Columns
Osimhen: Quit the anger! That $5,000 is not enough!
Published
1 year agoon
By Sunny Igboanugo
I got a job with The Guardian shortly after NYSC and from my little keske, supported my classmate to establish a business centre in Owerri. When The Guardian was proscribed, I didn’t go to Lagos to trouble my senior brothers. I joined my friend in Owerri. I not only lived with him, I lived on him and with him shared EVERYTHING EQUALLY without let.
We cruised Owerri in grand style. I ate the same thing he ate. We were both light drinkers, but drank as much as he could carry. Before setting out, I knew the size of his pocket and knew what I could order. That was the only restriction. I knew I could order beer or meat or anything on my own without consulting him, based on my idea of “our budget,” and knew he would pay without hesitation.
I toasted babes on the same budget, just as he did, never having any inhibition or hesitation about who would pick the bills of the peppersoup or whatever was needed for entertainment.
After the hunt, whoever was lucky, the other donates the bed. He was living in a one-room-self-contained apartment in Ikenegbu, different from my four-bedroom apartment in Enugu.
It didn’t matter that he had the dough or that I practically lived on him. On occasions both of us became lucky on our usual daily hunt, whoever gets to the bed first takes it and the other sleeps in the mattress on the floor. Sometimes we even preferred the mattress for obvious reasons.
Decades on, things became tough for my friend again and he reached out to me once more. I was living a good life and without hesitation I came through for him and he was reestablished. Two years after, things crashed for me again. I couldn’t even find money to evacuate my belongings from the city where I once lived in opulence. Just a phone call and my friend again picked the bills and did more.
Today, everyone seems ok. But tomorrow, when tough times knock again, we know where to go and what to do. Throughout the time when things were bad for me, I never felt any inhibition to live off my friend and when it was reversed, I never harboured any towards helping him out. He could drive my car and I could drive his.
So, what’s this nonsense I hear today? They call it ‘Entitlement Mentality!’ What’s that I ask? Does it mean I should be happy and I couldn’t demand that my friend with whom I chased rats and rabbit in the past help me when I’m in tight corners and I shouldn’t be sad or complain if he didn’t?
Does it mean I shouldn’t complain when my friend is living lavishly while I struggle? Does it mean that my elder brother’s son would be at home because of school fees while I send my own children abroad on holidays or purchase the latest SUV to add to the cars in my garage – or start changing my furniture or even start building a new house and my brother who probably saw me through school would applaud me? Just because it is my money?
When did that become the norm in our society? When has it become the practice that we shouldn’t expect our brothers to scratch our itching backs and like animals rely on nearby trees, or roll on the floor to get relief, while our brothers stand by and look on?
In the case you’re wondering where all these are coming from, I’ll tell you. I just read a story purportedly attributed to Victor Osimhen, Nigeria’s football sensation. In it, the Galatasaray goal poacher, narrated an encounter with one of his friends. He stated how this “friend” to whom he had always given money, told him that he wanted to set up a business. He subsequently doled out $5,000 to help this friend. That would amount to about N8million, roughly.
That was a good gesture. But, according to the story, he was surprised when his friend started grumbling that the money was too small, given that he earned $1million every month. For that reason, he not only counted it against his friend, but suggested that he would stop listening to people in need who came to him because they were ungrateful.
After all, the football star and the reigning African Footballer of the Year (AFOTY), stressed that nobody came to his rescue when he was struggling in Europe. In other words, he was self-made and everyone should do same.
He couldn’t just understand why people should be so ungrateful. To him, $5,000 was such a big amount in Nigeria, even though he acknowledged that in Europe, it was not enough to buy a pair of shoes for someone of his status.
Come and see condemnation as people lampooned this “ungrateful friend.” Some people were beside themselves with righteous indignation. Why couldn’t the friend find a way of making his own money? Was Osimhen his father? What right did he have to question or determine what he should be given? Osimhen should ignore him and move on.
I read all the comments and I shook my head in disbelief. Is this how low and deep our society has sunk? One thing that I found intriguing was that none of these people who formed the throng of supporters for the footballer paused to ask how he started with his friend and how far they went and what they told each other before Osimhen’s break came.
This same guy, might not be just anyhow friend. This could be one of the friends with whom Osimhen shared gala and coke at the time they were running after vehicles selling pure water along Oregun Road. At that time, it did not matter who bought the items, but they would share equally and be happy. They would crack jokes, look into each other’s eyes with the deep reflections and understanding only two friends could share.
