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Nigeria: Becoming World’s First Cashless Country, Counteracting Corruption Crisis

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By Joel Popoola

A little over a year ago, I called on President Buhari to make Nigeria the first country on Earth to abolish cash.
Perhaps he was listening.

This week, the President announced that Nigeria is to become the first African nation to introduce a digital currency.

The so-called eNaira is designed to cut transaction costs and boost participation in the formal financial system, with the President stating in a televised address that its technology can also “increase Nigeria’s gross domestic product by $29 billion over the next 10 years”.

This is the Nigeria we want to see: Bold, creative, modern, capable of continental leadership – and driven by digital technology.

In many ways we are the ideal society to pilot this innovation. Within the next couple of years the vast majority of Nigerians will own a smartphone, and our nation is already home to Africa’s greatest and most important e-payment businesses – such as Flutterwave, Opay and Andela .

It has always been something of an amusement to me that while many Nigerians are used to receiving money electronically from relatives overseas our entire economy still expects them to queue up kiosks for cash when spending that money at home – when every transaction can be done electronically with the touch of a button!

Although old-fashioned currency will be with us for some time to come, there is no question cash’s days are numbered.

It’s not just out-of-date – in a time of COVID-19 and civil insecurity, it’s not even safe.

But the real benefits of a digital economic system could be the ones that benefit our democratic system.
Physical cash is dirty money in more ways than one indeed – corruption is a lot easier in any system that relies upon it.

Minimising the use of cash in public life could be an important step towards restoring Nigerian’s trust in the democratic process.

Transparency and accountability are practically impossible with anonymous and untraceable cash payments. And this has huge implications when it comes to making sure public money goes where it is supposed to go.

As an example of how this can work, look at India. When the Indian government began to make pension payments digitally instead of using cash, incidences of bribery halved. I can’t be the only Nigerian to long for that happening here.

This is another area where Nigeria is making huge progress. COVID-19 saw impressive efforts from government to make palliative payments electronically – and saw the government take impressive and important steps to enhance the transparency and governance of COVID-related spending, including the publication of procurement plans and notices for all emergency response activities including the names of companies awarded contracts and the owners of those companies.

Now we need our politicians to pursue transparency too.

At the digital democracy campaign I lead, we are determined to improve accountability and transparency in Nigerian politics by using technology.

We have created a free app called Rate Your Leader, which allows voters to contact directly with their local elected representatives. The Rate Your Leader app helps politicians engage directly with the people who elected them, building relationships based on mutual trust and respect.

Rate Your Leader also helps local leaders explain and justify every decision they make and every penny they spend – making them truly accountable to the people they serve.

And if their voters don’t like the answers they get, they can rate their politicians appropriately for everyone to see.
In 2021, we live our lives digitally. We shop, socialise, learn, work and even date there. So why does out economic system still expect us to make transactions the same way as our ancient ancestors?

At our campaign, our message is clear: Our politics and our political institutions need to take advantage of the opportunities of the digital age to become more accessible, transparent and responsive – and to make themselves relevant to the people they serve.

Too much of our public payment, welfare and public transport infrastructure remains entirely cash-based. This has to change. But the creation of the eNaira is a great step towards a cashless Nigeria – and an international achievement we can all be proud of.

This would require significant government commitment and investment. But the government could start tomorrow by aiming to making all government payments – such as Conditional Cash Transfer – digital by default.
Our country is becoming digital. Our currency cannot remain analogue.

Joel Popoola is a Nigerian technology entrepreneur, digital democracy campaigner and is the creator of the Rate Your Leader app. He can be reached via @JOPopoola

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Opinion

A SILEC Voice Against the Tide by Kwame Jamal

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The morning sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Anglican Church of Transformation Hall, casting patches of amber and gold across the gathered crowd. Mothers clutched small bouquets—it was Mother’s Day—and children fidgeted in their seats, unaware that history was about to be made in their midst.

At the podium stood Sunny Irakpo, his hands steady on the lectern, his voice carrying the weight of nearly two decades of quiet war. Not a war of soldiers or bombs, but one fought with pamphlets, school visits, rehabilitation talks, and now—something far greater.

Before him sat bishops in clerical collars, doctors in tailored suits, community leaders in colorful Nigerian attire, and ordinary men and women who had crossed oceans for a better life. They had come to witness the unveiling of the SILEC International Magazine (SIM)—the first global media platform dedicated exclusively to reporting drug-related issues across Africa, the United States, and beyond.

“Just like a SIM device is important to a phone,” Sunny began, his voice warm yet resolute, “imagine one with a sophisticated phone without a SIM. Such a phone will be useless. Therefore, SIM is a solution provider—an enabler designed to bring value, reset mindsets, and create a global platform bold enough to revolutionize the media ecosystem.”

The room leaned in.

