Feature/OPED
Nigerians Are Always Happy
By Prince Charles Dickson PhD
A national satire on beer, broken systems, and the baffling value systems that keeps us smiling through tears.
JRD Tata had a friend who used to say that he misplaced and lost his pen very often. Hence, he would use only very cheap pens, so that he didn’t have to worry about losing them. He was worried about his carelessness.
JRD suggested to him to buy the costliest pen he could afford and see what happens.
His friend did just that and purchased a 22-carat gold Cross pen. After nearly six months JRD met him and asked him if his habit of misplacing pens still bothered him? His friend said that he had become very careful about his costly pen, and he was himself surprised how he had changed!
JRD explained to him that it was the value of the pen that had made the difference, and there was nothing wrong with him as a person!
This is what happens in our life. We are careful with things that we value the most.
- If we value our health, we will be careful about what and how we eat.
- If we value our friends, we will treat them with respect.
- If we value money, we will be careful while spending.
- If we value our time, we will not waste it.
- If we value our relationship, we will be careful not to push our limits and risk breaking it.
Everything depends on our perception of value.
There is a global conspiracy theory that Nigerians are the happiest people on earth. A theory so bold that even we, the subjects of this emotional experiment, occasionally pause and ask ourselves, “Me? Happy? With this economy? With this exchange rate? With this insecurity? With the national grid collapsing due to national greed.”
Yet the data is undeniable: ₦1.54 trillion spent on beer in nine months.
If happiness had a budget line, this would be it.
Nigeria may not have reliable electricity, but we have reliable consumption habits. The country may not produce enough jobs, but we produce enough empty bottles. Our security architecture may look like it was designed by tired civil servants after pepper soup, but our nightlife runs like Swiss clockwork.
There are many proofs that Nigerians love enjoyment, but this new figure has carried first position. It is now official: Nigerians may not value their leaders, their hospitals, their future or their taxes, but they value cold beer like a covenant.
And who can blame us?
Living in Nigeria is like being in a relationship with someone who loves you in theory but forgets you in practice. You wake up to hardship, go to bed with uncertainty, and somewhere in the middle, your landlord sends a broadcast message saying he loves peace but is increasing rent.
If you don’t drink, what will you do?
Meditate?
You cannot meditate when the price of rice is rising and the price of petrol is behaving like a spiritual attack. Nigerians are not drinking for pleasure; many are drinking to survive the news cycle.
Every day: One tragedy, one inflation spike, one new policy, one new exchange rate. How won’t the nation drink?
We drink the way other countries run public healthcare: consistently.
We drink the way other countries fix roads: passionately.
We drink the way other nations repair institutions: with conviction.
Nigeria is the only country where people can be discussing kidnapping on one table and ordering more bottles on the next.
“Guy, dem kidnap three people for that side.”
“Ha! Serious? Abeg add two plates of peppered meat.”
It is emotional multitasking.
Because Nigerians have mastered the rare art of holding suffering in one hand and enjoyment in the other without spilling either. It is the only balance this country has ever achieved.
Bandits are roaming.
Inflation is jogging.
Cost of living is sprinting.
But Nigerians are still saying,
“Life no hard reach like that… at all at all.”
It is denial, yes.
But elite-level denial.
UNESCO should document it.
We drink to forget.
We drink to remember.
We drink because the music is good.
We drink because NEPA has taken light again.
We drink because work is stressful.
We drink because work is not even coming.
We drink because politicians are misbehaving.
We drink because politicians are behaving exactly as expected.
We drink because Nigeria is Nigeria-ing.
When a country’s biggest coping mechanism is bottled, malted and refrigerated, you know the nation needs therapy. But therapy is expensive.
Beer is cheaper.
Well… it used to be.
Now, even the beer is complaining.
Yet we buy it.
We misplace the expensive things — life, governance, education, national peace — and protect the cheap ones — gossip, entertainment, and political drama.
If value shaped our behaviour the way it should, Nigeria would be a paradise.
But Nigerians value vibes.
We protect vibes.
We invest in vibes.
We sacrifice for vibes.
We build GoFundMes for vibes.
Meanwhile, the country?
