In the meantime, the Revenue Mobilisation, Allocation and Fiscal Commission (RMAFC) has just bought brand-new Toyota Land Cruisers for its 38 commissioners. Depending on what eventually makes it to the official records, I am told by those who should know that each of those status symbols costs hundreds of millions of naira, although the chairman’s ride is said to cost more. After all, as chairman, he is not anybody’s mate. The RMAFC, lest we forget, was set up to monitor the right and left columns of the federation account, review the allocation formula, set remuneration for political office holders, and advise federal and state governments on how to improve revenue.
I am not good at mathematics (God knows Mr and Mrs Nair, my secondary school teachers from India, did their utmost best), but my simple calculation takes the total cost of those Toyota luxury machines above N8 billion. For comparison, RMAFC’s total budget (capital and recurrent) for 2024 was N3.27 billion. Recently, however, the National Economic Council (NEC) — essentially another gathering of governors — graciously and generously approved a torrential naira rain on the commission, awarding the body a percentage of the country’s non-oil revenue because “they are poorly funded”. The NEC has officially banished poverty from the doorsteps of the commission.
Now that they are no longer poor, with a projected revenue of N105.14 billion to toy with in 2025, the RMAFC and its commissioners (and contractors) think they thoroughly deserve their share of the comfort extended to the divine breed of Nigerians known as “public officers” who enjoy heaven on earth. And I must acknowledge that the RMAFC is not an ungrateful bunch. One good turn deserves another. So, the chairman, Dr Mohammed Bello Shehu, recently said the commission is all out to increase the remuneration of political office holders, including the president, vice-president, governors, deputy governors, ministers, commissioners, advisers, legislators and judicial officers.
“You are paying the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria N1.5 million a month, with a population of over 200 million people,” Shehu said, unprovoked. Really, I have heard President Bola Tinubu complain about many things, but not once has he said his “low salary” is giving him sleepless nights. No governor has yet lamented that he is unable to feed his children because of “poor salary”. I am not saying their pay should not be bigger, but Shehu has become too eager to please as RMAFC is suddenly swimming in an ocean of naira. There is a kind of intoxication that comes with sudden wealth: you will be answering questions nobody asked you and laughing when there ain’t no joke.
And while we are at it, let us quickly swim across to Kebbi state. A general hospital in the state capital, Birni-Kebbi, has been doubling as a stinking swimming pool for a while. A journalist, Hassan Mai-Waya Kangiwa, decided to draw attention to it by filming the crime scene and sharing it on social media. What nonsense! He even said it was not a “skit”! It was a “calculated attempt” to embarrass… I don’t know who… is it the patients or the governor? Kangiwa would normally be promptly arrested by eagle-eyed security officials. He would then be charged to court for cyber bullying. The omnibus law is the greatest threat to freedom of expression in Nigeria today but let us keep pretending it doesn’t concern us.
Anyway, whether the Kebbi journalist was arrested or not, citizens are usually harassed over things like this. It is now the routine in the war against accountability. Only God knows how many times my colleagues and I have been threatened with “cyber bullying” because we are doing our job as journalists. Our job description does not include bullying. In May 2023, a minister asked the Department of State Services (DSS) to investigate me for “cyber terror”. We had terrorised him with the dirty details of how he overturned due process in a contract award. Of course, cyber bullying is real. I know. There are cyber miscreants. There are victims. But there is journalism and there is cyber bullying. Only cowards try to confuse the two.
In any case, Dr Nasir Idris, the governor of Kebbi state, finally stumbled upon the video — or so it seems. In anger, he has suspended Dr Yunusa Musa-Ismail, the commissioner for health, for “negligence of duty” and “disregard” for his mandate. Idris asked Musa-Ismail to provide “cogent reasons” why disciplinary measures should not be taken against him, reiterating his administration’s commitment to “accountability, discipline, and effective service delivery across all sectors”. I hope more Kangiwas will rise up across Nigeria and continue to terrorise the authorities with HD videos of neglect and negligence.