Three hours earlier, Revd. Canon Paul Obike had opened the ceremony with a prayer and a smile. The anchor Venerable Shola Ogbedebi , He looked out at the sea of faces—mothers, especially, whom he thanked for their invisible labor of raising children in a world saturated with temptation.

“Sunny Irakpo,” Ogbedebi had said, “is a courageous young man with strong passion and zeal, championing a worthy cause that has taken the lives of many promising youth in Nigeria, the United States, and across the globe. He is a trailblazer. A strong voice that keeps shaping policy direction.”

The audience had applauded, some wiping tears. They knew the statistics. They had buried nephews, cousins, sons.

Now, as Sunny continued his address, he moved from metaphor to mission.

“SILEC International Magazine is not just a publication,” he said. “It will drive awareness, create employment opportunities for young people, and support underprivileged students—particularly in Nigeria, where more than twenty million children remain out of school due to financial hardship.”

He paused, letting the number settle.

“Twenty million.”

A murmur rippled through the hall.

Sunny spoke of the vision conceived years ago, held in his heart like a pregnancy carried through contraction and pain. “When a child eventually escapes the womb, the mother leaps for joy,” he said. “Today, I stand in solidarity as a mother—not by pregnancy, but by conception of ideas that could help proffer solutions to the many problems confronting mankind. This is my joy: that baby SIM is birthed to the world today, in a country where dreams come through.”

He invoked Habakkuk 2:2—write the vision and make it plain—and reminded the gathering that a child’s raising belongs not only to its parents but to the entire community. “So it is for this newborn, named SIM,” he said. “I call for your collective nurturing.”

The statistics he shared were stark.

A United Nations report from 2025 stated that 316 million people worldwide were affected by drugs. Nearly half a million deaths annually. Twenty-eight million healthy years of life lost. In 2023, only one in twelve people with drug use disorders received any treatment.

In the United States, over one million people between the ages of eighteen and forty-five had died from drugs.

But it was Africa that Sunny named as the emerging frontline. “The new market,” he said quietly. “Seventy percent of young people. In Nigeria, according to UNODC, 14.4 million people aged fifteen to sixty-four abused drugs and substances as of 2018—significantly higher than the global average. Those aged eighteen to thirty-nine remain the worst users today.”

He did not shout. He did not need to. The numbers screamed for themselves.

Then came the moment the room had been waiting for.

The Chairman of the occasion, The Rt. Revd. Dr. Augustine Unuigbe—Coordinating Bishop of the Church of Nigeria North America Mission and Managing Director of Rapha Medical Group—rose from his seat. He was a tall man with gentle eyes and the steady hands of a physician.

“As a medical doctor,” Bishop Unuigbe said, stepping to the podium, “I have seen firsthand cases of drug overdose. I have watched young people slip away on hospital beds, their parents wailing in corridors. The drug problem and overdose deaths in the United States are underreported—for reasons I cannot ascertain. But time has come for the message to be louder.”

He turned to look directly at Sunny.

“My path and Sunny Irakpo crossed on social media,” the bishop continued. “I did not know Sunny from Adam. What brought us together is divine connection. In 2021, met him physically when the Primate of All Nigeria, the Most Rt. Dr. Henry Chukwudum Ndukuba, invited Sunny to present a paper at the Standing Committee meeting—the highest decision-making body of the Church of Nigeria, Anglican Communion. His presentation on ‘The Monster of Drug Addiction: A Battle for the Future’ was educative, revealing, and commendable.”

The bishop’s voice deepened. “My association and endorsement of SILEC Initiatives is based on the credible platform and the carrier of the message—Sunny Irakpo—who has shown serious commitment for nearly two decades. This young man deserves all the support and encouragement to propagate the message farther.”

He placed his hand on a tablet connected to a large screen. “I now unveil the SILEC International Magazine—electronically, with Artificial Intelligence tools for the campaign ideology—to the glory of God and benefit of humanity.”

The screen flickered to life. The magazine’s website appeared: crisp, modern, alive with stories. A video montage played—interviews with recovered addicts, profiles of resilient entrepreneurs, reports from Nigerian villages where schoolrooms stood empty. The audience watched in rapt silence.

Then they rose. They clapped. Some wept.

Dr. Inua Momodu, President of the Nigerian Community in Atlantic County, New Jersey, seized the moment. “Drug abuse affects almost every household,” he said. “Everyone must be involved in this fight to save the lives of young people. The Nigerian community under my leadership will continue to support SILEC Initiatives with effective collaboration.”

Distinguished guests nodded firmly from the front row. Besides, Angels In Motion ably represented by Laura Rhodes whispered to a colleague: We need to partner with them.

Before closing, Sunny Irakpo turned to the mothers in the room. It was, after all, their day.