Well, the country is somewhere behind us, shouting for attention like the last-born in a large family.
A Hausa warning says: “Duk abin da kake raina zai haɗiye ka.”Whatever you fail to value will eventually consume you.
Nigeria’s national value system looks like this:
- We value enjoymentmore than savings.
- We value surviving todaymore than preparing for tomorrow.
- We value laughing at problemsmore than solving them.
- We treat life like a cheap pen.
- We treat enjoyment like a gold-plated Cross pen.
Our happiness is rebellious.
Stubborn.
Almost irresponsible.
When prices rise, Nigerians laugh.
When politicians misbehave, Nigerians make memes.
This happiness is not ordinary joy.
It is endurance masquerading as laughter.
It is survival packaged as banter.
It is pain dressed in agbada.
Happiness is the last thing Nigeria has not taxed.
Yet.
Imagine, just imagine, if Nigerians guarded national development the way they guard cold drinks at a party:
Nobody should touch it except authorized personnel.
If it falls, we mourn.
If it finishes, we riot.
What if:
- We valued security the way we value weekend outings?
- We valued accountability the way we value entertainment?
- We valued public good the way we value personal enjoyment?
- We valued the future the way we value “TGIF”?
Nigeria would transform overnight.
But instead, we are a nation where the price of alcohol rises, and people still buy it. But the price of governance rises, and nobody demands receipts. Because we have conditioned ourselves to protect relief more than responsibility.
Our happiness is admirable.
Our resilience is legendary.
Our adaptability is world-class.
But none of these things are development strategies. A laughing population is not automatically a thriving nation.
Let us keep our joy, because without it, this country will finish us. But let us also assign proper value to the things that build nations: institutions, planning, justice, safety, productivity, and accountability.
We have already proven we know how to drink. Now let us prove we know how to think. Because as it stands, the beer companies are enjoying the value we refuse to give to the country itself.
And until Nigeria becomes a gold pen, not a disposable biro, we will continue to lose it, forget it, misuse it, and replace it with laughter—May Nigeria win.
Feature/OPED
When Leaders THRIVE: Yetunde B. Oni’s Candid Counsel to Lateef Jakande Leadership Academy
Union Bank’s Managing Director and Chief Executive Officer sat with 30 of Nigeria’s most promising young leaders for a frank conversation on character, relationships and the discipline of growth.
Out of 25,000 applicants, only 30 earned a place. That single figure tells you how rare the room was when Yetunde B. Oni, Managing Director and Chief Executive Officer of Union Bank of Nigeria, recently sat down with a cohort of the Lateef Jakande Leadership Academy.
The Academy, a Lagos State Government initiative established in honour of Alhaji Lateef Kayode Jakande, the state’s first civilian governor, exists to raise a generation of ethical and capable young leaders. Its fellows are drawn from across professions, sectors and ethnicities, and shaped through a fellowship facilitated by the Africa Leadership Initiative, West Africa (ALI WA), whose work on values and principled leadership has become a quiet engine behind some of the country’s most thoughtful emerging talent.
It was into this gathering that Mrs Oni brought not a corporate address, but a conversation. Honest, personal and at times disarming, she spoke about the philosophies that have carried her through a career spanning more than three decades, the setbacks she has had to surmount, and the values that opened doors she never expected to walk through.
She gave them a framework to hold on to. She called it THRIVE.
The six principles
T — Take ownership of your relationships. Leadership, she argued, begins with the deliberate stewardship of the people around you. Relationships are not incidental to a career. They are infrastructure.
H — Honour God. She spoke openly about faith as a steadying force, an anchor that keeps ambition tethered to something larger than the self.
R — Recharge and refresh. Mental and physical health, she insisted, are not luxuries to be deferred until the work is done. Leaders who neglect their well-being eventually have less to give.
I — Invest in your growth. Continuous and heavy investment in personal development is, in her telling, the price of staying relevant. The learning never ends.
V — Value your work. She pressed the fellows on identity and brand. What do you stand for? Do you create value? Who, in truth, are you? The questions were not rhetorical.
E — Embrace setbacks. Failure, she said, is not the opposite of progress but a part of it. The leaders who endure are the ones who learn to metabolise disappointment rather than be defeated by it.
