Feature/OPED
Nigeria’s Forgotten and Fallen: Power, Politics, and Fame
By Prince Charles Dickson, PhD
In Nigeria’s complex socio-political landscape, there exists a phenomenon often overshadowed by the glitz and glamour of political power and fame—the plight of the forgotten men.
These individuals, once wielders of influence and authority, find themselves relegated to the sidelines of society’s collective memory once their time in the spotlight fades. This essay explores the fallacy of power, politics, and fame in Nigeria, emphasising the transient nature of these constructs and the tendency of Nigerian politicians to fade into obscurity once they lose their grip on power.
Power, in its various manifestations, is often perceived as the ultimate prize in Nigeria’s political arena. Let me explain briefly and with a smile. I say if you don’t know, you can know. In Nigeria, a governor is entitled to some mysterious, humongous amount of money called security votes; sadly, in most states, no one is secure. That same governor amongst the humble ones are those that are privileged to have at least 20 advisors; some have been known to have as many as 500 advisors with designations ranging from Special Advisers to Senior Special Advisers, this is for offices that already have commissioners and, in some cases, also personal assistants and advisers.
I have excluded the retinue of security aparachik, the Nigerian politician who, while in office, does not do any work and pays literally for nothing. I am not discussing the cost of governance, but the opulence of governance.
Politicians invest significant resources and effort into acquiring and maintaining power, viewing it as a means to attain wealth, prestige, and influence. However, the reality is that power is ephemeral, subject to the whims of electoral cycles, shifting political alliances, and the unpredictable tides of public opinion. Nigerian history is replete with examples of once-powerful politicians who have fallen from grace, their names consigned to the annals of history as mere footnotes in the country’s political narrative. I will come back to this before I drop my pen!
Politics, too, is characterised by its transient nature in Nigeria. The pursuit of political office is often driven by personal ambition rather than a genuine desire to serve the public good. Nigerian politicians engage in cutthroat tactics to ascend the political ladder, forming alliances of convenience and betraying erstwhile allies to achieve their goals. The AD-PDP-ANPP-CPC-AA-APC phenomenon, where a politician has belonged to all these political parties in barely two decades of power.
However, once in power, many politicians prioritise self-interest over the welfare of the people, using their positions to amass wealth and consolidate their grip on power. Consequently, when their tenure ends, they are swiftly cast aside by the electorate, their promises forgotten, and their legacies tarnished by allegations of corruption and malfeasance.
Similarly, fame in Nigeria’s political arena is fleeting. Politicians bask in the adulation of the masses during their time in office, enjoying the trappings of power and the privileges afforded to them by their positions. However, once their tenure ends, they find themselves relegated to the margins of society, their once-glittering reputations tarnished by scandals and controversies. The Nigerian public, ever fickle in its affections, quickly moves on to the next political sensation, consigning yesterday’s heroes to the dustbin of history.
So, do we remember the governor who fought with his deputy and was eventually impeached for owning poultry? How about that governor that became a governor because the owner of the seat went on to become a vice president? He has been trying every electoral circle to get the big prize. The last I heard of him was that he was the leader of the Association of Former PDP Ex-Governors.
There is another one I know, in fact a woman, and trust me, in Nigeria, forget all that noise about gender equality. I tell you, our women have not done badly. I know that she was a councillor in the 70s, a commissioner in the 80s, a minister in the 90s and 20s, and even doubled as a deputy governor, and was still a minister a year ago. I don’t recall where she is now.
There is one, a big masquerade; he was all over the place; he always gifted you a statue of yourself if he was pleased with you; his home state has been unfortunate in governance, from a palm wine tapper to the current one, lovingly called in the past, the Supreme Court Governor.
There was this other one in a state in the North; at some point he was in the senate, and his wife was equally in the House of Representatives; he had been governor, and at some point the wife was a minister of state for foreign affairs. This is just a little click of a mouse between “me and my family group of big political office holders,” a conglomerate of fathers in power, wives in power, and family members in power simultaneously.
They come with all kinds of slogans, from engineering to re-engineering, redemption to redeemer; they had their caps like the kwankwansia, in all colours, but they all faded with time, and in many cases, no legacy. I was talking the other day about Mallam Kachalla, and someone asked me who he was—the one-time governor of Borno, now a man from yesterday.
Another was and is the man who was popularly called SAS; he was party chairmen of two different parties and has belonged to four at my last count. These days have lasted a whole six months with no mention of his name in the papers.