“Dear mothers,” he said, “your roles in family and nation-building cannot be overemphasized. Sadly, in the cause of my advocacy, I have seen women deeply engaged in drug abuse and illicit trafficking. The most despicable act is using their most revered private parts to conceal drugs. One out of four females is now a drug abuser.”

The room grew very still.

“We urge our mothers to hold firm the values that help shape society. Tighten the home front. Help prevent our wards from this destructive path.”

He paused, and his voice softened.

“In loving memory, I remember today the sacrifices of my late parents—Pa Christopher Ewomarevia and Mrs. Victoria Adiheji Irakpo—for the value of education and godly parenting they implanted in me. They started this vision of SILEC with me in 2010. It pleased God that they did not witness this very important occasion. But I give God all the glory. May their kind souls continue to rest in peace.”

The ceremony ended with Reverend Ohio Simire offering the vote of thanks, followed by closing prayers from Bishop Unuigbe. As the crowd filed out into the New Jersey afternoon, phones buzzed with notifications—the live stream had reached thousands across three continents.

Outside, a young woman approached Sunny Irakpo. She was perhaps twenty-two, her eyes red-rimmed.

“My brother overdosed last year,” she said quietly. “He was nineteen.”

Sunny placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then we do this for him,” he said. “And for all the others.”

She nodded, and for the first time that day, she smiled.

Somewhere, a SIM card connects a phone to the world. And somewhere else, a newborn magazine called SIM began connecting broken stories to hope—one page, one life, one truth at a time. Oh, what a magazine you must get with just a click from your phone at www.sim.silecinitiatives.org.ng . SILEC is rising, SILEC International Magazine, the global light.

Article contributed by Kwame Jamal

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Opinion

When Architecture of Policy Meets Architecture of Connection

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By Shakirat Akintola

For many political observers, the proposition of an Atiku-Momodu ticket represents a fascinating answer to Nigeria’s complex governance puzzle. The conversation is rapidly moving past the two personalities involved, evolving into a broader debate about national cohesion, credibility, and the precise qualities required to steady a fractured nation.

Atiku Abubakar, having recently emerged as the presidential candidate for the African Democratic Congress (ADC) following a fiercely contested and highly scrutinized nationwide primary election, remains one of the most resilient figures in Nigeria’s democratic journey. His institutional memory is vast. As the Vice President who chaired the National Economic Council during one of Nigeria’s most consequential eras of economic restructuring and privatization, he understands the levers of state policy.

Yet, in a nation fractured along regional, religious, and generational lines, policy blueprints alone are no longer enough. The opposition faces a distinct hurdle: Nigerians already know who Atiku is. The challenge is not building recognition, but establishing a genuine, empathetic connection with the deep frustrations of the grassroots. This is precisely where Aare Dele Momodu enters the equation.

To view Momodu strictly through the glamorous lens of Ovation International is to misunderstand the deliberate philosophy behind his media empire. While critics might initially mistake his chronicling of high society for elite insulation, his career has actually functioned as a masterclass in breaking down walls. For decades, Momodu did not just document success; he demystified it, bringing the corridors of power and privilege directly to the gaze of the ordinary citizen. More importantly, this deep social capital was forged in the fires of grassroots defiance. Long before he was a celebrated publisher, Momodu was a pro-democracy activist who faced detention and forced exile during the dark days of the Abacha regime for standing with the masses. His ability to navigate corporate boardrooms today is not a sign of detachment from the struggle, but a powerful asset. It means the opposition gains a communicator who can walk into spaces of immense privilege, speak truth to power in their own language, and channel that access directly back into the service of Nigeria’s markets, classrooms, and farming communities.

A Referendum on Lived Realities

The ongoing security and economic trials illustrate exactly why a balance of institutional experience and cultural reach matters. For a parent deciding between school fees and healthcare, or a trader calculating the risks of interstate highways, governance is not a theoretical debate.

The next election will not be won by campaign slogans or aggressive social media strategies. It will be decided by trust. While the ruling party scrambles to convince a strained populace that their sacrifices will yield future rewards, the opposition must present a credible, steady, and comforting alternative.

Nigeria’s future will ultimately be shaped by leaders who look beyond political echo chambers and actively listen to the markets, classrooms, and farming communities. As the country continues its difficult search for stability, the political figures capable of building a bridge between sound policy and genuine human empathy will inevitably command the attention of a nation eager to move forward.

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Opinion

Why Dele Momodu May Be Atiku’s Smartest Running Mate Option Yet

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By Michael Abimboye

As the African Democratic Congress, ADC, gradually consolidates its coalition ahead of the 2027 presidential election, attention has inevitably shifted from the emergence of Atiku Abubakar as presidential candidate to the more delicate and strategic question of his running mate.