Nobody knows how many times this same guy could have sprung his friend out of trouble and what they both could have gone through together. Now, one person breaks through and feels it is too much to ask him to lift his friend up to at least a level where the both of them could still relate appreciably on a sound, if not equal ground. I’m sure that’s what the friend was driving at.
Now, the only way he could do that was to send this his friend the amount he himself confessed was not enough to buy a pair of shoes and believes the friend would jump up in appreciation. No true friend would. I won’t. I’ll grumble like that young man. I’ll not only grumble, I’ll confront him.
What Osimhen gave to that friend was not a reflection of friendship. It was a demonstration of the opposite – akin to master-servant – which is different altogether.
For those who want to know what true friendship looks like, read a similar story between Cristian Ronaldo and his own friend, whom he confessed made him what he is today. I’m sure the story is there for all to still go back to.
Mere tokenism is not a demonstration of friendship. Given the guy $5,000 out of probably $100million yearly earning is nothing but inconsiderate – if not outright wickedness.
To my brothers, who trumpet “Entitlement Mentality” slogan whenever issues like these are raised, be it known to you that what you’re are promoting is wickedness, especially in our African clime.
An African society is nothing but a community where a tree tries to make a forest or is expected to if that is the only option or until other options. People rely on each other to live, not out of privilege, but of right.
Where I come from, the parents train the first set of children and they take it from there and train the rest. Even if the younger one is the first to make it, the rest rely on him to cater for the rest. It is not even a privilege, it is a right. Whoever fails to live by this precept is not only a deviant, but wicked. And society sees him as so.
It is even worse these days, when I hear people advocating that parents should not expect their children to take care of them at old age, because they have their lives to live. That is the height of it.
The white man you’re trying to copy has his own structure cut out for him. There is nothing shameful about his parents moving to old people’s home. All manner of loans are available to start life or go to school. All manner of start-up facilities are available.
Osinmhen is wrong and his friend is right. Here, it is a different kettle of fish. We ride on each other’s back. We get hurt when we don’t get help. There is nothing to be ashamed of expecting your brother to give you money to start business.
So, when next, you think your brother who expects you to pay his son’s school fees is indulging in Entitlement Mentality, brother, the joke is on you. You’re not fooling anybody. You’re just wicked.
My name is Sunny Igboanugo, and I’m The Tiny Voice
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Now VDM has become Sowore’s nemesis, does Peter Obi need anther advocate?
Published
2 days agoon
April 19, 2026
By Sunny Igboanugo
The kite swooped on the herd of sheep and picked a lamb, soared above the skies onto its nest. The father asked one question – what did the parent say when you took their child. The kite replied – nothing father – they were just gazing at me in silence. Then the kites father made an order – return it immediately. Any parent that keeps mute when its child is in danger, has a more sinister intention hidden in his heart. The kite obeyed and returned the lamb.
The next day, the same kite swooped on a brood of chickens and picked one of them. Then the mother went hysterical flying from pillar to post in frenzied movements. On return, the father again put the same question. This time, the kite presented a different picture, describing the shrieking cries of the mother-hen and how it tried to attack and failure to retrieve its chick, went into a frenzy.
Let’s have dinner, the father quipped excitedly. Danger is over. The parent has displayed every weapon in its arsenal. That is the reason chicks remain the main dish of kites till date. My father told me this story decades ago, which of course is one of the anecdotes that is as old as minds could picture. My father probably picked it from his own father.
Yet, the implication in terms of central message has never lost its texture, despite its longevity. Rather, it has become truer with time – be careful of that man with few words – refrain from attacking a man that has not offended you – never bear false witnesses. These are standard cautionary and globally accepted natural edicts, which when observed in breaches, could result in highly disastrous consequences.
Is it not intriguing how this reality has stung Omoyele Sowore like those wicked agbisi – only those who sat on the bare floors would relate with the brain-twisting, sharp and excruciating pains those black ants delivered through the bare buttocks of children – in our mother’s kitchens in those days?
Have you been watching Vincent Otse, alias Very Dark Man, recently? What do you make of the multiple arrows he has been aiming at the heart of the Revolution Now exponent? I have my people and both the optics and the import derivable therefrom could only taper towards a central reality – cow wey no get tail na God dey drive am fly!
It was a song, sung by the popular Prince Nico Mbaga – that legend of the 1980s, whose epic – Sweet Mother – still resonates centrally in the Nigerian music history even till date, long after he was gone. I think it was the flipside of that legendary outing that dominated the airwaves at the time.
