Kebbi Mega Rally: When Masses Tell Their Story

By Ibrahim Bello

Politics, by its very nature, is a contest of narratives. The opposition thrives on casting doubt, often working overtime to diminish incumbency with sharp rhetoric and selective amnesia. But while, so many incumbents allow themselves to be distracted or drawn into street brawls by the natural antics of the opposition, some simply just show the opposition what it truly means to be accepted. This they do through the people who, having experienced governance, decide to take up the job of marketing the incumbent through organic public spectacles.

That moment played out in Birnin Kebbi, over the weekend when an overwhelming crowd of Kebbi people surged in solidarity with Governor Nasir Idris, (Kauran Gwandu), and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. All those who witnessed that organic crowd noted that it was not just another rally; it was a referendum of sorts, staged not in ballot boxes, but in human numbers.

When people gather in such magnitude, uncoerced and spirited, they are not merely attending an event; they are testifying to what they have witnessed.

The chants were unmistakable. The placards told their own stories—roads completed, schools revived, hospitals upgraded, salaries paid, security strengthened. It was less of political theatre and more of a public audit, carried out by those who feel the impact most directly.

For Governor Nasir Idris, the significance of that moment goes beyond optics. It reflects a governance model that has deliberately focused on tangible outcomes rather than loud proclamations. Since assuming office in 2023, his administration has carved a reputation around visible development and administrative responsiveness.

Take infrastructure, for instance. Across Kebbi State, there has been a steady push to rehabilitate and construct roads linking communities that were previously cut off, especially during the rainy season. Roads such as the Argungu–Aleiro corridor and critical township roads within Birnin Kebbi have improved mobility, eased trade, and reduced travel time for residents and farmers alike. These are economic lifelines whose impact is already being felt.

In education, the primary constituency of the governor, the story is equally compelling. Governor Nasir has prioritised the renovation of dilapidated schools and the construction of new classrooms to address overcrowding. Beyond infrastructure, his administration approved the recruitment of thousands of teachers to bridge staffing gaps in public schools. This intervention is critical in a state where access to quality basic education remains a developmental challenge. By investing in both human and physical capital, Kebbi is gradually repositioning its education sector for long-term gains.

Healthcare delivery, often neglected in subnational governance, has also received notable attention. Several primary healthcare centres have been upgraded and equipped across the state, improving access to basic medical services in rural areas.

The administration has also supported general hospitals with essential equipment and personnel, strengthening the referral system. Perhaps, the most significant investment in this sector is the establishment of the Kebbi College of Nursing and Midwifery, Ambursa. The idea is to create a ready source for critical health workers to man the revamped hospitals.

Perhaps one of the most defining aspects of Governor Nasir’s leadership has been his approach to workers’ welfare.

As a former union leader, expectations were naturally high, and he has not disappointed. His administration moved early to implement the new national minimum wage, placing Kebbi among the states that acted swiftly in that regard.

Salaries have been paid consistently, pensions cleared, and gratuities addressed in a manner that restores dignity to retired civil servants.

With stories of struggling senior citizens across the country, Gov. Nasir’s commitment to doing right by retirees stands out indeed.

Security, though largely under federal control, has not been ignored. Kebbi has witnessed improved coordination between state authorities, the home grown security outfits and security agencies, particularly in border communities prone to banditry.

The government has supported logistics, mobility, and community engagement initiatives that contribute to maintaining relative peace. While challenges persist, the effort to proactively address them is evident.

Agriculture, the backbone of Kebbi’s economy, has also benefited from targeted interventions. The administration has supported farmers with inputs, improved seedlings, and extension services aimed at boosting productivity.

Given Kebbi’s status as a leading rice-producing state, these efforts are not just about food security, they are about economic stability and rural livelihoods.

What makes these interventions particularly significant is the broader fiscal context. Many governors have acknowledged that reforms initiated by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, especially around revenue and subsidy restructuring have increased allocations to states.

The real test, however, lies in utilisation. In Kebbi, there is a growing perception that these resources are being translated into visible development.

This is where the opposition’s narrative buckles under the weight of street level evidence and the lived reality of the people. Granted that criticism remains a vital component of democracy, but it must contend with evidence.

When roads are seen, when salaries are paid, when schools are functioning, and when hospitals are accessible, rhetoric alone cannot easily erase lived experience.

It’s no wonder then that the poster boy of Kebbi opposition, Abubakar Malami, was recently treated to a befitting welcome to Kebbi when youths lined the streets to chant “barawo bai mulki” loosely translated to mean thieves don’t govern.

