Category: Daily Trust

A country slowly and tragically bleeds to death when its citizens become easy targets for criminals of all shades and stripes.

Nigeria is once again haunted by profoundly depressing news involving two women professionals. First to haunt the airwaves was the case of Onyesom Peace, who was called to the Nigerian Bar between September 23rd and 25th, 2025. Still drenched in celebrations at what is not an easy feat in a country where dysfunction is an unnatural disaster, she was abducted alongside her sister by kidnappers on her way back to her base in the southeast. They spent about four days in the den of their kidnappers.

For 29-year-old Somtochukwu Maduagwu, death came agonizingly on Monday, 29th September 2025, during an armed robbery attack during which she is said to have gotten severely injured and passed away as she tried to escape. It was also said that life-saving medical attention did not arrive on time.

In the circumstances, there can be only one fitting description for a country where death is easier than life. Such a country can be fittingly described as being disastrously dysfunctional.

The boldest stamp a state can leave on its territory and on the consciousness of its citizens is security. When the citizens of a country know that they are safe within a country, trust wells within them in the capacity of the state to protect them. This in turn, transforms into patriotism and many other good qualities that every state cannot do without. Alas, in Nigeria, the opposite is true.

It is constitutional that the chief responsibility of the Nigerian state is the welfare of its citizens. Yet, every day in Nigeria, Nigerians are killed, and unaccountably too. The grim list of Nigerians killed with no one held to account continues to grow by the day to put Nigeria on the spot and firmly establish it as a country without justice.

A country boils more fiercely than a cauldron when elected government officials appear impotent and impassive before the scalding rage of ragtag criminals and ragged non-state actors.

For all the current administration assures Nigeria that it is irreversibly on the right track, for all that loquacious government officials howl to the rooftops that the peace and prosperity of old have made a resounding return to a thoroughly parched land, the gaps remain, stressing the gulf between Nigeria as it is today and the country it aspires to be.

Criminals operate, saunter away, and return only because measures are not in place to check them. For more than a decade now, Nigeria’s suspect security architecture has continued to disintegrate, worn down by government dereliction and the newfound audacity of criminals.

These criminals strike at will, cut lives short, and cart away valuables only to rest, rinse, and repeat their crimes, all the while unbothered by what a fairly toothless state can possibly conjure.

A country where citizens cannot sleep with both eyes closed is a country cooking its demise. Such a country can hardly ever make any meaningful progress.

Nigeria must do more. It is tragically shameful that Africa’s largest democracy cannot guarantee the basics of statehood, thus exposing its citizens to ruthless criminals.

In Sudan, one of the oldest and most unique beauty and health rituals known as Dukhan or smoke bath, is a traditional practice where the body is exposed to scented smoke from a burning wood.

Dukhan is popular among married women and soon-to-be-brides. A practice which is part of marriage process for brides is believed to beautify the skin, making the body firmer and adding a lasting fragrance on the skin of the bride-to-be.

While some men also use it to relieve body pains, especially joint pain, the practice is generally considered a women’s ritual in northern Sudanese culture, a culture which has been largely adopted by most states in the northern part of the country.

In some instances, it is believed to able to treat sexually transmitted infections, such as syphilis and gonorrhea, but in this circumstance, various medicinal plants, such as tundub (with its botanical name as capparis decidua, which is a desert plant which seeds and oil have traditional medicinal and nutritional uses), are used instead.

Although the ritual is Sudanese in origin, it has also spread into Nigeria, particularly the northern part of the country, where it has been adopted by women across different communities. In many parts of the North, Dukhan has become part of bridal preparation and married life, valued for its beauty effects, fragrance and role in enhancing intimacy. For brides in particular, the smoke bath is seen as a way of preparing the body and skin for marriage.

The process begins with the woman applying karkar, a special oil made by mixing sesame oil with various local herbs and perfumes. She then covers herself with a thick wool blanket and sits on a stool with a hole in the middle. Underneath the stool, a fire is lit in a small pit and special woods are placed on it. The most common are talh (acacia wood, from the acacia tree) and shaff (a locally grown scented wood). They are called turaren wuta here in Nigeria. These woods produce a rich, sweet-smelling smoke that surrounds the body.

The woman remains seated until the smoke becomes too hot to handle. The heat opens the pores of the skin, while the perfumed smoke is believed to smoothen and soften the skin, tighten the body, particularly the private, and leave a natural fragrance. After the smoke bath, women often receive a dilka massage (a body scrub made from turmeric, honey and other ingredients), that leaves the skin glowing.

Still, questions remain about whether the smoke bath is truly healthy. Medical experts have expressed concerns about its safety. In fact, Dr Naima Idris of the Girl Talk Series on an Instagram live described the practice bluntly: ‘It is like a barbecue for a woman’s private part.’

To understand why the practice continues to hold such meaning despite the concerns, Weekend Trust spoke with women who have experienced Dukhan firsthand.

Mariya Ibrahim, a bride-to-be, explained that the practice is a part of marriage preparation. ‘To be honest, it is a tradition that has always been done. Young girls and brides-to-be are excited at the thought of that aspect of wedding preparation. It is painful and time-taking, but once it is finished, you smell so nice and look better. I do it because all my sisters that are married did it. I cannot imagine a bride not having to do Dukhan or the whole gyaran jiki process.’

Zainab Musa, who has been married for four years, told Weekend Trust that she still maintains Dukhan as part of her beauty routine. ‘I began Dukhan as part of my wedding preparations, just like every other bride. My mother is from Borno State, so I grew up around the burning of turaren wuta for cloths. I often saw her and my aunties practise Dukhan without negative effects. Over time, I personally began to enjoy the fragrance it leaves behind. For me, it is not only a tradition but also a form of self-care,’ she said.

Although Dukhan is traditionally practiced, mainly by women from northern communities, today, it has crossed those cultural boundaries. Women from other regions have embraced the practice, showing how the smoke bath is gaining popularity beyond its original roots.

Elizabeth, a young woman from Anambra now living in Abuja, said she first discovered Dukhan through a sponsored Instagram advert by a spa. ‘I decided to give it a try. Honestly, it hasn’t really had any bad effect on me, but sometimes I do it together with the full gyaran jiki process, and that makes me look more beautiful and smell really nice. I don’t do it often, maybe once in three months, just as a self-care thing,’ she said.