Never had that song, which you heard in those days blasting from the record shops at Achapo Street – in Ajegunle – the popular centre for music records business or through the windows of privileged homes in the face me I face you compounds in the days when even the poor afforded stockfish – now a delicacy you could only enjoy the aroma from a distance if your income is not in six figures – days when even the local women looked at ice fish with disdain and derisively related it with the “poor” as Ozu Nwada. O! What memories! But I digress!
But before I walked too far and disappeared into those days when me, as a child sleeping on a mat at a one-room apartment at Number 14 Uzor Street, but still ate lavish meals which I must now struggle to offer my wards, I return to today’s reality to ask myself why this is happening before my eyes. Why must it be VDM that is now waging a war against Sowore – with whom he was only too cozy – just yesterday!
For months now, this selfsame Sowore, had launched a massive blitzkrieg against Peter Obi, candidate of the Labour Party (LP), in the 2023 presidential election. In what is more of a cocktail of bits and pieces, odds and ends set of drivels rather than any form of articulated reasoning based on facts and figures, this same man, actually came out with what has now become his catchphrase – Obi is a packaged fraud!
Don’t bother to ask him for facts supporting his conclusion. The only one he supplied was that the former Governor of Anambra State, was hobnobbing with supposed thieves and brigands responsible for Nigerian woes.
Yet, this selfsame Sowore, conveniently left out his central role, and incestuous relationship with the same people at an auspicious period, which ended up in watering the ground for what he now complains about from the rooftops. Were it not for Sowore, there might not have been a President Muhammadu Buhari and Bola Tinubu as APC governments – the worst era Nigeria has ever endured and currently cursed with!
Videos even showed him being celebrated nationally for this singular role. Yet, this is the same man, assailing Obi for keeping bad company! But that is what happens with the purveyors of anti-Obi sentiments. They inevitably meet a drought and are left with nothing more to rely on but contrivances. Where the well is dry, they import water tankers to try a rescue.
Where deceit fails, they try illogic, then subterfuge, half-truths, outright lies and then mischief as they meet more frustrations. Imagine a Sowore saying that Obi packed Northerners in lorries and sent them back to their homes. In Nigeria? At what period? The same Obi who built his personal and state security architectures around northern people – Northern Aide De Camp (ADC) and Norther Commissioners of Police throughout his eight years?
To Sowore, nothing is good enough! He even mocks Obi for saying that he owns only one house in Nigeria – a development, which elsewhere defines absolute personal contentment. Elsewhere, the fact that Obi could prove this claim is demonstrable evidence of reduced propensity for induced stealing and absence of hunger for corruption and therefore a call for celebration. But what do you have here? Spite, mockery and contempt.
Now, it is not like Obi’s records – public and private are hidden. This was a man, who even as a university student, had become so successful in business that his chain of buildings were used as bank branches – that at a point was one of the 10 richest men in the UK – in fact, one of the 8.000 richest men in the world – so the source of his wealth is not suspect.
In office as governor, this was the same Obi who took schools in Anambra State from number 26 to number one, starting from his second year in office by sheer dint of visionary leadership anchored on self-denial – the only governor in history that left a whopping N75billion in the coffers – capping it all with emerging as the best in the implementation of the Millenium Development Goals (MDGs).
Now, if a governor attains the first position in this globally-accepted measurement instrument – covering all indices of developmental – physical infrastructure and policy frameworks for human capital development, what else defines excellence in leadership? Yet, people like Sowore will never be persuaded.
Now you know why! VDM has supplied you with the answer. Sowore is in business. His activism is business – his Revolution Now – business – attacks on Tinubu – business – Obi is a packaged fraud – business – presidential ambition business.
Not that the world didn’t know this. But coming from familiar quarters – given the relationship between the two – both erstwhile friends – it is only gotten clearer and better. It is even moreso when the further and better particulars is not coming from Obi, but a more virulent voice!
Now, what is said about fate? What does the law of Karma say again? How does a tailless cow deal with flies again? Sowore has given us the lead and VDM has given you the answer.
But hear the philosopher! Beware of your thoughts, lest they become words; beware of your words, lest they become actions; beware of your actions, lest they become habits; beware of your habits, lest they become character; beware of your character, lest it becomes your destiny! Nigerians, think!
My name is Sunny Igboanugo, I’m The Tiny Voice!
