EphraimHill DataBlog

The Real Enemy of Nigeria’s Growth: Look in the Mirror

ephraimhilldc — Tue, 27 May 2025 18:24:00 +0000

By Idowu Ephraim Faleye: +2348132100608

Why is it that what works in other countries doesn’t work in Nigeria? It’s a question we have asked over and over again, but we never seem to get real answers. We import policies, infrastructures, systems, and even constitutions from thriving nations, and once they land on Nigerian soil, they suddenly become useless. It’s as if a mysterious force sabotages our every move towards development. But there is no mystery here. The enemy of Nigeria’s growth is not some hidden curse, neither is it our climate nor geographical location. The truth is hard, bitter, and uncomfortable: the Nigerian people themselves are the greatest enemy of Nigeria’s development.

Let us start with democracy, a system of governance that has worked wonders in many parts of the world. In developed nations, people vote based on values, ideology, and performance. The ballot reflects the collective will to progress. But in Nigeria, democracy is a marketplace. Votes are bought and sold like tomatoes in the market square. Leaders are selected not because they are the most competent, but because they can bribe their way through, threaten, deceive, or manipulate their way into power. The people, who should be the gatekeepers of democracy, have sold out for a plate of porridge.

Other nations have taken their diversity and turned it into strength. America, with its hundreds of ethnicities, thrives on inclusion. India, with its complex cultural layers, finds harmony in structured diversity. China, with over a billion people, manages to organize itself and move forward. But in Nigeria, our diversity is a weapon. We use ethnicity, religion, and regional loyalty as tools for division. We do not see ourselves as Nigerians first. We see ourselves as Hausa, Igbo, Yoruba, Fulani, Christian, Muslim, or even states and villages. This constant competition and suspicion among us poison every effort at national unity.

Think about crude oil. Countries like Saudi Arabia and Kuwait have turned oil into gold. They have built modern cities in deserts, lifted their people out of poverty, and established global economic relevance. Nigeria discovered oil long ago, but instead of using it to build, we used it to loot. The more oil we discover, the poorer we become. Our refineries do not work. We import fuel despite sitting on oceans of crude oil. Why? Because some people somewhere benefit from the dysfunction. They profit when Nigeria bleeds.

Subsidies are meant to ease the burden on citizens. Other countries subsidize housing, transport, healthcare, and education to improve the quality of life. In Nigeria, subsidies have become a curse. Billions disappear in the name of subsidy. The people it was meant to help never feel its impact. It is either stolen, diverted, or used as a tool for political manipulation. Who is responsible? The people in government? Yes. But also, the people outside it who aid, abet, and celebrate them.

Our bicameral legislature was meant to ensure checks and balances. Instead, it has become a drainpipe. Lawmakers are among the highest-paid in the world, yet the laws they pass rarely improve the lives of ordinary Nigerians. The legal system that should protect the weak and punish the wicked has become the playground of the rich. Justice is no longer blind; it sees faces and smells money.

Our correctional centres are factories of hardened criminals. Our borders are as porous as a basket. Our immigration system is designed to make life difficult for genuine travellers while helping traffickers and terrorists sneak in. Our security agencies are underfunded, under-equipped, and often compromised. Yet billions are budgeted yearly. Why are things not working?

Our schools meant to be centres of enlightenment, are now shadows of themselves. Students graduate without knowledge. Teachers are unpaid. Lecturers sell grades. Parents buy certificates. Our educational system is a factory of mediocrity.

Religion, which should guide morality, has become a tool for manipulation. Some of our religious leaders now worship money more than God. They preach prosperity over honesty, and miracle over hard work. People now measure righteousness by wealth, not by character. This madness has crept into our collective psyche. We no longer value modesty. We no longer ask how wealth was acquired. As long as you have money, you are celebrated.

Look at our civil service. It was designed to be the engine room of government, but it has turned into a warehouse of sabotage. Projects are delayed, files go missing, and public servants extort citizens just to do their jobs. In hospitals, patients die because money meant for equipment was diverted. In the power sector, people steal electricity and officials steal revenue.

Yes, we often blame the leaders. But let’s look at the leaders we’ve had. Gowon, despite his youthful age, was guided by intellectuals-Late Chief Awolowo. Murtala Muhammed was so treasured that even as a kid, I used to tell my immediate elder brother that I wanted to become Murtala. My brother would correct me, “You cannot become Murtala, you can only become the president”. Obasanjo handed over to civilians. Shagari was weak, but he wasn’t a monster. Buhari, Babangida, Abacha—they all had their flaws, but they also tried in different ways. Jonathan, Yaradua, and even Tinubu today, are doing what they can. Some failed more than others, but no single leader has held Nigeria back as much as the collective attitude of the Nigerian people.

We say our problem is an external influence, colonial amalgamation, or bad geography. But multi-ethnicity works in India. Amalgamation didn’t stop Canada or South Africa. Geography didn’t stop Japan, Singapore, or even Rwanda. What really stops Nigeria is the Nigerian.

Let’s face it: Nigerians are naturally and culturally corrupt. The average Nigerian will condemn corruption until they get the opportunity to benefit from it. From the man on the street to the man in the palace, corruption is a way of life. It is in our blood, our jokes, our music, our conversations, our families.

Look at our ancestors. The affluent in the olden days would wear heavily embroidered clothes, stack beads on their neck and arms, carry a beaded walking stick, and sit majestically while others bowed. Affluence was flaunted and celebrated. Those who had none were scorned. That culture of flaunting wealth continues today. It has simply been modernized.

Now, it is luxury cars, gold chains, designer clothes, and mansions. But the mindset remains the same: flaunt it, even if you got it through evil. We don’t respect the honest man. We praise the rich, even when we know they stole. We line up to greet them, cheer them, and give them front-row seats in churches and mosques. We give them chieftaincy titles. We invite them to speak at our events.

This is why nothing works. Someone steals money meant for defence, and soldiers die in droves. Senators vote against laws that intend to curb the stealing of money meant for defence. Roads collapse because the money for construction was shared among the contractors, supervisory engineers, civil servants and politicians.

Rail tracks are stolen without consideration for the lives of travellers, fake drugs are manufactured, people are kidnapped and dismembered for sales, pension funds are looted, and public officials stash money that ten generations cannot finish in foreign banks or bury them in the ground where it will rot. And yet, these same people walk freely, celebrated by the same society they destroyed.

How can development happen in such an environment? Even when someone tries to do the right thing, others are waiting to undo it. You build a system, and the next government destroys it. You save money, and the next government squanders it. Until we change our mindset, Nigeria will remain trapped.

Some say it is our destiny to suffer. Maybe. Because no sane nation would continue this way unless it is cursed. But curses are not eternal. They can be broken. Culture is not a prison. It can be reformed. But we must decide.

There is only one solution: brutal, decisive action. In many Asian countries, corruption attracts the death penalty. In the Gulf States, corrupt officials are executed. These countries were once like us, but they chose pain over poverty, justice over sentiments. Nigeria must stop treating corruption with kid gloves. We must stop celebrating thieves. We must start naming and shaming, jailing, and even executing those who loot the future of generations unborn.

If you are sick, and you see someone with your nature of illness take a drug and get well, would you not use that same drug? Nigeria is sick. Very sick. And the cure is clear: we must deal with corruption ruthlessly. Until then, we will continue to recycle suffering. We will keep importing solutions that fail. We will keep blaming leaders while enabling the real enemies: ourselves.

It is not enough to weep at the sight of poverty. It is not enough to criticize on social media. We must hate corruption with passion. We must reject every form of illegal wealth. We must teach our children that integrity matters more than affluence. We must stop worshiping money and start building values.

If we do not change, the cycle will continue. And Nigeria will remain what it has always been: a giant with clay feet, falling again and again, because its people are its greatest enemy.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights into Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post The Real Enemy of Nigeria’s Growth: Look in the Mirror first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Aregbesola, Atiku, and the Judas Kiss: A Political Betrayal at the House of Oduduwa

ephraimhilldc — Fri, 23 May 2025 17:57:45 +0000

By Idowu Ephraim Faleye: +2348132100608

When former Vice President Atiku Abubakar recently paid a political visit to former governor Rauf Aregbesola, many observers raised their eyebrows. At first glance, it might seem like an ordinary political alignment. After all, Nigerian politics has never been short of strange bedfellows. But on a closer look, this move is more than politics. It is a bitter cocktail of vengeance, a loud echo of inordinate ambition, and a dangerous dance of political betrayal in the house of Oduduwa.