Not all women continue with the Dukhan ritual after marriage. Aisha Ahmed, a mother of two said, ‘I did it when I was a bride because I didn’t really have a choice. Where I come from, it would have been unheard of for a bride to skip the full gyaran jiki process. People would have talked and I didn’t want the gossip. But many doctors advised against it.

‘After I got married I chose not to continue. And luckily, my husband did not mind. I understand the risks now, so I decided not to do it anymore.’

For those who provide the service, Dukhan is seen as an essential part of women’s beauty and self-care.

Jamila Yakubu, who runs a spa in Abuja and Kaduna since 2019, said she first encountered the smoke bath as part of everyday life in northern Nigeria. ‘As a northerner who has spent all her life in the North, I would say I first learnt about Dukhan from my environment since it is common here. Then I made research about it online before attending classes on it,’ she explained.

Jamila, who studied botany (the scientific study of plants), blends cultural practice with scientific knowledge. She said, ‘During a Dukhan session, body scrubs of different types are prepared from natural ingredients; and these scrubs are applied all over the body, then the scrubbing begins. Afterwards, the steaming session is next. The client sits in a sauna body steamer for about 20 minutes. The dorut wood is also burnt, allowing the smoke to trap in the sauna bag. Cloves and date seeds are also burnt, and women are told to sit on the smoke for a few minutes. This allows the steam to tighten the private part after childbirth. Cloves are known for their antimicrobial properties, which kill certain fungi and bacteria.’

She listed some of the natural materials she uses: turmeric, qasil, henna, moringa, dorot wood, palm oil, olive oil, coconut oil, carrot oil, among others. ‘The turmeric is known for instant skin glow and lightening, the qasil, henna and moringa plants are good for exfoliation, acne treatment and skin repair. The dorut wood brightens the skin, while all the oils I use naturally give it a radiant glow,’ Jamila explained.

She said her clients kept coming because they trust her expertise. ‘I don’t just offer a Dukhan service, I also educate them about certain things relating to their skin types. I make them comfortable; and I must say that I have a good customer relationship,’ she said.

Jamila admitted that Dukhan comes with risks if not practised carefully. ‘These disadvantages come when you don’t have a proper knowledge about it. When you sit in the smoke bath, make sure your head is outside the sauna bag; that is why I use a sauna bag to avoid inhalation of smoke, which might cause respiratory problems. I also make sure my clients don’t sit in the steam for long to avoid an increase in blood pressure,’ she explained.

On the cost, she said a regular session could be as low as N25,000, adding, ‘This include body waxing and two steaming sessions. But we offer different packages, depending on your budget. And yes, the price changes for bridal packages.’

Despite her belief in the practice, Jamila also urges moderation. ‘My overall thought about the smoke bath is that women shouldn’t do it too frequently to avoid skin burns and possible inhalation of smoke, except they are having the Dukhan session at a well-equipped space, like I use a sauna bag for mine. I recommend women to do it at least twice monthly and on special occasions,’ she said.

For Meelas, who runs a beauty spa in Abuja, Dukhan is both a passion and a profession. She said, ‘I have always been a woman who loves body care. I used to visit spas regularly, and that was where I learned how the owners interact with their clients. From there, I picked up knowledge about how to prepare and guide women through Dukhan.’

According to her, women come for Dukhan for different reasons: ‘Some are for marriage preparations, others for self-care and body maintenance.

‘Dukhan is 100 per cent healthy. It has no harm. Dukhan is all about beauty, it is just body maintenance to get the skin to look neat and beautiful.

‘Smoke bath is an amazing experience I will advise every woman to get. As a woman, you are supposed to always keep your body neat, smooth and soft; and for this to happen, you can’t rely only on skin products. This is why it is a necessity for every woman. It is advisable to have Dukhan, at least twice monthly.’

However, while women who practise it and those who provide the service often describe smoke bath as cleansing and relaxing, medical experts continue to warn against it.

Dr Nonye Okoye, a consultant obstetrician and gynecologist told Weekend Trust that the claimed benefits were not supported by science.

She said, ‘There is no scientific evidence that it tightens the private part. We actually try to speak against women using scented herbs, fragrances or lotions to create a ‘better’ scent because the private part is not meant to have such floral smells. What those things do is distort the normal microorganisms, the natural bacteria that help maintain wellness. Naturally, the private part has different smells, depending on the individual, but it is meant to be musky, like fresh soil, not floral or perfumed.’

Dr Okoye explained that organisations such as the World Health Organisation and many OBGYN associations had openly discouraged steaming and smoke baths.

‘The risks completely outweigh the benefits. Exposing the private part to hot smoke can cause burns. The skin there is very fragile and the heat can lead to thermal injury and damage delicate tissues,’ she stressed.

She warned that the smoke also disrupts the natural balance of the private part, saying, ‘There are bacterial bugs that are meant to be there. The smoke can alter the pH (a measurement of the acidity or alkalinity of the environment of the private part), which normally protects women. When that pH is disturbed, it increases the risk of recurrent yeast infections and bacterial vaginosis. It also creates micro-injuries and dryness that make women more vulnerable to HIV and other STIs.’

The dangers, she added, are not only gynecological. ‘Inhaling wood smoke, especially in poorly ventilated rooms, can irritate the lungs, trigger asthma and even cause long-term respiratory disease. Depending on what is burnt, women could also be exposed to toxins, such as carbon monoxide and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons. These toxins can be absorbed into the body and increase susceptibility to infections. And with long-term exposure around the reproductive areas, we also have concerns about fertility.

‘The safer, evidence-based alternative is pelvic floor muscle exercises. Women can learn how to do this from a pelvic floor therapist. These exercises, recommended especially from age 30 onward and for women who have given birth through the private part, strengthen the muscles that support it and other structures. Done consistently, they improve tightness and sexual satisfaction without any risk.

‘Good hygiene, avoiding perfumes or scented washes, and seeing a gynecologist when necessary, are the safe ways to maintain vaginal health. Dukhan is not recommended. It is not evidence-based. What women need is education to make informed, medically sound choices,’ she noted.