Columns
Be the hero that saved Nigeria! Open letter to Alhaji Atiku Abubakar
Published
2 days agoon
April 19, 2026
His Excellency
Alhaji Atiku Abubakar (Waziri Adamawa),
Former Vice President, Federal Republic of Nigeria
Abuja, Nigeria
Your Excellency
Permit me, to use this medium to address you. I apologise most profusely for breaking protocols and not following proper and established channels. But I believe this is the best and ONLY way to reach you immediately because of the urgency of the matter at hand.
I had to write you quickly after watching the interview when you appeared as a guest on Prime Time, a public affairs programme on ARISE NEWS Television. I must confess being enthralled at your physical fitness, mental alertness, eloquence, articulacy and richness of ideas. You looked every bit presidential.
That you appeared superlatively healthy physically and mentally at the ripe age of 79 can only be a gift from Allah. God has indeed preserved you so well and I congratulate you, while praying that God will grant you more years here on earth to see Nigeria become a great nation that it is meant to be and that you will make fruitful contribution towards that outcome.
Now, this is where I want to anchor the essence of this letter – the blessing of God and His expectation of man. There is no doubt from what human eyes could see that you have enjoyed this blessing tremendously. Look behind you and see how far you have come.
How many of your colleagues in the Nigerian Customs, where you left as a Deputy Director (Deputy Controller) are still remembered today? How many of them could even unlace your shoes today in terms of national recognition. How many of the people you started business with got to half of where you reached as a business mogul? How many of the people you went into politics with got to your level. How many of them are still around today – even those that are younger than you?
Please, Waziri, take a look back and count the blessings of Allah on you. How many can you count? You were preparing for your inauguration as Governor of Adamawa State, when suddenly, you were spirited from a Governor-elect to contest for Vice President and for eight years you enjoyed that position. Was that not evidence of Allah’s hands in your affairs, when the same position others sought with everything in them was offered to you on a platter of gold?
Now, compare that with the Presidency. Since 1992, you have sought this position with every effort. You have fought doggedly with the last breadth in you. Like the General you are, you have fought gallantly. But even a General must retire from the warfront and hand over to younger officers to continue where he stopped.
Such retirement does not suggest defeat. Rather, it suggests wisdom. It suggests experience. It suggests circumspection. It suggests prudence. It suggests strength.
For record six times, you had made attempts at the Presidency and for that number of times, you had failed to attain that feat. Why continue – even when time and circumstances clearly indicate that your chances of getting it at the seventh trial is bleaker than the rest? Is it not even an attempt to tempt God?
Waziri, please permit me to share this anecdote. It is about the prototype developed by Brazilians to catch monkeys. They throw utu – a kind of nut usually craved by monkeys into a bottle with a narrow neck and hang it on tree branch. The opening is wide enough to allow the hand of the monkey in, but too narrow to allow a clenched fist out.
Knowing that monkeys are greedy and would never let go, they take full advantage of this fact in setting this obvious trap. True to their expectations, the monkey would usually fit its hand into the bottle and grab the nut, but would be unable to pull it out with the nut. The owner of the trap standing by would then begin to approach. The monkey on sighting the obvious danger would start struggling with the hand inside the bottle.
Now, all the monkey needed do is to free the hand and let the nut go to save itself. But it never does. Because all its senses are focused on the sweet taste of the nut it loses the sense of danger and stays with the bottle until it is caught – not even having the opportunity of tasting the same nut. That is how the Brazilians catch monkeys.
Alhaji, does this send any meaningful message? Does it look or sound familiar? Like the situation of the monkey with its hand in the bottle, Nigeria is in danger at this time. You have the singular opportunity of saving it. The only way to do it is through the African Democratic Congress (ADC).
Your insistence on running for the ticket of the party ahead of the 2027 presidential election represents the perfect imagery of the monkey’s hand in the bottle.
No doubt like the nut to the monkey, the Presidency is sweet. But like the unpromising situation of the monkey, there is no way you can pull the nut out with a clenched fist. The only option is to loosen your fist and let go.
Waziri Adamawa, free your hand. Let go this quest for Presidency. It is not yours. Destiny has denied you the opportunity. Your biggest opportunity was in 2019, though it was not to be for reasons that are now history.
Today, the odds are stacked against you! You are not from the South – make it the South East. You are no longer young. You belong to the old order. Yes! You are favoured to win the ADC primaries but winning the election proper is a different kettle of fish. There is no way you can win it. Forget what your followers are telling you.
On the other hand, sitting right beside you is Peter Obi. All the odds are in his favour. He is from the South – the South East. He is young. He has the organic following. He will win the presidential election of Nigeria before midday on January 18, 2027.
