Feature/OPED
Trapped Between Nigeria’s Failure and South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence
By Blaise Udunze
When the word “xenophobic” is talked about, most affected African countries tend to focus on the pains being experienced by their citizens in South Africa. For a moment, it calls for Nigeria and the rest of the African continent to pause and ask, how did we get here?
The recent happenings across the streets of Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Durban, a painful pattern continues to unfold with frightening and fearful regularity, as Nigerian-owned businesses are looted, migrants hunted, families displaced, and African nationals reduced to targets of rage. If asked, the majority would chorus that the recurring images of xenophobic violence in South Africa are disturbing enough, and no doubt, yes, but the deeper tragedy is beyond the flames and bloodshed. It lies in the silent failures back home that forced many Nigerians into vulnerable exile in the first place.
The reality, as a matter of fact, is that to understand the suffering of Nigerians in South Africa, one must first confront the uncomfortable truth that xenophobia is not merely a South African problem. It is also a Nigerian governance problem exported abroad.
Nigeria, often celebrated as the “Giant of Africa,” has now become the “Mama Africa” who has failed to nurture her many children, with the fact that behind every Nigerian fleeing hardship for survival, known as the “japa” syndrome, in another African country is a story shaped by economic frustration, failed institutions, poor leadership, unemployment, and a financial system disconnected from the realities of ordinary citizens.
One apt way to confirm these inimical factors, the South African president, Cyril Ramaphosa, recently acknowledged this uncomfortable reality when he urged African leaders to address the domestic failures driving mass migration across the continent. Speaking amid renewed anti-foreigner tensions, Ramaphosa identified “misgovernance” as one of the factors forcing Africans to seek refuge in countries like South Africa. Of a truth, his comments may have generated debate, and some “patriotic Nigerians” may also want to prove him wrong, but they reflected a painful reality many African governments would rather avoid.
Nigeria, despite its vast human and natural resources, has increasingly become a country where millions no longer see a future at home. This is a critical irony and the height of it all because a nation blessed with oil wealth and entrepreneurial energy and one of the youngest populations in the world is yet burdened by systemic corruption, policy inconsistency, infrastructural collapse, and a leadership class that has often prioritised politics over productivity, especially with the imminence of an election.
It is so detestable and at the same time fearful that the result is a generation of young Nigerians trapped between hopelessness and migration.
One regrettable experience that has continued to haunt the country for decades is that successive governments have squandered opportunities that could have transformed Nigeria into an industrial and economic powerhouse. Public resources that should have been invested in power, roads, healthcare, manufacturing, education and enterprise development have either disappeared into private pockets or become trapped in wasteful bureaucratic structures.
Reports indicating that over $214 billion in public funds may have been lost, diverted, or trapped in opaque fiscal systems over the last decade capture the scale of Nigeria’s accountability crisis. Whether exact or conservative, such figures reveal a country losing resources or funds rapidly from severe bleeding that could have changed millions of lives.
Looking intently at these developments, one would know that the tragedy is not merely corruption itself but the opportunities corruption destroyed.
Come to think of this fact that with proper governance and strategic economic planning, Nigeria could have developed a thriving SME ecosystem capable of employing millions of citizens. Instead, unemployment and underemployment have become defining realities of national life. The World Economic Forum recently identified unemployment and lack of economic opportunity as Nigeria’s greatest economic threat, yet the country continues to struggle with coherent employment data and long-term economic direction.
This economic suffocation explains why migration has become less of a choice and more of a survival strategy for many Nigerians.
At the centre of this crisis is another troubling contradiction, which is that Nigeria’s banking sector appears increasingly profitable while the real economy continues to deteriorate.
Ordinarily, banks in developing economies are expected to function as engines of growth by financing productive sectors, supporting innovation, and empowering small businesses. Across the world, SMEs are recognised as the backbone of grassroots economic development, and the tangible result is that they create jobs, stimulate local production, and expand economic participation.
In Nigeria, SMEs account for over 70 per cent of registered businesses, contribute nearly half of the country’s GDP and generate between 84 and 90 per cent of employment. Yet, despite their enormous economic importance, SMEs receive barely between 0.5 per cent and one per cent of total commercial bank lending.
This is not just a policy failure; it is an economic tragedy. Rather than financing entrepreneurs and productive enterprises, Nigerian banks have increasingly found comfort in investing heavily in government treasury securities. In 2025 alone, major Nigerian banks reportedly generated N6.68 trillion from total investment securities and treasury bills, benefiting from high-yield government debt instruments instead of supporting businesses capable of creating jobs.
The banking sector’s recapitalisation exercise, which successfully raised N4.56 trillion, was celebrated as a regulatory achievement. But the critical question remains. The recapitalisation is for what purpose?
If stronger banks continue to avoid the productive economy while SMEs remain starved of affordable credit, recapitalisation merely strengthens financial institutions without strengthening national development.
Today, private sector credit in Nigeria remains significantly low compared to many African economies. High interest rates, excessive collateral demands, weak credit infrastructure and risk-averse banking practices have created an environment where small businesses struggle to survive, and these implications are devastating.
Every denied SME loan is a denied employment opportunity. Every failed business is another frustrated entrepreneur. Every frustrated entrepreneur is another Nigerian considering migration.
This is how economic dysfunction transforms into human displacement. In a situation like this, it is noteworthy to state that South Africa naturally becomes an attractive destination because of its relatively advanced infrastructure and larger economy. Today, this has informed Nigerians and other African countries alike to migrate there, not because they hate their country but because they are searching for dignity through work and enterprise.
Yet, in a cruel twist, many become targets of xenophobic violence. Foreign nationals are accused of “taking jobs,” dominating businesses, and contributing to crime. Shops are attacked. Businesses are burned. Lives are lost.