Aregbesola is not just any politician. He is a man whose new political journey is deeply intertwined with the fortunes of the Yoruba race, the progressive movement, and most notably, the political machinery of Bola Ahmed Tinubu, now the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. For years, Aregbesola walked in Tinubu’s shadow, rose to power by Tinubu’s influence, and benefited immensely from the political empire that Tinubu laboured to build. It was Tinubu who gave Aregbesola his first major break, handed him the reins in Osun State, and stood by him during the turbulent legal battle that eventually made him governor. That political lifeline was not just a favour but a public endorsement that gave Aregbesola credibility and recognition.

But today, as Tinubu settles into his role as President and begins to chart a new path for Nigeria, Aregbesola is absent from the train of national progress and seems to be actively laying tracks in the opposite direction. His meeting with Atiku Abubakar—a man who represents the most prominent opposition to Tinubu’s leadership—is not just a slap; it is a calculated move laced with venom.

Let us not sugarcoat this: what Aregbesola is doing is more than a personal disagreement or political recalibration. It is betrayal, pure and simple. A betrayal not just of Tinubu, but of the Yoruba political consciousness that has always sought unity in the face of external opposition. Aregbesola’s actions reek of a man possessed by inordinate ambition, desperate to write his own story at any cost, even if it means tearing down the pages that helped shape him.

One might argue that political loyalty should not be eternal and that differences can arise. That is fair. But there is a big difference between disagreeing with your benefactor and working with his enemies to pull him down. Atiku is not just another politician; he is the symbol of an enduring political rivalry. He is the man who stood toe-to-toe against Yoruba interests in the last elections. For Aregbesola to now stretch his hands across the divide to Atiku is not just political realignment—it is treachery against the very platform that birthed him.

Those who are familiar with the history of Nigerian politics will understand the weight of this move. Aregbesola is not naive. He knows what he is doing. He understands the optics, and he has chosen this path not out of necessity but out of vengeance. His grievances with Tinubu, whatever they may be, have now transformed into a vendetta that risks squandering the political gains of the Yoruba people.

This is not the first time politics will test loyalty. But how one responds to that test is what defines legacy. Aregbesola has failed this test. Instead of maintaining a dignified silence or seeking reconciliation behind closed doors, he has thrown caution to the wind and danced naked in the market square with those who stand against his benefactor’s second term in office. He has opened his arms to the same opposition that sought to diminish the Southwest’s influence. This is not courage. It is political suicide masked as a strategy.

If Aregbesola believes that aligning with Atiku will secure him a new political future, then he has grossly miscalculated. Atiku may embrace him today, but the scars of betrayal never fade. Even the opposition knows that a man who betrays his own can never be trusted. They will use him, and when the time comes, they will discard him like a broken tool.

This is where the lesson of patience becomes critical. Power is not permanent. The corridors of influence are ever-shifting, and those who wait often find that time has a way of restoring order. If Aregbesola had chosen to wait, to reflect, to rebuild quietly, he might have found himself back in the centre of relevance. But no, he chose the path of vengeance, of unfiltered bitterness, of public humiliation.

And in doing so, he has not only hurt his political legacy but also endangered the fragile cohesion within Yoruba politics. At a time when the southwest needs to speak with one voice, Aregbesola has introduced discord. At a time when the Yoruba people need to rally behind one of their own who is finally at the helm of national leadership, he has chosen to side with those who wish to unseat him.

What is more painful is the timing. Tinubu is not just fighting for himself; he is fighting to prove that a southern presidency can work. He is battling economic, political, and social forces. His presidency is a test case for many who believe that the South cannot hold the centre. Instead of support, he faces sabotage from his own.

And this betrayal is not just a political affair. It is a cultural wound. The Yoruba people believe in Omoluabi—dignity, respect, and loyalty. Aregbesola has trampled on that code. He has mocked the value of gratitude and stabbed a legacy that once held him up. This is not how elders behave. This is not how history should be made.

We must not stay silent. We must remind Aregbesola and others who are watching that karma is never far. The seeds you sow today will become the forest you must walk through tomorrow. If you sow discord, you will reap isolation. If you trade loyalty for ambition, you will pay in regret.

There is still a chance to make things right. Aregbesola can retrace his steps. He can apologize, not just to Tinubu, but to the people whose hopes he is dashing. He can choose silence over sabotage. He can learn that power gained through treachery never lasts. But if he continues on this path, then history will remember him not as a great son of the Yoruba race, but as the man who chose self over service.

In the end, every politician must choose how they want to be remembered. Some are remembered for the bridges they built, others for the ones they burned. Aregbesola has a choice. And we, the people of Yorubaland, must have the courage to call him out while he still has the chance to choose rightly.

Let him remember this: the ladder you use to climb up is not just wood and nails—it is people, trust, and legacy. Kick it down today, and you may find yourself stranded tomorrow.

Our appeal is not from hatred but from hurt. Not from anger, but from concern. We are pained, deeply so, that one of our own has allowed bitterness to consume wisdom. We still believe in redemption, but that door does not stay open forever. Let the conscience of the Yoruba nation speak louder than ambition. Let loyalty not become a forgotten virtue. And may history be kind to those who choose the path of honour while it still matters.

The post Aregbesola, Atiku, and the Judas Kiss: A Political Betrayal at the House of Oduduwa first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Buhari’s Dangerous Gamble: How Amnesty for Boko-Haram Sabotaged and Endangered Nigeria’s Army

ephraimhilldc — Wed, 21 May 2025 09:25:23 +0000

By Idowu Ephraim Faleye: +2348132100608

One of the most tragic decisions ever made in the history of Nigeria was the granting of amnesty to Boko Haram fighters and their recruitment into the Nigerian Army. It is a move that defies logic, morality, and common sense. From the moment this policy was announced, many Nigerians who still have their heads screwed on the right could foresee the disaster it would bring. And today, we are living with the bitter consequences of that misjudgment. This is not just a mistake; it is a betrayal of the highest order, a clear disservice to the nation and to the memory of those who died at the hands of these insurgents.

How can anyone in their right mind think it is wise to grant freedom and even employment to individuals who were once committed to the destruction of the country? These are people who were indoctrinated with a dangerous ideology, one that tells them that killing innocent people earns them eternal rewards. These individuals were not just misguided youths; they were trained murderers, brainwashed to believe that anyone who does not share their faith deserves to die. How then do you expect such a person to transform overnight into a patriotic soldier whose loyalty lies with the Nigerian state?

The moment these individuals were recruited into the Army, the integrity of the Nigerian military was compromised. Soldiers who had sworn to protect the nation with their lives were now forced to serve alongside those who once aimed their guns at them. Families who lost their loved ones in the fight against Boko Haram were forced to watch as their killers were not only pardoned but given jobs and paid with taxpayers’ money. What message does this send to law-abiding citizens? That crime pays? That you can kill, destroy, and maim, and still end up in uniform, with benefits?

This is the height of injustice. People who should be rotting in prison or facing justice are being compensated. It is as if we, as a nation, have decided to reward wickedness and punish righteousness. The blood of our soldiers cries from the ground, yet the government looks the other way, preferring to appease killers rather than honour the dead. The families of slain soldiers, the communities torn apart by terrorism, and the children orphaned by senseless killings—what do they get in return? Pain. Silence. Betrayal.

Now we hear of frequent ambushes. Nigerian soldiers are being captured, killed, and humiliated by ragtag Boko Haram fighters. Why? Because there are moles within the Army. Because those so-called repentant fighters never repented. They only changed uniforms. They now wear the green of the Nigerian Army, but their hearts remain with the dark ideology that birthed Boko Haram. They have become informants, feeding vital military intelligence to their old comrades. Plans are leaked, movements are tracked, and ambushes are executed with precision because someone within knows the system.

What makes this even more painful is the suspicion that this was no accident. Many believe this was part of a grand plan, a calculated effort by the Fulani oligarchy to weaken the Nigerian Army and compromise the country’s defence systems. Former President Buhari, whether knowingly or unknowingly, became the face of this betrayal. His actions in office, from the skewed appointments to the preferential policies, all point to a disturbing loyalty that was not entirely in favour of Nigeria’s unity.

This is the same administration that constructed railways to the Niger Republic while Nigerian roads rotted away. The same government that pushed the RUGA policy with so much aggression that Nigerians had to rise in protest to stop it. Everything pointed to a priority for ethnic and religious interests over national unity. Under Buhari’s watch, it became clear that some lives mattered more than others, and some crimes could be forgiven—depending on who committed them.

