Future historians of this period will one day note that the 2027 presidential election was one of the most remarkable in our national history, as it was the first campaign to begin even before the 2023 election was properly concluded. We know that in Africa, time ordinarily orbits around elections and electioneering. Since elections are the means to capture power—which is all about allocating resources anyway—all of our being cannot but revolve around the coming election. It is through the outcomes of elections that the worth of our respective tribal collectives is calibrated, and that is why we always fight to the finish. We often think of victory as a zero-sum game, even though past realities have repeatedly shown us that such victories rarely result in any meaningful difference in our lives. Following the outcome of the 2023 elections in Lagos State, its politicians began preparing for a possible repeat in 2027. However, they are not doing so by courting voters through improvements in their lives. They are instead stoking the emotional politics of revanchism. The latest controversy is the outgoing Chairman of Bariga LCDA, Kolade David, who announced the renaming of some public landmarks (some of which are named after Igbos) after Yoruba people. The import was, of course, to erase the legacy and public memory of people like Charles Oputa, the artiste popularly known as Charly Boy. But it is not just “Charly Boy” as a generic Igbo man, but Charly Boy as a hyper-visible and contrarian figure; Charly Boy specifically as a critic of APC politicians and their coterie of brownnosers. For the self-commissioned censors of political expression like David, the APC has become synonymous with Yoruba identity and non-Yorubas must either “put up or shut up”. But if David truly wanted to honour the “people who have put the name of our local council out on the global map through their respective God-given talents and craft”, as he stated at the event where he renamed those landmarks, could he also not have done so without dragging those people into the murky pit of his petty politics? By renaming the popular Charly Boy Bus Stop after the singer and rapper Olamide Adedeji (Baddo), he managed to achieve three things. One, he put Olamide in an unenviable position, where he can neither publicly accept nor reject a gift given in bad faith. Turning him into a mere substitute for the person you dislike is not honour. Rather than recognising Olamide on the strength of his contributions to his birthplace, they are drafting the social capital he has accrued to overwrite the legacy of a critic. Two, the substantial backlash that David’s little scheme of ethnic baiting generated should tell him that people are more likely to double down on calling the bus stop its original name. Names of places and landmarks grow organically around people’s lived experiences and cannot be easily swiped off through some administrative fiat. Three, this “honour to dishonour” move devalues Lagos as a cosmopolitan city that pulsates with the energy of its diverse populations. You can fight it all you like, but Lagos is only Lagos because of the creative tensions generated when people of diverse energies are thrown together in a space. But it would be naïve to think that Olamide is the only one being dragged into the sewer of this primal politics. One way or another, we are all being conscripted into a political formation that requires us to tribalise and wage a battle that distracts us from larger leadership failures. We have seen this movie before; we know how the plot unfolds. Given how Nigerians are aggravated by the hardships and the harsh hopes they have suffered through 16 years of the PDP and 10 years of the APC, they are understandably strained. The various economic constraints we have endured have severely tensed up everyone’s nervous systems, making already frustrated people hypersensitive. How else do you address the insecurities of your political base and redirect their frustrations away from you? You invent a common enemy and invite those within your ranks to bury their hatchet in its head. The tensions that follow such machination will generate a wellspring of sentiment to be resourcefully siphoned come next election. It is an old and dirty trick, and its deployment now is only remarkable because the 2027 electioneering started too soon. Several people in Lagos and the surrounding states are getting caught up in the sentiment of a politics that has nothing to do with improving their lives. They think they are being protective of their territories, and that this sort of revanchism is a must because liberalism makes one a dupe of intolerant others. But how far and how well has this politics worked for us? In what way have any of these shenanigans improved our lives? In situations like this, I remind people of Idi Amin’s Uganda, where Indians were kicked out because they held disproportionate economic power. Go to Uganda today, and you will not only still find those South Asians but even East Asians holding sway in their commercial sector. The irony of it all makes me wonder: if they had worked through their