The Birnin Kebbi rally, therefore, was not just about political endorsement; it was about validation. It demonstrated that governance, when rooted in delivery, builds its own constituency, one that is not easily swayed by transient political arguments.

Of course, no administration is without its shortcomings. There are still areas requiring urgent attention. Such areas as youth unemployment, deeper industrialisation, and expanded healthcare coverage, among others can be made better. Yet, the measure of leadership is not perfection; it is direction. And in Kebbi, the direction appears increasingly clear.

As 2027 gradually enters the political horizon, conversations will intensify. Alliances will shift, narratives will be refined, and ambitions will be declared. Yet, beneath all that, one fundamental question will persist: what has been done?

In answering that question, Governor Nasir Idris may not need an elaborate defence. The roads will speak; the schools will testify and the workers will remember. And, as witnessed in Birnin Kebbi, the people will gather, again, if necessary, to make their voices heard.

Because in the end, beyond party lines and political calculations, governance finds its truest expression in impact. And when impact resonates deeply enough, it does something no campaign strategy can manufacture; it draws a crowd that speaks not from gated mansions, but from the overall experience of governance as promised by a leader both unionist and welfarist.

Bello writes from Birnin Kebbi.

Ndisgonabi—Tinubu or Tinubu

By Prince Charles Dickson, PhD

Bí ìtàkùn bá pa ẹnu pọ̀, wọn á mú erin so.

If creeping plants could unite, they would easily tie up an elephant.

Politics is full of men who confuse noise for destiny. But destiny, that slippery old masquerade, usually waits for structure, which is often established through careful planning and consensus among political leaders. In 1984, New Zealand’s Prime Minister Robert Muldoon staggered into history by calling a snap election in a visibly drunken state, hoping to ambush the opposition. The gamble backfired. He lost. In January 2009, police in Kwara, Nigeria, detained a goat after vigilantes claimed an armed robbery suspect had transformed into an animal to escape arrest. The police kept the goat but admitted they could not confirm the witchcraft scientifically. One story is about power intoxicated by its own myth. The other is about a society so burdened by superstition that absurdity can wear handcuffs. Together, they say something brutal about politics: sometimes leaders misread reality, and sometimes citizens arrest the wrong animal.

That is where Nigeria is drifting toward 2027. The major issue at hand is Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Not because everybody loves him. This is not due to his government’s success in solving Nigeria’s issues. But in Nigerian politics, power is not awarded to the man who is most often complained about. It awards power to the man whose enemies cannot agree on which knife to use against him. INEC has already fixed the presidential and National Assembly election for 20 February 2027, with governorship and state assembly polls on 6 March 2027. The whistle has gone. This is no longer an era of abstract outrage. It is an era of arithmetic.

Now, let us be fair, because fairness is not weakness. Tinubu’s administration is not walking on water. Yet it is not walking on pure failure either. The World Bank said in its April 2026 Nigeria Development Update that macroeconomic fundamentals improved through 2025 and into 2026, with the economy growing at around 4 per cent, inflation trending downward though still elevated, and gross FAAC (Federal Account Allocation Committee) revenues rising from N29.4 trillion in 2024 to N37.4 trillion in 2025. NBS says headline inflation was 15.38% in March 2026, with food inflation at 14.31%. Those are not small numbers. They suggest that some macrostabilisation is happening. However, macroeconomic indicators do not provide direct support to those in need. Revenues can rise while despair deepens. A country can look healthier in spreadsheets and sicker in the market, as the economic indicators may show growth while the actual living conditions of the population deteriorate.

That is the contradiction that haunts Tinubu. The poverty of statistics and the statistics of poverty are not the same thing. Government can point to improving indicators, better revenue capture, tighter monetary conditions, and reform momentum. However, citizens do not experience life through a PowerPoint presentation. The citizen lives inside transport fares, school fees, rent, market prices, and the humiliation of constant improvisation. The World Bank’s April 2026 update shows poverty at 63% in 2025, with only a gradual projected decline from 2026 onwards. That single figure represents the true opposition to the government’s narrative. It means reform may be economically coherent and politically dangerous at the same time, as it could lead to increased public unrest and opposition from those who feel threatened by the changes.

Then there is insecurity, the dark editor of every government boast. In just the past weeks and months, Reuters and AP have reported major bandit abductions in Zamfara, deadly retaliatory attacks in Katsina, mass killings in parts of Kwara and Katsina earlier this year, and the abduction of students in Benue. Reuters also noted today, 22 April 2026, that Tinubu’s government is tightening internal security amid economic strain, heightened militant attacks in the north, and political friction. This situation is the administration’s greatest vulnerability. Citizens may forgive hardship if they feel protected. They rarely forgive hardship and fear in one package, as this combination often leads to a deep sense of betrayal and distrust in leadership.

