By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

As a lawyer and long-standing advocate for constitutional reform in Nigeria, I regard President Duma Boko’s proposal to establish a Constitutional Court in Botswana as a principled and forward-looking reform. How he goes about actualising that particular objective is a matter for him and the good people of Botswana, and certainly not the business of this note. What is noteworthy here is that far from being a mere institutional addition, the creation of a specialised constitutional tribunal represents a structural commitment to constitutional supremacy, the rule of law, and the entrenchment of democratic accountability. That is the case being canvassed for Nigeria.

The Austrian jurist Hans Kelsen, widely regarded as the intellectual architect of the modern constitutional court, once observed that “a constitution without a constitutional court is like a body without a soul.” Kelsen’s insight captures the essence of the present moment in Botswana. Constitutional supremacy is not self-executing; it requires an institutional guardian capable of giving life to the text, resolving interpretive conflicts, and ensuring that public power remains subordinate to higher law.

A Constitutional Court would provide an authoritative and specialised forum for the adjudication of constitutional questions, ensuring that legislation, executive conduct, and administrative action conform to the supreme law. Although Botswana’s existing judiciary has long enjoyed a reputation for independence and professionalism, institutional refinement is neither an admission of weakness nor a repudiation of past success. Rather, it reflects the evolutionary character of constitutional democracies. Comparative experience from jurisdictions such as South Africa, Benin, and Germany demonstrates that specialised constitutional review can fortify democratic institutions while enhancing coherence in constitutional interpretation.

The jurisprudence of the Constitutional Court of South Africa eminently illustrates how a dedicated constitutional body can transform abstract guarantees into lived realities. Through landmark decisions advancing equality, dignity, and socio-economic rights, the Court has entrenched a constitutional culture within public life. Similarly, the Federal Constitutional Court of Germany has served as a vigilant guardian of democratic order, ensuring that parliamentary enactments and executive policies remain faithful to constitutional norms. In West Africa, the Constitutional Court of Benin has played a stabilising role in electoral and governance disputes, reinforcing public confidence in constitutional processes.

For Botswana, the establishment of a Constitutional Court would evidently yield both normative and practical dividends. Normatively, it would reinforce the doctrine of constitutional supremacy by providing clarity, consistency, and doctrinal depth in constitutional adjudication. Practically, it would alleviate the burden on the general judiciary by vesting exclusive jurisdiction over constitutional matters in a specialised forum. The latter represents the more persuasive rationale in the case of Nigeria. This institutional differentiation can reduce case backlogs, expedite the resolution of fundamental rights claims, and promote greater access to justice, particularly for marginalised or vulnerable communities.

The Nigerian experience underscores the significance of such reform. In Nigeria, the absence of a dedicated constitutional tribunal has contributed to congestion at the apex court and protracted delays in resolving constitutional disputes, particularly in election-related matters. While the Supreme Court performs admirably within its structural constraints, the concentration of ordinary appellate and constitutional jurisdiction in a single body inevitably strains judicial capacity and denies justice through delays. Botswana’s reform initiative may therefore serve as a comparative stimulus for renewed constitutional dialogue in Nigeria, where similar institutional recalibration could enhance judicial efficiency and support democratic consolidation.

Critics of the proposal caution that a Constitutional Court may be redundant within Botswana’s existing judicial architecture or that jurisdictional tensions could arise between courts. Some also argue that noble, though it is, the proposal for the creation of a special Constitutional Court, is not a priority at the present time. These concerns merit serious engagement. However, comparative constitutional design demonstrates that such risks can be mitigated through precise jurisdictional delineation, procedural clarity, and well-defined appellate pathways. A carefully drafted constitutional amendment specifying exclusive competence in constitutional interpretation, coupled with harmonised procedural rules, can prevent institutional friction while strengthening systemic coherence.

Equally critical is the question of judicial appointments. The legitimacy of a Constitutional Court depends not merely on its formal powers but on the intellectual integrity, independence, and diversity of its bench. A transparent, merit-based appointment process, grounded in objective criteria and inclusive consultation, would enhance public confidence. Engagement with civil society, academia, and the broader legal profession during the design phase would further entrench democratic ownership of the institution.

Ultimately, the creation of a Constitutional Court, whether in Botswana or Nigeria, would represent more than administrative reform; it would signal a deepened commitment to constitutionalism as a living principle. By providing citizens with a direct and specialised avenue to challenge unconstitutional laws and policies, the Court would strengthen governance accountability, restrain executive overreach, and cultivate a jurisprudence attentive to evolving democratic norms.