mutual fears, insecurities, and bigotry to cooperate instead of sending them away in 1972, would they not have built a greater and more prosperous country by now? Look at all the time and effort they wasted to arrive where they started. Does erasing others help us shine, or do we end up merely corroded by the negativity? Yes, we now live in a world that derides diversity, construes liberalism as a woke disease of the weak, and vehemently insists that openness to differences is naivete. All these are familiar troubles, and they recur because they are emotive issues. In societies yet to develop the competence to savvily manage differences, the issues can become a matter of life and death for the parties involved. We must not continue like this; we must move to that last stop where we no longer expend the valuable resource of time stoking the tensions that avidly consume our energy but yield no productive value. Of all the arguments I have heard about the issue of indigenous and collective ownership of Lagos, the two that stand out to me are those that highlight the differentials in interpretation by those who either want to heighten conflict or douse it. One, no human habitation is ever a “no man’s land”, but there are places in the world on which various peoples lay claim because they are joint contributors to its character and wealth. Cities like New York, London, and Singapore have become a collective heritage due to—not despite—the activities of their diverse populations; asserting a tribal domination will impoverish them. Two, claiming “we built Lagos” is part of what people say to inscribe their socio-economic relevance wherever they occupy. When Black people say their slave labour made America, or immigrants say they built the USA, it does not mean other races or non-immigrants had no part. The statement is no more preposterous than Bola Tinubu (also a non-indigene) being labelled as the “builder of Lagos”. If we must choose between ascribing that honour to either one man who uses it to gain political mileage or diverse groups of people who want an acknowledgement of their part in making a place what it is, please know I will always choose the latter.

When, about one year ago, the Jigawa State Government signed a Memorandum of Understanding with Europa Carbon, a carbon advisory and trading firm with operations in Nigeria and Canada, one could not help but celebrate the niche value of such a green milestone. The governor, Mallam Umar Namadi, said the MoU was a cornerstone of the state government’s agenda to reduce carbon emissions, enhance climatic resilience and promote sustainable development, as clean energy would be generated to support agricultural and industrial activities in the state. “Jigawa will be one of the first states in Nigeria to generate carbon credits, and we are committed to helping the state achieve this goal in partnership with the Ministry of Environment. First of all, it is to mitigate the carbon emissions that are currently happening within the state. Secondly, to create jobs for the teaming youths in the state and, thirdly, to generate revenue for the state,” he said. At that time, I was particularly enthused because I was acutely aware of developments in Jigawa’s environmental scene. For instance, in 2022, not up to one month after the commemoration of the International Day of Forests on March 21, a 25-year-old man of Taura Local Government Area stabbed his brother to death over firewood – he went to his brother’s farmland and cut firewood without his consent. Just like in the other frontline states of Northern Nigeria, deforestation is a central problem for Jigawa. Wood is a scarce resource, and as desertification and deforestation intensify, it is becoming more unaffordable. To me, that Jigawa firewood murder was a sign that the struggle against climate change was now a mortal combat, and I discussed it in this column in the article entitled, ‘Jigawa firewood murder, sign of things to come’. Nigeria’s forest area has been on a continuous decline from 10 to less than eight per cent, indicating that about 400,000 hectares of forest are lost yearly through human activities and other practices that are unsustainable. Hence, the need to incorporate carbon trading into afforestation and reforestation efforts, especially in Northern Nigeria. Therefore, I saw the Jigawa State/Europa Carbon partnership as strategic and forward-thinking. According to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, Least Developed Countries have significant untapped potential for climate action in sectors like forestry and agriculture, which offer promising opportunities for generating carbon credits. This potential could equal 70 per cent of the CO2 emissions from the global aviation industry, or about two per cent of total global emissions. Currently, LDCs are only utilising about two per cent of this potential. Jigawa State is among the 11 frontline states of Nigeria’s Great Green Wall initiative, established to address land degradation and desertification, boost food security and support communities to adapt to climate change in