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On Friday, June 1, 2024, a Nigerian medical doctor, Rose Agwu, took to social media to call the attention of netizens to the arrest of her siblings.
Agwu, in a series of now-deleted tweets, said military men invaded her home in Obikabia, Abia state, and picked up her brother and sister, leaving their 72-year-old father behind. The teenagers were among civilians arrested around Obikabia junction in Aba over the killing of military officers.
“Around 5 a.m., the Nigerian Army invaded my house, broke the gate and our door, and took my 15-year-old brother and my sister, who had just come home, away, leaving only my aged father.”
The medical doctor added that the soldiers didn’t give reasons for the arrest and never revealed the whereabouts of the arrested individuals.
“Till now, they have not been released. We are still trying to locate them. Please help us ask the Nigerian Army the logical reason behind this and how they can account for all the people they took and their plans for them,” she wrote in a post.
The arrest happened shortly after masked gunmen killed five soldiers at an army checkpoint in the Aba area of the state on Thursday, May 30. The military vowed to track down the individuals responsible, making the arrest of Agwu’s siblings look like a reprisal attack.
What was the public response?
Agwu’s cry for help caught the attention of netizens who helped her amplify her message in a bid to get the attention of relevant authorities.
In an X post made more than 24 hours after Agwu’s call, PPRO of the Abia state police command, DSP Maureen Chinaka, noted that the right authorities had been notified, adding that Agwu should take the matter further by contacting the military PRO.
Reunited with family
Around 9:24 p.m. on Saturday, the medical doctor returned to X to announce that she’d been reunited with her arrested siblings. She also thanked everyone who stepped in to help escalate the matter and ensure their release.
“I want to say a very big thank you to every well-meaning Nigerian who tweeted and shed light on the arrest of innocent civilians living around Obikabia Junction Aba, Abia State, which included my 15-year-old brother and my younger sister.”
Agwu, however, complained about how her brother was treated while in he was in custody.
“No child should experience what my teen innocent brother experienced these past hours. He was slapped, beaten and is still scared. His mental health will definitely need care for him to recover from this.”
According to Agwu, some other civilians in the area were also released.
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What’s the governor doing to address the tension?
Governor Alex Otti paid a condolence visit to families of the slain soldiers on Saturday, June 1. During the visit, the governor announced a ₦25m bounty on the heads of the individuals responsible for the attack.
The governor also said he’s informed Brigadier General Olusola Diya, Commander of 14 Brigade, Ohafia, to keep the peace in Aba as he’s confident that innocent Abians were not part of the “evil act”.
With everything happening in Nigeria right now, from an inflated economy to a possible war with Niger, it’s possible that President Tinubu might move ahead with his popular “50 million youths recruitment into the army” statement in 2021. So, we’ve made a list of prospective military conscripts into the army.
Gym bros
With some of the weights these guys lift, there must be something they’re been preparing for that the rest of us don’t know about. If the military isn’t sure about where they should go first, iFitness is a good start.
Tall men
“African Giant” but we don’t have giants to scare enemies away. We have the next best thing sha; tall men . They’ll be the eyes of the military, and see above all our enemies.
Jobless men
Please, get the jobless men off the streets. Let idle hands become the army’s workshop.
Alpha males
“Men are protectors and providers” FC, it’s your time to shine. Traditional men too should grab their boots.
Hope the draft meets BBN housemate Pere at home, since he wanted to show soldiers how it’s done.
Short men
Short men are stubborn af. They won’t raise a white flag or accept defeat. They’d rather fight till death.
Nigerian politicians
There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let them defend the country they’ve been stealing profiting from.
Prayer warriors
To be honest, a battalion of prayer warriors can fight the battle alone. After all, the lord is their shield and has also trained their hands for war and their fingers for battle.
“A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.
The subject for today is a 24-year-old sailor in the navy. He talks about the rigours of passing through the Nigerian Defense Academy, the isolation sailors face at sea and his plans for when he exits the navy.
