Feature/OPED
Dangote vs the Oil Cartels: When the Cheese Finally Moved
By Abiodun Alade
Nigeria, it has often been said, is a land where paradox has become a way of life. Here is a nation that pumps millions of barrels of crude oil from its bowels each day yet has spent decades importing the fuel that drives its battered Danfos, sleek SUVs, and ever-thirsty generators. It is like watching a baker sell flour and then queue up to buy bread or like a fisherman begging for fish stew. For those middlemen who styled themselves as oil marketers, this absurdity was no tragedy. It was, in fact, the golden goose.
Scarcity was their ally, inefficiency their business partner, and government subsidy their ever-generous uncle. They built empires not by producing value but by mastering the art of waiting. Yes, waiting for licences, waiting for forex allocations, waiting for the next loophole to appear in Nigeria’s leaky oil barrel. Like Ayi Kwei Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, they flourished in decay, finding comfort in a system where dysfunction was not a bug but the business model itself.
Marketers strutted and fretted their hour upon the stage, enriching themselves while the audience, the Nigerian public paid the ticket price in queues, inflated prices, and black-market chaos.
Investment in refining? Too risky. Diversification into renewables? Too futuristic. Why build when you could game the system? As long as imports flowed and government cheques cleared, the script remained the same.
For half a century, the downstream oil sector was a theatre of dysfunction. Its actors knew their lines well, the ritual of scarcity, the dance of subsidy, the backroom exchange of forex.
Then came Aliko Dangote, with a refinery the size of a small city, and quietly rearranged the furniture. Or, to borrow from Spencer Johnson’s boardroom fable Who Moved My Cheese, he didn’t just move the cheese, he carted it off in bulk, rebranded it, and set up a supermarket.
The Dangote Petroleum Refinery is not just infrastructure. It is audacity in steel and concrete. At 650,000 barrels per day, it is designed not only to end Nigeria’s dependence on imported fuel but to turn the country into an exporter.
Critics mutter about monopoly, and there is satire in that too. For decades, a cartel of marketers fattened themselves on inefficiency, yet suddenly it is the industrialist who builds something who is accused of dominance.
But beyond the jokes lies something profound. This is not merely a refinery. It is a shift in narrative, a demonstration that dysfunction is not Nigeria’s fate, that a vision sustained across scepticism can, in fact, bend reality. As Chinua Achebe once wrote, “When the moon is shining, the cripple becomes hungry for a walk.” Nigeria, long crippled by inefficiency, is beginning to stir.
Back to Johnson’s maze. The marketers, like Hem, are still staring at the empty cheese station, muttering about how unfair life is. They hope the old days of subsidy and forex windfalls will return. They fear the unknown more than they fear irrelevance.
They now look like Nokia executives in 2007, laughing at the iPhone while holding on to buttons no one wanted. NITEL, Nigeria’s once-mighty telecoms company, fell the same way, clinging to yesterday while tomorrow walked past its rusty gates. Billionaire businessman Femi Otedola, who led the formation of the Depot and Petroleum Products Marketers Association of Nigeria (DAPPMAN), has warned DAPPMAN and its co-travellers to adapt, innovate, or perish. The marketers surely know that NITEL is now reduced to a ghost story parents tell their children about how a phone line used to take two years to install.
But unlike phones, oil is survival. And the marketers, like Johnson’s Hem, sit at the abandoned cheese station, waiting for the dysfunction system that will never return. They issue threats of collapse, hoping fear can buy them time. Yet history is unkind to those who mistake yesterday’s privileges for tomorrow’s guarantees.
Those who adapt may yet discover new cheese in logistics, petrochemicals, renewable energy, or technology-driven distribution. Those who refuse will fade, like outdated actors refusing to leave the stage long after the curtain has fallen.