Sokoto, Kebbi, Katsina, Zamfara, Kano, Jigawa, Bauchi, Gombe, Yobe, Borno and Adamawa. Further to the strategic importance of the state, aside from the normal operation of the Great Green Wall activities, projects like the Action Against Desertification were all executed in Jigawa State. Though there is nothing particularly new about Governor Namadi’s carbon market move. Lagos State has also initiated a robust carbon finance mechanism to generate carbon credits under the Paris Agreement Crediting Mechanism, distributing green wealth to its citizens. The real green magic happening in Jigawa State is not easy to see because it is ensconced in the bureaucratic space, which in the real sense is where power abides. As a green industry watcher, I had detachedly reviewed Namadi’s carbon emissions trading investment to ascertain the overall impact on Jigawa’s eco-scene. After all, the state is known for its decades-long imprints on the nation’s ecological sector, starting from biotech-award-winning Governor Saminu Turaki and climaxing under the defiantly green Sule Lamido. The Alternative Energy Agency, under the supervision of the state Ministry of Power and Energy, is the engine room of green energy development in the state. The agency was established in 2003 under Saminu Turaki and was able to electrify about four villages in partnership with JICA, the Japanese international development agency and a private firm.  Then, during Sule Lamido, it electrified about 26 villages. Instructively, from 2015 to 2023, the agency was not able to electrify any village because its budget was less than N50m. But after the advent of the current administration, the rural green energy electrification restarted. This is because in 2023, the budget skyrocketed from less than N50m to about N2.3bn. That is almost a 500 per cent increase. Hence, not only was the agency able to electrify two villages, including micro-enterprise shops, but it also introduced the electrification of Sangya/Almajiri schools. It also expanded to green energy installations in semi-urban towns, that is, towns that are not rural but not urban cities, and the fabrication of 10,000 clean cook stoves. I am convinced that our government and political leaders have not scratched the surface in leveraging the environmental sector for job creation and sustainable development. Nigeria’s population has exploded in the last century, from 36.7 million in 1950 to 158.3 million in 2010, according to data from the United Nations. But job creation has not kept pace with the population increase, forcing people to choose between forests and their families. They cut the trees, poach the animals, sell the timber, burn the wood and never even think of planting them back. Today, there are countless people jostling for a handful of woods. So, what will prevent a conflict that has now become inevitable, as manifested in Jigawa in 2022? The answer is now also coming from Jigawa, and it is in two words: Go Green. There are limitless possibilities for an economic quantum leap if the tables could be turned. According to a report by the Rural Electrification Agency, developing off-grid alternatives to complement the grid could create a $9.2 9.2bn-per-year market opportunity for mini-grids and solar home systems that will save $4.4bn per year for Nigerian homes and businesses. Let us also note that tree-planting, which is reforestation, is one of the most effective ways to fight climate change. Indeed, it is known as the first defence line against climate change. Carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is causing our planet to heat up; trees absorb this carbon from the atmosphere and convert it into oxygen. Essentially, trees breathe in carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen. Scientists have estimated that if a global tree-planting were initiated, two-thirds of the carbon dioxide emissions made by humans could be removed. The more the trees, the lower the temperatures and the cleaner the air. It is that simple. Considering the intensity of sunlight in our resource-endowed country, there is no quantum of energy we cannot generate from solar power. The 4000 MW the government hopes to get from the proposed nuclear plant is a joke, considering the risk involved in the project. As a matter of fact, experts avow that we can generate more than 6000 MW just from mounting solar panels on the rooftops of designated houses in the country presently. This is why I see Namadi’s fiscal impetus to Jigawa’s green structures as a paradigm shift for Northern Nigeria. Other governors should emulate this gesture. In this column, I have always advocated for putting your money where your mouth is when it comes to climate action. For instance, what moral justification would we have in demanding that the developed nations vote $1bn for the Green Climate Fund when we cannot vote $1m for our Ministry of Environment? Via the Paris Climate Pact mechanism, carbon markets have now given us a concrete opportunity for economic prosperity. However, there can be no progress if the institutional players are not incentivised and the green ecosystem is not properly funded and fiscalised.