Weekend Trust reports that although doctors advise against the Dukhan smoke bath, many women still follow the traditional practice because they believe it enhances sexual intimacy and improves their beauty. Health workers stress that women need education to make informed, medically sound choices, but for now, many continue to trust and follow the Dukhan practice passed down through generations.

Iyiola Omisore, former National Secretary of the All Progressives Congress (APC) has joined the 2026 governorship race in Osun State.

Omisore made his intention known in a post on his official X handle, on Saturday.

‘My beloved people of Osun State, After deep reflection and wide consultations, I have decided to formally declare my intention to contest for the Governor of Osun State in 2026 under our great party, the All Progressives Congress (APC).’

‘This declaration will take place on: Date: Tuesday, 7th October 2025 Time: 10:00 AM Prompt Venue: Osun State APC Secretariat, Ogo-Oluwa, Osogbo Our journey is guided by the theme: ‘Fix the Broken, Restore Our Dreams.

‘I believe strongly that together, we can restore hope, strengthen governance, and deliver a brighter future for every son and daughter of Osun. This is not just my mission, it is a collective one. I humbly invite you to join me as we take this bold step towards the Osun Rescue Mission 2026.’

Omisore, a former Deputy Governor of Osun, contested against Rauf Aregbesola, in 2014, but lost.

He contested that election under the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) and got full backing of then President Goodluck Jonathan who planned to use Osun as an inroad into the South West ahead of the 2015 election.

Like Omisore, Jonathan also lost the 2015 election.

The World Health Organisation (WHO) defines the elderly as someone aged 60 years and above. However, definitions for ‘elderly’ can vary significantly, with the UN and other organisations using the cut off of 65 years. Therefore, Nigeria, by all definitions, is an elderly country.

We say, ‘a fool at forty is a fool forever’, but we are much older than forty, so I think the best term for us is the Yoruba term- ‘Agbaya’. Coincidentally, October 1, our Independence Day, is also celebrated as the international day of older persons worldwide.

Hitherto, Agbaya.

Another October 1 has come and gone, draped in the familiar green and white colours. At 65 years of age, a nation, like any person, should be enjoying the fruits of its labour, standing with the steady gait of maturity and the wisdom of experience. Its citizens should feel the robust pulse of its systems, the surety of its protection, and the warmth of its care. But as we celebrate another year of independence, we must ask: in the six and a half decades since that green and white flag was first hoisted, has our long walk been one of progress or a tragic, circular trek back to where we began? What have we done with our 65 years of Independence?

To answer, we must first remember the man who stood at the podium at Tafawa Balewa Square in 1960. Our first Prime Minister, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, spoke not just of freedom from Britain, but of a responsibility to a continent. ‘We are called upon immediately to show that our faith in ourselves is justified,’ he declared. Nigeria was a ‘trust,’ a ‘privilege,’ a nation poised to be a ‘great and powerful country.’

In those early years, the stride was hopeful. We were a federation of regions with competitive agriculture; groundnuts piled high in Kano, cocoa flowing from the West, palm oil from the East. We built universities, the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (1960), Ahmadu Bello University (1962), the University of Lagos (1962); cathedrals of learning intended to forge the African mind. Our healthcare system, though young, was functional and respected; teaching hospitals like University College Hospital (UCH), Ibadan, were beacons of medical excellence in West Africa. The trajectory, though not without its political tremors, pointed upwards.

Then came the coup of 1966 and the countercoup that plunged us into a 30-month civil war. The shadow of that war, and the millions of lives it consumed, has never truly left us. It was the first great fracture, the moment we learned that the Nigerian project was a fragile one, held together not by a common vision, but by a precarious and often violent balance.

The oil boom of the 1970s should have been our great leap. Petrol-dollars flooded the treasury, and the military government of Yakubu Gowon spoke of the problem not being money, but how to spend it. We embarked on ambitious projects, but in our frenzy, we committed two original sins: Firstly, we abandoned the farms with the share of GDP plummeting from over 60 per cent in the early 1960s to about 20 per cent by the 1980s and secondly, greed took over our senses. We became a mono-economy, hooked on crude oil, vulnerable to global price swings, and utterly reckless with our wealth.

The 1980s and 90s were the ‘lost decades,’ defined by a carousel of military dictatorships. The Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) of the Babangida era devalued not just the Naira, but our collective dignity. It dismantled the nascent social safety net and introduced a harsh, survival-of-the-fittest capitalism that shattered the middle class. Our universities, once proud, became theatres of endless strikes as the intellectual foundation of the country was deliberately neglected. Brain drain, or ‘Japa’ before it had a name, began in earnest.

The return to democracy in 1999 brought a fragile hope. However, the 4th Republic has been a masterclass in the politics of patronage over progress. We have witnessed the entrenchment of a political class so detached from the realities of the people that their promises feel like a form of national gaslighting. They tell us, ‘Education is free’ while our lecturers sell tomatoes; they announce ‘free healthcare’ while our children die from a lack of diphtheria antitoxin.

So, are we moving forward or backwards? You tell me.

The Nigerian economy, once a diversified, agricultural exporter has now become a struggling mono-economy, the poverty capital of the world, with a currency in freefall. We now import what we once grew.

Once upon a time, we had a functioning railway system; the Lagos-Ibadan Road was a smooth passage. Now? We have dilapidated roads, a collapsed national carrier, and a national grid that functions like a bad joke. The last time I travelled the Kaduna-Abuja Road, my heart banged against my ribcage so many times so much that I thought I was going to have a stroke. In fact, we are currently celebrating the revival of a train service, a basic amenity we had at independence.

Healthcare. Where do I start from? In the sixties and seventies, UCH Ibadan was a regional centre of excellence. Now? Our best and brightest doctors are the backbone of the NHS and the American healthcare system. Our hospitals, as I have lamented many times, often lack gloves, oxygen and bed space while patients bleed to death from perforated ulcers caused by fake drugs sold by quacks and children die from preventable diseases like Diphtheria. Life expectancy has improved globally, but in Nigeria, the pace is a crawl compared to peers, and the outcomes are amongst the worst.