MONDAY:
My day starts at 8 a.m. It begins with a parade, followed by a headcount of everyone in the unit. After the parade, there are no announcements, so we are dismissed to our respective units.
As a naval sailor, my job is divided into two phases: onshore and at sea. And they vary in scope. At sea, I’m concerned with maritime patrol; that is, preventing illegal bunkering, illegal fishing, illegal migration and drug smuggling in and out of Nigeria. We have a template for interrogating ships coming into Nigerian waters and depending on the answer, we know who’s legal or illegal.
Onshore, the work is administrative and round the clock. There’s a lot of budgeting and preparations for when we go sailing. The finance guys calculate how much the journey will cost, the logistics guys prepare for the amount of food we’ll be needing. The navigation guys plan the route and best tracks. We use the time spent on land to prepare to go back to sea.
Today, I’m on duty onshore. This means I have to work for 24 hours and supervise the men on the ground. I can tell that it’s going to be a long day, but I’m not complaining. I signed up for this.
TUESDAY:
Sailors understand loneliness. The hardest part of this job is feeling isolated. At sea, we’re cut off from the rest of the world because there’s no means of communication outside of the official channel. Sometimes, we go as long as two weeks without hearing from family and friends. It’s not like it gets better when we come back to the shore. Naval bases are located around the coastline, which means we’re anchored in a village or slum with a bad mobile network. We also can’t go more than 100 km from our base; we’re stuck with no form of entertainment both on land and at sea.
Isolation forces you to discover yourself. You have time and no phone to distract you from your thoughts. I spend 45 minutes every day thinking about things ranging from bad to good depending on my mood.
Today, I’m thinking about how isolation made me discover my talent in photography. I’m going through pictures I’ve taken at sea: pictures of the sunset, sunrise, lightning at sea.
Looking through the pictures, I can’t help but remember my scariest experience at sea. One time, our communication satellite got faulty while we were sailing around Sao Tome and Principe, so we could neither receive nor send out signals. To further worsen things, one out of our [two] main engines developed a fault. We had to manage just one. It was scary to be down the high sea with no means of communication with people on the land. I made peace with the fact that the other engine could pack at any time and we’d drown. Thankfully, with a combination of one engine and prayers from pastors and imams on board, we arrived safely on the shore.
That’s just a typical day on the job.
WEDNESDAY:
I’ll tell you this for free — prisoners don’t suffer as much as we did in the Nigerian Defense Academy (NDA). Even though my time there was fun and interesting, I have two fractures [leg and hand] as a testament to my time there.
The first fracture was caused by a senior. As a cadet, I’d scale the fence to go have fun in town. There was this senior who promised to break my leg the next time I did this. As a Northerner not afraid of anything, I didn’t listen. One day, when I got back from having fun, the guy took a golf stick and broke my leg.
Because we’re trained not to report our seniors in the NDA, there was no case. The senior took me to the medical centre; I got POP and crutches. By the next week, I was back to scaling the fence with my POP to go have fun in town. I was on crutches for 15 weeks.
The second fracture was for no reason at all. Some guy wanted to hit my head with a golf stick, I blocked it with my hand and it got fractured. I wondered what if the stick had hit my head.
People see this as abnormal, but that’s just how life was in the NDA. From secondary school, we went straight into the academy and were cut off from the world. We had no social life, no games, no drama club, no phones for five solid years. We thought and saw life differently from people who went to regular universities. At the end of the day, we had to adapt.
I eventually became good friends with the senior who broke my leg and he called today. During the call, I couldn’t help but recall how far I’ve come as a person and as an officer. I bear no resentments because whatever happens in training stays in training. As officers, we have moved past that.
THURSDAY:
Many officers are tired of their jobs, but you can’t just quit. You have to put in a formal application, and if you’re lucky, they’ll allow it. If they don’t, you remain here. Unlike civilians who’d feel stuck because of this, officers have been brainwashed so much that we can’t process this thought.
What does it mean to be stuck at a job? — I can’t process the thought.