Now, even their old allies in the industrial labyrinth – PENGASSAN (Petroleum and Natural Gas Senior Staff Association of Nigeria) and NUPENG (Nigeria Union of Petroleum and Natural Gas Workers (NUPENG) reveal themselves as defenders of a dying patronage system, clutching at yesterday’s privileges as if they were immutable rights. These unions now rail against a refinery that symbolises the very industrial renewal Nigerians have long desired. Their posturing is not advocacy but self-preservation, thinly veiled attempts to protect rents, intimidate reformers and drag the nation back into a cycle of scarcity and import dependency. It is time their rhetoric is properly unveiled as anxiety masquerading as outrage, a reflex to sabotage change rather than shape it. A refusal to accept that the maze has changed.
But the maze has changed. There is no going back. Unlike 2012, Nigerians are wiser and this time, President Bola Tinubu has not flinched. His blunt declaration on inauguration day “Subsidy is gone” was both policy and epitaph.
Wole Soyinka once warned, “The man dies in all who keep silent in the face of tyranny.” In this context, the tyranny was inefficiency, and silence was complicity. Dangote’s refinery has broken that silence with the roar of machines.
The Dangote Refinery is more than a factory. It is a metaphor, a mirror, and perhaps even a moral. It shows that the walls of Nigeria’s maze are not unshakeable. That change, though often resisted, is possible. That those who cling to dysfunction risk being left behind, clutching at memories of a cheese that will never return.
The question is simple, will Nigeria’s oil marketers and their enablers learn to move with the cheese, or will they, like Hem, stay behind, grumbling in the dark corridors of a maze that has already shifted?
For the first time in a long while, the choice is not in the hands of government, subsidy boards, or forex dealers. It lies in the ability of an industry to adapt, or to die.
And that, perhaps, is the greatest irony of all; that in the land where absurdity once reigned supreme, the real joke may now be on the middlemen.
Abiodun, a communications strategist writes from Lagos
Feature/OPED
Preventing Financial Crimes Amid Mounting Insecurity: Why Following the Money is Now a Survival Imperative
By Blaise Udunze
Nigeria today faces a sobering dual reality: a deepening security crisis and an entrenched financial-crime ecosystem that quietly feeds, sustains, and normalises that crisis. Across the North, Middle Belt, and parts of the South, kidnappers, bandits, insurgent cells, political actors, compromised security agents, and a complex chain of financial facilitators operate within a shadow economy of violence, one that generates billions, claims thousands of lives, and steadily erodes the authority of the state.
For over a decade, security experts and Nigeria’s international partners have warned that no meaningful progress will be made against insecurity unless the financial oxygen sustaining violence is cut off. Yet the country continues to prosecute its anti-terrorism efforts largely through military responses, as though the conflict could be resolved solely on the battlefield. What remains missing is a decisive, transparent, and politically courageous confrontation with the economic networks that make insecurity profitable.
This war is not only about guns and bullets. It is about money.
Money moves fighters.
Money buys weapons.
Money fuels political desperation.
Money underwrites chaos.
Until Nigeria addresses the financial pipelines behind its insecurity, the crisis will continue to reproduce itself.
Kidnapping: The Lucrative ‘War Fund’ Sustaining Insurgency
The rise in mass kidnappings is neither accidental nor spontaneous. It has evolved into a rational, structured, revenue-generating enterprise.
Appearing on Channels TV’s Politics Today in October 2025, Yusuf Datti Baba-Ahmed warned that insurgent and bandit groups now treat ransom payments as reliable “war funds.” The data support his claim.
A 2024 survey by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) found that Nigerians paid N2.2 trillion in ransom between May 2023 and April 2024. This astonishing sum does not account for unreported payments made through informal negotiators, mobile transfers, or unregulated community channels.
Kidnapping has matured into a fully formed economy with well-defined roles: negotiators, informants, logistics providers, cash couriers, and security collaborators. Proceeds are reinvested in weapons, motorcycles, communication devices, safe houses, and even land acquisitions.
In the words of a security analyst, “Every successful kidnapping is a fundraiser.”