As for security, I have no words. In the eighties, we grew up hearing about dangerous countries like Colombia and Honduras where kidnapping was the order of the day. Never in our wildest dreams did we ever imagine that that would be our reality. Yet here we are. Our Kidnapping is now on steroids.

What about education, you ask? Well, when a sitting JAMB Oga comes out to tell you that some students will have to rewrite JAMB because there was a ‘glitch’ in their system, then you know that, pardon my French, shit has really hit the fan. Graduates of universities can no longer write coherent sentences and talk more about reports. Every year, WAEC and NECO scores continue to plummet even lower. As for the states that boast of high scores- like we say ‘miracle’ no dey tire Jesus!

The evidence is overwhelming. By every metric that measures the health of a nation, the welfare of its citizens, the strength of its institutions, the quality of its public goods, we have moved backwards. We are a country that, in 2025, is struggling to achieve what it had a firm grip on in 1965.

And yet, to declare us a failed state is to ignore the irrepressible Nigerian spirit, the ‘siddon look’ resilience that is both our strength and our curse. Our survival is not a sign of success, but a testament to the sheer grit of ordinary people who, against all odds, continue to hustle, to hope, to build businesses in the face of epileptic power, and to save lives in hospitals without tools.

The diagnosis is clear. We suffer from a chronic and debilitating illness: a failure of leadership and a corrosive corrupt political culture. The treatment is not another policy paper or a sensationalist headline. It is a radical, surgical intervention into our national psyche and our political structures. It demands that we, the people, stop rewarding the bad behaviour of our rulers and begin to demand, with one unwavering voice, what we were promised 65 years ago; prosperity, justice and security for all.

The long walk is not over. But until we face the truth of how far we have strayed from the path, we will remain, 65 years on, Agbaya forever.

I pen this article with a humble sense of responsibility hoping to contribute to this critical national discourse of proffering actionable insights to nation building. This article is informed by insights gleaned from my engagements with more than 1,000 leaders globally in the past year and close to a gross of this number fifteen years after I founded These Executive Minds (TEXEM) in the UK.

Sixty-five years after independence, Nigeria stands at a crossroads that is both sobering and promising. The sobering part is familiar. Too many citizens experience public services that arrive late or not up to par. Firms face a cocktail of inflation, logistics friction, and regulatory uncertainty. Civil society carries heavy loads where formal systems falter. The promising part is quieter but powerful. In the past year I have sat with more than a thousand leaders in ministries, agencies, boardrooms, factories, start-ups, cooperatives, and classrooms from Kano to Lagos to Abuja and cities in other emerging and developed countries. The appetite I have encountered is not for new slogans. It is for practices that produce compounding improvements citizens can feel. My contention is that the leaders who will move Nigeria forward in the next decade will practise three disciplines with rigour: reflection that rebuilds trust and sharpens judgement, reinvention that converts constraints into design choices, and winning that scales what works and protects it from erosion.

Reflection must come first because progress without trust rarely survives the news cycle and more importantly does not lead to sustainable inclusive impact. In many of our institutions, there is an inherited deficit of confidence. People discount statements before they hear them. Officials are assumed to be evasive until proven otherwise. In this context, the most strategic act a leader can take is to make the logic of decisions visible and testable. I have watched permanent secretaries and chief executives shift the temperature in a room by explaining the trade-offs behind a policy or a pivot in two pages of plain English, then inviting challenge before the implementation plan is final. That small ritual does more than inform. It signals that citizens and staff are not audiences but partners in judgement. Rwanda’s experience with public performance contracts for officials is instructive because it illustrates how visible targets and steady follow-through can change the relationship between leaders and citizens. Nigeria does not need to copy the mechanism to embrace the principle. We can begin with published choice notes that state priorities, the reasons for those priorities, and the measures by which success will be judged.

Reflection also requires safety for truth. In utilities, hospitals, and agencies I often meet talented professionals who knew trouble was coming but said nothing because it did not feel safe to do so. The cost of that silence is measured in failed projects, service outages, and avoidable controversy. A modest institutional habit can reverse this dynamic. Start formal meetings by asking for the pieces of bad news that no one has voiced. Reward the messenger rather than the fixer. In a northern water board I watched how this practice reduced the number of last-minute crises and improved relationships with suppliers who were finally hearing about risks early enough to help. Psychological safety is not a fashionable idea. It is a governance advantage.

Strategy is the next frontier of reflection. Plans that attempt to please everyone end up straining everyone. Strategy is not an inventory of hopes but the courage to choose. What distinguishes Ethiopia’s early industrial zones, despite all the imperfections, is not simply the infrastructure but the choice to concentrate on a small number of sectors where jobs could be created quickly and learning could compound. Nigeria has too often pursued breadth without depth. A commissioner who commits to a two-page statement of where the state will compete in transport or health, how it will win there, and what will be left aside this year, has already advanced execution. The power of this clarity lies in how it enables other actors to align. Suppliers, investors, and civil society can only complement a public agenda they can see.

Foresight completes reflective leadership. Oil shocks, currency swings, (though the latter two have been quite stable in the past six months) import disruptions, and climate stress are not surprises. They are conditions of the game. The organisations that navigate them well do not predict the future. They rehearse it. In Vietnam, which has climbed the manufacturing ladder over the past two decades, routine scenario exercises allowed managers and officials to pre-commit to responses when supply chains wobbled. In our context the same discipline means agreeing on three or four numbers that, if breached, trigger specific actions within a week. It means deciding in advance which contracts can be slowed without losing capability, which social programmes must be protected under any scenario, and which suppliers or ports will be used if a route closes. When senior teams practise these drills quarterly, they do not eliminate volatility. They convert volatility from a reason to panic into a reason to act calmly and quickly.

Once reflection has cleared the fog, reinvention can proceed with precision. Reinvention in Nigeria must start with an unflinching acceptance of constraints. Capital is tight. Power is unreliable in too many places. The skills we most need are scarce and globally mobile. Rules sometimes move mid-stream. These constraints do not forbid innovation. They shape it. The leaders who make headway begin by asking what job the citizen or customer is hiring the service to do. In one health programme I observed, teams stopped designing features and started listening to mothers who simply wanted certainty about vaccination days. A low-cost text system that reminded families and local clinics of fixed days in each ward lifted attendance without expensive infrastructure. India’s Aadhaar system, whatever one thinks of it in the round, succeeded because it focused on a minimal identity layer that others could build upon. Kenya’s M-Pesa was born because the banking system ignored the unbanked. Both cases show the pay-off from designing to the job, not to the institution.