Where is Adamu Mauzu? Where is Ambode? George, I am not sure where our one-time VP under Jonathan is. He is a very nice man, but nowhere to be found. Where are Rochas Okorocha, Achike Udenwa, Babagida Aliyu these days, Boni Haruna, or Mimiko? I remember the most handsome governor in that class, that Cross River dude, a very nice guy with his saxophone. My friend who left his state better than he met it…
Where is Suswan, and these days one hardly hears from his successor Ortom? What does Imoke do, and even a handful of the most current of them are fading? Where is the professor of big-sounding budget names? Ben Ayade and Rotimi Amaechi are now barristers, and I will hopefully drop by his chambers one of these days.
My dear friends Isa Yuguda, Danjuma Goje, Hashidu, and Orji Theodore, and Ipeazu, are all silent these days, and indeed the silence is loud, extremely loud, as their times are fading away. Life is in phases, whether minister, legislator, or head of some important parastatal, slowly we forget you all.
In conclusion, Nigeria’s forgotten men serve as a poignant reminder of the fallacy of power, politics, and fame in the country’s socio-political landscape. While politicians may wield considerable influence during their time in office, their power is transient, and their legacies are ephemeral. The true measure of a leader lies not in the pomp and circumstance of political office but in the enduring impact they have on the lives of the people they serve. As Nigeria continues its quest for democratic consolidation and socio-economic development, it is imperative that its leaders prioritise the public good over personal gain, lest they too be consigned to the ranks of the forgotten men. May Nigeria win!
Feature/OPED
Guide to Employee Training That Reinforces Workplace Safety Standards
Workplace safety is not sustained by policies alone. It is built through consistent training that shapes daily behaviour, decision-making, and accountability across every level of an organisation. When employees understand not only what safety rules exist but why they matter, they are far more likely to follow them and intervene when risks arise. Effective safety-focused training protects workers, strengthens operations, and reduces costly incidents that disrupt productivity and morale.
As industries evolve and workplaces become more complex, employee training must go beyond basic orientation sessions. Reinforcing safety standards requires an ongoing, structured approach that adapts to new risks, changing regulations, and real-world job demands. A thoughtful training strategy helps create a culture where safety is a shared responsibility rather than a checklist item.
Establishing a Foundation of Safety Awareness
The first purpose of workplace safety training is awareness. Employees cannot avoid hazards they do not understand. Comprehensive training introduces common workplace risks, clarifies acceptable behaviour, and sets expectations for personal responsibility. This foundational knowledge empowers employees to recognise unsafe conditions before incidents occur.
Safety awareness training should be tailored to the specific environment in which employees work. Office settings require education on ergonomics, electrical safety, and emergency evacuation procedures, while industrial workplaces demand detailed instruction on machinery risks, protective equipment, and material handling. When training reflects actual job conditions, employees are more engaged and better equipped to apply what they learn.
Clear communication is essential during this stage. Using plain language and real examples helps employees connect training concepts to daily tasks. When safety awareness becomes part of how employees think and talk about their work, it begins to shape behaviour consistently across the organisation.
Integrating Safety Training into Daily Operations
Safety training is most effective when it is integrated into everyday work rather than treated as a one-time event. Ongoing reinforcement ensures that safety standards remain top of mind as tasks, equipment, and responsibilities change. Regular training sessions create opportunities to refresh knowledge, address new risks, and correct unsafe habits before they lead to injury.
Incorporating short safety discussions into team meetings helps normalise these conversations. Supervisors play a critical role by modelling safe behaviour and reinforcing expectations during routine interactions. When employees see safety emphasised alongside productivity goals, it reinforces the message that both are equally important.
Hands-on training also strengthens retention. Demonstrations, practice scenarios, and real-time feedback allow employees to apply safety principles in controlled settings. This experiential approach builds confidence and reduces hesitation when employees encounter hazards in real situations.
Aligning Training with Regulatory Requirements
Workplace safety training must align with applicable regulations and industry standards to ensure legal compliance and worker protection. Laws and regulations change frequently, making it essential for organisations to keep training materials updated. Failure to do so can expose employees to unnecessary risk and organisations to legal consequences.
Training programs should clearly explain relevant safety regulations and how they apply to specific roles. Employees are more likely to comply when rules are presented as practical safeguards rather than abstract mandates. Documenting training completion and maintaining accurate records also demonstrates organisational commitment to compliance.
Many organisations rely on support from compliance training companies to navigate complex regulatory landscapes and design programs that meet both legal and operational needs. These partnerships can help ensure training remains accurate, consistent, and aligned with evolving requirements without overwhelming internal resources.
Encouraging Participation and Accountability
Effective safety training depends on active participation rather than passive attendance. Employees should be encouraged to ask questions, share concerns, and contribute insights based on their experiences. When workers feel heard, they become more invested in maintaining a safe environment.