Clad in a silver-colour spacesuit like Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on the moon, I boarded my shuttle of prose– on a mission through myth and reality– to the ancient town of Ikoro-Ekiti, a lush land that existed long before western capitalist-cartographers carved territories out of ancient empires they later christened Africa; long before the white man arrived with his brutal scissors and treacherous thread to cut and suture lands, lineages and languages. I am not terminating this journey at Ikoro-Ekiti; it is only my first port of call. Here’s the flight schedule, if you care.  From Igbajo, the Land of the Brave, in Osun, I shall power my pencraft towards Ikoro-Ekiti, on a nonstop flight, before heading to Islam-dominated Ilorin, the city of Àfònjá, located in modern-day Kwara State, and then head to Iwo, the illustrious town in present-day Osun State, where the parrot sings truthful tunes on the banks of Obà River. Are you ready to embark on this exploration with me? Okay, if the egungun is ready, the cane is ready, too. O ya, hop on board, and let’s travel through the marrow of myth. Once upon a time, writes Prof. Wande Abimbola in his book, “Ifa Divination Poetry”, published in March 1973, a king ascended the throne of Ikoro-Ekiti. His name was Oba Onikoro Mèbí. The powerful king had many queens, among whom was a promiscuous belle, whose name was not dignified with a mention in the Ifa corpus that bears her story. The warmth and succulence of Onikoro Mèbí’s bed notwithstanding, this beautiful queen was stoking the heat of another man’s loins. “Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is delicious,” says King Solomon in the Book of Proverbs, chapter 7, verse 17. Onikoro’s queen and her lover got carried away by the juice of their dalliance; they ate and drank until the king caught them red-handed. Unlike these days, there’s a punishment for anyone caught in the trap of sacrilege, in those days. Such a culprit would be stripped, bathed in ash, bound hand and foot, and dumped by the roadside on the way to the market, for passersby to see their shame. In ages past, palaces in Yorubaland consisted of 16 separate quarters, with the king living in the biggest and most dignified of the quarters. The king’s wife was to be given the ash treatment, but Onikoro Mèbí felt that it would belittle his esteem in the eyes of the world. So, he had his male servants strip his wife, drench her in ash, and tie her up in front of one of the apartments, figuring out which day of the week was best to behead the culprits. In a moment of sober reflection, however, Onikoro Mèbí sent for his herbalist, Àgbìgbònìwònràn, expressing his wish to seek Ifa’s counsel on the matter at hand. Before Àgbìgbònìwònràn left home for the king’s palace, he went and consulted a group of herbalists whose tradename was Kese-Kese Baba Kàsà-Kàsà. The herbalists told him to offer a sacrifice to the gods urgently. But Àgbìgbònìwònràn did not offer the sacrifice as charged, valuing royal summons above spiritual sacrifice. So, off to the palace, he went. Onikoro Mèbí unburdened his heart to Àgbìgbònìwònràn, who stared at the floor while the king talked. When the king was through, Àgbìgbònìwònràn consulted Ifa, and Ifa warned that the king should be careful with the way he handles the case of his wife, saying the king had only seen Kese-Kese, adding that Kàsà-Kàsà, the father of Kese-Kese, was coming behind. Thus, Àgbìgbònìwònràn used the wisdom in the name, Kese-Kese Baba Kàsà-Kàsà, to counsel the king. Through the story of Onikoro Mèbí and Àgbìgbònìwònràn as enshrined in Ifa teachings, the myth of Kese-Kese baba Kàsà-Kàsà was entrenched in Yoruba worldview and subsequently became a popular proverb. As Ifa called for caution, Onikoro Mèbí felt ashamed to free his wife by himself, so he told Àgbìgbònìwònràn to go and untie the queen. When Àgbìgbònìwònràn got to the naked queen, their eyes locked, and he untied her hands, legs, and thighs. While Àgbìgbònìwònràn was digging the queen’s soil to sow his wild oats, the queen burst into a shriek: “Fife ni n fe mi o, fife ni n fe mi, Àgbìgbònìwònràn ko kuku tu mi sile, fife ni n fe mi,” meaning: “He is not untying me, he is not untying me; Àgbìgbònìwònràn is making love to me, he is not untying me!” The king heard