By Yahaya Yahaya

The 2025 Ilorin Emirate Durbar, held on the third day of Eid al-Adha (June 9, 2025), was more than just a spectacle of horses, culture, and colour. It was a public reaffirmation of who Ilorin is — a city of layered identities, rooted in faith, and grounded in the unshakable unity of its people.

This year’s theme, Unity in Diversity, wasn’t just a slogan. It reflected a living reality — that Ilorin is, and has always been, a city where different cultures, languages, and histories are not just tolerated, but embraced and interwoven. From the palace to the old city interiors, from the processions to the pavilions, the Durbar reminded everyone that Ilorin is a place where Yoruba, Fulani, Baruba, Nupe, Hausa, Kanuri and other communities have lived as one for generations — not in theory, but in practice.

The story of Ilorin stretches back over 200 years, and its evolution into an Emirate is one of the most remarkable examples of how faith and diversity can shape governance and culture. As a frontier city that blended Islamic scholarship with existing traditions, Ilorin grew into a unique urban centre — one that values its religious leadership while still preserving local customs and language.

The early 19th century saw Ilorin become a prominent Islamic Emirate under the spiritual influence of Shehu Alimi, whose legacy still shapes the moral and religious identity of the city today. But what made Ilorin distinct was its ability to absorb and unify — Nupe scholars, Baruba warriors, Kanuri settlers, Hausa traders, and indigenous families all found space within Ilorin’s expanding civic and spiritual structure. That inclusive spirit is not symbolic — it is practical. It is how the city was formed and how it has endured.

That unity has been tested. The battles of Ita Kudimo and Ita Ogunbo remain a key part of Ilorin’s collective memory — episodes where the city had to defend itself from the combined forces of the old Oyo empire and Baruba’s to the North. One of the most striking historical accounts describes an attack launched during Eid prayers — a moment when the city was supposed to be at rest. But Ilorin’s defenders rallied, repelled the invasion, and reasserted their control. These were not just military victories. They became defining moments in the city’s identity — a declaration that Ilorin will always stand together when it matters most.

Durbar, today, is not a re-enactment of those events — but it is a reminder. It reminds us that the unity we celebrate was built through sacrifice, discipline, and shared purpose. And every year, when the Emir emerges from the palace and proceeds through the old city, it is more than a ceremonial ride — it is a public recommitment to the bond between the throne and the people.

This year’s Durbar retained that sacred character. The Emir was led through streets not protected by military convoys, police barricades, or armed escorts — but by his traditional guards, holding only whips. There were no sirens. No armoured vehicles. Because in Ilorin, the people are the protection. The Emir doesn’t need to be shielded from his people — he is shielded by them. That’s not a gesture; it’s a relationship built over centuries.

Another defining feature of this year’s Durbar was the emergence of aso-ebi as a tool for community organisation. Uniform fabrics — chosen by families, streets, associations, or entire districts — were not just a fashion statement. They were a social framework. Planning for aso-ebi required weeks of conversation, coordination, and contribution. In the process, families abroad reconnected with those at home, groups met regularly, tailors got to work, and the community got busy. The result? The city didn’t just look united. It was united.

Durbar 2025 also showcased the impact of youth participation. Young people led media coverage, coordinated logistics, and documented the festival with fresh energy and modern storytelling. The festival was livestreamed and shared globally in real time, with clips and commentary flooding social media from Oja-Oba to London. Ilorin showed that it could hold on to its traditions without closing the door to innovation.

Through all of this, one thing remains true: Ilorin works not because it has one culture, but because it honours all of them. It is held together not by uniformity, but by a shared sense of meaning. While many other societies struggle with managing diversity, Ilorin simply lives it — through prayer, through leadership, and through moments like the Ilorin Durbar.

The 2025 edition was not without its logistical challenges — a festival of this scale always has some. But what it had in abundance was purpose, pride, and peace. And in a country still searching for models of cohesion, Ilorin has quietly offered one, year after year.

As the sun set over the city and the Emir returned to the palace, there was a quiet sense of satisfaction across the emirate. Another Durbar, successfully delivered. Another message, clearly sent. And the people — from Sabo Oke to Gambari, from Okelele to Pakata — all knew: this is ours.

Ilorin Durbar 2026 is already in sight. And if the story remains the same — of unity, order, and belonging — then the next chapter will be even stronger.

And in Ilorin, we don’t just look forward to it. We begin preparing now.