Creating accountability is equally important. Training should clarify individual responsibilities and outline the consequences of ignoring safety standards. Employees need to understand that safety is not optional or secondary to performance goals. Reinforcement from leadership ensures that unsafe behaviour is addressed consistently and constructively.
Peer accountability also strengthens safety culture. When training emphasises teamwork and shared responsibility, employees are more likely to watch out for one another and intervene when they see risky behaviour. This collective approach reduces reliance on supervision alone and builds resilience across the workforce.
Adapting Training for Long-Term Effectiveness
Workplace safety training must evolve alongside organisational growth and workforce changes. New hires, role transitions, and technological updates introduce risks that require refreshed instruction. Periodic assessments help identify gaps in knowledge and opportunities for improvement.
Data from incident reports, near misses, and employee feedback provides valuable insight into training effectiveness. Adjusting content based on real outcomes ensures that training remains relevant and impactful. Organisations that treat training as a dynamic process are better equipped to respond to emerging risks.
Long-term effectiveness also depends on reinforcement beyond formal sessions. Visual reminders, updated procedures, and accessible reporting tools help sustain awareness. When safety standards are supported through multiple channels, employees receive consistent cues that reinforce training messages daily.
Conclusion
Reinforcing workplace safety standards through employee training requires intention, consistency, and adaptability. Training that builds awareness, integrates into daily operations, aligns with regulations, and encourages accountability creates a safer environment for everyone involved. When employees understand their role in maintaining safety, they are more confident, engaged, and prepared to prevent harm.
A strong training program is not simply a compliance exercise. It is an investment in people and performance. Organisations that prioritise meaningful safety training protect their workforce while fostering trust, stability, and long-term success.
Feature/OPED
Debt is Dragging Nigeria’s Future Down
By Abba Dukawa
A quiet fear is spreading across the hearts of Nigerians—one that grows heavier with every new headline about rising debt. It is no longer just numbers on paper; it feels like a shadow stretching over the nation’s future. The reality is stark and unsettling: nearly 50% of Nigeria’s revenue is now used to service debt. That is not just unsustainable—it is suffocating.
Behind these figures lies a deeper tragedy. Millions of Nigerians are trapped in what experts call “Multidimensional Poverty,” struggling daily for dignity and survival, while a privileged few continue to live in comfort, untouched by the hardship tightening around the nation. The contrast is painful, and the silence around it is even louder.
Since assuming office, Bola Ahmed Tinubu has embarked on an aggressive borrowing path, presenting it as a necessary step to revive the economy, rebuild infrastructure, and stabilise key sectors.
Between 2023 and 2026, billions of dollars have been secured or proposed in foreign loans. On paper, it is a strategy of hope. But in the hearts of many Nigerians, it feels like a gamble with consequences yet to unfold.
The numbers are staggering. A borrowing plan exceeding $21 billion, backed by the National Assembly, alongside additional billions in loans and grants, signals a government determined to keep spending and building. Another $6.9 billion facility follows closely behind. These are not just financial decisions; they are commitments that will echo into generations yet unborn.
And so, the questions refuse to go away. Who will bear this burden? Who will repay these debts when the time comes? Will it not fall on ordinary Nigerians already stretched thin to carry the weight of decisions they never made?
There is a growing fear that the nation may be walking into a future where its people become strangers in their own land, bound by obligations to distant creditors.
Even more troubling is the sense that something is not adding up. The removal of fuel subsidy was meant to free up resources, to create breathing room for meaningful development.
But where are the results? Why does it feel like sacrifice has not translated into relief? The silence surrounding these questions breeds suspicion, and suspicion slowly erodes trust. As of December 31, 2025, Nigeria’s public debt has risen to N159.28 trillion, according to the Debt Management Office.
The numbers keep climbing, but for many citizens, life keeps declining. This disconnect is what hurts the most. Borrowing, in itself, is not the enemy. Nations borrow to grow, to build, to invest in their future. But borrowing without visible progress, without accountability, without compassion for the people, it begins to feel less like strategy and more like a slow descent.
If these borrowed funds are truly building roads, schools, hospitals, and opportunities, then Nigerians deserve to see it, to feel it, to live it. But if they are funding excess, waste, or luxury, then this path is not just dangerous—it is devastating.
Nigeria’s growing loan profile is a double-edged sword. It can either accelerate development or deepen economic challenges. The key issue is not just borrowing, but what the country does with the money. Strong governance, transparency, and investment in productive sectors will determine whether these loans become a foundation for growth or a long-term liability. Because in the end, debt is not just an economic issue. It is a moral one. And if care is not taken, the price Nigeria will pay may not just be financial—it may be the future of its people.