Reinvention demands learning before scale. In too many Nigerian settings pilots are a performance rather than a process. They lack a falsifiable question, a clear owner, and a path to either stop or scale. The fix is not complicated. Any initiative expected to touch a large population should be tested in two locations, with one sharp question set in advance and a date by which a scale or stop decision will be made. The results should be published in language citizens understand. Failure then becomes an investment rather than a secret. I saw a state education agency kill three shiny ideas quickly and redirect funds into a teacher coaching model that improved learning outcomes because it treated the pilot as an experiment rather than an announcement.

Reinvention gains momentum when public institutions become conveners of ecosystems rather than providers of every function. Big problems yield when government, private firms, and civic actors share accountability for outcomes that citizens feel. Bangladesh offered a vivid lesson. Partnerships between government, a major telecom, microfinance institutions, and social enterprises created rural digital kiosks run by women that offered identity, market information, and payments. The result was a commercial model that advanced connectivity and income at the same time. There was no philanthropic afterthought. Incentives were aligned at the design stage. Nigeria’s agriculture and health sectors can embrace the same logic. Shared cold chain investment for vaccines, joint platforms for farmer data, and managed marketplaces for produce are all areas where no single actor can win alone, yet every actor can win if the rules of cooperation are clear.

The final discipline is winning. By winning I do not mean a one-off success that makes good copy. I mean the craft of scaling what works, protecting it from erosion, and compounding advantage. The first move is to pick a narrow transformation where citizens will feel the difference within months, ‘a low hanging fruit’. A permit workflow, a claims process, a land registry, or targeted procurement systems are good candidates. The rule is simple. The process must be completed end to end in a single digital flow. A named leader must own service levels. The model that drives decisions must be monitored so that it does not drift. Small wins matter because they change expectations. Once a citizen experiences a permit that takes days rather than months, tolerance for delay declines across the board. Indonesia’s progress on e-procurement and tax administration, while uneven, shows how patient systems work can raise revenue and trust at the same time. We should be stubborn about this kind of boring progress because it pays compound interest.

Winning also requires decision-making that treats a downturn as a time to prune and plant rather than to freeze. The instinct in a crisis is to cut across the board. The better move is to cut visible waste, protect muscle, and pre-fund two moves that will pay off when others are distracted. When India’s Tata Group bought Jaguar Land Rover in the depths of the 2008 crisis, it was not a gamble on prestige. It was a calculated bet on future capability. In Nigeria the equivalent in the public sphere could be a state securing a long-term power arrangement for critical social infrastructure when prices soften. In the private sphere it may look like acquiring a distressed logistics asset that reduces cost to serve for essential goods. These are not headline moments. They are compounding moves.

The strongest fosses in emerging economies are often social and institutional as much as technological. A company that ties its profit engine to a farmer’s gain by reducing post-harvest losses creates an affinity that is difficult to copy. A ministry that becomes the trusted orchestrator of identity or payments in a sector makes duplication wasteful for others and partnership sensible. Vietnam’s rise in manufacturing is instructive here. Once clusters matured and supplier development programmes took root, firms preferred to deepen rather than exit. In Nigeria we can replicate the principle if not the exact model by choosing the lever we will own, whether identity rails for SMEs, last-mile logistics in a large state, or a vocational pipeline that gives investors’ confidence.

Every serious proposal invites counterarguments. The first is that our constraints are too severe. It is true that power, security challenges, still high inflation and undervalued Naira shape the feasible frontier. Yet they rarely block the first disciplined step. Narrowing focus, publishing choices, and testing cheaply are possible even in tough conditions. The second counterargument is that pilots never scale here. That is not a law of nature. Pilots fail to scale when ownership is vague and money is episodic. Tie each pilot to a named leader with a budget gate and an adoption target. If the target is met by a stated date, the next release triggers automatically. If not, the idea is retired without controversy because the condition was agreed up front. The third objection is that openness hands advantage to rivals or invites misuse. Opacity is more expensive. Clear interfaces, shared dashboards, and pre-agreed escalation channels protect the public interest while letting private actors bring energy and ingenuity. The fourth objection is that our context is unique and therefore resistant to lessons from elsewhere. Culture and politics matter. So does execution. The underlying disciplines of reflection, reinvention, and winning have travelled across Asia, Africa, and Latin America because they are grounded in human behaviour and institutional incentives rather than in fashion.

Actionable suggestions matter most when they become routine. A practical rhythm helps leaders avoid performative announcements. Each quarter, senior teams should meet for a candid review of trust, choices, and scenarios. The output should be three objectives with dates and owners that are shared with staff and, where appropriate, with citizens. Each month, the organisation should pilot two new practices and retire one legacy habit that no longer serves. A one-page learning note in plain English should capture what moved, what did not, and what will be changed as a result. Each week, leaders should review a single measure that protects their moat, whether adoption, cost to serve, or ecosystem leverage, and then remove one blocker that slows progress. This cadence is not a ritual for its own sake. It is the mechanism through which reflection feeds reinvention and reinvention feeds winning.

The independence anniversary invites a final reflection. Nations and subnational do not become trustworthy because they declare it. Companies do not become competitive because they wish it. NGOs do not become impactful because they are earnest. Trust grows when leaders expose their logic to scrutiny and follow through. Competitiveness grows when organisations choose a place to compete and then refine how they win there through fast learning. Impact grows when coalitions form around measurable outcomes that citizens experience in hours saved, income gained, and safety improved. I have seen these habits in pockets across Nigeria. A cooperative that became a disciplined buyer and seller on behalf of its members and cut their losses. A state-owned entity that digitised a creaking process and recovered weeks of time for small businesses. A private firm that opened its platform to complementary services and grew by letting others create value. These are not miracles. They are crafts. Crafts improve with practice.