I exist solely to be used by the navy. In Maiduguri, people are dying every day, yet they keep sending soldiers. You can’t refuse to go, you can’t beg. You are at the army’s mercy. The same way I exist to be used is the same way I have men under me for use; it’s just the cycle of things. You don’t have to be happy with a job as long as it pays the bills.
I’ve gotten so used to this job that I don’t know if I can still adapt to civilian life. I’m used to the military environment, the dress up and the discipline.
Even though it’s still early, I’m thinking about my retirement. I’ll most likely go back to my village to farm — I’ll be going there from morning till evening, I won’t have to work every day and I’ll be my own boss.
At least, I’ll be guaranteed that after a long day, I’ll sleep in my house, on my bed, on land.
Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill this form.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
Let’s start with when you joined the military.
The middle of 1977. That’s when I stepped into the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA).
That was your first job?
No. After my school cert, I worked for an insurance company. My salary was ₦91, and after working there for one year, I moved to a bank on Broad Street. My salary became ₦120 as a clerk. Banks were the most lucrative jobs at the time, and as a bachelor, you could chop life.
What did chopping life mean in your twenties?
Not only was I working in the bank, but I was also working in the most lucrative section: Foreign Exchange. I liked it there.
So, why did you leave?
Because I schooled in the north, I was interested in the NDA. In Kaduna for example, you either went to University or went to the NDA.
So I just moved on to the NDA.
Ah, interesting.
Then, we were well paid. I can’t remember what the allowance was, but I know we were collecting over ₦100. Whenever you were leaving school for holidays, you got transport money too.
Interesting. After NDA?
In NDA, you must choose the arm of service you want to go: Army, Navy or Airforce – I chose Airforce. I left NDA in 1979.
Why the Airforce?
My father worked in Aviation, so that’s where the interest came from. But he used to talk about young boys that flew out during the Civil War and never returned because they got killed. One warning he gave me was that, even though I didn’t seek his consent before joining the military, he didn’t want me flying. I wanted to be a detective anyway. So, I opted for the Military Police, and that’s where I remained throughout my Airforce career. You know the Army, Navy, Airforce, have their police, to enforce discipline.
And what was your salary when you started?
I can’t remember o, but I think it was one-hundred-and-something too. I remember because the wine, Mateus Rose was about ₦2.50 or ₦3 back then.
I’m wondering what it must have been like, compared to your friends who were civilians, moneywise.
When we talk of the military, it doesn’t mean that there’s too much money in it. Some friends in the civil service were better paid. But don’t forget, it was the military era, it came with a lot of prestige. The way we carried ourselves.
Hmm. Interesting.
As for money, I won’t even lie to you, in my case, I mostly got it when I travelled. So that meant I was getting more than my colleagues. For example, my estacode whenever we travelled to another country was $100 per day – it was almost as good as the naira at the time.
Go to Addis Ababa, come back after one week. You get your allowance. The first time I went to England in 1982, I collected around £3,000. I spent three months.
When I came back from England, I was posted to one state, spent a year there, then when Buhari came into power, I was moved to the Supreme Headquarters.
How does one end up as an officer at the Supreme Headquarters?
The thing about appointments everywhere is that besides meeting the criteria, some Ogas are watching you. Now, this was around the time the coup just took out Shagari. When the military took power, they took over security of the Presidential Fleet.
My name came up somehow, and next thing you know, I had to work at that level. Part of my job then was that if we were travelling to Addis Ababa or the UK or France, I needed to make sure our luggage was secure.
Who is ‘we’?
The Presidential Jet, it could be carrying his Head of State and Chief of Staff.
Woah.
And that’s what gave me the opportunity to travel. I’ve visited at least 18 countries. Brazil, Trinidad and Tobago, Bahamas. Not all during Buhari’s time though, but my favourite was going to the Ka’abah.
Hajj?
Yes. It was government-sponsored.
So, did you leave that detail when the regime change happened in 1985?
There was a debate over where our loyalties were. But I was fortunate enough to work with someone else on the executive level in the next regime.