The consequences of these actions are everywhere today. The fight against insurgency has dragged on for years, with no end in sight. Billions have been spent, thousands have died, and yet the enemy seems to grow stronger. How can we win a war when the enemy sleeps in our barracks? When our strategies are leaked before they are even implemented? When our soldiers march into traps that could have been avoided?

We must come to a point of painful but necessary truth: there can be no peace where justice is absent. Boko Haram fighters are not ordinary criminals. They are ideological terrorists. They are people who believe they are on a divine mission, and no amount of rehabilitation or reintegration will change that. You cannot preach peace to someone who thinks that killing you is an act of worship. Such a soul is no longer in that body. It is in the hands of the devil, and no human program can retrieve it.

The first step to saving Nigeria’s military and restoring national security is to purge the army of every element that once pledged allegiance to Boko Haram. These individuals must be removed immediately. Their presence is a threat to national security, a slap to the face of every fallen soldier, and a mockery of our collective intelligence. The idea that they can be rehabilitated is not only naive but deadly.

Secondly, the government must abandon the policy of amnesty for terrorists. There are crimes that forgiveness cannot and should not cover. We must draw a line in the sand. Boko Haram fighters should be treated as enemies of the state. Captured fighters should be tried and executed. Not because we hate them, but because we love the nation they tried to destroy. Because justice demands it. Because the future of Nigeria depends on it.

We must stop sending the message that the blood of innocents means nothing. We must stop acting as if the lives of our soldiers are disposable. We must stop pretending that rehabilitation is possible for people who believe their crimes are holy. The army must be rebuilt with patriots, not former enemies. With loyalty, not with deceit. With discipline, not with compromise.

The truth is hard. But if we do not face it, we will continue to bury our heroes in silence while celebrating their killers in uniform. We will keep losing good men and women to betrayal. We will keep watching our nation slip into chaos. All because we were too afraid to call evil by its name.

Buhari may have left office, but his legacy remains—a legacy tainted by decisions that emboldened Nigeria’s enemies and undermined the very institution meant to protect us. It is time to correct those errors. It is time to choose justice over political correctness, truth over deception, and national interest over ethnic loyalty.

To every Nigerian who has lost someone to terrorism, to every soldier who fought bravely and died believing in this country, to every child orphaned by senseless violence, your pain is valid. Your tears matter. And your sacrifice should not be in vain. Never again should killers be rewarded. Never again should loyalty to Nigeria be second to any ideology. Never again should our soldiers fall because someone within gave away their position. Never again should a government forget who it is meant to serve.

Our silence will not bring back the dead. But our voice can protect the living. Let it thunder across every corner of this nation that we are done pampering evil. And may those who died protecting us finally rest in peace, knowing their sacrifice is not forgotten.

The post Buhari’s Dangerous Gamble: How Amnesty for Boko-Haram Sabotaged and Endangered Nigeria’s Army first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Value Ingredients Limited: Catalyzing Ekiti-State Blueprint for Economic Rebirth

ephraimhilldc — Thu, 15 May 2025 09:01:39 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

Some days ago, I wrote an article titled “Why Ekiti Needs More Than Higher Institutions”, stressing the urgent need for our leaders to shift focus from merely facilitating more schools to facilitating industries that can absorb our graduates and unemployed youth. No society thrives by producing educated minds with nowhere to channel their talents. The solution lies beneath our feet — in the soil. Ekiti is an agrarian society. Our people are farmers, and our land can feed the nation. We lack the industrial infrastructure to add value to our growth. We need industries that process farm produce into finished goods, create jobs, reduce waste, and generate wealth. This is the blueprint for economic rebirth in Ekiti State.

Shortly after that article, a friend challenged me. He said someone in Ekiti was already taking practical steps—someone not waiting for the government but taking the bull by the horns. I was skeptical. I live in Ado-Ekiti, and if such a project existed, I thought I’d know. He insisted and offered to take me there. Out of curiosity, I agreed. What I saw at the Old Oodua Textile Mill stunned me—and gave me a new vision for Ekiti’s growth and development.

Value Ingredients Limited, Oodua Textile Mill, Ado-Ekiti

A massive agro-industrial facility stood at the site — clean, organized, and busy. My first thought was: Is this a government project? Funded by a bank? Backed by a politician? I was wrong on all fronts. It is the vision of an Ekiti son — Prince Olabode Adetoyi.

When I met the founder, I asked why I hadn’t heard of this. His reply was simple: “This company wasn’t established for showmanship; it was created for impact.” No signposts, no social media blitz. Just work. And the impact is exactly what Value Ingredients Limited is delivering. Nestled in Ado-Ekiti, this Agro-processing hub uplifts farmers, empowers youth, and sparks industrial growth. Prince Adetoyi said, “It wasn’t just a business idea—It was a calling to address seven critical gaps in our agricultural and economic system.”

NAFDAC-Certified and Export-Ready Product

First, job creation — employing young people, especially women and graduates. Second, empowering youth to return to farming by guaranteeing markets for their produce. Third, post-harvest losses can be reduced by processing perishables like plantain, cassava, maize, and plantain. Fourth, promoting agricultural value chains that connect producers, processors, and marketers. Fifth, positioning Ekiti as an export hub for Agro-products. Sixth, contributing to internal revenue through taxes. Seventh, leveraging the Ekiti Agro-Cargo Airport for logistics and exports.

These goals speak directly to Ekiti’s core challenges. We have land. We have a farming heritage. But we face youth unemployment, lower revenue, and the consistent outflow of raw produce without value addition. Value Ingredients Limited addresses these head-ons.

NAFDAC-Certified and Export-Ready Products

I asked what inspired him. He told me of a rainy evening in Ilawe-Ekiti where he saw a mountain of plantains by the roadside, waiting endlessly for transport to Lagos. They would likely rot because it was already evening. That moment sparked the idea — why not build a factory in Ekiti to process farm products before they spoil?

But vision alone doesn’t build factories — money does. He sold some of his houses and land assets, combined with some savings, to raise the capital for building the factory. After setting up, he struggled to buy enough raw materials, not due to scarcity, but because capital was tight. Ekiti is rich in produce; what’s needed is funding.

NAFDAC-Certified and Export-Ready Product

Standing in that factory, seeing the gleaming machinery and NAFDAC-certified products ready for local and export markets, I felt immense pride. Here is proof that Ekiti can host a cutting-edge industry. A blueprint for sustainable development rooted in agriculture.

What the company needs now isn’t applause, but support from the government, private investors, and well-meaning individuals. The factory is ready, the machines are running, and the workers are eager. What’s needed is raw materials and land for backward integration. I plead for support, not for Prince Adetoyi, but for Ekiti’s future. He is calling for partnership to massively cultivate cassava, yellow maize, plantain, yams, peppers, ginger, garlic, etc. He is asking us to invest in our growth. He seeks support not as charity, but as investment in Ekiti’s and Nigeria’s economic future.

NAFDAC-Certified and Export-Ready Product

Of course, no single company can bear the entire burden of development. That’s why he called for collaboration — with the government to finance raw materials, with communities to provide land, and with financial institutions to offer affordable credit. He’s open to contract manufacturing for clients needing Agro-processed goods.

As a resident of Ado-Ekiti, I wondered why I hadn’t heard of this company. The answer wasn’t secrecy — it was humility. Value Ingredients Limited wasn’t built for headlines but for impact. It delivers jobs for youth, markets for farmers, revenue for the government, and global recognition for Ekiti.

NAFDAC-Certified and Export-Ready Product

Most impressive is that the company doesn’t just produce for local consumption. Every product is NAFDAC-certified and export-ready. The world is waiting to taste what Ekiti offers. Imagine a future where our youth stay home for decent jobs. Where our farmers smile because their produce is processed at home. Imagine seeing “Made in Ekiti” on supermarket shelves in Lagos, Abuja, London, or New York. It’s possible — and it’s happening. But we must support it.

Let me say this clearly: Value Ingredients Limited is a blueprint for Ekiti’s industrial future. It shows what’s possible when vision meets commitments. It’s a quiet revolution that deserves amplification—not for politics or praise, but for progress.

The impact goes beyond numbers. When youth have jobs, they find purpose. When farmers earn fairly, they invest in better inputs. When the government earns steady revenue, it can plan long-term. When a state exports, its name travels to Lagos markets, European ports, and American buyers. Ekiti’s products will carry our heritage and ambition to the world.