And yet, here is the wicked truth: Tinubu can still win again.

He can win not because he has conquered suffering, but because the opposition may still be auditioning for tragedy, as they struggle to present a compelling alternative to the ruling party’s narrative and fail to effectively mobilise their base. Key opposition leaders formed a coalition around the ADC precisely because they understood the central lesson of Nigerian electoral history: only a united opposition can seriously threaten an entrenched ruling machine. Unity is not decoration. It is oxygen. Atiku has signalled his intention to run for office in 2027. This issue matters because every opposition conversation still has one stubborn ghost inside it: ambition.

This is where the North becomes a significant issue. Atiku remains familiar, networked, seasoned, and deeply legible to elite politics. But familiarity can curdle into fatigue. There is a suspicion around him in some quarters, not always ideological, often emotional: the feeling that he is forever arriving at the national bus stop with one more ticket, one more coalition, one more final attempt. That is not a polling number. It is a political mood, and moods matter.

Another more profound question is whether the North is willing to do an ‘Obi’, meaning not merely to tolerate Peter Obi as a southern protest vessel but to actively invest in him as a viable national instrument. That would require a leap from grievance to calculation, from sympathy to strategy. It would require sections of northern politics to decide that electability is now broader than old rotation habits, old patronage circuits, and old distrusts. That leap is possible. It is not yet proven.

The argument surrounding Obi himself is lazy at both extremes. His admirers often speak as though moral clarity is already a governing blueprint. His critics often speak as though he is made only of emotion and internet incense. Both positions are unserious. Obi’s 2023 rise was real because he converted public anger into a disciplined symbolic movement, and Reuters captured that early when it described his effort to harness Nigerians’ frustration with the status quo. But symbolism is not the same as statecraft. To do better than Tinubu, Obi would need more than clean optics and crowd voltage. He would need a tougher party architecture, stronger northern penetration, better elite bargaining, vote protection capacity, and a clearer answer to the old Nigerian riddle: how do you move from inspiration to enforcement? In other words, he can be more than emotion, but he has not yet fully proved the machine.

That brings me to Ndisgonabi. I first heard it in that playful, fatalistic exchange between my beloved friend Nima and her sister NG at an amala joint. One would say, ‘Ndisgonabi’. The other would answer, ‘It’s going to be.’ Then I too started echoing it: Ndisgonabi. Gonna be. It sounded funny, warm, and unserious. But like most street philosophy, it concealed a dangerous edge beneath its surface. Ndisgonabi is what people say when they are tired of pretending control. It is our local remix of “what will be, will be.” It is also, in politics, a dangerous narcotic.

Once citizens start saying ‘Ndisgonabi’ in relation to power, they have already surrendered the republic.

No, what is destined to happen is not always predetermined. Sometimes the future is determined by what has already been organised. Tinubu’s fate is not floating in the sky like a divine meme. It is being negotiated on the ground by insecurity, inflation, incumbency, elite bargains, northern calculations, opposition ego, media climate, and public exhaustion. If the creeping plants stay scattered, the elephant walks through the farm and calls it democracy. If Atiku quits his indecisiveness, Obi prioritises strategy over sentiment, the North prioritises interest over habit, and the opposition values unity over vanity, then Tinubu can lose.

Until then, Ndisgonabi may simply mean this: Tinubu or Tinubu—may Nigeria win!

Misplaced Blame, Missed Priorities: Why Targeting Matawalle Won’t Fix Nigeria’s Security Crisis

By James Ezema

A U.S.-based lawmaker, Kimberly Daniels, recently called for the removal of Nigeria’s Minister of State for Defence, Bello Matawalle, stirring predictable reactions across political and media spaces. Yet, beneath the headlines lies a more important question: is Nigeria’s deepening insecurity the failure of one man or the consequence of entrenched systemic weaknesses?

Reducing a complex, multi-layered national security crisis to the performance of a single officeholder is not only analytically flawed—it risks distracting from the structural reforms Nigeria urgently needs.

A CRISIS DECADES IN THE MAKING

Nigeria’s insecurity did not begin with Matawalle, nor with the current administration of Bola Ahmed Tinubu. From the Boko Haram insurgency in the North-East to banditry in the North-West and communal conflicts/farmers/herders clashes in parts of the Middle Belt, the country’s security challenges are rooted in long-standing governance gaps.