You made more money for per diem, but how much was your salary at this point?
I think it had crossed ₦200. I was a Flying Officer at this point. I floated for a while in Lagos, before I got recommended for an Aide De Camp (ADC) role to a much senior officer in the North Central. This was 1985.
Why do you think they kept picking you?
I think it depends on certain things. It’s not like I go to anybody and say, oga this and that, but I think character is important. It was just someone who knew me that recommended me without even telling me. Not long after I got to North Cental, I gained admission again into another university.
Again?
I’d gained admission into a University a few years prior, before my England trip. I had to defer that. For the second one, I snuck out of my office to do matriculation in Lagos. I tried to convince my Oga that I’d like to get transferred to Lagos, but he flung me. He didn’t fling me to Lagos, he flung me away from working with him, to somewhere else in North Central.
That was our fallout moment. By 1987 though, my name came out for a course in England.
Aha. The great per diems.
Haha. When I returned in 1989, I started working with a senior officer as his ADC in Lagos. I worked with him till 1992.
In the middle of all of this, when did you fall in love and marry?
I met my wife in 1982. She was the first woman I was ever in a relationship with. She’s the only woman my family has ever known me with.
I feel like this must have fuelled some need for financial security for you. Starting a family that is.
Let me confess to you. The military conditions you to only think about your job. I never did a business when I was in the military. It’s all I’ve ever done. It has always been about my military career. Also, notice how I got moved around a lot. It’s hard to start things in those days when you get moved around a lot at that level.
So till today, I’ve never had too much of a thing for chasing money.
When did you disengage?
2007.
How much was your pension?
₦211k. The pension is now ₦339k. But I also got another job working with a state government in security. I did that for six years. I started there in 2010, and worked with them till 2016.
I’m curious to know what it was like working with civilians.
I started with ₦300k. I was so pissed off, especially when it came to discipline. It always looked so strange to me, how people were so lackadaisical. It irritated me a lot. It was like bringing a fish out of water. I never adjusted to their attitude to work, and their lack of a sense of duty.
I feel like people worry a lot about life after service, and their family’s welfare. What was that like for you?
My saving grace is that I have a very small family, and I started very early in life. Some of my colleagues got married later. So by the time their own children were entering secondary school, mine was entering university. Because I had no side interests, whatever I was getting was going into my immediate family. Lucky me, I didn’t have any younger siblings whose school fees I had to pay. Two of my younger siblings left the country in the 80s, and sorted themselves out after.
All you had was your immediate family.
Yes. Even when I was having careless money, you’ll never see me living a flamboyant life.
Talking about careless money, what’s the most careless money you’ve received?
I was in Paris in 1990 as part of a delegation to get military communications equipment. Abacha was the leader of that delegation. So, I walked into an elevator, and who did I see beside me? Abiola.
Woah.
So I greeted him, and when he found out I was Nigerian, he was so excited. He asked me what I came to do in Paris, and when I told him who I came with, he dragged me to his hotel room. When I entered that room, I saw two white men just there, counting dollars. The dollars I saw that day, it was like someone poured Tom Tom on the ground everywhere.
Hahaha.
He had two direct lines, one connected to Paris, one to London. Every time we started talking, one of the Oyinbo would interrupt with “Chief, for you,” and hand him a phone. He collected the names of everyone in that entourage, from Abacha to everybody. Then he packed envelopes of cash for each person.
He told me he had to leave later, even though he’d have liked to hang out with us. He was going to America, but he had to make a stop in London first, even though he was running late. I said, “ah, I hope you won’t miss your flight.” He said so confidently, “no, they’ll wait for me.”
A flex.
Each envelope was sealed with ‘MKO’. While I was leaving, he gave me $2,000 dollars for taxi. You know how much I saw inside my own envelope? $5000.
$7,000. Ah.
Well, you asked about money.
Back to post retirement life. Despite not having to worry about your kids, what about rent?