Yahaya Yahaya (Magayaki of Uke, Nasarawa State) writes from Ilorin

By Diana Tenebe

Nigeria is a nation that is blessed with arable land and a teeming youthful population. For so long the nation has been tied to the fortunes of crude oil. Oil revenues have dominated the sustenance of economic development. The overall annual GDP growth for Nigeria in 2024 is reported at 3.40%. The oil sector’s contribution to real GDP in Q4 2024 was 4.60%, with an annual growth rate of 5.54%. The agriculture sector contributed 24.64% to real GDP in Q4 2024, and 20.97% to aggregate nominal GDP for the full year, though its growth was more modest at 1.2% to 1.76% across different quarters. The non-oil sector, which includes agriculture, contributed a substantial 95.40% to real GDP in Q4 2024, indicating a decreasing reliance on oil as the main economic driver.

Nigeria’s economy is primarily driven by its non-oil sectors, with agriculture serving as a significant foundation, even with its ongoing productivity and security hurdles. There’s optimism that agriculture could spearhead the nation’s economic diversification in the future, especially if it’s strategically developed to generate foreign exchange and government revenue.

Agriculture was the bedrock of the Nigerian economy before the oil boom. Agriculture was the undisputed mainstay of Nigeria’s economy, contributing over 60% to the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and employing more than 70% of the population. Regions specialised in cashcrops like cocoa, palm oil, groundnuts, and rubber making Nigeria a significant global exporter. The revenue generated from these agricultural activities fueled infrastructural development, education and social amenities across the country. The oil boom in the 1970s led to a neglect of the agricultural sector and fostered an over-reliance on petrodollars and invariably led to the stifling of the development of a diversified economy.

Just weeks into office in July 2023, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu declared a national emergency on food security, signaling a commitment to transforming agriculture into a modern, productive, and resilient engine of growth. Key initiatives include the immediate release of fertilizers and grains from national strategic reserves, a harmonisation of efforts between the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Water Resources to enable all-season farming through expanded irrigation, and the proposed establishment of a National Commodity Board to stabilize food prices and strengthen reserves. The administration of President Bola Tinubu has embarked on significant reforms to position agriculture as an economic tool to drive diversification. The efforts are constantly challenged by the pervasive violence of bandits on Nigeria farmers.

One of the flagship programs is the Agro-Pocket Initiative under the National Agricultural Growth Scheme, targeting the cultivation of 750,000 hectares for staple crops like rice, maize, wheat, and cassava, providing targeted support and input vouchers to farmers. To cushion the effects of inflation, the administration also announced a 150-day suspension of duties and tariffs on essential food imports and facilitated the import of significant quantities of maize and wheat for small-scale processors. Furthermore, a new National Agricultural Extension Policy aims to deliver demand-driven, ICT-enabled, and market-oriented extension services, moving away from outdated methods.

The ambitious agricultural agenda faces a formidable adversary: widespread banditry and insecurity. Across various regions, particularly in the food-producing states, farmers are increasingly subjected to violent attacks, kidnappings, and extortion. These acts of violence have devastating consequences, forcing many farmers to abandon their farmlands, reducing cultivated areas, and disrupting the entire agricultural value chain. The fear of attack not only deters new investments but also jeopardizes the livelihoods of existing farmers, leading to reduced agricultural output and escalating food prices. The Centre for Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID) recently highlighted that “No Farmer, No Food: Attacks on Farmers Fuel Nigeria’s Hunger Crisis,” underscoring the direct link between insecurity and food insecurity.

The Tinubu administration acknowledges this critical challenge. The National Security Adviser (NSA), Mallam Nuhu Ribadu, has reiterated the government’s commitment to returning displaced farmers to their communities and farms, emphasizing that sustainable peace cannot be achieved through kinetic responses alone. There’s a recognition that addressing the root causes of violent extremism, such as poverty and lack of opportunity, through inclusive, whole-of-government, and whole-of-society solutions, including integrated agricultural approaches, is crucial. The approval of Forest Guards is also seen as a transformative measure to enhance security for farmers.

Beyond the immediate crisis of insecurity, Nigeria’s agricultural sector still grapples with a myriad of systemic challenges. These include poor access to finance, with many farmers relying on informal lenders at exorbitant rates; high production costs, exacerbated by fuel subsidy removal; inadequate infrastructure, leading to significant post-harvest losses; and the impacts of climate change, such as erratic rainfall patterns and floods. Experts advocate for sustained investment in agricultural infrastructure, including irrigation systems, storage facilities, and rural road networks, to reduce post-harvest losses and improve market access.