The governor actually indicted himself more than the commissioner, even though he might be thinking otherwise. You have a vision of “effective service delivery across all sectors” but you are not aware that in the state capital, right at your backyard, downtrodden patients are sleeping on metal beds without mattresses. That is enough to add migraine to malaria. You are not aware that in the state capital, right at your backyard, there is waist-high flooding of a public hospital. That alone can add cholera to typhoid. If hospitals in the state capitals can be so miserable, let us not try to imagine the situation in rural areas. Most of those we call our leaders in Nigeria live in a different world.
Imagine how many mattresses the price of a 4WD in the Kebbi governor’s convoy can buy for the general hospital. Pardon my petulance, but every time I hear the billions being spent on cars and chartered jets and new government houses and retreats in Rwanda and Qatar, I am always thinking about boreholes and potholes, clinics and culverts. Imagine how many boreholes one RMAFC Land Cruiser can sink to banish cholera and guinea worm from a community. Imagine how many potholes can be mended with the money spent on one chartered flight for a political meeting in Abuja. Forgive me for drawing the attention of our leaders to these inconsequential matters: I just can’t help myself.
In our dearly beloved country today, millions are suffering the harsh economic conditions. They are being told to sacrifice, that there is light at the end of the tunnel. But they are yet to see anything in the lives of our leaders — and I mean leaders at all levels — to suggest that the message of sacrifice is for everybody. Sacrifice is only a message for the poor, the unfortunate. Nothing suggests that government officials are sacrificing something, even if it is a toothpick. They are sacrificing the people instead. No expense is spared. They see Nigerians as docile and dense. Nigerians are anything but docile and dense: there is obviously something that restrains their reaction. I don’t know what.
Truth be told, the Nigerians that I know and interact with daily are angry, bitter and resentful. They can see the convoys of siren-blaring “tear-rubber” 4WDs chasing them off the road. They watch the videos of government officials obscenely showing off their new billion-naira mansions despite failing spectacularly at showing us the light. They know who owns what mansion and discuss it in hushed tones. They are the ones being treated as scumbags and told there are no bed spaces at public hospitals. They know where government officials treat their own ailments. It is their children that are being taught chemistry without chemicals. They know where the children of their leaders school.
And you know what? They are in the vast majority. They are the ones that vote the most but have the tiniest voice. They are the real stakeholders of Nigeria but receive the smallest dividends. They are hungry. They are angry. They believe the country does not care about them. They believe they are always an afterthought, deserving only of crumbs. The leaders continue to carry on without a care in the world — living a life of luxury, running a system of waste and corruption, putting on cosmetic acts of governance, leaving the people high and dry all the time. It is wrong to think Nigerians are tame or lame. They are gravely disillusioned, and this is obvious from conversations.
I must necessarily admit that our leaders are lucky and smart — they have successfully turned us against one another so that we are unable to harness a consensus to tackle them without being impeded by manipulative sectional sentiments. They have chosen topics of discussion for us to keep us busy and distracted, to keep us fighting one another, to keep us blaming ethnicity, religion, war, amalgamation and constitution for the problems that ail us all regardless of the tribal marks on our faces. Nigerians might not be expressing their pains and disgust on the streets like the citizens of other countries such as Nepal have just done, but they feel rejected and neglected all the same.
And this should scare us. When you ride roughshod on the people and they do not respond in kind, don’t think they are stupid. Instead, you should be scared. Pent-up emotions can explode when least expected — and may be over a trivial matter. We have seen this before. Our leaders have to correct course. So, I repeat: the ordinary people must be the object and subject of governance. Good governance. It is not too late to tone down the insane extravagance in government, but many of those we call leaders are so tone-deaf that they cannot read the room. As seen in RMAFC’s indecent Land Cruiser extravaganza, people in power are so used to taking Nigerians for a ride. Insensitive.