I learned a lesson early. While in the military police, I always found myself in situations where I had to throw out my superiors from the barracks. When you’ve retired, you’re only entitled to stay for a while before vacating the barracks. And when people didn’t leave because they had nowhere else to go, we were instructed to go kick them out. I’d see my ogas and their wives crying. Including the ones that were chopping life. You’ll be blowing siren and feeling tough, but the day they collect everything from you, you’ll feel naked.
Nobody needed to tell me before I bought land, and laid foundation in 1997.
How long did it take you to build?
Ten years. I didn’t want my wife to drink garri because I was trying to build a house. So I took my time. Don’t ever sacrifice the comfort of your family for anything. We were building a house and chopping fresh fish. It’s a bungalow, but it took 10 years. When any money came, wherever I was, I’d send it to my wife, oya buy sand o.
The worst thing that can happen to you, is your inability to manage money. You will always be in a mess. It would have been possible for us to build the house in a year, but then we’d end up borrowing.
How do you spend your days now?
Doing nothing. I even tried doing a fish pond, but it was a failure. Fish feed became too expensive, and the returns weren’t great. Again, when you have three children like mine who you don’t have to worry about, whatever you’re earning feels enough.
Your priorities right now are filling your time and stomach.
Exactly. My wife draws a pension too. I walk every morning and evening. I registered for swimming classes. I would have joined a social club but anything that’d make me leave my house is stressful. Friends? I don’t even have too many.
How would you rate your financial happiness?
8. Once you make yourself a slave to money, you’ll never live a stable life. And when you start borrowing, you’ll keep borrowing till you die. The easiest way to run into conflict with anyone is money. Never have financial agreements without a witness. Don’t buy anything you don’t need immediately. This has been my philosophy of life.
Is there anything you’d have wanted me to ask that I didn’t?
I can’t remember, most of the things you’ve asked are about money, and it’s not really a central part of my life. It was mostly military matters, and I have a lot of those. Like arresting coup plotters, almost dying in a military plane crash, and all that.
As for my family and finances, no stress.
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“A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.
Today’s subject is a soldier in this mid-thirties who walks us through fighting bandits in the North, corruption in the military, and his plans for civilian life once his military service is over.
I wake up as early as 5 am. I say my prayers and listen to some gospel messages [from my pastor] on my phone. As a soldier, I can’t really predict my day. I might get to work and be told that I’m going to Lagos or Kaduna. I might also be told to go home and report to Kafanchan or Jos the next day. I only ever know what my day is like when I get to work. As a result, it’s difficult to surprise me because I’m always prepared for any scenario. If you call me now that my mum is dead, I won’t be shocked. I’ll just be like “mummy die.” I’ll feel the impact but the pain won’t linger because I’m used to moving on quickly.
So, after I finish listening to my gospel messages, I dress up and go to work.
At work, we get a distress call that bandits are robbing people. In the North, where my barracks is located, there is a high prevalence of banditry and it’s our job to protect the civilian population. Today, hoodlums are robbing on the highway linking Abuja to Minna, so we are going to clear them.
The life of a soldier man is dedicated to maintaining peace and order. Many times it is at our own expense. This distress call reminds me of a day I’ll never forget; December 1st, 2015. That’s one of the fiercest battles I’ve fought in my entire life. We responded to a call as usual but those idiots [bandits] kept on exchanging fire with us. They’d fire at us and we’d fire back at them. Then we had to use our military tactics to flank them and put them in the middle. After which they had no choice but to surrender. Some even ran away with gunshot wounds but we were able to capture their weapons.
Another thing that made that day memorable was that a colleague got shot beside me. On the battlefield, when someone gets shot, you no fit just rush help am because they [bandits] will shoot you too. So, you go just dey look am dey give am words of encouragement: “Guy don’t fight it.” “Just breathe easy”, “Take it easy.” As you’re watching him, you’ll also keep fighting so that your enemies don’t close in on you. If you’re lucky to be on covered ground with barriers, your colleagues will cover each other while they come to you to apply first aid. However, if it’s an open ground and they can’t make it in time, they’ll throw you a first aid box – That’s if it’s an injury that you can apply first aid by yourself.
