Feature/OPED
Nigeria’s Booming Growth Leaves Citizens Trapped in Deeper Poverty
By Blaise Udunze
With the chanting of the ‘Renewed Hope’, it appears to be Uhuru in Nigeria, following the recent World Economic Outlook presented by the International Monetary Fund, which projected that Nigeria’s economy would expand by 4.1 per cent in 2026. Though this specifically shows an economy faster than economies like the United States and the United Kingdom, as it handed the administration of President Bola Tinubu a powerful narrative. No doubt, the projection happens to be a narrative of progress, of reform, of a nation supposedly turning the corner after years of instability and setting the kind of moment that reassures investors, quiets critics and signals competence.
But once its statistical sheen is put aside, the weight of reality takes centre stage. The truth is, while Nigeria may be growing on paper, it is simultaneously shrinking and does not in any way reflect the lived experience of its citizens, as the populace can attest to. With the current lived experience, nowhere is this contradiction more glaring than in the widening gulf between macroeconomic projections and the daily economic suffering of over 200 million people.
The truth is uncomfortable, but it must be said plainly that a country where poverty is deepening, inflation is persistent, debt is rising, and basic survival is becoming more difficult cannot meaningfully claim economic success, no matter what the growth figures suggest.
The most damning evidence against the “fastest-growing economy” narrative, as enumerated by the Special Adviser to President Tinubu on Policy Communication, Daniel Bwala, comes not from opposition voices or political critics, but this time it is coming from the World Bank itself. Alarming to this is that according to its latest Nigeria Development Update, poverty in the country rose to 63 per cent barely months back, translating to roughly 140 million Nigerians living below the poverty line. This is not just a statistic; it is a humanitarian crisis unfolding in real time, which in a real sense calls for quick interventions.
Even more troubling is the trend. Poverty has not plateaued; it is accelerating, worsening and not stabilising at all. From 56 per cent in 2023 to 61 per cent in 2024, and now 63 per cent in 2025, the trajectory is unmistakable, as can be seen the data shows a clear upward trend over time that calls for concern. And projections from PwC suggest that the numbers will climb even higher, with an estimated 141 million Nigerians expected to be poor in 2026.
It would surprise many that these figures expose a fundamental contradiction; it is a total irony that an economy is growing while its people are becoming poorer, hence, while no one would hesitate to say that the type of growth taking place is flawed. Well, without jumping to a hasty conclusion, the answer lies in that growth. To say that the economic growth taking place is imbalanced, it is uneven, exclusionary, and not absolutely linked or largely disconnected from the sectors that sustain the majority of Nigerians. Growth driven by services and capital-intensive industries does little for a population whose livelihoods depend heavily on agriculture and informal enterprise. When growth bypasses the poor, it ceases to be development and becomes mere arithmetic.
The government’s defence often leans on the argument that inflation is easing and that reforms are beginning to stabilise the economy. But even this claim is increasingly fragile, as reported that the recent data from the National Bureau of Statistics shows that inflation has begun to rise again. This now shows that the headline inflation is ticking up to 15.38 per cent in March 2026, alongside a sharp month-on-month increase of 4.18 per cent. The pain Consumer Price Index climbed to 135.4, underscoring sustained pressure on household spending.
Another aspect that raises further questions is that the most critical component for ordinary Nigerians, which is the food inflation, skyrocketed to 14.31 per cent, with a similar month-on-month surge. It must be made known that these are not just numbers on a chart; they represent the escalating cost of survival, mostly for the common man. The ripple effect of this, which is yet to change, is that families are compelled to pay more for basic meals, more for transportation, and more for the essentials of daily life.
Noteworthy is that even when inflation showed signs of moderation in previous months, the fact is that it did little to reverse the damage already inflicted. The World Bank has been clear on this point when it said that household incomes have not kept pace with price increases. The underlying point is that the earlier spikes in inflation eroded purchasing power to such an extent that any subsequent easing has been insufficient to restore real income levels, and this is where the figures churned out were misleading.