Sabotage from Within: Keffi’s Explosive Memo and a System Built to Fail
If Nigeria’s external security threats are troubling, the internal compromises are even more alarming.
A leaked memo by Major General Mohammed Ali Keffi accused senior government and military officials of diverting billions of naira earmarked for arms procurement under former Chief of Army Staff, Lt. Gen. Tukur Buratai. Keffi’s allegations included:
– Weapons paid for but never delivered
– Falsified battlefield reports
– Civilian casualties mislabelled to justify inflated expenditures
– Political interference obstructing investigations into terror financing
His claims echoed the earlier warning by Gen. T.Y. Danjuma, who accused sections of the military of working in concert with armed groups and abandoning vulnerable communities.
Keffi’s memo became even more consequential following the 2025 detention of former Attorney General Abubakar Malami by the EFCC over allegations of money laundering, terrorism financing and suspicious financial activity linked to 46 bank accounts.
Together, these revelations paint a disturbing picture: even as Nigerians endure mass abductions, elements within the political and security elite appear to be enabling or shielding the financial networks behind the violence.
Why the Crisis Persists: A Financial Crime Lens
Nigeria’s insecurity cannot be divorced from the environment in which illicit finance thrives. Key enablers include:
- Informal Economies and Unregulated Cash Flows
With over 70 percent of rural transactions still cash-based, terror groups exploit:
– Hawala networks
– POS and mobile-money agents
– Cattle markets and mining sites
– Barter systems centred on livestock and grains
These channels operate beyond the reach of AML/CFT systems.
- Identity Fraud and Weak KYC Enforcement
– Criminal networks routinely open accounts with:
– Fake NINs
– Compromised SIM cards
– Recycled BVNs
– Mule identities
- Collusion within Financial Institutions
The EFCC estimates that up to 70 percent of financial crimes involve bank personnel, primarily through:
– Unauthorised cash withdrawals
– Suppressed Suspicious Transaction Reports (STRs)
– Manipulated internal alerts
- Weak Prosecution and Political Interference
Cases drag on for years, and many evaporate entirely before reaching court often due to political considerations.
- Ungoverned Spaces
Large territories across the North serve as hubs for:
– Arms trafficking
– Illegal mining
– Kidnap-for-ransom camps
– Cross-border smuggling
Public Patience Thins: NLC Moves to the Streets
Public frustration is reaching a boiling point. On December 10, the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) announced a nationwide protest scheduled for December 17, citing the “degenerating security situation” and the rise in mass abductions.
The NLC condemned the November 17 abduction of female students in Kebbi, noting that security personnel had been withdrawn from the school shortly before the attack. The union called the act “dastardly and criminal” and directed all affiliates and civil-society partners to fully mobilise for the protest.
This marks a significant shift. For the first time in years, Nigeria’s most influential labour body is placing insecurity at the centre of national mobilization, further underscoring the argument that the current crisis is not simply a security failure but a systemic breakdown of governance, accountability, and financial integrity.
The Financial Engine of Terror: The 23 Suspects Who Moved Billions
A Sahara Reporters investigation uncovered a network of 20 Nigerians and three foreign nationals allegedly linked to the financing of Boko Haram and ISWAP. Their transactions, running into hundreds of billions, were quietly channeled through personal and corporate accounts.
Among those named:
– Alhaji Saidu Ahmed, Zaria businessman: N4.8bn inflows
– Usaini Adamu, Kano trader with 111 accounts: N43bn inflows, N50bn outflows
– Muhammad Sani Adam, forex and precious stones dealer: N54bn across 41 accounts
– Yusuf Ghazali, a forex trader linked to UAE-convicted terrorists, operated 385 accounts
– Ladan Ibrahim, a Sokoto official, is accused of diverting public funds
– Foreign actors included the late Tribert Ayabatwa (N67bn inflows) and Nigerien arms dealer Aboubacar Hima, who moved over $1.19 million.
