinho da Costa, The Clark Sisters, Miley Cyrus, Josh Groban, Grupo Intocable and Lyle Lovett. 

Kidjo’s historic recognition is widely seen as a major milestone for African representation in the global entertainment industry.

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Echoes of Trauma: The escape we don’t see

Some people are not looking for pleasure. They are looking for a way to make the pain stop.

By Lillian Okenwa

We see the bottle, the powder, the pills, the gambling account, the hours disappearing into a phone. We see the escape. We may never see what drove someone to it.

The escape is visible. The pain that produced it often isn’t.

Not everyone who reaches for a substance is looking for a high. Some want sleep. Others want a few hours without the thoughts that will not stop racing. Some are searching for courage. Others want to forget. There are people who have simply become desperate for a few moments in which life feels different from what it has become.

And some are trying to get away from themselves. What happened before the escape began?

There may have been a death, a divorce, an abusive home, a business that collapsed, a job that never came, years of rejection, a childhood nobody talks about or a relationship that left wounds no one could see.

Read Also: Echoes of Trauma: When hope refuses to leave

Read Also: Echoes of Trauma: When nobody is listening

There may not have been one dramatic event. Life may simply have delivered too many disappointments, one after another, until a person began searching for somewhere to put the pain.

Nigeria is confronting its drug problem with increasing urgency. The National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) continues to pursue trafficking networks, seize illicit substances and arrest suspected dealers and kingpins. The Federal Government has also reaffirmed its commitment to prevention, enforcement, treatment and rehabilitation.

The work is necessary.

Those who make money from another person’s vulnerability must be pursued. Networks supplying dangerous substances must be disrupted. Children and young people must be protected from those who deliberately put drugs within their reach.

Yet there is another person in this picture.

The person buying.

The person hurting.

The person who has reached a point where temporary relief looks easier to bear than another ordinary day.

What happens when we remove the escape but leave the pain?

A dealer and a person struggling with dependence cannot be placed in the same box. The dealer exploiting another person’s vulnerability deserves accountability. The young person taking drugs to cope with an unbearable home may need treatment, counselling, safety, family support and a way back into ordinary life.

One is a criminal-justice question. The other is a health question.

And sometimes, it is a trauma question.

We have become more comfortable talking about mental health, yet many people still do not know what to do when someone is actually struggling.

We tell people to be strong. We tell them to pray. We tell them to think positively. We tell them other people have it worse. We tell them to stop worrying. We tell them to move on.

Most of the time, we mean well.

Yet a person drowning does not need another speech about the importance of swimming. They need somebody to notice that they are drowning.

Depression does not always arrive with tears. It can look like irritability, excessive sleeping or sleeplessness. It can hide behind relentless work, gambling, drinking, endless hours online or the repeated use of something that promises temporary relief.

None of these behaviours automatically means that someone is depressed or traumatised. Depression does not inevitably lead to substance use. Psychological distress and substance-use problems can, however, overlap, and both require proper care rather than shame or dismissal.

None of this removes personal responsibility. Choices have consequences. Families suffer. Children suffer. Communities suffer. Lives are lost.

When everyone who is struggling is labelled bad, irresponsible or simply undisciplined, however, we may drive the person further underground and miss the pain underneath the behaviour. A young person using drugs may need accountability, but he may also need treatment, counselling, safety and someone willing to understand what brought him there. Telling him simply to stop may remove the coping mechanism without touching the wound underneath it.

Think of the young person who comes home from school and finds his parents fighting every night.

The graduate who has been looking for work for three years.

The widow trying to raise children alone.

The man whose business collapsed and who cannot bring himself to tell his friends that he has run out of money.

The woman who has spent years in a marriage that has slowly destroyed her confidence.

The teenager being bullied who has stopped telling anyone.

The person who lost someone and never had the opportunity to grieve.

The person who looks successful from the outside and feels like a failure every time the door closes behind them.

What do we offer such people before they reach for something that promises relief?

Prevention has to mean more than telling people that drugs are dangerous.

Of course they are.

We also need places where people can talk before they break. Schools where troubled children are noticed. Families where admitting that you are struggling does not attract ridicule. Workplaces where psychological distress is not treated as weakness. Communities where people know where to seek help. Healthcare systems where mental-health care is not reserved for those who can afford it.

We need friendships in which someone can say, “I don’t think you are okay,” and stay long enough to hear the answer.

Nigeria has made efforts to strengthen its mental-health response, including integrating mental-health services into broader public-health programmes and giving greater attention to young people. The question is how quickly and how widely those efforts reach the person sitting alone in a room at 2 a.m., wondering how to survive the next day.

That person may never attend a conference. They may never walk into a government office. They may never tell anyone, “I am depressed.” They may simply begin looking for an escape.

And the escape may be much easier to find than help.

We often notice addiction after it has become visible: when the child begins failing, the employee stops showing up, money disappears, a marriage starts collapsing, the police arrive or the hospital becomes involved.

By then, the story may have started years earlier.