According to his words, “As someone with nearly three decades in agriculture — including as former Commissioner for Agriculture and Food Security in Ekiti State — I’ve seen plans fail under bureaucracy and politics”. But Prince Adetoyi’s background is solid: University of Ilorin, University of Ibadan, Lagos State University, Harvard Business School, and decades in agribusiness. This isn’t a novice’s dream—it’s a seasoned entrepreneur’s mission.

So, I write not to advertise him, but to advocate. Ekiti has rich soil and resilient people. With Value Ingredients Limited at the forefront, we can reduce youth unemployment, minimize post-harvest waste, stimulate agribusiness, and become an export hub.

To our leaders: seize this moment. Move beyond symbolic empowerment — forget motorcycles and tricycles. Equip our youth and farmers with light Agricultural machinery—tractors, harvesters, ploughs, mills—and provide cooperative funding. True empowerment is giving people the tools to create wealth.

And to every Ekiti resident—urban or rural, young or old—I say: support this initiative. Encourage Value Ingredients Limited as it expands. Share your ideas, your concerns, your resources. Let this be a homegrown success story that inspires others.

Because in the end, Ekiti’s destiny lies in our hands. We have land, talent, manpower, a tradition — and now, a working model of transformation. Value Ingredients Limited is more than a company; it’s a beacon of hope. With courage, commitment, and collaboration, we can turn potential into prosperity.

I walked out of that factory with a renewed purpose. I saw the faces of youth light up at the promise of real jobs. I saw farmers nodding at the thought of stable markets. I felt the energy of a community ready to rally behind a vision for sustainable growth. Farmers, youth, and leaders alike see in Value Ingredients Limited, a sign that the entrepreneurial spirit in Ekiti still burns bright. They feel the potential for real transformation — anchored in action, not promises.

I close with the words of my host, Prince Olabode Adetoyi, who poured his life savings, his experience, and his unwavering belief into this enterprise: “This is for Ekiti—my home, my people, my future.” May his vision become our collective reality, and may Ekiti rise, renewed and resplendent, as a beacon of growth and development for all of Nigeria.

This promotional feature is part of our effort to spotlight rising public/private companies and establishments. To explore how your company can be profiled, reach out to our business team at ephraimhill01@gmail.com or +2348132100608

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post Value Ingredients Limited: Catalyzing Ekiti-State Blueprint for Economic Rebirth first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

A Wake-Up Call to the Newly Constituted South West Development Commission

ephraimhilldc — Sat, 10 May 2025 18:06:41 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

The formal establishment of the South West Development Commission (SWDC) marks a historic turning point in the collective journey of Yoruba-speaking states toward a future of purposeful development, regional integration, and self-determined progress. I heartily congratulate the newly appointed Chairman and officers of the Commission, whose emergence signals the long-overdue fulfilment of a long-held aspiration of our people. For decades, the South West has yearned for a platform tailored to harness our shared heritage, unique potential, and regional strengths. The South West Development Commission is that long-awaited platform—and its timing could not be more critical, nor its responsibility more urgent.

In recent times, Nigeria’s South West region, the ancestral homeland of the Yoruba people, has increasingly become a zone of concern. With the Federal Government’s newly constituted South West Development Commission (SWDC) now in place, the time has come to act boldly. Development is not just about infrastructure, roads, or economic zones. At its core, development is about people—their safety, dignity, and the peace of mind to pursue livelihoods without fear. Without security, there is no foundation for development. This is why the SWDC must prioritize regional security as its most urgent task.

Every day, the people of the South West wake up to headlines that echo a consistent and devastating theme: kidnappings, killings, and coordinated attacks on the farmland—mostly attributed to armed Fulani herdsmen, and these are tearing through once-thriving communities. Farmers no longer go to their farms. Market women no longer travel certain roads. Entire families have been wiped out or rendered homeless. This isn’t some isolated criminal phenomenon, it is systemic and strategic attacks that target lives, livelihoods, and land. They erode the very fabric of society, instilling fear in communities and pushing the people into silence, suspicion, and despair.

Traditional rulers, once custodians of our customs and custodians of community security, now struggle to hold their thrones amid threats and pressures. The economic consequences are severe: agriculture is in decline, youth unemployment worsens as rural areas become no-go zones, and regional businesses face increasing operational risks. If this situation persists without bold, coordinated action, the South West could find itself destabilized to the point where recovery becomes an uphill battle.

This is where the South West Development Commission must step in—not with bullets or battalions, but with bold leadership, vision, and coordination. While the SWDC is not a security agency, its mandate to foster integrated development across Yoruba-speaking states gives it a strategic platform to act as a convener and coordinator for regional stability. No meaningful development can happen without peace, and peace in the South West today is under severe threat.

What must be done? First, the SWDC should immediately partner with the six governors of the South West, who are constitutionally recognized as the Chief Security Officers of their respective states. This partnership must go beyond meetings and press statements. It must translate into tangible investments in technological infrastructure for security. The time has come to think outside the box and deploy 21st-century tools to solve a 21st-century problem. One such solution is the development of a digital crisis mapping platform that will allow real-time reporting and tracking of security incidents across Yoruba land.

The proposed digital platform will allow ordinary citizens—farmers, teachers, students, and traditional leaders—to report attacks, land grabs, and abductions using their mobile phones. These reports will be geotagged, verified, and presented in an open-access map showing hotspots and trends. This data will not only serve as an early warning system but also become a central information repository to shape policy and enable a response. It will give visibility to what has been hidden in plain sight.

Moreover, the SWDC can take the lead in facilitating the procurement of modern surveillance and defense technologies such as drone systems and robot military dogs manufactured in China, which are already in use in several parts of the world for intelligence gathering and border patrol. These tools, operated in coordination with state security outfits like Amotekun and federal forces, can help detect and neutralize threats before they spiral out of control.

But technology alone is not enough. The Commission should also use its federal status to mobilize all Yoruba lawmakers in the National Assembly to reach a consensus with South-south, Southeast and North central zone national assembly members to sponsor and push enabling legislation that will formally empower regional security outfits with the authority, training, and weaponry necessary to protect their people. The disarming of regional security forces while criminals operate freely is a contradiction that must be urgently resolved. The Commission must work with the National Security Adviser, the Ministry of Defence, and the Inspector General of Police to harmonize efforts and ensure synergy between local and federal security forces.

Imagine the transformation that would follow if the SWDC becomes the nerve centre for security intelligence and strategy in the South West. A Commission that not only builds roads but also protects those who travel on them. A Commission that not only provides agricultural inputs but ensures farmers live to harvest their crops. A Commission that not only engages youth but ensures they do not fall prey to violence or unemployment caused by insecurity.

This is not an appeal for militarization. It is a plea for coordinated protection. The Yoruba people are not asking for special treatment—they are asking for the right to live in peace on their ancestral lands. If we fail to act now, the future will be unforgiving. Every day of delay allows the attackers to grow bolder, the communities shrink in courage, and the dreams of development slip further away.

The South West Development Commission must rise to this historic occasion. Let it become a beacon of hope, a symbol of Yoruba unity, and a frontline protector of our heritage. Let the first legacy of this Commission be not a building or a road, but the security and stability of a people long betrayed by silence and slow response to attacks.

Let us not wait until every farm is abandoned, every town is militarized, and every child is afraid to go to school. Let us act now—with vision, with courage, and with unity. The time to shield Yorubaland is now. And the South West Development Commission must lead the charge.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post A Wake-Up Call to the Newly Constituted South West Development Commission first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Ritual Money: The Growing Sacrifice of Girls for Ritual Wealth in Nigeria

ephraimhilldc — Sat, 10 May 2025 12:26:40 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

It is becoming harder to ignore what is happening around us. A strange darkness has crept into our streets, neighbourhoods, schools, and homes. Girls are disappearing—young, innocent, vibrant girls. Their lives are being cut short, and their stories end before they even begin to unfold. And why? Some people want to get rich quickly. There is a growing certainty that human life can be exchanged for wealth, called ritual money.

In many parts of Nigeria, ritual killings are no longer things whispered in the dark or dismissed as myths from the village. They are now open realities—reported on the news, trending on social media, and discussed in hushed tones among neighbours. But the victims are real. Their blood is real. Their pain is real. And tragically, many of them are young females, often teenagers or even younger. These are our daughters, our sisters, our nieces, and our classmates. But society is behaving as if it is none of our business. Until it hits our home, until the next missing girl is related to someone we know, we treat the problem with negligence and a carefree attitude that is both shameful and dangerous.