Let me conclude this letter by creating two scenarios. Consider a situation where you contest this election and fail as you are bound to. What will it be said about you? How will history record you?
Will you not be seen as the man who finally sounded the death-knell on Nigerian democracy by allowing President Bola Tinubu transform Nigeria into another Paul Biya’s Cameroun, Equatorial Guinea’s Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo and Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni? Surely, that imminent fall will not only be a fall in unfulfilled goal, it will be a fall of destiny of a national. The consequences are heavy, grave and unimaginable!
On the other hand, if you conquer the greed of the monkey and let the nut go, you will not only have helped in freeing Nigeria from the immediate bondage in which it is destined in the hands of Tinubu and his brood of vipers, you would have saved it from the cataclysmic eruption of blitzkrieg that might result as a counter.
Remember how it is now history that you destroyed the PDP by insisting to run against the zoning arrangement. How will it sound that after delivering the fatal poison that killed the once largest party in Africa with a deadly political fang you whipped the ADC with a poisonous tail to achieve the same result.
As we speak now, David Mark, ADC National Chairman is from the North. Now, you want to take the presidential ticket, thus replaying the reel of the PDP scenario. Is it not obvious that the result will be the same? Is it not the same PDP playbook?
Waziri Adamawa, remember that even Nnamdi Azikiwe, with all his greatness, never became President. Obafemi Awolowo never attained the position either. Yet, as a reporter with The Guardian in Enugu, I could not count the number of dignitaries, Nigerians and foreigners, whom I reported their presence at Onuiyi Haven in Nsukka, home of the late Owelle of Onitsha.
I assume that of Ikenne, the home of the great Awo would also have been the same before his demise. Who says your own home in Abuja or Yola, would not be a Mecca for Nigerians and world leaders to pay their homage by the time this race is run and the mileage counted.
That will only be possible if you decide to play the role destiny has put in your hands. Waziri Adamawa! Save Nigerian Democracy! Save Nigeria! Let your name be written in gold letters and not with blood of Nigerians. Yes! President may be denied but Father of Democracy is there. It even sounds sweeter!
May God guide you.
My name is Sunny Igboanugo, I’m The Tiny Voice!
Columns
Abike Dabiri: Did Obi raise a monster or you’re drunk on Tinubu’s poisoned chalice?
Published
6 days agoon
April 15, 2026
I bet you didn’t know Abike Dabiri. Two factors will make this possible. Either you were not around in Nigeria in the golden era of our Nigerian television girls – the era when being a regular face on Nigerian Television Authority (NTA) gave you the golden key to open all doors – or you were somewhere in the villages very far and distant from civilization – many of us were – that included not having access to the television.
O! You didn’t know? You didn’t know a time was in this clime when seeing a television screen from a distance, was one of the biggest privileges one could get let alone watching it – that people clustered at the windows of homes with television sets to catch a glimpse of Village Headmaster, for instance.
You’re carrying shoulders because you probably met the time when carrying a Blackberry phone was all you needed to get that fine babe behind your sheets! Today, you thought that because you could now watch your matches on your phone – I watched all the AFCON matches on my phone, being on the road most times – there was no time men had to climb walls to turn television antennas to get some appreciable pictures. Chai! This changing world.
Bet you didn’t hear about Bimbo Roberts – later Bimbo Oloyede, Julie Coker and later Augusta Maduegbuna, Elizabeth Nze, Sienne Alwell-Brown, Ruth Benamesia-Opia, Eugenia Abu, Ronke Ayuba, Kehinde Young-Harry, Lola Alakija, in no particular order. No! You wouldn’t if you were not that privileged in the 1980s and even 1990s. They were the glamour of that era.
Glamour? Not in the sense of beauty – but glamour, because television made them so. For indeed, some of these television faces, were not that glamourous.
But beauty or no, Abike Dabiri was one of the discoveries of that era. Obviously not in competition with these others who were the newscasters on NTA News At Nine, she actually carved a niche for herself elsewhere on Newsline – the soft-sell edition of the station’s news programme aired every Sunday.
Abike Dabiri was a toast of that programme. She was a reporter’s reporter – traversing beyond the seven seas and seven wildernesses to bring to Nigerians those rare stories that either made Nigerians laugh their hearts out or cry their eyes out – a doyenne of human-interest reporting.