This explains the inconsistency at the heart of Nigeria’s economy, where nominal indicators are improving, but real conditions are deteriorating. Nigerians are earning more in absolute terms but are able to afford less. This is further confirmed by data showing that while nominal household spending increased significantly, real consumption declined, while it would be said that people are spending more money, but they are consuming less. That is not growth; but the right word for it is economic suffocation.
The structural consequences of ongoing reforms compound the situation. The removal of fuel subsidies, which was the gift to Nigerians for electing President Tinubu and the liberalisation of the foreign exchange market were framed as necessary steps toward long-term stability. And in theory, they are defensible policies. But in practice, the result has been an extraordinary cost-of-living crisis, especially for the larger section of struggling Nigerians.
Speaking of the fuel subsidy removal, which has driven up transportation costs across the country, affecting both urban commuters and rural farmers, the pain has been further intensified by the geopolitical conflict in the Middle East. The second policy shift, which was the exchange rate liberalisation, has led to currency depreciation, with the experiences biting hard across the board, making imported goods more expensive and fueling inflationary pressures. These policy choices, which were perhaps deemed necessary, and without further ado have imposed immediate and severe burdens on households that were already vulnerable.
The International Monetary Fund has warned that these pressures are far from over. Rising global tensions, particularly in the Middle East, are pushing up the cost of energy, food, and transportation. For Nigerians, especially those at the lower rung in society, this translates into even higher living costs and deeper economic strain to contend with.
In this context, the government’s insistence on celebrating growth projections begins to appear not just disconnected, but insensitive. For millions of Nigerians, the economy is not an abstract concept measured in percentages. It is a daily struggle defined by whether they can afford food, transport, and shelter.
Compounding these challenges is Nigeria’s growing debt burden. Unexpectedly, public debt has climbed to over N159 trillion, with projections indicating a continued rise in the coming years because of the government’s appetite for borrowing. While the debt-to-GDP ratio may appear moderate compared to global averages, this comparison is totally misleading. The question is why the debt is ballooning when Nigeria’s revenue base is narrow, heavily reliant on oil, and constrained by a large informal sector that contributes little to tax income.
The current position of things is that debt servicing consumes a disproportionate share of government revenue, leaving limited fiscal space for investment in infrastructure, healthcare, education, and social protection, which has continued to expose the majority of Nigerians to untold hardship. It is a precarious position, one where the government is borrowing more while having less capacity to translate that borrowing into meaningful development outcomes, and the part that is also critical is that Nigeria’s rising debt profile is entering discomforting quarters, as concerns shift from the sheer size of borrowings to the growing risks associated with refinancing existing obligations.
Even more troubling are the emerging questions around fiscal transparency and governance. Only recently, there were allegations by Peter Obi on the missing N34 trillion in federation revenue that remains unaccounted. This, according to him, has intensified concerns about systemic leakages and institutional corruption. The fact is, even though these claims remain contested, they resonate deeply in a country where public trust in government financial management is already fragile and has remained a subject of discussion for many Nigerians.
The truth is that if even a fraction of such resources were effectively managed and invested, the impact on infrastructure, social services, and poverty reduction could be transformative, but this has yet to be embarked upon. Instead, the persistence of such allegations reinforces the perception of an economy where wealth exists but is inaccessible to the majority, which brings to bare if there will ever be a respite in a situation like this.
Adding another layer to this complexity is the excessive contradiction of oil revenue. With global crude prices that were once sold above $113 per barrel and currently hovering around $85-$90, which is still far exceeding Nigeria’s budget benchmark, the country stands to hugely benefit from a significant windfall, as was the case in the past. You know that history is more revealing than ever; it suggests that such opportunities are often squandered.
Analysts repeatedly have continued to warn that without disciplined fiscal management, these revenues may be absorbed by debt servicing or recurrent expenditure rather than being invested in productive sectors. The risk is that Nigeria once again experiences a boom without transformation, a cycle that has defined its economic history for decades.