How did we get here? How did we become people who turn a blind eye when an evil is committed; when another girl is reported missing; when a dismembered body is found; or when a young man is caught with human parts? The truth is, that our society has been slowly conditioned to accept these atrocities. We laugh at skits that glamorize ritual killings. We celebrate sudden wealth without questioning its source. We allow music videos, movies, and social media influencers to dress up blood money. And our silence is louder than any scream. Every time we stay silent, we give these evil acts permission to continue.

Let us not deceive ourselves. Money rituals are real. They are not fiction. They are not just superstition. They are carried out every day by desperate individuals who believe that sacrificing a human life, especially that of a young female, can grant them wealth, power, and influence. According to data from crime-tracking organizations like the CLEEN Foundation, ritual killings have increased significantly in the past five years. In 2022 alone, over 120 ritual-related deaths were reported, and the majority of the victims were young females. Think about that number. Over a hundred human beings are gone forever because someone wanted to drive a Mercedes-Benz or build a mansion.

The logic behind targeting young females is as twisted as it is horrifying. In many of these deadly belief systems, it is claimed that the blood or body parts of virgins or young women are more spiritually potent. This sick ideology has turned young girls into prime targets. They are lured through fake relationships, promised jobs or modelling gigs, or sometimes just snatched from the streets. And the worst part is that when these tragedies happen, the outrage barely lasts more than a few days. A trending hashtag, a few emotional posts, maybe a candlelight vigil. Then silence. Until the next victim.

What we are witnessing is a societal failure on every level. The government is failing in its duty to protect lives. Law enforcement agencies and the legal system are slow and weak. But even worse, the average Nigerian is failing their neighbour. Communities protect suspects. Families defend criminals. And religious leaders, both in churches and mosques, remain mute. Some even offer prayers for people who flaunt suspicious wealth without asking questions.

We must understand this clearly: wealth made through ritual killing is blood money. It is a robbery of the worst kind. It is the theft of a life. It should be treated the same way we treat armed robbery or kidnapping. Anyone who accepts gifts or donations from a known or suspected ritualist should be considered an accomplice. Any parent who celebrates their child’s sudden wealth without verifying its source is aiding evil. Any spiritual leader who accepts offerings from someone with no clear source of income is encouraging bloodshed. We must stop normalizing this madness.

The society must rise in collective rejection. We must begin to treat ritual killers the way we treat murderers and armed robbers—because that is what they are. There should be no seats for them at our wedding, our naming ceremonies, or our places of worship. The mosque should not honour them. The church should not give them front-row seats. The market should not take their money. The community should not celebrate them. They must be isolated, rejected, and shamed until this evil loses its attraction. This is not wickedness. This is justice. This is protection. This is survival.

People say we should not judge, that we don’t know how someone made their money. But let us be honest. We do know. We see the signs. The sudden wealth. The sketchy behaviour. The unexplained generosity. And when these signs appear, we must ask questions. We must hold each other accountable. Because every time we ignore the signs, another girl is taken. Another life is wasted.

This is not just a criminal issue. It is a spiritual issue. It is a moral issue. And it is a deeply human issue. It affects every one of us. Because when one girl is killed for money, all of us lose a part of our humanity. The ripple effects are vast—broken families, traumatized communities, and a generation that learns that evil pays. We must stop this now before we lose everything.

We also need to start using data and technology to fight this plague. State governments should set up missing person databases and hotlines. Communities should have neighbourhood watch systems. Schools should educate students about the dangers of being lured by strangers or too-good-to-be-true offers. Parents must become more alert and more present. The media must be responsible in its reporting and stop sensationalizing these crimes.

Religious organizations must rise from their slumber. This is not the time for feel-good sermons. This is the time to speak truth to power, to call sin by its name, to cast out the darkness with the light of truth. No amount of praise and worship can replace justice. No offering can clean blood-stained hands. It is time to call ritual killings what they are: satanic, evil, and an insult to God and humanity.

We cannot move forward as a nation while sacrificing our daughters on the altar of greed. We cannot build a better Nigeria while bathing our future in blood. We must all take responsibility. We must all play our part. Whether you are a teacher, a trader, a pastor, an imam, a policeman, or a politician—this is your fight. This is your duty. This is your chance to be on the right side of history.

Because at the end of the day, if we fail to act now, we will wake up one morning and realize that no girl is safe, no child is safe, and no future is guaranteed. And when that day comes, no amount of money, no matter how it was made, will be able to buy back what we have lost.

Let us not wait for it to happen to our family before we care. Let us not say God forbid and move on. Let us be angry now. Let us be loud now. Let us fight back now. Because every second we delay, another child is being targeted. Another girl is being deceived. Another family is being broken.

This is not just a call for awareness. This is a cry for justice. This is a demand for change. This is a warning to those who think they can hide behind wealth soaked in blood. Your days are numbered. The truth is rising. The people are waking. And justice—true justice—will not sleep forever.

So let this article not end with just your reading. Let it become your voice, your message, your mission. Speak about it. Share it. Talk about it in your homes, your mosques, your churches, your campuses, your workplaces. Don’t stop until Nigeria becomes a place where girls are safe, and blood money is treated with the hatred and disgust it deserves.

If you feel the pain of a grieving mother, if you see the tears of a broken father, if you hear the silence of a sister who never returned, then you already know what must be done. We cannot keep burying our daughters and praising their killers. Enough is enough.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post Ritual Money: The Growing Sacrifice of Girls for Ritual Wealth in Nigeria first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Saving Yorubaland from Fulani Invasion Before It’s Too Late

ephraimhilldc — Tue, 29 Apr 2025 13:50:26 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

MY SECOND LETTER TO MR. PRESIDENT: A CRY FOR URGENT ACTION TO PROTECT YORUBALAND FROM IMMINENT OCCUPATION

Mr. President,

Permit me once again to address Your Excellency for the second time in such a short span of time. I am compelled by the gravity of the danger looming over Yorubaland. Sir, this letter is not written in pursuit of attention or applause. It is born purely out of an urgent call to duty to raise the alarm on the imminent occupation of Yorubaland. I respectfully implore you, Mr. President, to treat every other issue as secondary for now and give undivided attention to this matter of national emergency. Yorubaland is facing an existential threat that demands nothing less than the total focus of the government and the collective mobilization of all our national resources, political will, and military might to save Yorubaland from Fulani invasion.

The audacity of the Fulani bandits to overrun a trained army of a nation is not just a criminal activity; it is a declaration of war. Their capabilities are not the work of disorganized criminals but of a battle-tested force, organized, trained, and battle-hardened. In neighbouring Republic of Benin, these bandits recently launched a coordinated assault on a national army barracks, leaving hundreds of trained soldiers dead and carting away military weapons. The scale and success of that operation should send chills down the spine of every leader who truly understands the stakes. It is an unmistakable warning that these insurgents are no longer content with rural banditry but are gearing up for territorial conquest.

In our own country, Mr. President, we have witnessed them invade and sack military formations. We saw how they stormed the University of Abuja staff quarters, an area located dangerously close to a Nigerian Army base, and operated for over 90 minutes without resistance. That they could launch such an operation with surgical precision and escape without consequence is a testimony to their growing boldness and military sophistication. In Birnin Gwari, Kaduna State, another national tragedy unfolded when over 10 gallant Nigerian soldiers were killed during an attack on their military facility. These are not sporadic attacks; they are tactical, organized operations aimed at breaking our national defence capabilities.

Beyond these bold military-style attacks, these insurgents have mapped and infiltrated Yoruba forests with terrifying thoroughness. They have transformed these once-peaceful green belts into operational bases, fortresses from which they launch attacks, plan abductions, and terrorize surrounding communities. These forests are not randomly chosen; they are strategically positioned to allow easy mobility, concealment, and access to major towns and highways. Even more alarming is the revelation that many of these battle-ready insurgents have migrated into Yoruba cities, working under the guise of Okada riders, security guards, cart pushers, and other menial jobs. Through these roles, they study our cities intimately—our street layouts, our security arrangements, our economic activities—waiting for the opportune time to strike from within.

The infiltration is systematic and calculated. It is not a mere coincidence. It is warfare by stealth. Every city, every town that tolerates unchecked infiltration is unknowingly surrendering its soul to occupation. The unsettling truth is that these men are not just struggling for survival or driven by hunger; they are trained soldiers embedded among civilians, spies gathering intelligence, and sleeper cells awaiting activation. If we allow this to continue unchecked, we will wake up one day to find our towns falling like dominoes, overwhelmed from within without warning.