the scream of his queen. He rushed down to the apartment and found a stripped Àgbìgbònìwònràn, his Ifa pouch, clothes and cap flung in different directions, sweating and panting. Instantly, the king unsheathed his sword, swung it, and Àgbìgbònìwònràn’s head thudded hard on the ground, blood squirting. The news of Àgbìgbònìwònràn’s beheading travelled like wildfire, reaching the paramount palace of the Alaafin of Oyo, whose panegyrics – Obaléyò Ajòrí, Oba Ajodo emi gbára, Oba Ajeèsé-Yokùn-Tòòtò-Léyò – resounded at home and abroad. So, the Alaafin summoned his vassal, Onikoro Mèbí, to Oyo. Obaléyò Ajòrí asked Onikoro Mèbí why he beheaded his babalawo. The embattled king told his side of the story, bereft of caution, patience and due process. The Alaafin gave his verdict: Onikoro Mèbí, too, must die. His head bounced on the ground like that of Àgbìgbònìwònràn. Now, Ilorin comes into view as I nose my spacecraft in a descent. Ilorin is a beautiful city. The touchdown will be in a few minutes. Fasten your seat belts, please. After disembarking, we shall go to Oke-Kudu, an area of Ilorin. Factually, the Onikoro Mèbí analogy exemplifies the latest katakata between the Oluwo of Iwo, Oba Abdulrasheed Akanbi, and his longtime alfa, whose name was simply given in a viral video as the Magaji of Oke-Kudu in Ilorin. In the ungodly video, the magaji portrays himself as the creature who controls the creator. The video provides a classic tool to atheists, who see God as a creation of man to explain the unknown. Also, the video has the potential to drive agnostics farther away from the realm of belief. Indeed, if a little child watches the video, he is likely to come off with the notion of Allah as being a king kong, who is controlled on a keypad by the reckless. To start with, Magaji Oke Kudu claims he knew Akanbi when he was hustling in Canada, and that he was the one who told him to marry his first wife, when Akanbi wouldn’t stop getting into trouble. He explained that the marriage to a northern Nigerian lady produced two sons. In a bid to show how close he was to Oluwo, the magaji produced an alleged photocopy of the information page of Akanbi’s passport, saying the Iwo monarch had invited him to Canada long before he became king. Sitting regally in Arabian apparel, with a ceiling-high turban, the angry Magaji said that when Akanbi had a run-in with the law in Toronto, he was the one who begged Allah to make the principal witness in the case against Akanbi go mad. He said, “Akanbi was arrested for money laundering. They (police) came to his house and saw money in his house. He was set up by his girlfriend, Loranie, and was arrested. The case came up in a lower court; we begged God on his behalf, and he won. They rearrested him and took him to the central court. They retrieved the huge sum of money from him. “The judge asked that Loranie be produced in court to come and testify; if the lady testifies against Akanbi, he would go to jail. A lot of Nigerians abroad bag 50-year jail terms and more. He became jittery and confided in me. And I told Allah, ‘God, you’re the one who forgives; forgive me and forgive Abdulrasheed, too.’ “So, the lady was produced in court, with both of them in separate witness boxes. The judge asked the lady if she knew Akanbi. Of course, she knows him. (Magaji waves his right hand to God in supplication.) If Akanbi appreciates what we did, he shouldn’t forget us; he shouldn’t forget Ilorin forever. “When the judge called on the lady to talk, she became mad instantly. May God forgive me and forgive Akanbi. She became mad! They asked her questions, but she was just tearing at her hair. The judge dismissed the case immediately.” Magaji recounts how the Oluwo was caught and jailed in the US for criminal impersonation while on a visit, saying he (Magaji) again begged God for him (Akanbi) to regain freedom. “I saw that he had no one; that’s why I stood by him fully. I didn’t help him because of money; he had no money,” the magaji said. Though it is on record that two British tabloids, The Sun and The Mail, in 2024, revealed how Oluwo was jailed twice in the US and deported to Nigeria in 1999 for engaging in money fraud, among other crimes, I shall not dwell on his past transgressions. While digging in on this story, I discovered that the