The people behind the leader
If one theme threaded the entire conversation, it was relationships. Mrs Oni was candid that she did not arrive at the top of Nigerian banking alone. She credited the steady support of family, her parents and her husband, alongside the mentors, friends, coaches and sponsors who shaped her at different stages.
She drew a sharp and useful distinction between a mentor and a coach, two roles often conflated and rarely understood, and she traced much of her progress back to a foundation of Nigerian cultural values: hard work, honesty and integrity, courtesy and respect. These, she told the fellows, are not relics. They are the very qualities that have earned her trust and opened doors throughout her journey.
“You need people,” was the message, delivered without sentiment. Relationships, she explained, must be managed and nurtured with the same seriousness one brings to any other discipline. Time must be managed with equal care.
On believing, and risking
Perhaps the most resonant moment came when Mrs Oni spoke about self-belief. She admitted that becoming the MD/CEO of Standard Chartered Bank, Sierra Leone, did not cross her mind – not because she was unqualified, but because she didn’t think she would get it. Encouraged by her husband, she applied anyway, and she got it!
That appointment would later see her make history as the first woman to lead a Standard Chartered Bank operation in her market.
The Union Bank of Nigeria appointment told a similar story. She had not even known the position existed after the CBN’s intervention. It came to her through relationships; through the quiet networks of people who knew her work and recommended her name while she was unaware in faraway Sierra Leone.
The lesson she left with the fellows was unambiguous. Believe in yourself. Take the risk. Put in for the thing you are not yet certain you deserve, because the opportunity you are waiting for may be one you cannot see, reaching you through someone you have not yet met.
Why this matters
Engagements of this kind are easy to underestimate. They produce no headlines about balance sheets and no immediate line on a financial statement. Yet they speak to something Union Bank has long understood: that institutions endure when they invest in people, and that leadership is built one honest conversation at a time.
Credit is due to the Africa Leadership Initiative, West Africa, whose facilitation of the Lateef Jakande Leadership Academy continues to shape young Nigerians of real promise, and to the Academy itself for the rigour of a process that turned 25,000 hopefuls into 30 fellows ready to lead.
For Yetunde B. Oni, the afternoon was less about what she had achieved than about what she was willing to give: her time, her story and her counsel, offered freely to those coming after her. It is, in the end, what the best leaders do. They light the path for the next generation, and they THRIVE.
Feature/OPED
Destination Ekiti: Two Elections, One Lesson in Vision
By Oludayo Oludee Olorunfemi
A couple of months ago, my principal, Mrs Oyinkansola Badejo-Okusanya (SAN), was scheduled to travel from Lagos to Akure for an interactive meeting as part of her consultation process before contesting for the office of President of the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA). Today, she stands cleared to contest the election; the ban on campaigning has been lifted, with elections scheduled for 20 July 2026. However, this is not the central story. What stays with me from that trip is an unexpected lesson in leadership, vision, and the power of deliberate planning. It is a lesson that has become even more relevant as Ekiti State prepares for its governorship election on 20 June 2026, exactly one month before the NBA election. Two elections. Two different constituencies. Two different ballots. Yet remarkably similar questions before the voters.
Who has the vision? Who has done the work? Who has demonstrated the capacity to build for the future rather than merely campaign for the present? The journey began with a logistical challenge. The available flight from Lagos to Akure was scheduled for later in the day and would not get the team to Ondo State in time for a series of engagements planned across Akure, Owo, and Ondo Town.
During discussions on the best alternative, I suggested that we fly into Ekiti through the newly commissioned Ekiti Agro-Allied International Airport. The plan was simple: arrive early in Ado-Ekiti, make strategic visits to leaders of the Bar within the State, and then proceed by road to Akure for the scheduled meetings. What none of us anticipated was that Ekiti itself would become the story. Our first stop was a courtesy visit to Aare Afe Babalola, SAN, founder of Afe Babalola University, Ado-Ekiti. The purpose was straightforward: seek Baba’s blessings for the journey ahead. As always, a visit to Aare Afe Babalola became a masterclass. Drawing from over ninety years of experience, he spoke about governance, leadership, the legal profession, and nation-building. Listening to him, one could not help but reflect on the legacy. Across the South-West, the Aare Afe Babalola Bar Centres stand as visible reminders that impactful leadership is measured not by promises made but by institutions built.