Strikingly, several of the suspects arrested in 2021 were quietly released without trial, continuing a pattern of impervious investigations and political bottlenecks.
This network confirms a painful truth: Nigeria’s insecurity is not driven solely by men wielding rifles in the bush. It is sustained by individuals in cities, businesses, and bureaucracies, people with access, influence, and remarkable financial mobility.
The Political Dimension: Irabor’s Revelation and the Unnamed Sponsors
The political undertone of Nigeria’s insecurity was reinforced by the former Chief of Defence Staff, Gen. Lucky Irabor (rtd), who admitted that politicians were among those financing terror groups. According to him, some trials were conducted “away from public consumption.”
His statement revived key questions:
– Why is the state shielding the identities of terror sponsors?
– Who benefits from the secrecy?
– What political consequences are being avoided?
Security sources told TruthNigeria that Nigeria’s published list of 19 terror financiers in 2024 represented only a fraction of the full network.
Baba-Ahmed’s accusation that former Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai was part of the political forces that aggravated Northern insecurity, an accusation the former governor has previously denied, adds further urgency to demands for transparency.
The Human Cost: Expanding Killing Fields
Despite repeated assurances, violence continues to spread:
– 303 students and 12 teachers abducted in Niger State
– 38 worshippers kidnapped in Kwara
– Simultaneous raids across Plateau, Kaduna, Benue, and Niger
– Whole communities uprooted by weekly attacks
As Amnesty International observed, “In many rural communities, only the graveyards are expanding.”
SBM Intelligence now describes large portions of the North as “open killing fields,” areas where the state’s influence has collapsed, and community vigilantes have become the default security providers.
Expert Voices: Why Nigeria Must Finally Follow the Money
Security experts converge on a single message: Nigeria cannot defeat terrorism without dismantling its financial infrastructure. Dr. Friday Agbo, a security researcher, disclosed, “Terror groups survive because their financial lifelines remain untouched.”
Jonathan Asake, analyst and former SOKAPU president, said, “Publish the full Dubai list. Without transparency, impunity will remain the norm.”
Gen. Irabor (rtd.) revealed, “There are politicians involved. The conflict is multi-layered: ideology, criminality, and political manipulation.”
These assessments underscore one reality: ideology is secondary. Money is primary. It is the oxygen of Nigeria’s terror landscape.
What Must Change
Nigeria must elevate financial crime to the level of a national-security emergency. Key reforms include:
– Integrating BVN-NIN-SIM identity databases and upgrading real-time monitoring
– Targeting illicit markets: illegal mining hubs, cattle markets, unregulated border posts
– Deploying AI-driven analytics to detect layered transactions, mule networks, and ransom flows
– Strengthening bank compliance units and protecting whistleblowers
– Improving inter-agency intelligence sharing (EFCC, NFIU, DSS, NDLEA, Police, CBN)
– Criminalising unexplained wealth, especially in conflict zones
– Investing in safe-school infrastructure, rural policing, and local reporting channels
Choosing Truth Over Convenience
Nigeria’s two-front war is neither mysterious nor new. It is a well-documented, financially engineered crisis protected by silence, vested interests, and institutional decay. The NLC’s mobilisation signals a turning point; citizens are unwilling to accept official evasions while insecurity intensifies. To end this crisis, Nigeria must:
– Expose and prosecute terror financiers
– Purge corrupt insiders in the security system
– Dismantle ransom economies
– Strengthen financial intelligence
– End political protection for criminal networks
Until these reforms are pursued with integrity, billions will continue to move, weapons will continue to flow, and Nigeria will continue to bleed.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos, can be reached via: [email protected]
Feature/OPED
Championing Ethical Sourcing Within Dairy Communities
Human Rights Day often centres on themes of dignity, equity, and freedom. Yet for many Nigerians, these rights are not debated in courtrooms they are expressed in the ability to access nutritious food, build meaningful livelihoods, and secure a healthy future for their families. Nutrition, in this sense, becomes a fundamental human right.
