Opinion
Akpoti-Uduaghan vs The System: A Battle for the Soul of Nigeria
Published
1 year agoon
By
Eric
...Examining the Court’s Ruling on Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s Recall
By Oyinkan Andu
The Federal High Court’s decision to vacate the order restraining INEC from receiving recall petitions against Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan might seem like another legal technicality. But in Nigeria, where democracy often functions like a high-stakes chess game, it’s far more than that.
Yes, the ruling reaffirms the constitutional right of constituents to recall elected officials. But it also raises a pressing question: is this a legitimate expression of voter dissatisfaction or just another political tool wielded to neutralise opponents?
In a political landscape as ruthless as Nigeria’s, recall mechanisms can be easily weaponised. Imagine a system where every ambitious politician, backed by well-oiled interests, could trigger a recall simply to distract, destabilise, or discredit an opponent. That’s not democracy—that’s guerrilla warfare.
The courts, therefore, carry the weighty responsibility of ensuring that recalls serve the people, not political vendettas. While this ruling allows the petition process to proceed, INEC must still verify whether it meets legal standards. The real challenge? Ensuring the recall process remains a tool of accountability, not an instrument of sabotage.
A Battle Beyond the Courts
There’s an unspoken rule in Nigerian politics: women must play by different rules or risk being destroyed. Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan is learning this the hard way.
When she accused Senate President Godswill Akpabio of sexual harassment, the expected reaction should have been outrage, an investigation, something. Instead, she was swiftly suspended for six months—punished for daring to speak out in a system meticulously designed to silence women like her.
The backlash followed a familiar script. Yet, something unprecedented happened: many Nigerians rallied behind her.
For a country where high-profile accusations of sexual misconduct have historically met women with more backlash than justice, this shift was remarkable.
Consider Busola Dakolo’s case against Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo—the backlash was so severe that she eventually fled the country briefly. The playbook is always the same: discredit, dismiss, destroy.
Yet, despite the growing support Akpoti-Uduaghan has received, scepticism remains.
Some immediately doubted her claims—not just out of political distrust, but because the truth can be too unsettling to confront. What if she’s pulling back the curtain on something too ugly to acknowledge? What if this is just the tip of the iceberg—a world where male politicians have long wielded power with unchecked impunity, protected by silence, complicity, and fear? Or worse still, what if some female politicians, past and present, have been coerced into submission, while others—women who could have reshaped Nigeria’s political landscape for the better—were cast aside and destroyed simply for refusing to play along?
Others dismissed her as yet another ambitious politician playing the game. They scrutinised everything—her privileged background, her past as a single mother, even her audacity to be politically ambitious.
But did they stop to ask: what if she’s telling the truth?
Her allegations don’t exist in a vacuum. Investigative reports from The Guardian and Al Jazeera have hinted at murmurings—and even documented claims—about Akpabio’s conduct. Former aides and political insiders have whispered about inappropriate behavior for years. But like so many before, these allegations were swept under the rug.
The same forces that fuel scepticism today—patriarchy, political self-interest, and distrust of authority—are the ones that have allowed such claims to be ignored in the past.
If history teaches us anything, it’s that impunity thrives in silence. And yet, silence is precisely what is expected of women in Nigerian politics.
Speaking Out Isn’t Just Hard—It’s Dangerous
Calling out powerful men in Nigeria doesn’t just lead to public humiliation—it’s a battle for survival. If Akpoti-Uduaghan is telling the truth, she isn’t just fighting for justice; she’s fighting for her future.
Women across Africa who challenge power rarely escape unscathed:
Fatou Jagne Senghore (Gambia) was persecuted for pushing gender rights.
Stella Nyanzi (Uganda) was jailed for calling out misogyny.
Joyce Banda (former President of Malawi) endured relentless smear campaigns simply for daring to lead.
Nigeria is no different. The system is designed to make women regret speaking up.
Why Is It So Hard to Believe Women?
Scepticism toward Akpoti-Uduaghan follows predictable lines. She’s a politician. In a system riddled with corruption, people assume any claim is a power move.
She’s privileged. Many believe wealth should shield a woman from harassment. In reality, privilege just makes her easier to discredit.
She’s a single mother. Nigerian society weaponises a woman’s personal life. Being unmarried or divorced is treated as a flaw, making her an easy target.
She’s up against a powerful man. This isn’t just any politician—Akpabio is the Senate President. This is a battle between an insider and an inconvenient woman.
In a system that prioritises the status quo, it’s always easier to believe a woman is lying than to confront the reality that a powerful man might be guilty.
A Nigerian #MeToo Moment?
Nigeria has dodged its #MeToo reckoning for years.
In 2017, the U.S. saw powerful men fall as women spoke out. In Nigeria, women who speak up are ridiculed, threatened, or erased.
Now, with Natasha’s case, we stand at a crossroads:
If she is lying, let the evidence prove it.
If she is telling the truth and is destroyed for it, what does that say about us as a society?Let’s us also give her the benefit of the doubt that she may not have planned to reveal this issue if her hand was not forced by the Senate presidents petty actions against her while undergoing her duties.
This isn’t just about Natasha. This is about every Nigerian woman who has been afraid to speak.
It’s why women’s groups chant “We Are All Natasha.” It’s not just a slogan—it’s a demand for change. If a senator can be silenced, what hope do ordinary women have?
Beyond Politics: This Is About Justice
Forget party lines. Forget personal opinions about Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan. This is about justice.
What allegedly happened to her could happen to any woman—any woman who dares to say, “Enough.”
So will Nigeria listen? Or will we continue silencing women until they stop speaking altogether?
A Shifting Demographic Tide—And A Hopeful Future
There’s something the system isn’t ready for: women are becoming the majority.
Demographic studies show that across Africa, female populations are growing faster than male populations due to socio-economic factors. This shift could fundamentally change power dynamics.
A growing female electorate will demand better representation.
As women gain economic power, traditional gender roles will evolve.
A society that values female leadership is more likely to embrace justice, collaboration, and reform.
But change is never welcomed by those who benefit from the status quo. The very trend that could lead to a more equitable Nigeria is already provoking backlash.
The Real Battle: Will Nigeria Listen?
At its core, this is a battle over Nigeria’s future.
Will we continue a culture where speaking up comes at a cost too high to bear? Or will we seize this moment to redefine the standards of justice and power?
The courage of women who speak out must be celebrated, not condemned. Because if a senator, armed with privilege and power, can be silenced—what chance do the millions of silenced women stand?
And so, the question remains: Will Nigeria listen?
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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
Published
3 days agoon
June 9, 2026By
Eric
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
Published
4 days agoon
June 9, 2026By
Eric
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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