As we continued our visits across Ekiti, someone suggested we stop by the Ekiti State Bureau of Tourism, headed by the energetic lawyer and tourism advocate, Mr Wale Ojo-Lanre. That unplanned detour became the highlight of the trip. The welcome was unmistakably Ekiti, warm, thoughtful, and rich in culture. Before we entered, we observed the symbolic knocking on the traditional drum suspended at the entrance. Then came the recitation of Mrs Badejo-Okusanya’s oriki as an Egba woman, evidence that our hosts had taken time to learn about their distinguished guest before our arrival. It was a small gesture, but one that reflected a larger truth about Ekiti, a people deeply connected to their culture, history, and identity. What followed was even more enlightening.
Officials of the Bureau took us through the various tourism assets of the state and presented the Ekiti State Tourism Development Master Plan (2025–2035). As a proud daughter of Ekiti, I listened with a sense of pride and optimism. The vision was clear. Tourism was no longer being treated as an afterthought but as a strategic economic pillar. Through public-private partnerships, destination governance, infrastructure development, cultural and eco-tourism innovation, enhanced security, asset development, and community empowerment, the state is seeking to position itself as a destination of choice. What impressed me most was the coherence of the plan. Too often, governments commission projects without building ecosystems. What we saw in Ekiti was different. It was a deliberate attempt to connect infrastructure, policy, investment, culture, and people into a sustainable tourism economy. It was the kind of long-term thinking that separates administration from leadership.
The next day, after completing our engagements in Ondo State, on our way back to catch our return flight, we stopped at Ikogosi Warm Springs Resort. Some places are beautiful. Others are transformative. Ikogosi belongs firmly in the second category. Listening to Madam Ruth, our tour guide, narrate the history of the springs, watching warm and cold waters continuously flow side by side, placing one foot in each stream, and observing the famous intertwined trees thriving together despite their differences, one could not help but marvel at nature’s wisdom. Different streams. One destination. Different identities. Shared purpose. The carefully curated pathways, the serenity of the environment, the chorus of birdsong, and the pristine landscape created a profound sense of peace. By the time we left, the verdict from everyone on the team was unanimous: we will be back. GO SEE IKOGOSI.
Ekiti is sitting on immense tourism potential. Not potential that exists only in policy documents or political speeches, but real, tangible, marketable potential. From Ikogosi to Arinta Waterfalls, to Mount of Clouds, to Olosunta Hills; from cultural festivals to ecotourism sites, from its rich history to its emerging infrastructure, Ekiti possesses many of the ingredients required to become one of Nigeria’s premier tourism destinations. What remains essential is sustained leadership and the courage to pursue a vision beyond electoral cycles. Perhaps that is why the coincidence of the election dates feels significant. On 20 June, the people of Ekiti will evaluate the leadership before them and determine the future direction of their state. One month later, on 20 July, lawyers across Nigeria will make a similar decision about the future of their association. The parallels are difficult to ignore.
In Ekiti, Governor Biodun Oyebanji has built a reputation for quiet but purposeful governance. Rather than chasing headlines, his administration appears focused on laying foundations in infrastructure, agriculture, education, and tourism that will yield benefits long after the politics of the moment have passed. In the NBA, Oyinkansola Badejo-Okusanya (SAN) presents a similar proposition. Her aspiration has been defined by consultation, engagement, bridge-building, and a vision of a bar that is inclusive, progressive, and institution-focused. Both represent a leadership philosophy that values preparation over performance. Both understand that sustainable progress requires patience. Both appear committed to building structures and a legacy of service that will outlive them.
As we departed Ekiti that evening, we left with more than memories of a successful consultation trip. We left with a renewed appreciation for what thoughtful leadership can accomplish. We left with fresh ideas. We left inspired by the possibilities that exist when vision is matched with execution. Most importantly, we left convinced that Ekiti’s tourism story is only beginning to be told. Destination Ekiti is more than a slogan. In the month that separates 20 June from 20 July, voters in Ekiti and lawyers across Nigeria will be asked essentially the same question: Do we reward those who merely speak about the future, or those who are deliberately building it? For Ekiti, for the NBA, and for all who believe in the power of institutions, the answer should be a BOLD Yes!