Several names have surfaced in political calculations and media speculation: Rotimi Amaechi, Emeka Ihedioha, and Dele Momodu, among them. Yet, beyond the noise of conventional political arithmetic lies a deeper electoral question: who among these options best expands Atiku’s coalition beyond traditional structures and into the modern political battlefield Nigeria has become?

Increasingly, the answer may well be Dele Momodu.

For years, Nigerian politics has operated under an outdated assumption that electoral victory is secured merely through governors, party leaders, and regional strongmen. The 2023 election disrupted that orthodoxy. The emergence of Peter Obi demonstrated that digital momentum, perception management, emotional resonance, and transregional appeal can significantly alter the political equation. Obi’s strongest weapon was not necessarily party structure. It was narrative dominance.

That reality has permanently changed Nigerian politics.

And in the current ADC coalition conversation, Dele Momodu may be one of the few figures who intuitively understands this new political environment.

Unlike many career politicians whose influence remains confined to state structures or elite caucuses, Momodu operates in multiple political ecosystems simultaneously: media, diplomacy, youth engagement, elite networking, pan-African influence, and digital communication. In modern electoral politics, that multidimensional relevance matters enormously.

One of Momodu’s most understated assets is his continental reach. Through decades of media work, political engagement, and elite interaction across Africa, he has cultivated relationships with presidents, former presidents, business leaders, diplomats, and intellectual figures across the continent. His network is not speculative mythology. It is publicly visible and historically documented through his long-running engagements as publisher of Ovation International and participant in high-level African political circles.

At a time when Nigeria seeks to reassert itself diplomatically and economically within Africa, such soft-power capital becomes politically valuable. A vice-presidential candidate today is no longer merely a ceremonial electoral appendage. He must also communicate competence, cosmopolitanism, and international legitimacy.

Momodu fits that profile more naturally than many conventional politicians. There is also the geographical intelligence behind his potential candidacy.

Though widely perceived nationally as a South-West figure because of his strong Yoruba cultural identity and media dominance in Lagos and the South-West, Dele Momodu is fundamentally from the South-South axis through his Edo roots. Politically, this creates a rare advantage. It allows the ADC to potentially tap into two strategic regions simultaneously without provoking the sharp regional anxieties that often accompany vice-presidential selections.

Amaechi, for instance, undoubtedly possesses political experience and administrative depth. But his polarising history in Rivers politics, coupled with his own presidential ambitions, complicates the chemistry required of a running mate. Indeed, reports have repeatedly suggested Amaechi has little interest in a vice-presidential role.

Ihedioha, meanwhile, brings stability and technocratic moderation, but lacks the national media visibility and emotional connection necessary for a fiercely competitive national election. Elections are not won only by competence. They are won by energy, narrative, symbolism, and visibility.
Dele Momodu possesses all four.

Then comes perhaps the most important factor of all: communication.

The 2027 election is unlikely to resemble previous Nigerian elections. It will be heavily digitised, media-driven, youth-influenced, and psychologically contested online. The political establishment still underestimates how profoundly social media has altered electoral mobilisation. The Obi movement in 2023 proved that online enthusiasm can shape national conversation, pressure traditional media, influence undecided voters, and energise urban youth demographics.

Momodu enters this terrain with an already established digital infrastructure.

Unlike many politicians who outsource communication to media aides, Dele Momodu himself is a communication institution. He understands headlines, optics, timing, public emotion, narrative construction, and audience psychology. His social media platforms command enormous engagement across demographics that traditional politicians often struggle to reach organically.

That matters.

In a coalition environment where ADC must unify disillusioned PDP voters, attract soft Obidients, retain Northern numerical strength, and penetrate urban youth constituencies, communication sophistication becomes central to survival.

Momodu also carries an outsider-insider advantage. He is politically experienced enough to understand power, yet sufficiently detached from the toxic baggage of conventional Nigerian political warfare. He has not governed a state, which critics may see as a weakness, but which supporters may frame as insulation from corruption controversies and governance fatigue associated with many old political actors.

In an anti-establishment electoral climate, that distinction could become useful.

Perhaps most importantly, Dele Momodu brings cultural elasticity. He can comfortably engage traditional rulers in Kano, intellectuals in Abuja, media elites in Lagos, young digital audiences in Port Harcourt, diaspora professionals in London, and political moderates in the South-East. Very few Nigerian political figures possess that adaptive national reach without appearing artificial.

And politics, ultimately, is the management of coalitions.

Atiku’s greatest challenge is not merely winning Northern votes. He already possesses substantial Northern recognition. His real challenge is rebuilding emotional trust across sections of Southern Nigeria while simultaneously energising younger demographics sceptical of establishment politics.

A conventional politician may help him consolidate structures.

Dele Momodu, however, may help Atiku reshape perception. And in modern politics, perception is often the first battlefield victory.

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