Mr. President, I must say it plainly: the response so far from governments at all levels has been woefully inadequate. It has been slow, inconsistent, and dangerously underwhelming compared to the magnitude of the threat we face. Instead of acknowledging this for what it is, many in government circles continue to treat it as just another security issue, another statistic to be lamented and forgotten. We are behaving as if we are in normal time when the very ground beneath our feet is slipping away.

The Bible tells the story of the days of Noah, when warnings of impending disaster fell on deaf ears, and men continued in their daily affairs until the floods came and swept them all away. Mr. President, that tragic analogy stares us in the face today. We are receiving warning upon warning—villages sacked, soldiers killed, barracks attacked, civilians abducted in broad daylight—and yet, we continue with business as usual. The floods of destruction are gathering, yet our leaders dance as if the rains will somehow spare them. If urgent and extraordinary measures are not taken, history will record that our generation was warned but chose complacency over courage.

From what happened in the Republic of Benin and from multiple coordinated attacks in Nigeria, it is abundantly clear that the Nigeria Police Force cannot match the professionalism, tactical manoeuvring, and ferocity of these Fulani bandits. The police are simply not trained nor equipped for such warfare. To continue sending the police after them is a dangerous mischaracterization of the threat we face. This is not armed robbery. This is not petty kidnapping. This is a full-scale military incursion that demands a full-scale military response.

A stitch in time saves nine. We must not wait until these insurgents escalate their attacks to levels comparable to what Boko Haram unleashed in the North-East. By then, it may be too late, and the cost of reclaiming our sovereignty will be too steep in lives, in blood, and in national dignity. The time to act is now, with overwhelming force, with a resolute national focus, and with a long-term strategy of neutralization and prevention.

The fight against this insurgency must involve the deployment of land troops, air surveillance and strikes, and waterway patrols. No part of Nigeria should be left unsecured. The government must unleash the full arsenal of war at our disposal, not with half-hearted measures but with a determination befitting the defence of our homeland. Fighter jets must pound identified hideouts. Ground forces must conduct sweeping, coordinated raids. Intelligence agencies must work overtime to infiltrate their cells. Technology must be leveraged, including drones, satellite imaging, and cyber tracking, to expose and disrupt their networks.

It is equally important to engage the local communities, the hunters, the vigilantes, and the traditional rulers. Their knowledge of the terrain is invaluable and their cooperation can tip the scales. We must also close our borders firmly and decisively to prevent the influx of foreign fighters and illegal arms. Our immigration policies must be strengthened, and those already residing in Nigeria under suspicious circumstances must be thoroughly vetted. The government must launch an immediate nationwide census of Okada riders and similar sectors to weed out infiltrators camouflaging as labourers.

Mr. President, please hear the heartbeat of your people. Feel the fear that grips rural communities daily. Understand the anguish of mothers who sleep with one eye open, fearing for their children’s lives. See the despair in the faces of farmers who can no longer access their farmlands because death awaits them in the bush. Imagine the helplessness of families ripped apart by abduction and slaughter. The soul of Nigeria is crying for help.

It is for this reason I repeat that everything else must be placed on hold. Political appointments, administrative reforms, economic summits, legislative debates—all these must take a backseat to the urgent task of defending the territorial integrity of Nigeria. Without security, no economy can grow. Without security, no education can thrive. Without security, no infrastructure will endure. Without security, no election will be credible. Security is the foundation of civilization itself.

History will not remember us for how many kilometres of roads we built during a time of war, but for whether we had the foresight to stand up, unite, and defend our nation when the walls were closing in. Mr. President, your name will either be written in gold as the leader who rose to save his people, or it will be remembered with regret as one who was distracted while invaders overran his country. The choice is yours. The moment demands courage and decisive leadership.

The blood of every Nigerian demands justice. Every life lost because of government inaction will stand as a testimony before posterity. Every displaced child, every grieving widow, every orphaned soul will bear witness. Yet, Mr. President, it is not too late. You have the mandate, the machinery, and the moral authority to act decisively. You can summon the full force of the Republic to crush this growing monster before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

Mr. President, I cannot, in good faith, stay silent while our collective future hangs so precariously in the balance. I write this letter with a heavy heart. I write as one who has seen the future that inaction portends for our beloved country. I write because I still believe in the destiny of Nigeria as a great and united nation. I write because I cannot bear the thought of our dreams being buried under the boots of occupation. Please, Mr. President, heed this call not because it is loud, but because it is just. Heed it not because it is convenient, but because it is necessary. Heed it not for my sake, but for the sake of the millions whose hopes now rest on your shoulders.

May the Almighty God grant you the strength, the wisdom, and the courage to do what must be done at this critical hour.

Yours patriotically,

Idowu Ephraim Faleye

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post Saving Yorubaland from Fulani Invasion Before It’s Too Late first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

Our Land, Our Duty: No Savior is Coming — Yoruba Must Rise As One People

ephraimhilldc — Mon, 28 Apr 2025 12:19:27 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

Yorubaland stands today at a dangerous crossroads. The creeping insecurity that once seemed distant has found a home among us. From the hinterlands of Ekiti to the forests of Oyo, from the villages of Osun to the borders of Ogun, reports of deadly raids, kidnappings, and brazen attacks on our people are no longer strange news. The bitter truth is that the survival of Yorubaland now depends not on empty prayers or hollow political promises, but on our ability to take our destiny into our own hands, rise as one people, and defend our land without allowing the poison of religion or politics to divide us.

In the past, Yorubaland was known for its organized communities, respect for order, and the fierce bravery of its warriors when called upon to protect the homeland. Our forefathers did not wait for foreign saviours. They established security systems and enforced justice within their territories. It was this spirit of self-reliance, unity, and boldness that allowed the Yoruba to flourish even amidst the turbulence of the colonial and post-colonial eras. Today, that same spirit must be urgently rekindled if we are to survive the threats that now loom over our towns and villages.

We cannot continue to ignore the alarming statistics. Between 2019 and 2024, Nigeria recorded over twelve thousand civilian deaths from violent attacks, with a growing number now happening in the southern parts, including areas traditionally considered safe like parts of Ondo, Oyo, and Ogun States. The wave of killings that once seemed confined to the North has broken through into the heart of Yorubaland. Farmlands are being abandoned out of fear, rural communities are emptying, and our food security is increasingly at risk. The banditry, kidnappings, and invasions we read about yesterday are now knocking on our doors.

Yet, even in the face of such existential threats, some of us are still clinging to political divisions and religious sentiments, forgetting that bullets do not ask whether you are Christian, Muslim, APC, PDP, or Yoruba of one town or another. An enemy that targets your life does not care about the party you vote for or the church you attend. What matters now is our shared identity as Yoruba people and the urgent need to defend our collective existence.

In many parts of Yorubaland today, community-driven security efforts have sprung up as a response to the failure of centralized policing. Groups like the Amotekun Corps, initiated by the Southwest governors, are a step in the right direction, but Amotekun alone cannot save us if the people themselves remain divided and inactive. Community vigilance, local defence initiatives, early-warning systems, and self-organization at the town and village levels are no longer optional—they are matters of survival.

The Constitution of Nigeria recognizes the right to self-defence. Within this legal framework, it is both a right and a duty for communities to organize to defend themselves when faced with life-threatening situations. We must embrace this reality with wisdom and strategy, not with lawlessness. Defence must be structured, disciplined, and rooted in a deep sense of responsibility to protect lives, not escalate violence unnecessarily.

Historical memory should guide us. The Ekiti Parapo alliance of the 19th century, which saw different Yoruba kingdoms putting aside their rivalries to resist external domination, remains one of the most powerful examples of what we can achieve when we stand united. Today, our enemy may not wear the uniform of a colonial invader, but the threat they pose to our land and our future is no less grave. It is no longer about town versus town, Christian versus Muslim, or political party versus political party. It is about ensuring that our children will still have villages to call home, farms to cultivate, markets to trade, and a culture to pass down.

The infiltration of forests across Oyo, Ogun, Ondo, and Ekiti by unknown armed groups should alarm every conscious Yoruba son and daughter. When criminals establish hideouts in our forests, it is only a matter of time before they begin to launch attacks on nearby communities. If we continue to fold our arms and depend solely on distant authorities to come to our rescue, we will be gambling with the very existence of our homeland.