Despite a growing population and rising nutrition needs, Nigeria faces a pressing dairy reality. The country remains heavily dependent on dairy imports, leaving nutritional access vulnerable and local capacity underdeveloped. This is not just an economic concern; it is a human one. When families cannot easily access affordable, high-quality dairy, the foundations of health and development are weakened.
It is within this context that Arla Nigeria operates not merely as a dairy company, but as a nutrition powerhouse committed to nourishing a nation. Our ambition extends beyond selling products. We are working to build the foundations of a stronger, more resilient local dairy sector that supports food security, economic participation, and national progress.
At the heart of our efforts is the Damau Integrated Dairy Farm in Kaduna Statea fully operational modern farm designed to demonstrate what responsible, efficient, and scalable dairy production can look like in Nigeria. Arla Nigeria produces its own milk on-site, ensuring quality, safety, and consistency as we continue building the systems required for a sustainable local value chain. In fact, until our yoghurt factory launches, the reverse is true: some stakeholders purchase milk from us.
But infrastructure alone is not the story. What truly matters is the human impact surrounding the farm.
Arla Nigeria has been intentional about engaging and empowering the communities around Damau. By creating employment opportunities for local residents, providing skills development, and contributing to community growth, we are ensuring that the benefits of dairy development extend beyond production lines. This is development rooted in people where progress is measured in livelihoods improved and opportunities created.
As Arla Nigeria continues to expand operations, our long-term commitment remains clear: to contribute meaningfully to local milk sourcing and value chain development, strengthening Nigeria’s capacity to feed itself. Backward integration is not a slogan for Arla Foods; it is a structured pathway with building responsibly and sustainably. From farm systems to future household milk initiatives, the goal is to create a model that supports farmers, enhances productivity, and drives economic inclusion in the years ahead.
On Human Rights Day, the conversation often revolves around preventing harm avoiding exploitation, ensuring fair labour, and upholding ethical standards. These are essential, but they are only the beginning. True respect for human rights means creating enabling systems that allow people to thrive.
With Arla Foods, that begins with nutrition. Milk is a super food, rich in essential nutrients that support growth and development. Ensuring access to such nutrition contributes directly to national well-being and productivity. When we help secure a healthier population, we strengthen the foundation for education, economic participation, and long-term prosperity.
This is why Arla believes that dairy is not just food it is nutrition, livelihood, and progress. By investing in sustainable production, community development, and future local sourcing capabilities, Arla Nigeria is contributing to food security and economic growth in a tangible, measurable way.
Ultimately, ethical business is not defined by corporate language or labels. It is defined by the stability, nourishment, and dignity it brings to people’s lives. As Nigeria celebrates Human Rights Day, let us recognise that the right to nutrition and the opportunity to build a better future are among the most powerful rights we can help protect.
Feature/OPED
In Praise of Nigeria’s Elite Memory Loss Clinic
By Busayo Cole
There’s an unacknowledged marvel in Nigeria, a national institution so revered and influential that its very mention invokes awe; and not a small dose of amnesia. I’m speaking, of course, about the glorious Memory Loss Clinic for the Elite, a facility where unsolved corruption cases go to receive a lifetime membership in our collective oblivion.
Take a walk down the memory lane of scandals past, and you’ll encounter a magical fog. Who remembers the details of the N2.5 billion pension fund scam? Anyone? No? Good. That’s exactly how the clinic works. Through a combination of political gymnastics, endless court adjournments, and public desensitisation, these cases are carefully wrapped in a blanket of vagueness. Brilliant, isn’t it?
The beauty of this clinic lies in its inclusivity. From the infamous Dasukigate, which popularised the phrase “arms deal” in Nigeria without actually arming anything, to the less publicised but equally mystifying NDDC palliative fund saga, the clinic accepts all cases with the same efficiency. Once enrolled, each scandal receives a standard treatment: strategic denial, temporary outrage, and finally, oblivion.
