LAURETTA ONOCHIE

An Open Letter to Member States of the United Nations on the Importance of Credible Diplomatic Representation. Your Excellencies, I write to you as a concerned Nigerian and as someone who believes deeply in the integrity of multilateral institutions, particularly the United Nations, whose credibility rests heavily on the character and reputation of those who represent their nations within its chambers. Recent reports indicate that Nigeria’s President, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, has appointed Nigerian businessman and politician Jimoh Ibrahim as Nigeria’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations. The position of Permanent Representative is one of the most sensitive diplomatic roles in international relations. The occupant of that office participates in negotiations on global peace, economic cooperation, international law, and human rights. Such a role demands not only competence but unimpeachable credibility. Unfortunately, Mr. Ibrahim’s public record in Nigeria has long been marked by ser...

Illness is not a crime. Every human being, including presidents, can face health challenges. What separates leadership from deception is honesty, transparency, and respect for constitutional order.  Nigeria has a clear precedent. During the early period of President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration, when health challenges arose, Nigerians were formally informed through the National Assembly. Power was duly transmitted to Vice President Yemi Osinbajo, in line with the Constitution. The country was not left guessing. The system, though strained, worked. Under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, Nigerians are confronted with something far more troubling than illness: opacity dressed up as governance. President Tinubu appears to suffer recurring health challenges, yet there is no forthright communication with the Nigerian people. Instead of honesty, there is camouflage. Instead of constitutional transparency, there is silence. Each time medical attention is required, it is routinely presente...

Nigeria today feels like a nation trapped in a hospital ward with a patient who will not take prescribed drugs. The symptoms are obvious. The pain is visible. The diagnosis has been repeatedly confirmed by experts, institutions, and the lived experiences of ordinary citizens. Yet, the government under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu behaves like a patient in denial—insisting it is healthy while the body politic weakens by the day. According to the World Bank, tens of millions of Nigerians have been pushed into poverty in less than two years of this administration. That is not opposition rhetoric; it is a cold, empirical assessment of a country where hunger has become normal, survival has become a daily struggle, and hope is evaporating faster than household income. If current policies persist, even more Nigerians are projected to sink below the poverty line by 2027. A government confronted with such grim statistics should pause, reflect, and urgently change course. Instead, this one has ch...

Is Bello Turji part of a design to weaken the North, or merely a convenient footnote in a blueprint where insecurity doubles as a convininent excuse for resource capture? Welcome to Sarcastic Sunday. This week, with Mohammed Bello Doka, we examine Nigeria’s political gymnastics sarcastically, because approaching them soberly is a health hazard. Here, we laugh so we don’t suffocate. We mock so we don’t scream. We ask questions because silence, in this country, has become a security risk. We are constantly reminded—loudly, lovingly, and with evangelical zeal—that President Bola Tinubu is the architect of modern Nigeria. Architects, we are told, design order. They erect systems. They secure foundations. They enforce structural integrity. Which raises an awkward, impolite, but necessary question: since when do architects invite demolition crews to stakeholder meetings? Because somewhere between the speeches and the slogans, Bello Turji emerged not as an aberration, but as a recurring featu...

Gilbert Chagoury  On a hot afternoon in July 2004, Nigerian police officers waited beside a runway in the far northeastern corner of the country. The air shimmered above the tarmac. Somewhere beyond the horizon, a private jet was descending. The man inside it had not been home in years. His name had been spoken in whispers across courtrooms in Europe, inside Swiss banks, in the offices of investigators who believed that if they ever pulled this thread hard enough, an entire decade of theft would unravel. The jet touched down. Its wheels kissed Nigerian soil. Then, almost immediately, it lifted again. No handcuffs or need for explanations. Someone had tipped him off. Gilbert Chagoury disappeared into the sky. That image matters because it tells you everything about how power works in Nigeria. Power here does not work as an institution, or even as a constitution, but as a habit. Power here remembers its friends. Gilbert Chagoury was born in Lagos in 1946 to Lebanese immigrant parents...

Is Kaduna politics really settled—or is it merely quiet? If the El-Rufai–Ashiru alignment is a mirage, why the hurried denials? If power is secure, why the nervous need to mock what “does not exist”? And if yesterday’s kingmaker is truly finished, why does his shadow still decide tomorrow’s conversations? These are not academic questions. They cut to the bone of Kaduna’s unfinished 2023 story—and to the unease now visible in the reactions of Governor Uba Sani and his loudest defender, Shehu Sani. Power that feels safe does not shout this much. THE 2023 ELECTION KADUNA WANTS TO FORGET  The official story says 2023 is over. The electoral record says otherwise. In that election, the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) swept all three senatorial seats in Kaduna State. North, Central, South—every Senate seat went PDP. That is not a fluke. It is not an accident. It is evidence of statewide reach, voter mood, and organisational muscle. Yet, in the same cycle, the governorship stayed with the A...