We’ve had so many cases, at different locations, in different areas where we watched our colleagues and friends bleed to death. It’s painful seeing soldiers dying on a regular basis because, at the end of the day, we’re all human. But what can we do? – we bear it and life goes on. Someone you saw this morning can be gone the next minute. It’s not a thing of joy.
Thankfully, we were able to rescue my colleague and he didn’t die.
It saddens me that corruption is also part of the reason soldiers die. Imagine risking your life and getting substandard weapons to use in battle. I’ll rather not talk on the matter because it’s just so painful. I keep saying that if we want to totally eliminate corruption as a whole in Nigeria, we should start from the military. The armed forces as a whole – paramilitary, everybody. They are the main groups of corruption in Nigeria. If they can tackle the corruption in the armed forces, then corruption will be reduced if not eradicated in other sectors.
Omo, it’s been a long day and I can’t stress myself thinking too much about these things. For now, I just want to go home.
I look forward to civilian life when I retire from the military – I’ll enjoy my gratuity, flex my wife, and watch so many American films with her. By that time my kids would all be grown up so my wife and I can enjoy ourselves.
Editors note: The image used was randomly taken off the internet as the interview was conducted anonymously.
Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill this form.
I have been nursing a headache since June Saturday, drone-delivered to me by the Nigerian army and I fear it may never go away.
On June 22, the Nigerian Army, did something with the bag that I can not even begin to classify as fumbling, by spending an exaggerated portion of their budget on an ‘anti-kidnapping’ drone device, better suited for taking those super-slow angled shots of the Lekki-Ikoyi bridge upcoming artists so desperately love in their music videos. Or could it be that? An under-cover empowerment program for future Zanku artists?
At this point, I’d be willing to take any explanation apart from the fact that the military really thought a DN 415 drone, better suited for music videos better suited for taking those super-slow angled shots of the Lekki-Ikoyi bridge upcoming artists so desperately love in their music videos. would be a solid investment for Nigeria’s worrisome security situation.
So Here’s What Happened.
Following increased incidents of kidnappings in Ondo and Ekiti State, the Nigerian Army decided to make a tactful decision, by spending out of its N5,965,596,744 Security budget in the purchase of drones.
Now, you hear a figure like that and your mind definitely goes to them purchasing something of this sort —
Type of tool to have any kidnappers den alight with fear, this device . These military drones are invaluable for reconnaisance, surveillance and targeted attacks. They’re also known for their quietened sounds whose importance cannot be over emphasisied when you’re trying to smoke out kidnappers lurking about for unsuspecting victims.
But instead, we got this.
This straight out of Jumia’s children’s section looking drone, complete with loud sounding blades and perhaps multi-coloured glow in the dark features was proudly launched by Brig. General Zakari Logun Abubakar of Owena Barracks, Akure, complete with a press team to survey the bandit-infested forests of Ondo State.
This drone, which I am very sure can be bested by a mid-level gust of wind, was described as “the latest in aerial technology” , and complete with its loud whirrings, will be deployed immediately there is mention of any kidnapping in the state. In his words, “Once there is issue of kidnapping they will immediately launch it, particularly in places that cannot be easily access.” (sic)
And we get not one, but two of these (why Lord?).
This Clarence Peters cast-off drone will also be available to save all the inhabitants of Ekiti, from cunning kidnappers and bandits, suing its loud whirrings.
Did anyone notice it is remote controlled, and most probably restricted to only close radius flying with said remote? We’re sure the kidnappers will be understanding and give the military the time to catch up to them when their remote controller runs out of batteries during a close-cornered chase.
Anytime from today would be good for your return Lord.
When it comes to embarrassing the continent, there is no shortage of African leaders to lead the wave. From those willing to have the constitution perform several contortionist twists to stay in power.