There may have been a moment when someone was hurting and nobody noticed. A season when help was needed but asking felt impossible. A child who learnt early that nobody wanted to hear about his pain. An adult who became so accustomed to carrying everything alone that seeking help began to feel like failure.

By the time the escape becomes visible, the pain may have been there for years.

The fight against drugs therefore has to extend beyond the supply chain. Enforcement remains essential. So are prevention, treatment, rehabilitation and reintegration. Just as important is learning to see people before they become cases.

Help has to be accessible, affordable and trusted enough for people to reach it before desperation pushes them somewhere else.

A person we call difficult may be grieving. Someone we call lazy may be depressed. The one we dismiss as irresponsible may be overwhelmed. A troublesome teenager may be carrying something he has never learnt how to name.

We cannot assume this about everyone. We can, however, become curious before becoming judgmental. Instead of asking only: Why would anyone do this to themselves? Perhaps we should also ask: What happened that made this feel like the best escape available?

There is no simple answer. Human beings are complicated. Pain is complicated. Addiction is complicated. Depression is complicated. A society cannot arrest its way out of human pain. It can disrupt the supply, prosecute traffickers, seize drugs and dismantle criminal networks. All of that is necessary.

Somewhere, another person will still wake up tomorrow carrying a pain they do not know how to carry. If there is nowhere to take that pain, something else may eventually offer to carry it for them.

Not everything that offers relief is a friend.

Some things only postpone the pain while making the eventual cost heavier. The work, then, is not merely to make escape harder. It is to make help easier to find. To make conversation safer. To make treatment less shameful. To make mental-health care more accessible. To teach our children that asking for help is not weakness.

And to remember that the person who appears to be falling apart may have spent a very long time holding themselves together.

The escape is visible. The pain that produced it often isn’t.

Somewhere between the two is a person we may still have time to reach. Before the escape becomes an addiction. Before the addiction consumes a life. Before the life becomes a statistic. Perhaps we should look again and ask: What are you trying to escape from?

That may be where the real conversation begins.

A lawyer and equity advocate, Lillian can be reached at [email protected]. X: @OkenwaLillian. 

The Imo Papers: How a 1997 judges’ pact casts a long shadow over today’s Chief Judge battle

Nearly three decades after Imo’s judges unanimously agreed that seniority was the surest safeguard against division, a forgotten memorandum has resurfaced at the centre of a fierce battle over who should lead the state’s judiciary.

History has an uncanny habit of returning at the moments it is needed most.

As the controversy over the appointment of a substantive Chief Judge of Imo State continues to divide legal circles, a little-known document signed almost 30 years ago has emerged from the archives with remarkable relevance.

It is not a court judgment, nor a constitutional amendment. Rather, it is a memorandum written on 17 June 1997 by all 18 judges of the Imo State High Court—a collective appeal designed to prevent exactly the kind of succession dispute that has once again engulfed the state’s judiciary.

The memorandum surfaced after legal scholar and former Chairman of the National Human Rights Commission, Chidi Odinkalu, published it on X (formerly Twitter) while commenting on the current controversy surrounding the appointment of a substantive Chief Judge.

At the time the document was written, Chief Judge Justice G.G.I. Ojiako was preparing to retire after a distinguished judicial career that had seen him move from the High Court to become the founding President of the Imo State Customary Court of Appeal before returning to head the High Court as Chief Judge.

His impending retirement triggered competing ambitions.

Below is the full text of Odinkalu’s post on X.

Nearly 30 yrs ago, the High Court of Imo State was in the middle of a leadership transition. Chief Judge, GGI Ojiako was getting ready to retire. There was a question as to who to succeed him. Justice Ojiako began his judicial career as a judge of the High Court. He was later appointed founding President of the Customary Court of Appeal #PCCA of Imo State, before returning to the High Court to become Chief Judge. To succeed him as PCCA of Imo State, the government appointed Justice CBC Uba. As Justice Ojiako approached retirement, CBC Uba aspired to follow in his footsteps from the office of PCCA to the office of CJ. In the High Court, Justices EA Ejiogu & SO Ekpe were the senior-most. There was serious contest for the office of the CJ & it appeared to be boiling over. To head that off, the judges of the High Court of Imo State arranged a collective huddle in June 1997. The result was a revealing memo to the Military Administrator dated 17 June 1997. They wrote: “All of us are unanimous in the view that when the office of Chief Judge becomes vacant, whoever is the most senior among us the judges of the High Court of Imo State should be preferred to the vacant office. In that way, there will be no rancour or polarization. There will be peace & unity in Imo State judiciary.” Of the 18 judges who signed that memo, only 2 remain in service: No. 17, Justice Nwosu-Iheme, is now a Justice of

@SupremeCourtNg. No. 14, Justice Agugua is the current Ag. Chief Judge whom the current governor of the state wants to supersede a third time for the substantive office of Chief Judge. To complete the original story, Justice Ejiogu eventually became Chief Judge of Imo State. He was followed in that office by Justice Ekpe. CBC Uba eventually achieved his ambition in succession to Ekpe.

The famous memo is contained in the tweet below.

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