Despite these hurdles, the potential for agriculture to drive Nigeria’s economic diversification remains immense. By focusing on value addition through agro-processing, leveraging modern agricultural technology (precision farming, irrigation, biotechnology, satellite imagery for yield prediction), diversifying crop production beyond traditional cash crops to include high-demand items, and investing in livestock and aquaculture, Nigeria can unlock significant economic growth. Public-private partnerships and accessible financial solutions, coupled with robust policy reforms, are vital to support smallholder farmers and attract necessary investments.

The journey beyond oil will be long and arduous, but agriculture offers Nigeria a tangible and sustainable path to economic resilience. President Tinubu’s reforms demonstrate a clear intent, but their success hinges on the government’s ability to effectively tackle the escalating violence against farmers. Without a secure environment, the seeds of diversification will struggle to take root, and the promise of a thriving agricultural sector will remain elusive. Only when farmers can work their lands in peace will agriculture truly become the robust engine Nigeria needs to diversify its economy and secure a prosperous future for its citizens.

Diana Tenebe is the Chief Operating Officer of Foodstuff Store

By Prince Charles Dickson PhD

So I woke up thinking about The Digital Juju vs. “National Cake” Chopping and in my mind I whispered—Ah, the question hangs in the air like the thick Lagos humidity, heavy with possibility and the faint, familiar scent of… something questionable. Can Artificial Intelligence, this shiny new oyinbo magic, truly sniff out the cunning “choppers” of Nigeria’s “national cake”? Can algorithms pierce the veil of Panama Papers, phantom contracts, and sudden unexplained wealth that rivals Mansa Musa’s caravan? Well, my friend, grab your akara and if there’s pap, let’s reason together – it’s a story laced with hope, sharp wit, and some hard garri truths.

First, let’s acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the fleet of bulletproof SUVs parked outside the National Assembly: Nigerian political corruption is a sophisticated beast. It’s not just crude stuffing of naira into Ghana-must-go bags anymore (though that still happens, abi?). It’s layered like a well-made jollof rice – offshore accounts, inflated contracts awarded to fronts (“my boy is doing very well”), complex money laundering schemes dancing through multiple banks, and the sheer audacity of lifestyles that scream “How?” louder than a Pentecostal pastor on Sunday. Detecting this requires more than just eagle eyes; it needs the processing power of a thousand EFCC agents hopped on strong coffee.

Enter AI: The Digital Bloodhound with potential, I imagine this powerful tool. A Pattern Recognition Powerhouse. AI can devour mountains of data – procurement records, budget allocations, asset declarations (however…creative they might be), bank transactions, property registries, even news reports and social media chatter. It can spot anomalies invisible to humans: a senator suddenly sponsoring 50 bills after a major contract award in their constituency; a governor whose declared assets remain static while his wife’s boutique chain magically expands into Dubai; a ministry consistently spending 300% over market value for “consultancy fees” on road projects that look like buba after the rain.

Network Mapping Ninja: Corruption rarely works alone. AI can map intricate networks – linking politicians to contractors, shell companies, family members suddenly flush, and even seemingly unrelated businesses. It can expose the “godfatherism” infrastructure digitally, showing how funds flow like illicit palm wine through hidden pipes. Its Predictive Prowess by analyzing historical data, can potentially flag high-risk behaviours or contracts before the deal is sealed. Think of it as an early warning system: “Alert! This contract award process smells like a week-old ponmo left in the sun!”

It can automate the tedious, sifting through thousands of pages of documents? AI can do it in seconds, freeing up human investigators for the complex interrogation and strategic work. No more “the file is missing” excuses that hold more water than a basket.

This sounds like juju, abi? Hold your asho-oke…

Before we crown AI the anti-corruption Messiah, let’s inject some sharp Nigerian reality – the “buts” are as plentiful as potholes on the Benin-Ore road:

Garbage In, Garbage Out” (The Nigerian Edition). AI is only as good as the data it’s fed. Where will this data come from? Reliable, digitized, and accessible public records? Kai!Our data ecosystem is often fragmented, incomplete, deliberately obscured, or simply non-existent. Asset declarations? Many treat them like wedding lists – aspirational fiction. Procurement data? Often buried deeper than crude oil. If the data is “touched” or missing, even the smartest AI becomes like a blind man searching for a black goat in the dark.