You know, like these guys:
L: Yoweri Museveni (74) – currently serving his 34th year as Uganda’s President. R: Paul Biya (86) – serving his 36th year as Cameroon’s president.
To those that very easily sweep decades of women’s efforts to participate in politics as simply not enough.
— Rockson-Nelson Dafeamekpor, Esq. MP. (@etsedafeamekpor) June 4, 2019
Yes, it would appear these leaders tend to get a kink out of sponsoring worldwide embarrassment to their respective countries. But, seeing as these leaders are chosen from a flock of citizens, there seems to be a struggle as to who can outdo the other for this privilege of constituting a national disgrace. Painting the continent in a truly terrible light, still very early in the month of June are the following people/organisations:
The Sudanese Military
Following the ouster of President Omar al-Bashir, Sudan’s thirty-year leader — who got the boot for imposing austerity measures like cutting fuel and bread subsidies to alleviate Sudan’s crippling economy; the military took over. To ensure a peaceful transition period, citizen protesters under the umbrella of the group Alliance for Freedom and Change collaborated with the Transitional Military Council (current Sudanese leaders), with their talks resulting in a decision to have a three-year transition period to civilian rule. Unsurprisingly, however, the military, as the current leaders of the country, reneged on their promise and announced a new election to be carried out within 9 months. A move particularly triggering to the people as it would simply be a front-door re-entry of past government officials into the corridors of power.
Dissatisfaction with the military’s decision led to a series of violent protests, in which protesters in Khartoum were killed and many maimed and injured in the process. The first day of a marked civil disobedience has already seen 4 people killed. All to have a say in the democratic rule of their country. A shame.
George Weah
Weah, who has been president of Liberia for all of 18 months, must have taken a master class on becoming an African dictator, seeing as only last week, he okayed the shut down of social media platforms across the country.
Now why would a young president do this? You many ask — well, you might tag it to be a big bout of a guilty conscience bent on silencing discontent, since his assumption of office has seen Liberia experience a gripping spike in inflation as well as a disappointing dip in the country’s growth. This has resulted in 64% of the country languishing below the poverty line.
Widespread protests against these circumstances and alleged widespread corruption like $102m newly minted notes miraculously going missing, made up the majority of the people’s grouse, which they took to social media to air.
In response to the mass protests, led by a group called “The Council of Patriots”, Weah stated: “If you think you can insult this president and walk in the street freely, it will not happen. And I defy you.” Must have had speed training on dictatorial-speak as well.
The National Broadcasting Commission
(Or whoever they’re really answering to)
Take back your clocks guys, it appears we’re headed back to 1984. The National Broadcasting Commission, you know, the same commission that banned Falz’s ‘This is Nigeria’ song for being ‘vulgar’ and ‘unfit for radio’, are swinging their largely polarized morality axe, this time taking a swing at AIT/Daar Communications.
This action was imperative due to the AIT’s programme – Kakaaki airing such hateful and inciting comments as ‘ Nigeria is irritating me’ and ‘Nigeria is cursed’ on a segment. On this ground, can somebody hide all Nigerian social media accounts from the NBC, because….
Also responsible is Daar Communications’ supposed sloppiness in paying their license fees, which only became an issue now of course. Ditto their airing a documentary on the election petitions against President Buhari’s victory in the 2019 elections, an act the NBC states is wrong, as the courts are yet to decide a winner for the petitions. Make it make sense.
These were taken to be real life causes to warrant a media ban in 2019. What good has press freedom ever given anyone, anyway?
Luckily, a court upeneded the NBC’s decision, and AIT is back on air. But that this even had to happen, ridiculous.
Abacha
Geberal Sani Abacha has been dead and gone since 1998, so pray tell, how this man is still dropping credit alerts in the hundreds of millions to Nigerian accounts every couple of years?
Proving African leaders are pioneers in the art of looting, the sum of £211 million pounds, belonging to money bags Abacha was recently discovered in a United States Jersey account, held by Doraville Properties Corporation, a British Virgin Islands Company.
Do all of these leaders read from the same playbook?