Kelsen’s metaphor remains instructive. If the Constitution is the supreme expression of the people’s sovereign will, then it must be animated by a vigilant and independent guardian. President Boko’s initiative is therefore best understood not merely as institutional restructuring, but as constitutional maturation. If implemented with deliberation, transparency, and comparative insight, a Constitutional Court could become a cornerstone of Botswana’s democratic architecture, enhancing rights protection, promoting judicial efficiency, and reinforcing the supremacy of the Constitution. For Nigeria, Botswana’s example should prompt renewed reflection on the structural reforms necessary to secure a more responsive, efficient, and constitutionally anchored judiciary in the face of mounting governance and human rights challenges.

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

By Suyi Ayodele

Ìyàwó mi tí mo féràn – My wife who I love so much

Te ló ti m’órí mi s’ábé – But you said she has subdued me

Sé e mo ohun tí mo rí lára rè- Do you folks know what I saw in her

Tí mo fi yan l’ayò mi ni – Before I chose her as my favourite

Aya t’ó ún m’únu mi dùn – A wife that gives me joy

Tí kò tú àsírí mi f’áyé gbó – And does not expose my secrets to the world to hear

Tí mo na gbe gègè bí eyin – If I handle her delicately like an egg

Sé ó ye kó l’éjó – Should that bring controversy

The above lyrics are by an Islamic Gospel musician, Alhaji Abdul Kabir Bukola Alayande, who goes by the stage name, “Ere Asalatu.” The thematic preoccupation is to disabuse the notion that once a man loves his wife very dearly, the woman must have hypnotised him. In most African settings, such wives who are loved by their husbands, who, in most cases, fence off their spouses from the prying eyes of relations, are believed to have used love potions to bind their husbands.

The love potion motif, incidentally, is not restricted to Africa. Ancient Greek, Hebrew culture and modern-day science give credence to the existence of substances that can be administered, mostly through the gastronomy, to an individual, usually a man, to make him fall, and stay in love with the one who applies the substance.

Thomas R. Insel, an American psychiatrist and neuroscientist, in a 2001 paper, The Neurobiology of Love, published in “Nature Reviews Neuroscience”, tries to draw a parallel between ancient love potions and the role of hormones in human attraction. He says the “love hormone”, known in science as Oxytocin, “plays a critical role in bonding and social behaviors. Studies suggest that oxytocin release during physical touch or eye contact can strengthen emotional connections, mimicking the perceived effects of love potions in creating intimacy and desire.”

Smith, J.D., in an article, Food as Medicine: Chocolate and the Chemistry of Love, published in 2013, in the ‘Journal of Nutritional Science’, states that there are “Some ingredients historically believed to have magical properties, like chocolate and certain herbs, also have mild mood-altering effects due to their chemical composition. For example, phenylethylamine in chocolate is known to trigger the release of endorphins, contributing to feelings of happiness and euphoria.”

Angie Andriot, a research analyst for the Presbyterian Church, USA, in 2024, published an article, The Science of Attraction: And How to Make Love Potion, where she dwells extensively on the power of scents and the effect they could have on the opposite sex. She posits that “People often underestimate the power of their noses. But really, scent is a superhero among the senses. It’s directly wired to the brain’s emotional powerhouse, the limbic system. What this means is that, while sight and sound take a more scenic route through the brain, scents teleport straight to our emotional core. It’s like express delivery for feelings!” She gives a tabular formula of what she terms: “Love potion Perfume Recipe”, and concludes that “The realm of scents really is a playground for romance.” 

In the Holy Writ, it is recorded in Genesis 30:14-15, that Rachael, the favourite of Jacob, gave up her sleeping right to her elder sister, Leah, in order to have a part of the mandrakes, the Hebrew “Love Plant”, harvested by Reuben, Leah’s son, in the belief that its consumption would not only make her fertile, but would also attract the attention of their husband, Jacob.

The scientists of that age recorded that “The Mandrake plant is toxic, causing hallucinations. Its root system is bulbous and resembles a human figure. Although it has a pleasant smell, the only part of the mandrake that is not poisonous is its red fruit. It is called the “love apple” and is considered to be a powerful aphrodisiac (love potion) which could help women in conception.”