Examples from other emerging economies are not medals to hang on a wall. They are reminders that the work is doable. Rwanda’s visible performance contracts demonstrate how public accountability can reset expectations after trauma. Aadhaar in India shows that a minimal, interoperable public good can unlock many private innovations when designed with restraint. Kenya’s mobile money revolution proves that leapfrogging can occur when a clear job is served on a platform people already use. Vietnam’s steady climb through manufacturing illustrates how clusters, supplier development, and predictability attract commitment. Indonesia’s progress on tax administration and procurement shows how patient system building raises revenue and trust together. Bangladesh’s rural digital models illustrate the power of aligned incentives across public, private, and social actors. None of these examples is a blueprint. Each is a provocation to ask what the Nigerian equivalent would look like under our constraints and with our strengths.

As we enter the sixty-fifth year of independence, the choice before Nigerian leaders is not between idealism and realism. It is between a loud cycle of fresh promises and a quieter craft of institutional improvement that compounds. The second path is less dramatic, yet it is how countries change without fanfare. It begins with leaders who listen before they speak and who effectively communicate the reasons that informed their choices. It gains speed with teams who test efficiently, measure honestly, and stop what does not work. It consolidates with organisations that scale what works, protect their edge, and reinvest in capability in good times and bad. I wrote earlier that the mood is sober and promising. It will remain promising only if it becomes disciplined.

The most powerful sentence I have heard in the past year came from a nurse in a secondary hospital who said that the only thing that had changed her day was a new process that meant a critical drug arrived on Wednesday without fail. It made her sound less like a hero and more like a professional. That sentence is the heart of development. When essential functions become reliable, professionals emerge, and citizens begin to trust. The path to that sentence is neither glamorous nor impossible. It asks us to reflect with candour, to reinvent with humility, and to win with patience. If we make those verbs our habit in the year ahead, the country we will write about at seventy will look less like a set of crises to manage and more like a system that works. That would be an independence worth celebrating.

The main opposition Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) has said there could be a misconception of roles in the party, but there is no crisis.

Speaking with journalists in Abuja at the weekend, National Publicity Secretary of the party, Debo Ologunagba, said the National Secretary, Senator Samuel Anyanwu, has no power to summon any meetings as his functions were limited to administrative and taking directive from the National Chairman, Ambassador Umar Damagun.

Ologunagba, who was reacting to two letters written to the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) by Damagum and Anyanwu, explained that the constitution of the party makes it clear that, ‘there shall be a National Secretary, who shall be the chief Administrative and Accounting officer, two roles, and they’re specified, whose functions are to supervise the day to day activities of the party. So, if there is no diesel in the office, he should take care of that.

‘If the parking spaces are not organized, he would say ‘hey, this place is dirty go and make sure it is painted’.’

Ologunagba added that Anyanwu is saddled with the responsibility of the correspondences, ‘that is paperwork, correspondences of the party and course to be issued, notices of meetings. So the chairman will say, I’m summoning this meeting, go and issue the notice.

‘The secretary cannot call a meeting. He cannot summon a meeting and until we understand that, we continue to wallow in this level of ignorance or deliberate falsehood, that is not there. So that is his job, keep or course to be kept all records of proceedings, that is minutes. I was a company secretary, legal advisor of a bank. I can’t call the meeting. The MD or the Chairman of the bank will say, come convey a meeting, that is summoning.’

Speaking on the misunderstanding within the National Working Committee, NWC, Ologunagba said, ‘When you don’t have it, you don’t have it. Ensure the implementation of the decision, this is important, ensure the implementation of the decisions and directives of the National Convention, NEC, National Caucus, National Working Committee and ensure that all units of the party carry out their duties promptly and efficiently.

‘For instance, if the National Working Committee passes a resolution, and the National Public Secretary, for instance, is expected or directed to issue a resolution, issue a statement, it is the duty of the Secretary to ensure that those directives are carried out.

‘So the Secretary cannot, and in any event, cannot summon and cannot even issue a press statement. He cannot. So I’m saying, when people have this inflated impression about their capacity to do certain things, again, it is for us to have a conversation and draw attention so that we don’t get confused by that.

‘Secretary is the chief administrative officer? Yeah, he deals with correspondences, with day-to-day activities to ensure that the office is run well. If you need, like I said, stationeries, we go to him. He approves it. If there are correspondences, he ensures that is done. If there are directives of any of the organs of the party, as secretary, he ensures that those directives are carried out.

‘So that explains the two letters you’re talking about. As to whether there’s crisis in the party, there’s none. There’s absolutely none. There could be a misconception of role. There could be a misconception of activity. But again, like I said earlier, when you are in a position of authority, what is expected is a level of caution and responsibility and so our party is fine. We’re good and there’s no issue when it comes to all that and that’s why I took my time to explain.’

When discussions around healthcare arise, the role of pharmacists is often viewed through the narrow lens of dispensing medication. Yet, the story of one Nigerian-born scholar, Muhammad Kabir Musa proves that pharmacists stand at the heart of transforming health systems, shaping global health policy, and pioneering reforms that save lives. His journey demonstrates how research, passion, and service can redefine what it means to be a pharmacist in the 21st century.

The turning point came at the Ahmadu Bello University Teaching Hospital (ABUTH), Zaria, where Musa’s early work uncovered a startling truth: handwritten prescriptions carried a 38 per cent error rate. This revelation was more than a statistic; it represented thousands of patients vulnerable to preventable harm. Rather than treat it as an academic finding alone, he pushed for reform. His advocacy led to the adoption of an electronic prescribing system at ABUTH, cutting projected errors by 60, per cent iimproving communication between healthcare professionals, preventing adverse drug events, and saving significant costs. Today, that system stands as a model for other Nigerian health institutions and beyond. This pioneering work underscored a career-long commitment to prescription safety, patient welfare, and public health innovation.

The roots of this remarkable journey stretch back to Okuta (Senrukperu), in Kwara State’s Baruten Local Government Area, where he attended Baptist Grammar School. Motivated by a deep curiosity about health, medicine, and science, he pursued a degree in pharmacy at Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto, graduating in 2017. Following his internship at ABUTH (2018-2019) and successful completion of the Pharmacy Council of Nigeria licensure exams, he served his National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) year at General Hospital Hunkuyi in Kaduna State. Alongside, he earned a Certificate of Proficiency in Management from the Nigerian Institute of Management (Chartered), reflecting his interest in leadership and systems development.