It is not a surprise anymore that the disturbing rhetoric surrounding xenophobia has become increasingly normalised and perceived as fighting against saboteurs. Another major concern is that social media posts celebrating violence against Nigerians reveal a frightening and fearful dehumanisation of fellow Africans. This has continued to be heralded unaddressed, as some extremist anti-migrant groups now openly mobilise hostility against foreign nationals under the guise of economic nationalism.
Yet, as opposition leader Julius Malema rightly asked during one of the recent xenophobic debates. “After attacking foreigners and shutting down their businesses, how many jobs have actually been created?” If you are smart enough to know, it is glaring that this is a question that cuts through the emotional manipulation surrounding xenophobia, which also reflects the fact that destroying a Nigerian-owned shop does not solve unemployment, nor does killing migrants create prosperity. Violence against fellow Africans does not fix structural inequality.
Malema’s argument was blunt but accurate in revealing that xenophobia is not an economic strategy. It must be perceived with the right perspective as the symptom of deeper failures, poverty, inequality, weak governance, and political frustration.
Historically, just like other colonised African countries, South Africa itself carries deep old wounds. The legacy of apartheid left enduring economic inequalities, spatial segregation, unemployment, and psychological scars, but this should not continue to shape social tensions today. What is of concern is that the same people, like other African countries, experienced, were expected to remain forward-looking and forge ahead rather than dwell in the past.
It is even more pathetic that decades after the fall of apartheid, millions of Black South Africans remain trapped in poverty and exclusion; perhaps they are not to be blamed for their failures as they claimed, but the foreigners who didn’t stop them from exerting their skills become the scapegoats.
That frustration often seeks an outlet, and immigrants become easy scapegoats. This, however, does not excuse the brutality.
The stories emerging from xenophobic attacks are horrifying and very dastardly and humiliating, as African migrants have reportedly been beaten, burned alive, stoned, and hunted in communities where they once sought refuge, as two Nigerian citizens were said to have been beaten and burnt to death. To say the least, the pain becomes even more ironic when viewed against history.
Because Nigeria played a major role in supporting South Africa’s anti-apartheid struggle, ranging from financial assistance to diplomatic pressure, scholarships, activism, and cultural solidarity, Nigerians stood firmly with Black South Africans during some of apartheid’s darkest years, which was enough to prevent such ugly events. Nigeria did so much to the point that Nigerian students contributed financially to anti-apartheid campaigns. Nigerian musicians used music to mobilise continental resistance. Successive governments invested enormous diplomatic and material resources into the liberation struggle.
The children and grandchildren of those who made such sacrifices are now among those facing hostility in South Africa today.
History makes the tragedy even heavier. Yet, Nigeria must also confront its own failures honestly. The truth is, if Nigeria had invested half the energy it spent supporting external liberation struggles into building a functional domestic economy, perhaps millions of Nigerians would not be fleeing abroad in search of economic survival today.
The painful reality is that many Nigerians abroad are not economic adventurers; they are economic exiles.
The ugliest side of it all is that they are exiled by unemployment, exiled by corruption, and exiled by policy failures. Again, they are exiled by a system that has repeatedly failed to convert national wealth into shared prosperity but into embezzlement that still finds its resting place in a foreign account.
This is why solving xenophobia requires more than diplomatic protests or emotional outrage, as exuded in the National Assembly by some members like Adams Oshiomhole and others. This calls for the political actors and those in the financial space to fix the conditions that force Nigerians into vulnerable migration in the first place.
One undeniable fact is that, as a country, Nigeria must fundamentally rethink governance and economic management as it takes into consideration the following solutions.
First, public accountability must become non-negotiable and should not be compromised anywhere. Corruption and resource mismanagement are critical and have robbed generations of opportunities, and these are the major traits fueling the exile. Infrastructure, industrial development, education, and healthcare must become genuine priorities rather than campaign slogans, as all these must become a reality, not a feeble promise.
Second, the banking sector must reconnect with the real economy. Financial institutions cannot continue generating enormous profits from government securities while productive sectors collapse. The government should hold a roundtable discussion with banks, which must be incentivised and, where necessary, compelled to increase lending to SMEs and productive industries capable of generating employment.
Third, there must be deliberate and conscious investment in skills, innovation, and entrepreneurship. Young Nigerians should not have to leave their homeland merely to survive because it is an aberration for a country that is enormously rich but still has some of its best hands eloping from the country.
Finally, African governments must reject the politics of division and scapegoating. This contradiction is at its height because Africa cannot claim to pursue continental unity while Africans are hunted in other African countries.
In all of the deliberation, the truth remains the same, in the sense that the story of Nigerians suffering xenophobic violence in South Africa is ultimately a story about failed systems on both sides, one on the side of economic failures pushing migrants out and the social failures turning migrants into enemies.
Until these structural realities are confronted with honesty and urgency, the cycle will continue. More young Nigerians will leave. More migrants will become vulnerable. More African societies will turn inward against each other.
But this trajectory is not irreversible. One gift that can’t be taken away from Nigerians is that Nigeria still possesses the talent, entrepreneurial energy, and human capital necessary to build a prosperous economy that gives its citizens reasons to stay rather than flee. The truth is that what has been lacking is not potential but responsible leadership and economic vision.
The true solution to xenophobia may therefore begin far away from the streets of Johannesburg or Durban. It may begin in Abuja, with governance that works, institutions that serve, banks that invest in people, and leadership that finally understands that national dignity is measured not by speeches but by whether citizens can build meaningful lives at home.
Until then, the “japa” flag will keep flying, as many Nigerians will remain exiled, not merely by borders, but by the failures of the country they still desperately want to believe in.
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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