These include:
I. Weak policing structures and chronic underfunding of the Nigerian Police Force
II. Poor intelligence coordination across security agencies
III. Proliferation of small arms and porous borders
IV. Socioeconomic drivers such as poverty, unemployment, and rural marginalisation
V. Over-reliance on the military for internal security duties

Any serious diagnosis must begin here—not with a politically convenient scapegoat.

MATAWALLE’S RECORD: A MORE BALANCED VIEW

Since his appointment as Minister of State for Defence in 2023, Matawalle has operated within a highly centralised and historically constrained security architecture. Yet, within these limitations, his contributions have been tangible and deserve objective recognition.

First, he has been instrumental in supporting expanded military operations against bandit enclaves in the North-West, particularly through enhanced coordination between ground forces and air components. These operations have disrupted several criminal networks and led to the neutralisation of key warlords.

Second, Matawalle has consistently advocated for both kinetic and non-kinetic approaches, recognising that force alone cannot resolve insurgencies. His experience as a former governor of Zamfara State informed initiatives that combined military pressure with local engagement strategies aimed at de-escalating violence.

Third, under his watch, there has been increased emphasis on troop welfare and logistics support, including improved supply lines and operational readiness—critical factors often overlooked in public discourse but essential to battlefield effectiveness.

Fourth, he has played a role in strengthening Nigeria’s defence diplomacy, engaging regional and international partners to support intelligence sharing and counterterrorism cooperation.

None of these efforts suggest perfection. But they do indicate active engagement with the problem—not complicity in it, as some narratives have implied without substantiated proof.

THE DANGER OF SIMPLISTIC NARRATIVES

The recommendation by Kimberly Daniels reflects a broader trend in international commentary: the urge to personalise systemic failures. While such positions may be well-intentioned, they often lack the contextual depth required to understand Nigeria’s unique security environment.

Symbolic dismissals do not achieve security sector reform. In fact, abrupt leadership changes without structural adjustments can disrupt continuity, weaken morale, and create further instability within the ranks.

Blaming Matawalle alone risks creating a false sense of action while leaving the real problems untouched.

THE REAL ISSUE: A DISTORTED SECURITY ARCHITECTURE

At the heart of Nigeria’s security crisis lies a fundamental misalignment: the military has been overstretched with internal security responsibilities that should primarily belong to the police.

The Nigeria Police Force, constitutionally mandated to handle internal law enforcement, has been weakened over decades by inadequate funding, poor training, and limited operational capacity.

As a result:
I. Soldiers are deployed for routine policing duties.
II. Military resources are stretched thin across multiple internal theatres.
III. Response times and intelligence gathering suffer
IV. Civil-military relations become strained.

The current approach is neither sustainable nor strategically sound.

A WAY FORWARD: REBALANCING SECURITY RESPONSIBILITIES

Rather than focusing on individual removals, Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration should prioritise a phased and deliberate restructuring of Nigeria’s internal security framework.

This must include:
I. Gradual re-equipping and modernisation of the Nigeria Police Force—with emphasis on mobility, communications, forensic capacity, and community policing.
II. Comprehensive retraining programmes to enhance professionalism and intelligence-led policing
III. Decentralisation of policing structures, allowing for more responsive state and local security mechanisms
IV. Strategic withdrawal of the military from routine internal operations, reserving its deployment for specialised interventions and external defence roles
V. Strengthening inter-agency coordination, ensuring seamless collaboration between police, intelligence services, and the armed forces.

Only through such systemic reforms can Nigeria build a security architecture capable of addressing both current threats and future risks.

CONCLUSION: BEYOND BLAME TO SOLUTIONS

Nigeria is currently facing a crucial moment. The temptation to assign blame to individuals may offer short-term political satisfaction, but it does little to resolve long-standing structural deficiencies, such as inadequate infrastructure, corruption, and ineffective governance that require comprehensive solutions.

Dr Bello Matawalle is not above scrutiny—no public official should be. However, any fair assessment must be grounded in evidence, context, and a clear understanding of institutional constraints.

The path to lasting security lies not in scapegoating but in bold, systemic reform. It lies in rebuilding institutions, redefining roles, and restoring balance within Nigeria’s security ecosystem.

Above all, it requires leadership that is willing to confront complexity—not reduce it.

Until then, calls for removal—no matter how loudly amplified—risk being nothing more than noise in place of necessary action.

Comrade James Ezema is a journalist, political strategist, and public affairs analyst. He serves as National Vice-President (Investigation) of the Nigerian Guild of Investigative Journalists (NGIJ) and National President of the Association of Bloggers and Journalists Against Fake News (ABJFN). He writes from Abuja, Nigeria.