The task ahead is not easy, but it is necessary. Every town and village must set up effective local security committees composed of trustworthy individuals. These committees must work closely with traditional rulers, local hunters, and security agencies to monitor suspicious activities, enforce community vigilance, and share intelligence swiftly. Surveillance of our forests must be intensified, with traditional hunters leading the way because of their superior knowledge of the terrain. No group should be allowed to camp in our forests without accountability.

Moreover, the youth of Yorubaland must rise. This is not the time for aimless arguments on social media or waiting endlessly for government jobs that may never come. Our youth must organize themselves into disciplined, community-focused volunteer groups trained in basic security techniques. They must protect their communities, support local agriculture, revive rural economies, and resist all efforts to divide them along partisan or religious lines. The future belongs to the brave, not to the passive.

Traditional rulers must also understand that their thrones and titles mean nothing if their lands are overrun and their people scattered. They must work together across boundaries, not allowing petty rivalries to stand in the way of collective action. Town unions, diaspora associations, and Yoruba socio-cultural organizations must prioritize security funding, training, and community mobilization over endless talk shops and ceremonies.

Religious leaders have a role too. In every mosque, church, and shrine, the message must be clear: we have a duty to protect our people and land. Faith without action is empty. It is not unholy to defend oneself against murderers and invaders; it is, in fact, a sacred duty. Let the pulpits and prayer grounds become platforms for enlightenment, not division.

Critically, politicians must be reminded that their first obligation is to the safety and survival of the people, not to their re-election plans. Security must not be politicized. Whether one supports the governor, the senator, or the local councillor, it should make no difference when the security of the community is at stake. We must be bold to call out political leaders who fail to prioritize security. They must not be shielded by partisan loyalty when they are negligent with the lives of the citizens.

The Yoruba spirit has always been a resilient one. History records our civilization as sophisticated, brave, organized, and proud. We must not allow this legacy to be buried under the weight of complacency, cowardice, or misplaced loyalty. If our ancestors could build kingdoms without external aid, if they could withstand invasions and carve out a place of pride in African history, then we too, their descendants, must not be found wanting at this critical hour.

We must teach our children to love and defend their heritage. We must invest in community self-help projects that strengthen local economies and reduce vulnerability to external exploitation. We must organize community education programs to teach basic security awareness and disaster response. We must create a culture of unity and swift collective action whenever threats arise.

The Yoruba proverb says, “Ti a ba fi oju meji wo’gi, igi a wo.” — If we look at a tree with two minds, it will fall. We cannot afford a divided mind about the need to protect Yorubaland. We must be united, focused, and determined. Time is not on our side.

Let it be said of our generation that when danger knocked, we did not bicker over religion or politics; we rose as one to defend our land, our people, and our future. Let it be said that the spirit of Oduduwa did not die in us. Let it be remembered that we took our destiny into our own hands and secured it with courage, wisdom, and unity.

The future of Yorubaland depends on the actions we take today. We must rise, and we must rise together.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post Our Land, Our Duty: No Savior is Coming — Yoruba Must Rise As One People first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

When Your Seat Becomes the Target of Your Competitors: Your Performance Doesn’t Inspire—It Infuriates

ephraimhilldc — Fri, 25 Apr 2025 14:27:55 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

When the seat you occupy is the target of your competitors, there is nothing you can do to please those who are contending for the seat. It doesn’t matter how hard you try or how sincere your intentions are; they will always find a reason to complain. Your good deeds will be questioned, your motives will be misinterpreted, and your achievements will be viewed through the lens of suspicion. This is the bitter reality of political rivalry, where ambition clouds appreciation and success becomes a threat.

Imagine someone eyeing your job at work. No matter how much you excel, they’re not going to clap for you. Instead, your promotion becomes a source of bitterness. That’s exactly how political opponents behave when they want the seat you are occupying. They don’t see your achievements as progress but as obstacles to their ambition. The more you do, the more uncomfortable they become. The more you deliver, the harder they work to discredit you because every milestone you hit weakens their case against you.

Take the case of President Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu. From the moment he assumed office, he inherited a country on the brink. The economy was bleeding, insecurity had taken root in many regions, and public trust in government was at an all-time low. Rather than take a backseat and point fingers, Tinubu chose the hard road of reforms. He removed the costly fuel subsidy, unified the exchange rate, and took steps to boost local production. These are not populist moves; they are long-term solutions that require short-term sacrifices.

But how did his political opponents react? Did they support these tough decisions for the greater good? No. They saw an opportunity. Rather than acknowledge the courage it takes to make such tough calls, they amplified the pain Nigerians were feeling. They stoked public anger and used it to score cheap political points. If Tinubu had chosen to delay those reforms, the economy might have completely collapsed, but that wouldn’t matter to those who are hungry for power. What matters to them is not whether the nation survives; it is whether they can use the moment to seize the seat.

Similarly, in Ekiti State, Governor Biodun Abayomi Oyebanji is facing the same dilemma. Oyebanji came into office with a clear vision. He invested in infrastructure, improved civil service welfare, opened up the agricultural sector for youth involvement, and maintained a calm and peaceful environment in a state known for political tension. But still, his opponents are never satisfied. Instead of appreciating the roads he is building, the support he is giving to small businesses, or the prompt payment of salaries, they are picking holes in his every move. If he rehabilitates a hospital, they say it’s not enough. If he creates jobs, they say the jobs are too few.

It is almost as if his success irritates them. And the reason is simple: as long as he keeps performing, their chances of unseating him get slimmer. They understand that performance builds popularity, and popularity strengthens incumbency. So, they deliberately ignore what he is doing right and focus only on what they can spin against him. That is the nature of political opposition when the seat is their target. They do not exist to critique constructively; they exist to discredit by all means.

Now let’s flip the coin. Imagine for a second that Tinubu or Oyebanji made a mistake. Perhaps a policy didn’t work out as planned, or a project got delayed. That’s when their opponents come alive with excitement. They jump on it and magnify the issue, not because they care about the people, but because it gives them a talking point. Your deficiency is what they like. It justifies why you should step aside and allow them to take over.

This isn’t unique to Nigeria. Across the world, when leaders occupy powerful positions, their seats attract envy and ambition. The unfortunate truth is that many people don’t want to build; they want to inherit. They don’t want to contribute to solutions; they want to reap the benefits of being in charge. So instead of supporting the incumbent to succeed, they work tirelessly to ensure he fails. That way, they can say, “We told you he couldn’t do it.”

What makes this worse is that some members of the public, driven by hardship or misinformation, join the bandwagon. They forget that governing a nation or state is not a magic show. It requires patience, planning, and consistency. When a leader is making tough decisions that may not look glamorous at the moment, it is easy to misunderstand him if you’re not seeing the full picture. And unfortunately, opposition figures capitalize on this. They spread narratives that fit their ambition, not the truth.

Let’s take a moment to reflect on this. Should we, as citizens, be unable to tell the difference between genuine governance and propaganda? Shouldn’t we evaluate leaders based on facts, not just feelings? A president who is tackling subsidy fraud and a governor who is prioritizing people’s welfare should be encouraged, not antagonized. Constructive criticism is good, but what we often see is calculated antagonism disguised as criticism.

It is not wrong to aspire for leadership, but ambition must be guided by ethics. Politics should be about service, not sabotage. If your only strategy to win is to ensure the current leader fails, then your motive is not leadership—it is conquest. We cannot build a great nation on the back of envy and destruction. We must rise above partisan hatred and see governance as a collective responsibility.

The unfortunate part is that some critics of Tinubu were once beneficiaries of similar public trust. They had their time and were not subjected to the kind of hostility they are now dishing out. It begs the question: if you were not perfect when you were in office, why expect perfection now? Leadership is a relay race. You run your part and hand over the baton. You don’t trip the runner just because you want the spotlight again.

What Tinubu and Oyebanji are experiencing is the classic syndrome of envy in leadership. It is painful, but not surprising. They are trying to govern in a season when the political class is desperate, the public is weary, and patience is in short supply. But their resilience matters. It tells us that leadership is not about popularity; it is about purpose. It reminds us that sometimes, you have to make unpopular decisions to secure a better future.

We must all come to terms with this truth: a leader who is truly working for the people will never be liked by everyone, especially those who want his job. And that’s okay. History doesn’t remember those who shouted the loudest; it remembers those who served and delivered results. Tinubu and Oyebanji must continue their journey, knowing that detractors will always exist, but the people who truly matter—the masses—are watching.