Magaji was annoyed with the Oluwo because of the shoddy treatment the king allegedly meted out to him some time ago. Specifically, the man, who calls himself an imam, said he was chased out of Iwo palace by 12:30am, when he was on a visit to the palace, stressing that he had to go and sleep in a mosque till daybreak. Magaji called on Akanbi to return the Toyota Camry, aka Muscle, which he claimed he had given to him. By coming to the public with the news of the false and ungodly help he rendered to the Akanbi, the Magali was going to kill two birds with one stone. He aims to display the authenticity of his brutal powers so that ignoramuses could flock to him, seeking protection, ritual money, etc. He also wants to get even with Akanbi for turning his back on him. The Magaji, whose video I watched, appears to be over 50; a fool at 40 is a fool forever, goes a popular Nigerian saying. It is baffling that an imam, who has a congregation and who teaches people, doesn’t know that anyone who holds the tiger by the tail ends up in its belly. To be continued

He was a top apparatchik of China’s Communist Party. His duty was to oversee the economic development zone in Inner Mongolia’s Hohhot city. The power of his office and access to free and fast cash got his sticky fingers dirty in a scam running into 3bn yuan (about $432M). Money embezzled. Funds misused. Bribes offered and taken. And criminal syndicates hobnobbed to fashion out the ease of doing the dirty business in a corruption escapade that lasted over a long period of time. The 64-year-old Chinese man was Li Jianping. In any society where there is enforced comeuppance for broken anti-corruption laws, potential law breakers are wary before they go wayward. However, where laws are loose and lousy, something strangely and starkly different happens. Public funds are claimed to be swallowed up via the venomous mouth of a strange snake. And the buccal cavity of a mysterious banana-munching monkey becomes a melting point for stolen government cash. In this Chinese true story, the laws of the land pounced on Jianping. The axe of justice came smashing down on the thieving top gun. Jianping received a death sentence. Rounds of volleying bullets with accompanying steely staccato pierced into his greedy bodily frame in an execution last year. Head down. Arms limb. Spirit surrendered to the Grim Reaper of justice. The man died. Li Jianping will not steal again as his body now lies still in another world, six feet below. In China, corruption is suicide. In Nigeria, the corrupt is a celebrity, and the thief is crowned a chief. May God help us! Many years ago, in diverse fora, I asked this question that did not elicit an answer even from my friends. Today, I ask the same question: If corruption attracts the death penalty like it does in China, how many nefarious Nigerians in the porch of power and veranda of authority will be standing? Iniquitous immersion in the baptistry of corruption made many of our businessmen and women billionaires overnight. They dodge paying requisite taxes and skip scheduled levies. They duck requisite duties on imports and offer and take big bribes. How do Nigerian civil servants easily become billionaires? By working 9am-5pm? How many people privileged to run Nigeria’s crude oil business aren’t feeding fat from the carousel of corruption? Swift swing back to history and down the low-lung summary of the noxious absurdity and fetid excrescence called stealing by our big men and women will reveal a lot. Once upon a time, the EFCC traced a whopping sum of N34bn to Allison Maduekwe, Nigeria’s former petroleum minister. Her hidden $37.5m mansion was also uncovered. A former Local Government Chairman in Kogi State, Gabriel Daudu, was jailed for five years for N1.4bn fraud. The uncontrolled new bride in the wedlock of corruption is former CBN Governor Godwin Emefiele, the man who wanted to be president even while sitting as a governor over Nigeria’s cash cache. His wealth of illegally amassed assets while he governed Nigeria’s wealth well is not comparable to the remuneration he earned for being the CBN boss. Diversions of government funds running into billions, mismanagement of Nigeria’s social investment programme totalling another hundreds of billions; illegal economic crimes of national