Then, suddenly – suddenly – suddenly – the serpent came with the forbidden fruit – the temptation of higher ground – the allure of high office – Tinubu’s tainted chalice that comes like glittering ornament but with hollow and rotten underbelly. She took, she ate and now everything scatter-scatter. Our dear Abike Dabiri accepted and ate the sour grape and now her teeth are set on edge! What a pity!
The breeze has blown to uncover the romp of the hen. Before now, whoever believed that our dear Abike Dabiri farts. But we now know that Abike Dabiri-Erewa not only farts, but her fart smells badly. At first, no one noticed the degeneration.
The time she was at the House of Representatives, was the golden era of Tinubu. That was when the Jagaban Borgu was the governor of Lagos State. She glowed along by tapping from glittering appeal of the Lagos show boy!
At that time, Tinubu was generally holding the golden trophy adorned with the beautiful calligraphy of democracy in Nigeria. That was before he drank from the poisoned chalice of Muhammadu Buhari, his predecessor by joining him in the hatred for the Igbo man – a phenomenon that becomes the nemesis of some Nigerian leaders – Buhari’s major insignia. Then the desperation! Then the degeneration! Now the albatross!
Now, whoever hates the Igbo and remains the same? None! That was what sealed Buhari’s fate. And surely the snake that bit that braindead archeological discovery – that museum piece – has definitely whipped Tinubu with its tail and the rest is now history. If not, compare a Tinubu as governor when he was all cozy with Ndigbo and now he has turned 360 degrees.
And as long as the darkness will give way to reveal the sun breaking from the East, the sting of the snake’s tail will reach everyone who toes that line. You know why, the dominant culture of the Igbo man is ofo n’ogu – justice, equity and fair-play! Have you watched an Igbo man pray with colanut.
He wakes up and with his cola in his hands, beckons on his chi with these words – ndu mmiri, ndu azu, mmiri atanaa, azu anwuna – the life of the river, the life of the fish – may the water not dry and may the fish not die! Egbe bere ugo bere, nke si ibeya ebena nku kwaa ya – let the kite perch and let the eagle perch – whichever says the other should not perch, may its wings whither. Which other people say the same or similar prayer elsewhere?
Now, because the kid-goat watches when the mother-goat is chewing the cud, hating the Igbo has become a fad among those who want to please Tinubu. Obviously, the totem through which this sentiment find expression is Peter Obi. He has become the tree standing by the roadside that receives the strokes of the machete. Obi has remained the hieroglyph for expressing real and imagined pro-Igbo angst.
So, in 2025, when Babajide Sanwo-Olu wanted to mend fences with Tinubu, after allegedly falling out of favour with his boss, he launched an unprovoked attack on Obi, using the latter’s Johns Hopkins University lecture as a pad. Reno Omokri, has since made himself Minister of Peter Obi Affairs. Daniel Bwala, Femi Fani-Kayode et al along this line never end a line without Obi getting a slash of their machete.
Enter our dear Abike Dabiri-Erewa. The little birds flying around whistle that her tenure as Chairman of Nigerians in Diaspora Commission (NiCOM) is coming to an end and she is eying a renewal or another job from the Jagaban. How else to go about it than the low-hanging fruit? – Peter Obi.
From nowhere, on Sunday, the media were suffused with the screaming headline – “Peter Obi has actually raised monsters.” As it were with syndicated stories, each of the medium used to transport the outing carried the same headline – well crafted – of course, using her journalism skill to make maximum impact.
After rambling some clearly obtuse and incoherent words in form of reasoning, she ended up with even more brainless, imbecilic and asinine submission – by the time it is Igbo turn to produce Nigerian President, Obidents – followers of Obi – would have destroyed his chances. Me paraphrasing. Chai!
Now, aunty Abike, whose turn is it now? Isn’t already the turn of Ndigbo and the selfsame Obi? Isn’t it part of the argument that the seat your Jagaban is occupying was stolen from Ndigbo? So, you know that Ndigbo also have a stake to it? Yes! You know. But now you have eaten Tinubu’s palm nuts, see how your teeth have all turned red.
But Ndigbo have another way of invoking justice – ochu nwa-okuko nwe ada ma nwa-okuko nwe nwenwe-oso! I won’t explain. Find an Igbo staff at NiMCOM – if there is one – because I hear you hate them so much that finding one near you might be impossible. But even a cleaner in your office could help or better still – ask your spare parts seller. He’s sure to be Igbo!
My name is Sunny Igboanugo, I’m The Tiny Voice!
News Editor:
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April 20, 2026 9:21 pm
April 20, 2026 9:21 pm
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