As we reflect on our roles as citizens, commentators, and stakeholders, let us remember that politics is not war. It is not a game of who can destroy whom. It is a platform for service. When we understand this, we will start to hold our leaders accountable with dignity, not with hatred. We will begin to see that supporting good policies, no matter who introduces them, is not weakness but wisdom.

Let us rise as a people who can separate ambition from truth. Let us not be pawns in the hands of those who seek power at all costs. And to the leaders under fire today, remember: even when your seat is the target, do not be distracted. Lead with courage. Lead with conscience. Because in the end, it is not the noise of your opponents that will define you, but the testimony of your impact. And that, history never forgets.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights on Politics, governance and Public Service delivery

The post When Your Seat Becomes the Target of Your Competitors: Your Performance Doesn’t Inspire—It Infuriates first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.

A Hard Look at Our Last Economic Chance: If Tinubu Cannot, Then Who Possibly Can?

ephraimhilldc — Mon, 21 Apr 2025 17:46:07 +0000

Written By Idowu Ephraim Faleye – 08132100608

In the history of modern Nigerian politics, it’s hard to find anyone as battle-hardened, audacious, and strategically refined as President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Whether one supports him or not, it’s difficult to deny that he is one of the most prepared politicians ever to assume the office of the President in Nigeria. So, when people begin to question whether he can turn around Nigeria’s struggling economy, the more pressing question becomes—if Tinubu cannot, then who possibly can?

Tinubu didn’t stumble into power. His rise to the presidency was the product of a long-term strategic blueprint that was both bold and meticulous. From his days as a senator during the aborted Third Republic to his transformative years as Lagos State Governor between 1999 and 2007, Tinubu built influence block by block, state by state, and relationship by relationship. He invested in people, institutions, alliances, and legacy. Even his fiercest critics acknowledge his uncanny ability to plan years ahead, predict political trends, and position himself advantageously.

His time as Lagos governor remains a reference point for economic reform. When he took over, Lagos was struggling with a low Internally Generated Revenue (IGR). By the time he left, he had laid a framework that increased the state’s IGR from about N600 million monthly to over N8 billion. Today, Lagos generates more revenue internally than some West African countries. The success wasn’t magic. It was the result of deliberate reforms, including tax system restructuring, public-private partnerships, and infrastructure investment. That track record made many believe he was the right man to rescue Nigeria’s bleeding economy.

But getting to Aso Rock was never easy. His 2023 presidential bid tested everything he had built for over three decades. The odds were stacked heavily against him from all directions. His own party was divided. The then-incumbent president, Muhammadu Buhari, gave no public endorsement. Many within the National Assembly were lukewarm. The Christian bloc vehemently opposed his Muslim-Muslim ticket. Influential Yoruba leaders like Chief Ayo Adebanjo and former President Olusegun Obasanjo did not back him. Afenifere, the socio-political umbrella of the Yoruba, openly disowned him. The South-South and South-East largely rejected his candidacy. Even some of his closest political associates quietly worked against him.

Beyond politics, powerful institutions resisted his ambition. The Central Bank of Nigeria’s Naira redesign and cash crunch policy months before the election disrupted grassroots mobilization. The Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) and other economic agencies were suspected to have acted in ways that weakened his momentum. The opposition capitalized on the economic hardship and blamed his party’s legacy. Yet, against all these odds, he emerged victorious.

That victory was not just electoral—it was symbolic. It was the triumph of persistence, calculation, and sheer grit. It showcased Tinubu’s defining qualities: his courage, his street-smart wisdom, his experience in governance, his ability to build formidable political networks, and above all, his fighting spirit. His success was the final confirmation that Tinubu was not just another politician but a phenomenon.

Tinubu’s background in accounting, particularly his professional experience with Deloitte and later Mobil Oil Nigeria where he rose to the position of treasurer, gave him deep insight into financial systems and oil-sector economics. He understands numbers, budget forecasts, and macroeconomic indicators. Unlike many past leaders who approached governance with passion but no technical expertise, Tinubu came prepared.

Upon assuming office in May 2023, the first major economic decision he made was removing the fuel subsidy. This had been a contentious issue for decades. Nigeria spent billions annually subsidizing petrol, with most of the benefits going to smugglers and elites. It was a drain on national resources and a major contributor to budget deficits. Tinubu ended it immediately. The impact was harsh—fuel prices soared, inflation spiked, and the cost of living increased dramatically. But the decision, many economists agree, was necessary. It freed up over $10 billion in budgetary savings, funds that could now be directed to capital projects, education, and health care.

Another tough call was the unification of exchange rates. For years, Nigeria operated multiple exchange windows—official, parallel, and export-import rates—which created loopholes for corruption and arbitrage. Tinubu’s administration collapsed them into a single market-driven rate. The naira weakened significantly, and imports became more expensive. But again, this reform was designed to eliminate rent-seeking and make the forex market more transparent.

Understandably, these decisions caused short-term pain. Inflation soared to over 34% by early 2024—the highest in almost three decades. Food prices doubled. Small businesses suffered. But no reform of this magnitude ever comes without sacrifice. It was the bitter pill needed to stabilize an economy that had been mismanaged for years.

To cushion the effect of these reforms, the government launched palliative measures. Minimum wage adjustments, cash transfers to vulnerable families, and fuel transport subsidies were implemented. Still, the relief felt minimal compared to the hardship. Nigerians wanted quick solutions to years of decay, but economic recovery takes time. President Tinubu has consistently asked for patience, pledging that better days are ahead.

One must not ignore Tinubu’s international diplomatic outreach. He aggressively pursued foreign investment. His trips to India, Germany, the UAE, and the U.S. were all aimed at securing investment partnerships. The agreements signed included energy infrastructure projects, digital economy collaborations, and private capital investments in Nigerian enterprises. These are the seeds of future growth. They won’t bear fruit overnight, but they show a deliberate strategy to integrate Nigeria into the global economy.

Domestically, he’s investing in infrastructure and digital economy reforms. Projects like the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Highway, which began under his tenure, signal a serious focus on transportation infrastructure. There’s also a revived focus on railways, airport concessions, and broadband expansion. The administration aims to use these to stimulate job creation and reduce Nigeria’s high youth unemployment rate, which stood at over 50% by 2023.

There are genuine criticisms, and they must be acknowledged. Many believe the reforms lacked a human face—that the government underestimated the impact on the poorest Nigerians. Others argue that corruption remains rampant in ministries and that governance needs to be more transparent. But one cannot deny that President Tinubu inherited an economy on life support, and he is at least applying the necessary defibrillator shocks.

He is perhaps the last man standing from the era of true political craftsmanship. From his mentorship under Obafemi Awolowo’s legacy to his involvement in the pro-democracy struggle alongside MKO Abiola, Tinubu has always been close to Nigeria’s power pulse. He understands the country’s fault lines—ethnic, religious, and economic—and has shown a capacity to navigate them better than most.

He is not perfect, and he doesn’t claim to be. But if a man with Tinubu’s exposure, credentials, and courage fails to fix Nigeria’s economy, it is hard to imagine who else within the current political class can. Most others are either too inexperienced, too compromised, or simply not equipped.

Tinubu is not just Nigeria’s president. He is a culmination of decades of strategic groundwork, mistakes, comebacks, victories, and setbacks. His financial empire, political machinery, and human capital investments are unmatched. That he still rose to the top when so many forces tried to stop him is proof that his journey wasn’t accidental—it was earned.

And so, if by the end of his tenure Nigeria is still in economic ruins, we may have to confront a hard truth: it may not be just about leadership anymore. The system itself may be too broken to salvage from the center. In that case, every region might need to consider a decentralized model to rebuild from the roots. Because if Asiwaju Tinubu—the one man who combined competence, charisma, courage, and grace—cannot get it done, then perhaps no one else within this current generation of Nigerian politicians can.

This is not a call for division. It is a cry of frustration. Nigerians are tired. They have trusted leaders again and again and been disappointed again and again. But they are also hopeful. They are still willing to endure suffering if they see signs of progress. They are not asking for magic, just results.

In the end, history will judge Tinubu not by his boldness but by the outcomes of his policies. And if he succeeds, he may just rewrite the story of leadership in Nigeria. But if he fails, the disappointment will not just be political—it will be national, generational, and deeply personal for millions who hoped he would be different.

And that’s why the stakes are so high. Because this is not just about Tinubu. This is about the future of a country that has long teetered on the edge, desperately searching for a leader who can truly turn things around.

The post A Hard Look at Our Last Economic Chance: If Tinubu Cannot, Then Who Possibly Can? first appeared on EphraimHill DataBlog.