security dimension, money laundering, and unwholesome activities through proxies, are some of the allegations against this man, who cooled his heels in the calaboose before he was granted bail. Ugly stories of bold and blatant corruption are Nigeria’s testaments just because God blessed us with crude oil. One fuel subsidy of the worst and most acerbic albatrosses on Nigeria’s economic neck was the shenanigan that enriched a few Nigerians and a few neighbouring countries, but pauperised the country and its citizenry. On the day Bola Tinubu was sworn in as President, he yanked off the oil subsidy that had cost Nigeria billions of dollars over many years. It was long overdue. Tinubu knew that was a slippery area. Presidents who came before him had stealthily avoided the discussion. The President also knew that baneful benefactors from the filthy pool of corruption in the crude oil business would sooner or later come after him. But he hit it head-on. In a little over two months, Nigeria saved over N1tn that would have found its way into criminals’ pockets. They are funds meant to better the healthcare and transportation sector, schools, housing, and national security, among others. Oh, poor Nigerians! Where is your messiah of milk-and-honey, who will deliver you from these corruption troubles in the hands of big men? From the days of the historical hit of goldmine is Oloibiri, Nigeria has been running three massive refineries located in Port Harcourt, Warri, and Kaduna. The cost of building these refineries has been bodaciously behemoth; so also has the haemorrhaging involved in keeping them alive and profitable for the Nigerian nation. With an estimated whooping $25bn sunk into the dead-today, dying-tomorrow machinery, they have become like the grave that keeps asking for more dead bodies but is never satisfied. Despite the infusion of whooping cash stacked to rehabilitate the refineries, they were producing at less than 30 per cent capacity. Refineries run by the government agency in Nigeria are a conduit and carousel of cruel corruption. It is why there has been a ‘civil war’ of sorts against the 650,000 barrels per day Dangote refinery now bailing Nigeria out of a possible economic shipwreck. Refineries operated by governments are located mostly in repressive and undemocratic countries. They are found in the Middle East, with Saudi Aramco being a prime example. Same in China, which is home to state-owned giants like China National Petroleum Corporation and China Petrochemical Corporation. They are in repressive Russia, where companies like Rosneft are government-owned. Corruption in Nigeria is a pre-existing condition. It drove our leaders to opt for importing products that we are wired to export. We refuse to take advantage of our natural endowment to grow food we can all feed off with satisfaction. Although the naira seems to be finding its competitive level against the US dollar under Tinubu, corruption has always been the reason our local currency has been bouncing around like a yo-yo against the dollar. It is why over the last 37 years or more, about 650 industries have shut their gates and ferreted out into other nations around us. It is why Nigerian big thieves are getting bolder, and life is getting harder for the common man. Dangote is not only refining crude oil, but he is also refining crudity in our economy. The private $20bn Dangote Refinery and Petrochemical Company is a blessing. It could earn Nigeria foreign exchange savings of between $25bn and $30bn yearly. The impact of the savings is already slowly reflected in Nigeria’s foreign exchange reserves by reducing the pressure on the country’s balance of payments. Nigeria’s domestic fuel consumption is about 450,000 barrels per day, while the excess production would be available for export. Dangote’s private mission is generating thousands of direct jobs and millions of indirect jobs, over 135,000 permanent jobs for Nigerians. Up to 12,000MW of electricity will be generated, meeting 100 per cent of Nigeria’s consumption needs for all refined products. We should, as a matter of urgency, auction off our comatose refineries and put them on the shoulders of savvy businessmen and women, who know how to run things onto a higher ground of economic success, not aground. X-@Folaojotweet