In my Yoruba background, the love potion is known as Òògùn ìfé.  It can be used diabolically to entangle a man in a relationship he does not want. Likewise, it can also be used as an Ìròjú (mesmerize), to make a woman fall in love with a man she does not like. But in most cases, the love potion motif in Yoruba setting focuses more on a woman who is believed to have used a diabolical means to manipulate her husband to give her undue attention, with the man acting strangely as if he is under the total control of the wife.

Relations of spouses, where the female partners are suspected to have manipulated the males through such a means, don’t usually take the matter lightly with the women so suspected. Ere Asalatu probably composed the above song to establish that it is not often a case of love potion, when a man and his wife appear to be inseparable and madly in love with each other.

The First Lady of the Federation, Mrs. Remi Tinubu, played up the above intendment of Ere Asalatu, when on Thursday last week, in her maternal home of Warri Kingdom, she alluded that for the past 40 years she has been married to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, she “signed, sealed and delivered” the relationship because she served the man with the “Itsekiri love potion.”

Mrs. Tinubu, I must admit, was at her cultural best on that occasion, where the Olu of Warri Kingdom, Ogiame Atuwatse III, conferred on her the traditional title of Utukpa-Oritse (The Light of God). The First Lady, in her traditional element, delivered her extempore speech in a rare mastery of the Itsekiri Language which she code-mixed and code-switched at both the intra and extra-sentential levels with the English Language.

While admitting that she is Yoruba, being the daughter of the late Samuel Olatunji Ikusebiala of Ijebu Ode, Ogun State, Mrs. Tinubu, a Senior Pastor with The Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), traced her maternal ancestry to the Itsekiri of Warri Kingdom and paid glowing tribute to her mother, an Itsekiri woman, and the people of the Kingdom.

Thereafter, she openly confessed that though she is Yoruba and married to a Yoruba man, President Tinubu, she gave her husband “Itsekiri potion”, otherwise known as Egbele-ekokimiyo, and told him that she would not give any other love potion. She named the culprit Itsekiri delicacy to be “Usin (starch) and the plain owoh (an Itsekiri soup)”, which she added had kept the marriage “signed, sealed and delivered” for over 40 years, to the applause of the crowd.

Beyond the comical, I think Mrs. Tinubu was passing a very serious message across on how every woman can consolidate her marriage and, more importantly, the need for unity among the diverse ethnic groups in the Federation through cultural renaissance. If, in the real sense, the Itsekiri’s Egbele-ekokimiyo is involved, it goes to confirm that indeed, the way to a man’s heart is his stomach!

It is therefore heartwarming to see Mrs. Tinubu delving into her formative years in the Itsekiri enclave and blending the cultural values of her maternal people with her Yoruba upbringing as an Ijebu woman. Her seamless oscillation between a flawless Queen’s English usage, and the undiluted, native-like Itsekiri Language competence, is an affirmation of her Yoruba ethos that Omo kìí ní apá baba kó má ní ti ìyá (a child cannot have her father’s side without her mother’s side).

That outing by the First Lady in Warri, also serves as a wake-up call to the Black Race to endeavour to teach the younger generation their Mother Tongues and cultural values. Mrs. Tinubu emphasised the Itsekiri culture and the need for the people to sustain it. She hinted that but for the exigency of her itinerary, she would have come, calling in the Itsekiri traditional attire, even though she looked elegant in the Itsekiri coral beads on her neck. That sense of cultural reawakening got me thinking. I strongly feel that it is something the government at all levels should take seriously. Our educational planners would do well to make indigenous languages compulsory at the formative stages of our educational system.

It is also more of interest to me that a Senior Pastor of a Bible-believing Ministry like the RCCG, Pastor Remi Tinubu, who got recognised in faraway USA by the belligerent President Donald Trump for her Christian standing, would openly recognise the existence of the Itsekiri’s Egbele-ekokimiyo! While that was simply a joke, going by the ancient axiom that it is through joke that we get the truth, it is noteworthy that our pretenses as spirit-filled, tongue-blasting Born Again Christians notwithstanding, once in a while, our culture crawls back to us.

As I watched the First Lady mention the “Itsekiri love potion”, I pictured in my mind how President Tinubu licks his fingers while savouring the “Usin and the plain Owoh” delicacy served her by her pastor-wife, not knowing that what he is actually eating is the potent Itsekiri’s Egbele-ekokimiyo! We owe Mrs. Tinubu loads of gratitude for ‘signing, sealing and delivering’ her union with Mr. President in the last 40 years with the help of her native intelligence. Only the ‘strong’ woman has the capacity to hold down a man as tough and ambulant as Mr. President. Show me a ‘strong’ man and I will indicate a man who has eaten countless pots of Egbele-ekokimiyo!