His appointment as a pharmacist at ABUTH deepened his professional experience. It was here that his influence expanded from patient care to health system strengthening and public health research. This foundation propelled him onto the global stage, where his expertise would attract international recognition and opportunities for advanced research.

In 2022, his quest for deeper knowledge earned him the Abay Kunanbayev Scholarship to pursue a Master of Public Health at Nazarbayev University in Kazakhstan. Under the mentorship of Johns Hopkins alumnus, Prof. Byron Crape, he conducted a systematic review and linear regression analysis on global HPV vaccine coverage, bringing new clarity to international vaccination strategies. His success at Nazarbayev reinforced his reputation as a scholar committed to using evidence for impactful health policy.

Today, he is pursuing doctoral studies at the prestigious University of Michigan College of Pharmacy, in the Clinical Pharmacy Translational Sciences program. His research continues to garner attention, addressing complex issues that resonate on a global scale proof of his unwavering dedication to advancing pharmacy practice and improving healthcare delivery.

Beyond degrees and titles, his contributions are visible in the breadth of his scholarship. With over 25 international publications, he has tackled themes ranging from medication safety, vaccination uptake, and COVID-19’s hidden consequences to early marriage and teenage pregnancy, public health in conflict zones, and global neurosurgical challenges. He has also explored the intersections of climate change, food insecurity, and health policy reforms. Each paper not only expands academic knowledge but also informs practical decisions by policymakers and institutions.

What made his work at ABUTH particularly transformative was its real-world application. By showing the dangers of illegible handwritten prescriptions and quantifying the risks, he provided evidence that spurred concrete reform. His insistence on safety turned an ordinary teaching hospital into a national model of innovation. That research laid the foundation for broader advocacy in pharmaceutical practice, health systems reform, and patient-centered care.

His impact, however, extends beyond laboratories, hospitals, and lecture halls. With a passion for education and youth development, he founded the MK Musa Foundation, alongside young leaders committed to empowering communities through education and other tools of transformation. Since 2024, he has also volunteered on the Edufurther platform, offering free mentorship to aspiring scholars. These efforts earned him the Grassroots Educational Ambassador Award from the National Association of Kwara State Students, Usmanu Danfodiyo University chapter. His mentorship embodies a belief that knowledge is not complete until it is shared, and leadership is not meaningful unless it uplifts others.

His story also mirrors the broader vision of the International Pharmaceutical Federation (FIP), the global body advocating for the evolution of pharmacy, pharmaceutical sciences, and education. This year’s World Pharmacist Day theme-‘Think Health, Think Pharmacist’-perfectly aligns with his career. By advancing research, reshaping policies, mentoring the next generation, and directly improving patient care, he exemplifies how pharmacists today extend far beyond the pill counter.

From humble beginnings in rural Kwara State to international lecture halls and globally cited research, his journey illustrates resilience, brilliance, and service. It reminds us that pharmacists are not simply dispensers of medicine but guardians of patient safety, architects of health systems, and advocates for policy reform.

The breakthrough at ABUTH marked the first chapter in a life dedicated to innovation. But it was only a beginning. Today, his work continues to resonate across continents, shaping healthcare conversations and practices in ways that will protect lives for generations to come.

Indeed, the path he has carved embodies the essence of going beyond the pill-toward safer, smarter, and more inclusive healthcare for all.

Adisa Bolanta, a retired Assistant Inspector General of Police from Kwara State served as Commissioner of Police in Oyo, Sokoto, Kebbi, and Imo States, and also commanded the Police Academy in Kano. Renowned for his grasp of security management and firm stance on professionalism in policing, Bolanta speaks about the rising wave of insecurity in Kwara and its root causes.

The insecurity situation has reached a worrying point lately in Kwara State. Can you put the situation in perspective?

This issue of insecurity is both a national and international phenomenon. In Nigeria, we sleep with fire on the roof and do not care until it engulfs the whole house. Crime is like a virus, and once it affects a community, if not checked, it spreads. It began in Zamfara State as a local problem but was not properly handled. As Commissioner of Police in Sokoto between 2011 and 2012, that stretch of road from Sokoto to the Zamfara border was heavily policed, and there were few incidents. But once you entered Zamfara, the story was different. Because the federal government and the states did not act decisively then, the problem spread to neighbouring states.

Our security system is weak and subject to political interference. The police, who are central to internal security, are not adequately equipped. Kwara used to be a state of harmony, but because it borders Niger, Kogi, and Kebbi states, all of which face security challenges, complacency has made us vulnerable. We kept saying nothing was happening here while ignoring the signs.

Another factor is greed among our people. Foreign elements could not have settled here without locals giving them land and accommodation. Suspicious activities like sudden wealth, motorcycles, and movements were ignored. The vigilante system has also been monetised, making it less effective. What we need is genuine community partnership with the police, not roadblocks by poorly trained individuals.

Recently, there was an attack in Babanla and Oke Ode where 12 people were killed. The government deployed more security to the area.

Deployment of troops is necessary, but it will achieve little without community cooperation. Even if you send one million men, without timely information from the locals, they will be walking in circles. Security agencies are not magicians. The government must provide the enabling environment, but the people must provide information. If your neighbour’s son returns late with stolen goods, why not inform the police? That is how communities protect themselves.

Some residents are calling for the establishment of military formations or barracks in troubled areas. Do you think this will help?

No internal security is not primarily a military responsibility. Unfortunately, we have overused the military, turning them into policemen, which is wrong. Their role in internal security is temporary, to assist during crises and return to barracks once normalcy is restored. What we need is a properly equipped police force and supporting agencies like the Civil Defence. Building barracks will not solve anything if there are no logistics and mobility for the units.

There are also suggestions that states in the North Central should adopt a regional security network like Amotekun in the Southwest. Do you support this idea?