Not to be overlooked are the esteemed practitioners at this clinic: our very own politicians and public officials. Their commitment to forgetting is nothing short of Nobel-worthy. Have you noticed how effortlessly some officials transition from answering allegations one week to delivering keynote speeches on accountability the next? It’s an art form.
Then there’s the media, always ready to lend a hand. Investigative journalists dig up cases, splash them across headlines for a week or two, and then move on to the next crisis, leaving the current scandal to the skilled hands of the clinic’s erasure team. No one does closure better than us. Or rather, the lack thereof.
And let’s not forget the loyal citizens, the true heroes of this operation. We rant on social media, organise a protest or two, and then poof! Our collective short attention span is the lifeblood of the Memory Loss Clinic. Why insist on justice when you can unlook?
Take, for example, the Halliburton Scandal. In 2009, a Board of Inquiry was established under the leadership of Inspector-General of Police, Mike Okiro, to investigate allegations of a $182 million bribery scheme involving the American company Halliburton and some former Nigerian Heads of State. Despite Halliburton admitting to paying the bribes to secure a $6 billion contract for a natural gas plant, the case remains unresolved. The United States fined the companies involved, but in Nigeria, the victims of the corruption: ordinary citizens, received no compensation, and no one was brought to justice. The investigation, it seems, was yet another patient admitted to the clinic.
Or consider the Petroleum Trust Fund Probe, which unraveled in the late 1990s. Established during General Sani Abacha’s regime and managed by Major-General Muhammadu Buhari, the PTF’s operations were scrutinised when Chief Olusegun Obasanjo assumed office in 1999. The winding-down process uncovered allegations of mismanagement, dubious dealings, and a sudden, dramatic death of a key figure, Salihijo Ahmad, the head of the PTF’s sole management consultant. Despite the drama and the revelations, the case quietly faded into obscurity, leaving Nigerians with more questions than answers.
Then there is the colossal case of under-remittance of oil and gas royalties and taxes. The Federal Government, through the Special Presidential Investigatory Panel (SPIP), accused oil giants like Shell, Agip, and the NNPC of diverting billions of dollars meant for public coffers. Allegations ranged from falsified production figures to outright embezzlement. Despite detailed accusations and court proceedings, the cases were abandoned after the SPIP’s disbandment in 2019. As usual, the trail of accountability disappeared into thin air, leaving the funds unaccounted for and the public betrayed yet again.
Of course, this institution isn’t without its critics. Some stubborn Nigerians still insist on remembering. Creating spreadsheets, tracking cases, and daring to demand accountability. To these radicals, I say: why fight the tide? Embrace the convenience of selective amnesia. Life is easier when you don’t worry about where billions disappeared to or why someone’s cousin’s uncle’s housemaid’s driver has an oil block.
As World Anti-Corruption Day comes and goes, let us celebrate the true innovation of our time. While other nations are busy prosecuting offenders and recovering stolen funds, we have mastered the fine art of forgetting. Who needs convictions when you have a clinic this efficient? Oh, I almost forgot the anti-corruption day as I sent my draft to a correspondent very late. Don’t blame me, I am just a regular at the clinic.
So, here’s to Nigeria’s Memory Loss Clinic, a shining beacon of how to “move on” without actually moving forward. May it continue to thrive, because let’s face it: without it, what would we do with all these unsolved corruption cases? Demand justice? That’s asking a lot. Better to forget and focus on the next election season. Who knows? We might even re-elect a client of the clinic. Wouldn’t that be poetic?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a new scandal to ignore.
Busayo Cole is a Branding and Communications Manager who transforms abstract corporate goals into actionable, sparkling messaging. It’s rumored that 90% of his strategic clarity is powered by triple-shot espresso, and the remaining 10% is sheer panic. He can be reached via busayo@busayocole.com.
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