I struggled not to be mischievous here. But I keep wondering if there is a correlation between Nasir Ahmad el-Rufai’s open confessions of tapping the telephone of the National Security Adviser (NSA), Mallam Nuhu Ribadu, and Mrs. Tinubu’s confession of lacing her husband’s food with the Itsekiri’s Egbele-ekokimiyo. If, like the weird Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Nyesom Wike, is wont to say, ‘an agreement is an agreement’, shouldn’t ‘a confession also be a confession’, and shouldn’t someone else also be with the laws?

This allusion by Mrs. Tinubu to Itsekiri’s Egbele-ekokimiyo potion brings us back to the futility of the concept of a strong man. The elders of my place submit that a man is as strong as the wife allows. How true are they! A man who goes to work in the morning and comes back at night to eat the food prepared by his wife while he was away should know that he lives only at the mercy of the wife. It is even more dangerous if such a man demands his benevolence when the night is cool!

It is for this reason that the wise old men of yore counselled that a man who desires a peaceful and long life should first learn how to take care of his wife and make her happy.

They said this long before the Western World introduced Ephesian 5:25-33, particularly verses 28 and 33, where men are called to love their wives as themselves.

While congratulating Mrs. Remi Tinubu on the conferment of the Utukpa-Oritse (The Light of God) of Warri Kingdom on her by the Ogiame Atuwatse III, I invoke, in the spirit of the Lent season, the divine provisions as contained in 1 Kings 17:14, and pray that her molds of Usin shall not waste and her pot of Egbele-ekokimiyo shall not fail. Ogiame Suoo!

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

By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

As Nigeria’s corporate sector expands in scale and sophistication, it faces a pivotal question: will it replicate the trajectory of Western economies, where executive compensation has become a flashpoint for public outrage, or will it forge a more balanced and sustainable path?

Across the globe, the gap between executive pay and worker wages has widened dramatically. In the United States, CEOs now earn roughly 344 times the average employee’s salary, an extraordinary leap from the 21-to-1 ratio recorded in 1965. What was once widely accepted as performance-based reward has increasingly come to symbolise structural imbalance. This pattern is no longer confined to advanced economies; emerging markets such as India are confronting similar tensions as executive pay accelerates beyond workforce earnings.

Nigeria is not insulated from these pressures. As its economy diversifies and its corporate giants grow in influence, executive compensation packages are rising sharply. For example, Roger Brown, CEO of Seplat Energy Plc, earns approximately ₦3.90 billion annually. Karl Toriola of MTN Nigeria Plc receives about ₦3.14 billion, while Adegbite Falade of Aradel Holdings Plc earns roughly ₦2.44 billion per year. These figures, though reflective of the scale and complexity of the enterprises they lead, nonetheless invite scrutiny in a country still confronting profound socioeconomic challenges.

At the heart of the debate lies a fundamental concern: the growing disconnect between pay and performance. In many jurisdictions, substantial bonuses and incentive packages are awarded even when shareholder returns falter or when employees endure layoffs, wage freezes, or declining purchasing power. Such patterns fuel perceptions of inequity, weaken trust in corporate governance, and deepen public scepticism about whether reward structures genuinely reflect value creation.

For Nigeria, the implications are particularly significant. With poverty and inequality remaining pressing realities, conspicuous executive compensation, especially if perceived as untethered from measurable, long-term performance, risks intensifying social tension and eroding confidence in corporate leadership. The issue is not simply about how much executives earn, but whether compensation frameworks are transparent, performance-driven, and aligned with sustainable growth.

Nigeria’s regulatory architecture is evolving, yet it may not be fully equipped to manage the long-term consequences of unchecked pay escalation. The Securities and Exchange Commission has made commendable progress in strengthening governance codes and disclosure requirements. Still, deeper reforms may be necessary to ensure stronger shareholder oversight, clearer performance benchmarks, and greater alignment between executive rewards and long-term corporate health.

Nigeria stands at a defining moment. It can allow global trends to shape its compensation culture by default, or it can intentionally craft a governance model that better balances competitive executive pay with accountability, fairness, and social responsibility. A rising tide can indeed lift many boats, but without deliberate safeguards, it may leave too many behind.

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