We have to be very careful with the idea of arming local or regional security outfits. On the surface, it may look like a solution, but in reality, it can be dangerous for a country like Nigeria that is deeply divided along tribal and ethnic lines. Let us learn from Sudan. That country once had its regular military establishment but later created another armed group called the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) to help deal with the Darfur rebellion. At first, the RSF succeeded in quelling the insurgency in Darfur. But instead of being dismantled after the war, the RSF continued to exist side by side with the army. Over time, rivalry set in. The RSF began to see itself as an alternative power bloc to the regular military. That rivalry eventually exploded into a full-blown civil war. Today, Sudan is in its third year of conflict between its national army and the RSF. The country is practically destroyed. More than half of its 16 million people have been displaced internally and externally, all because of that parallel security structure. This is why I do not support the creation of parallel security agencies in Nigeria. If our police are properly funded, properly equipped, and properly motivated, they are more than capable of handling internal security challenges. What we need is to strengthen the existing structure, not duplicate it with another armed group that may later become a rival force

Locals have claimed that helicopters supply arms to bandits in forests. From your experience, is this possible?

No, it is not possible. Those are social media stories. Military aircraft are sent to destroy bandits, not to aid them.

Do you think external forces are involved?

I do not believe so. The main issue is our porous borders. Climate change has worsened conditions in countries like Niger, Chad, Mali, and Burkina Faso, forcing herders south into Nigeria. Some of them are criminal elements. But the real tragedy is that our own sons and communities collaborate with them. Our problem is local, and we must look inward to solve it.

Some have called on the government to convert their hideout in the forest to productive use. What is your opinion?

All the state government needs to do is mobilise the people of the area, because they are the ones who know the in-out of the forest and can collate the necessary information that will lead to pinpointing the bandits’ location. Then the military and other security agencies can cordon off the area and storm it. What is important is to ensure the information is genuine, and the authorities should co-opt the locals to assist the security agencies. On whether the forest should be converted, the place has been there for years with no history of kidnapping. What we are seeing is a new phenomenon and the government need not convert it into anything. Even if the agencies have all the electronic surveillance systems, local input is still very important. In the north east, the Civilian JTF assists the military tremendously by providing useful and timely information.

The government has been accused of being slow to act on this issue. Where do you think we went wrong?

I do not want to blame anybody. Nigerians know how to shift blame. Those who say the government was informed earlier should ask who among them reported it to the authorities and what action they took. The government is often slow to act if they are not sure of the facts. If something is happening in a place and nobody reports it to the appropriate agency, it means nothing happened there. But when the problem becomes endemic, we accuse the government of failing to act. That is why it is important to report any incident promptly to the appropriate authority so the place can receive special attention. Everybody must be involved. If the military clears the forest and withdraws, other security agencies such as the police and vigilantes must remain.

Concerned tanker drivers across the country have dissociated themselves from a self-styled ‘PTD Elders Forum,’ describing the group as faceless impostors bent on destabilising the Petroleum Tanker Drivers (PTD) branch of the Nigeria Union of Petroleum and National Gas Workers (NUPENG).

The drivers said that the group, which is not recognised by the PTD bylaws or NUPENG constitution, has been spreading falsehood to mislead the public.

They aligned with NUPENG president, Comrade Williams Akporeha and general secretary, Comrade Afolabi Olawale, who earlier warned that the so-called Elders Forum consists of infiltrators with sinister motives.

The NUPENG leaders reaffirmed that Comrade Augustine Egbon remains the duly elected national chairman of PTD-NUPENG, having emerged at the branch Delegates Conference in Lagos on July 3, 2024.

At a press briefing in Lagos, tanker drivers from Kaduna, Lagos, Port Harcourt and Warri zones denounced the PTD Elders, insisting that they are not genuine members.

Comrade Bashir Izalan of Kaduna zone said: ‘We don’t have anything like PTD Elders in our hierarchy. The only chairman we recognise is Comrade Egbon, whose leadership has been transparent and supportive of our welfare.’

Speaking for the Lagos zone, Comrade Itanola Abiodun urged security agencies to investigate and prosecute the impostors. He said, ‘Every member belongs to a unit and zone. These people cannot even state where they come from. They are hired to wreak havoc in our union.’

From Port Harcourt, Comrade Chukwudi Okafor dismissed claims that PTD leaders mismanage drivers’ dues.

He explained that check-off dues and loading fees paid by truck owners fund health insurance, welfare and emergency needs.

‘We are beneficiaries of these services; and we trust our leaders. The impostors have no business questioning how the funds are used,’ he said.

In Warri, Comrade Dennis Akore accused disgruntled ex-members of sponsoring the so-called PTD Elders after losing in last year’s election.

‘When they were in office, drivers benefitted nothing. Now, they are plotting to hijack the union through the backdoor. Some even attacked our national officers in Abuja and are still facing criminal charges,’ he alleged.

The tanker drivers urged the government and security agencies to support PTD-NUPENG’s legitimate leadership, stressing that the union has continued to provide welfare, protection and a sense of belonging to drivers nationwide.

President of the Senate, Godswill Akpabio, was among top government officials who attended the burial of Mama Lydia Yilwatda Goshwe, mother of the National Chairman of the All Progressives Congress (APC), Nentawe Yilwatda, in Jos, the Plateau State capital.

Mama Lydia died in August at the age of 83.

In his remarks at the burial service on Saturday, Akpabio extended his condolences to the grieving family, urging the APC National Chairman to take solace in the knowledge that his mother had chosen the right time to depart.

He said, ‘To our dear Mama, goodbye from all of us. Goodbye from Nigeria. To our National Chairman, be consoled in the knowledge that your mother chose the right time to depart – a time when her legacy continues to speak through you and through all the lives she touched.’

The Senate President also used the occasion to commend President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for unifying and bringing together people fom different faiths, regions and political divides.

‘All former Governors of Plateau State are here today, irrespective of political party. The Governor of Plateau State, working closely with our National Chairman, has received you warmly, and the people of Plateau have shown tremendous affection and excitement at your visit.

‘As a politician, I observed the turnout from the airport to this venue – thousands of Plateau citizens lined the streets, waving and cheering. That alone speaks louder than any words: Mr. President, you have touched the hearts of the people of the Plateau.

‘This service today is a powerful reflection of unity, faith, and leadership – and it shows that God has truly registered your presence.’ Akpabio added.