Meanwhile, the irony in all of this is that, despite having plenty, every day Nigerian continues to bear the brunt of systemic inefficiencies. As the people bear the brunt, the country’s transportation costs are rising, food prices remain volatile, and access to basic services is increasingly strained, while the rural areas are not left out of the equation, as insecurity continues to disrupt agricultural production. This has further constrained food supply and driven up prices. In urban centres, the cost of living is pushing more households into financial distress.
The cumulative, as well as the ripple effects of these pressures, are a society under strain. Lest we mistake this, economic hardship is not just a financial issue; it has social and psychological consequences, while unbeknownst to many, its resultant effect fuels frustration, erodes trust in institutions, which also leads to fertile ground for instability.
What makes the current situation particularly troubling is the widening disconnect between official narratives and lived reality. There are two instances in which it was noted that, on the one hand, the government points to IMF projections and macroeconomic indicators as evidence of progress. On the other hand, citizens experience rising poverty, declining purchasing power, and limited opportunities. Another good example stems from when President Tinubu declared in September of last year that the federal government had met its 2025 non-oil income goal by August.
However, the former Minister of Finance, Wale Edun, stated that the Federal Government lacked sufficient funds to appropriately fund its capital budget during a public hearing at the National Assembly late last year. The minister stated that in order to pay the N54.9 trillion “budget of restoration,” which was intended to stabilise the economy, ensure peace, and create prosperity, the federal government had estimated N40.8 trillion in income for 2025.
These two reports sounded and appeared contradictory, and it was probably one of many factors responsible for the fallout.
This disconnect is more than a communication gap; it is a credibility crisis. When people’s lived experiences contradict official claims, trust erodes. And without trust, even well-intentioned policies struggle to gain acceptance.
The claim that Nigeria is growing faster than advanced economies may be technically accurate, and perhaps it must be seen as an absolute insult to Nigerians and it must be noted that it is fundamentally irrelevant to the country’s core challenges. This key fact must be taken into cognisance that growth rates, in isolation, do not capture the quality, inclusiveness, or sustainability of economic progress, and this is because they do not reflect whether growth is creating jobs, reducing poverty, or improving living standards. Note that in Nigeria’s case, the evidence suggests otherwise, in which the reality continues to dominate outcomes, and this is not the case.
For growth to be meaningful, it must translate into tangible improvements in people’s lives. At this point, it is necessary to understand that it must create jobs, raise incomes, and expand opportunities. Another important factor that must not be left out is that it must be inclusive, reaching not just the top tiers of society but the millions at the base of the economic pyramid. At present, Nigeria falls short on all these counts.
The path forward requires more than optimistic projections and reform rhetoric. It demands a fundamental rethinking of economic priorities. Policies must be designed not just for macroeconomic stability but for human welfare, and while investment must be directed toward sectors that generate employment and improve productivity, particularly agriculture and manufacturing. Social safety nets must be strengthened to protect the most vulnerable from economic shocks, which has yet to be considered by the government of the day.
Equally important is the need for transparency and accountability in public finance. Without trust in how resources are managed, even the most ambitious economic plans will struggle to gain legitimacy.
Nigeria is not lacking in potential, and this is one of the ironies of it all since it has a young population, abundant natural resources, and a dynamic entrepreneurial spirit. But potential, without effective governance and inclusive policies, remains unrealised.
The uncomfortable reality is that Nigeria is at risk of normalising a dangerous illusion, which connotes that growth on paper is equivalent to progress in practice. The truth is that it is not and cannot be contested. And until this illusion and deception are confronted, the gap between economic narratives and human realities will continue to widen.
In the end, the true measure of an economy is not how fast it grows, but how well it serves its people. By that standard, Nigeria’s current trajectory raises serious questions, take it or leave it. Because in a nation where over 140 million people live in poverty, where inflation continues to erode incomes, where debt is rising and where basic survival is becoming more difficult, the claim of being a “fast-growing economy” is not just misleading. Yes, it is a mirage!