Dukawa writes from Kano and can be reached at [email protected]
Feature/OPED
Nigeria’s Power Illusion: Why 6,000MW Is Not An Achievement
By Isah Kamisu Madachi
For decades, Nigeria has been called the Giant of Africa. The question no one in government wants to answer is why a giant cannot keep the lights on.
Nigeria sits on the largest proven oil reserves in Africa, holds the continent’s most populous nation at over 220 million people, and commands the fourth largest GDP on the continent at roughly $252 billion. It possesses vast deposits of solid minerals, a fintech ecosystem that accounts for 28% of all fintech companies on the African continent, and a diaspora that remits billions of dollars annually.
If potential were electricity, Nigeria would have been powering half the world. Instead, an immediate former minister is boasting about 6,000 megawatts.
Adebayo Adelabu resigned as Minister of Power on April 22, 2026, citing his ambition to contest the Oyo State governorship election. In his resignation letter, he listed among his achievements that peak generation had increased to over 6,000 megawatts during his tenure, supported by the integration of the Zungeru Hydropower Plant. It was presented as a great crowning legacy. The claim deserves scrutiny, and the numbers deserve context.
To begin with, the context. Ghana, Nigeria’s neighbour in West Africa, has a national electricity access rate of 85.9%, with 74% access in rural areas and 94% in urban areas. Kenya, with a 71.4% national electricity access rate, including 62.7% in rural areas, leads East Africa. Nigeria, by contrast, recorded an electricity access rate of just 61.2 per cent as of 2023, according to the World Bank. This is not a distant or poorer country outperforming Nigeria. Ghana’s GDP stands at approximately $113 billion, less than half of Nigeria’s. Kenya’s economy is around $141 billion. Ethiopia, which has invested massively in the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam and is already exporting electricity to neighbouring countries, has a GDP of roughly $126 billion. All three are doing more with far less.
Now to examine the 6,000-megawatt, Daily Trust obtained electricity generation data from the Association of Power Generation Companies and the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission, covering quarterly performance from 2023 to 2025 and monthly data from January to March 2026. The data shows that in 2023, peak generation was approximately 5,000 megawatts; in 2024, it reached approximately 5,528 megawatts; in 2025, it ranged between 5,300 and 5,801 megawatts; and by March 2026, available capacity had declined to approximately 4,089 megawatts. The grid never recorded a verified peak of 6,000 megawatts or higher. Adelabu had, in fact, set the 6,000-megawatt target publicly on at least three separate occasions, missing each deadline, and later admitted the target was not achieved, attributing the failure to vandalism of key transmission infrastructure.
In February 2026, Nigeria’s national grid produced an average available capacity of 4,384 megawatts, the lowest monthly average since June 2024. For a country with over 220 million people, this means electricity supply remains far below national demand, with the grid delivering only about 32 per cent of its theoretical installed capacity of approximately 13,000 megawatts. To put that in sharper comparison: in 2018, 48 sub-Saharan African countries, home to nearly one billion people, produced about the same amount of electricity as Spain, a country of 45 million. Nigeria, the continent’s most resource-rich large economy, is a significant part of that embarrassing equation.
The tragedy here is not just technical. It is a governance failure with compounding human costs. An economy that cannot provide reliable electricity cannot competitively manufacture goods, cannot industrialise at scale, cannot attract the volume of foreign direct investment its endowments warrant, and cannot build the digital infrastructure that would allow it to lead on artificial intelligence, data governance, and the emerging critical minerals economy where Africa’s next great opportunity lies. Countries with a fraction of Nigeria’s mineral wealth and human capital are already debating those frontiers. Nigeria is still campaigning on megawatts.
What a departing minister should be able to say, given Nigeria’s endowments, is not that peak generation touched 6,000 megawatts at some unverified moment. He should be saying that Nigeria now generates reliably above 15,000 megawatts, that rural electrification has crossed 70 per cent, and that the country is on a credible trajectory toward the kind of energy sufficiency that unlocks industrial growth. That is the standard Nigeria’s size and resources demand. Anything below it is not an achievement. It is an apology dressed in a press release.
The power sector has received billions of dollars in investment across multiple administrations. The 2013 privatisation exercise, the Presidential Power Initiative, the Electricity Act of 2023, and successive reform promises have produced a sector that still, in 2026, cannot guarantee eight hours of reliable supply to the average Nigerian household. That a minister exits that ministry citing a megawatt figure that fact-checkers have shown was never actually reached, and that even if reached would be unworthy of celebration given Nigeria’s potential, captures the full depth of the problem. The ambition is too small. The accountability is too thin. And the country deserves better from those who are privileged to manage its extraordinary, squandered potential.
Isah Kamisu Madachi is a policy analyst and development practitioner. He writes via [email protected]
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