The “Man Know Man” Firewall, Nigerian corruption is deeply human, built on complex webs of loyalty, ethnicity, fear, and patronage (“stomach infrastructure” is realpolitik). AI might spot the financial anomaly, but can it understand why a particular contractor must get the job? Can it penetrate the unspoken agreements, the threats, the egunje (bribes) disguised as “community development levies”? The human element – the connections – is a formidable encryption.

The “Oga at the Top” Problem, so controls the AI? Who sets its parameters? Who acts on its findings? If the agency deploying it is itself compromised, or answers to politicians who benefit from the status quo, the AI becomes a very expensive paperweight, or worse, a tool for selective witch-hunts against opponents. Imagine an AI programmed to conveniently overlook certain “big men” while flagging only the small fries. Power, in Nigeria, often seeks to protect itself.

The “Smart Criminals” Factor because our politicians are nothing if not adaptable. If AI flags sudden wealth, they’ll find slower, more complex laundering routes. If it monitors contracts, they’ll create more sophisticated shell companies, perhaps registered in jurisdictions where data is opaque. They’ll hire their own tech experts to find loopholes. It becomes an arms race – silicon versus slippery ingenuity.

The “Wetin Consign Me?” Syndrome is real because ultimately, AI provides evidence or suspicion. It doesn’t make arrests or secure convictions. That requires a robust, independent, and fearless judiciary, law enforcement agencies with integrity, and a political will that’s currently scarcer than stable electricity. No AI can convict a powerful politician shielded by impunity and a broken system.

So, can AI help? Yes, absolutely. It has the potential to be a game-changer, a powerful magnifying glass on the intricate workings of illicit wealth. But it is not a magic wand. It’s a tool, and like any tool, its effectiveness depends entirely on the hands that wield it and the environment it operates in.

Tech is a tool, not a cure, don’t be fooled by Silicon Valley hype. AI won’t solve corruption because corruption isn’t just a technical problem; it’s a deep-seated societal, political, and moral crisis. We must fix the foundations – transparency, accountability, strong institutions, ethical leadership – for AI to have fertile ground to work. As the saying goes, “You don’t use a golden cup to drink dirty water.” Clean the system first.

Data is the New Oil (and needs refining): Nigeria must prioritize creating comprehensive, open, and digitized public data systems. Mandatory, verifiable asset declarations. Transparent, accessible procurement portals. Centralized beneficial ownership registers. Without this fuel, the AI engine sputters and dies. Transparency is the ultimate disinfectant, and data is its carrier.

The Human Element is Irreplaceable: AI can flag anomalies, but humans must investigate motives, navigate complex social terrain, build cases, and demand justice. We need courageous journalists, whistleblowers, activists, judges, and citizens who care. AI empowers them; it doesn’t replace them. “Computers” can show the numbers, but only humans can feel the outrage and demand change.

Vigilance is Eternal: The corrupt will adapt. Any anti-corruption system, AI-powered or not, must be dynamic, constantly updated, fiercely protected from political interference, and backed by unwavering public pressure. Complacency is their greatest ally.

The wit is in the skepticism: A healthy dose of Nigerian skepticism is crucial. Don’t just believe the hype about “AI will save us.” Ask the hard questions: Who owns it? Who feeds it? Who acts on its findings? Trust, but verify – with the sharp eyes of someone who knows a 419 proposal when they see one.

Can AI help detect corrupt Nigerian politicians? Yes, it can. It can shine a powerful, unforgiving light into dark corners. It can process what would take humans lifetimes. It can be a formidable digital bloodhound. But will it lead to fewer corrupt politicians? That depends entirely on us.

AI is a potential catalyst, not the reaction itself. It offers a powerful new weapon, but the war against corruption will still be won or lost on the battlegrounds of political will, institutional integrity, judicial courage, and an empowered citizenry unwilling to tolerate the looting any longer. We must build the systems, demand transparency, and foster the culture where AI’s findings aren’t buried or ignored, but acted upon with the full force of the law.

So, let’s embrace the potential of this digital juju, but keep our feet firmly planted in Nigerian reality. Feed the AI clean data, shield it from “Oga at the Top” syndrome, back its findings with fearless human action, and maybe, just maybe, we can make the “chopping” of our commonwealth far harder, riskier, and ultimately, less profitable. The journey is long, and the road is rough, but as we say, “Slow and steady, no dey carry go quick quick, na im dey win race.” Perhaps AI can help us pick up the pace. The ball, as always, is in our court. Let’s play wisely, so that—Nigeria will win.