And for millions of Nigerians struggling to get by each day, it is a mirage that offers no relief, no hope, and no future.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
By Kehinde Ogundare
Ask a tech entrepreneur in San Francisco what AI means for their business, and they are likely to talk about competitive advantage, product differentiation, and scale. Ask a small business owner in Kano or Onitsha the same question, and the conversation shifts entirely.
For many Nigerian SMEs, the priority is keeping the lights on, managing costs, and finding sustainable ways to grow in a challenging economic environment. This difference in perspective explains why the global AI conversation, often shaped by assumptions about stable infrastructure, deep capital, and abundant technical talent, frequently fails to address the realities facing Nigerian SMEs.
This matters because Nigerian SMEs are not a peripheral concern. In 2024 alone, MSMEs contributed 46.32% to Nigeria’s GDP, accounting for 96.9% of businesses and 87.9% of employment. These businesses are the backbone of the Nigerian economy, and if AI is going to mean anything for Nigeria’s development, it has to work for them in the daily conditions they actually operate in.
However, research drawing on empirical data from 144 Nigerian SMEs found that inadequate infrastructure, low digital literacy, skills shortages, and regulatory gaps are collectively preventing them from meaningfully engaging with AI. Awareness of AI is high and growing. What is missing is a clear and honest conversation about what adoption actually requires in this specific context. The barriers are real, but none of them are insurmountable. The question is whether the tools, pricing models, and support structures being offered to Nigerian SMEs are designed with those barriers in mind, or whether they have been built for another market entirely.
Subscription models making AI affordable for small businesses
When most small business owners hear “AI,” they imagine expensive software, specialist consultants, and a hefty upfront bill.
That assumption is not entirely wrong, but it describes a particular way of buying technology, not AI itself. The shift that makes AI genuinely accessible at the SME level is the move away from large, one-time capital purchases towards tools that charge a predictable monthly subscription. Businesses can pay for what they use, scale back when necessary, and avoid the debt that a major technology investment can create.
The deeper opportunity here is consolidation. Many SMEs are already spending money across multiple disconnected tools—one for invoicing, another for customer records, another for stock tracking—none of which talk to each other. An integrated platform that handles several of these functions together, with AI built in, can actually cost less than the sum of those separate subscriptions while giving business owners a clearer picture of their operations.
With margins already under pressure, any technology a business adopts needs to visibly show an increase in productivity or bottom line. Subscription-based, integrated platforms, priced transparently and honestly, are the model that best fits this reality.
Infrastructure challenges demand a mobile-first approach
No conversation about technology in Nigeria is complete without confronting the infrastructure problem, and AI is no exception. Nigeria continues to face major infrastructure barriers, including limited broadband access, unreliable power supply, and high data costs, all of which constrain deeper AI adoption. These are structural features of the operating environment that any sensible technology strategy must account for today.
The electricity situation alone is significant. The World Bank estimates that the lack of stable electricity costs Nigeria’s economy approximately $26.2 billion annually, equivalent to about 2% of GDP, forcing many businesses to run on expensive diesel generators. That cost ripples outward.
In practical terms, AI tools built for Nigeria cannot assume a stable broadband connection or a computer that is always powered on. The tools that will actually get used are the ones that work on a smartphone, consume minimal data, and can function offline when connectivity drops, syncing back up when it returns. The mobile phone is already how many Nigerian SME owners run their businesses. AI that meets them there, rather than demanding infrastructure they do not have, is AI that has a genuine future in this market.
The direction is clear: build capability from within, using tools that make that possible. Recent AI performance research reveals that 64% of African workers are already actively using AI at work, signalling massive grassroots readiness and driving forward-thinking organisations across Nigeria, Kenya, and South Africa to aggressively prioritise internal upskilling frameworks to bridge the talent gap.
As the policy groundwork is being laid, the commercial ecosystem is beginning to respond. What remains is a clear-eyed acceptance that AI tools built for this market need to look different from those built for markets with different realities. Low cost, low bandwidth, and usability for non-technical people are not modest ambitions; they are the actual requirements. Build for those realities, and AI has a real future in Nigeria’s SME economy.
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.
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.
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