Oludayo Oludee Olorunfemi, a lawyer, writes from Ward 10, Idemo Quarters of Oke Aiyedun Ekiti, Ajoni LCDA.
Feature/OPED
Why Most Nigerians Are Losing Money by “Saving” It
By Izekeo Adegoke
Somewhere in Nigeria right now, a diligent, financially responsible person is watching their savings grow, and losing money at the same time. They do not know it. Their bank balance is rising. Their statement looks healthy. But in real terms, their wealth is quietly and consistently shrinking.
This is not a fringe scenario. It describes the financial situation of millions of Nigerians who are doing everything they were taught.
The gap nobody talks about
Here is the arithmetic that changes the conversation.
The average Nigerian savings account yields between 2% and 4% per annum. Nigeria’s inflation rate, as of recent Central Bank data, sits at approximately 15.69%. That means if you have ₦1 million in a savings account today, it will nominally become ₦1,030,000 in a year, but the real purchasing power of that money will have fallen to the equivalent of roughly ₦790,000 in today’s terms. You saved diligently. You lost ₦210,000 in purchasing power.
This is what economists call negative real returns, and it is the financial reality for the majority of Nigerian savers right now. The distinction between keeping money safe and making money grow has never mattered more than it does in this macroeconomic environment.
Why the savings instinct made sense and no longer does
The preference for savings accounts is not irrational. It is inherited. A generation of Nigerians was raised during periods of significant economic volatility, bank failures, currency devaluations, and frozen accounts. Saving in a regulated institution felt like the responsible, conservative choice. The alternative, markets, stocks, and funds, felt speculative and risky.
That instinct made sense in its context. But the financial landscape has changed materially, and the definition of “safe” needs to catch up.
A savings account today is not a low-risk option. It is a guaranteed negative return dressed in conservative language. The risk is not that you will lose your capital in nominal terms. The risk is that your capital will progressively lose its ability to buy things, fund a retirement, educate children, or build the future you are working toward. That is a real loss, even if your statement does not show it.
The behaviour-change that changes everything
The shift from saving to investing is not about abandoning caution. It is about directing caution more effectively. A diversified investment portfolio spread across fixed income instruments, equities, dollar-denominated assets, and alternative holdings does not eliminate risk. It manages it intelligently, and in doing so, gives your money a fighting chance against inflation.
Consider a ₦1 million portfolio invested across a balanced mix of Nigerian equities and fixed income instruments targeting a 15–18% annual return. Over three years, compounding and market participation could bring that to approximately ₦1.5–1.6 million in nominal terms and, depending on portfolio construction, meaningfully above the inflation rate in real terms. The savings account brings you to ₦1.09 million, having lost ground every single year.
The numbers are not subtle. They are decisive.
Coronation Wealth’s answer to the problem
This is precisely the problem Coronation Wealth was built to solve. Our platforms give individuals access to professionally managed, diversified portfolios across multiple asset classes, including dollar-denominated instruments that provide a structural hedge against naira depreciation. These are not products previously available only to institutional clients or high-net-worth individuals. They are accessible, clearly structured, and designed for people who want their money working as hard as they do. Wealth creation, as we understand it, is not about spectacular bets. It is about making consistent, informed decisions over time with the right tools, the right structure, and a partner who understands the environment in which you operate.
The reframe you need
Safety is not a function of where your money sits. It is a function of what your money does.
A savings account feels safe because the number never goes down. But if that number cannot keep pace with the cost of living, the cost of education, the cost of the future, it is not protecting you. It gives you the illusion of security while inflation quietly does its work.
The most dangerous financial decision most Nigerians are making right now is not taking too much risk. It is the decision to play it safe, and that is precisely why it needs to change.
Izekeo Adegoke is the Chief Digital Officer at Coronation Wealth, the digital investment and wealth management subsidiary of the Coronation Group in Nigeria.
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