In the meantime, the Revenue Mobilisation, Allocation and Fiscal Commission (RMAFC) has just bought brand-new Toyota Land Cruisers for its 38 commissioners. Depending on what eventually makes it to the official records, I am told by those who should know that each of those status symbols costs hundreds of millions of naira, although the chairman’s ride is said to cost more. After all, as chairman, he is not anybody’s mate. The RMAFC, lest we forget, was set up to monitor the right and left columns of the federation account, review the allocation formula, set remuneration for political office holders, and advise federal and state governments on how to improve revenue.
I am not good at mathematics (God knows Mr and Mrs Nair, my secondary school teachers from India, did their utmost best), but my simple calculation takes the total cost of those Toyota luxury machines above N8 billion. For comparison, RMAFC’s total budget (capital and recurrent) for 2024 was N3.27 billion. Recently, however, the National Economic Council (NEC) — essentially another gathering of governors — graciously and generously approved a torrential naira rain on the commission, awarding the body a percentage of the country’s non-oil revenue because “they are poorly funded”. The NEC has officially banished poverty from the doorsteps of the commission.
Now that they are no longer poor, with a projected revenue of N105.14 billion to toy with in 2025, the RMAFC and its commissioners (and contractors) think they thoroughly deserve their share of the comfort extended to the divine breed of Nigerians known as “public officers” who enjoy heaven on earth. And I must acknowledge that the RMAFC is not an ungrateful bunch. One good turn deserves another. So, the chairman, Dr Mohammed Bello Shehu, recently said the commission is all out to increase the remuneration of political office holders, including the president, vice-president, governors, deputy governors, ministers, commissioners, advisers, legislators and judicial officers.
“You are paying the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria N1.5 million a month, with a population of over 200 million people,” Shehu said, unprovoked. Really, I have heard President Bola Tinubu complain about many things, but not once has he said his “low salary” is giving him sleepless nights. No governor has yet lamented that he is unable to feed his children because of “poor salary”. I am not saying their pay should not be bigger, but Shehu has become too eager to please as RMAFC is suddenly swimming in an ocean of naira. There is a kind of intoxication that comes with sudden wealth: you will be answering questions nobody asked you and laughing when there ain’t no joke.
And while we are at it, let us quickly swim across to Kebbi state. A general hospital in the state capital, Birni-Kebbi, has been doubling as a stinking swimming pool for a while. A journalist, Hassan Mai-Waya Kangiwa, decided to draw attention to it by filming the crime scene and sharing it on social media. What nonsense! He even said it was not a “skit”! It was a “calculated attempt” to embarrass… I don’t know who… is it the patients or the governor? Kangiwa would normally be promptly arrested by eagle-eyed security officials. He would then be charged to court for cyber bullying. The omnibus law is the greatest threat to freedom of expression in Nigeria today but let us keep pretending it doesn’t concern us.
Anyway, whether the Kebbi journalist was arrested or not, citizens are usually harassed over things like this. It is now the routine in the war against accountability. Only God knows how many times my colleagues and I have been threatened with “cyber bullying” because we are doing our job as journalists. Our job description does not include bullying. In May 2023, a minister asked the Department of State Services (DSS) to investigate me for “cyber terror”. We had terrorised him with the dirty details of how he overturned due process in a contract award. Of course, cyber bullying is real. I know. There are cyber miscreants. There are victims. But there is journalism and there is cyber bullying. Only cowards try to confuse the two.
In any case, Dr Nasir Idris, the governor of Kebbi state, finally stumbled upon the video — or so it seems. In anger, he has suspended Dr Yunusa Musa-Ismail, the commissioner for health, for “negligence of duty” and “disregard” for his mandate. Idris asked Musa-Ismail to provide “cogent reasons” why disciplinary measures should not be taken against him, reiterating his administration’s commitment to “accountability, discipline, and effective service delivery across all sectors”. I hope more Kangiwas will rise up across Nigeria and continue to terrorise the authorities with HD videos of neglect and negligence.
The governor actually indicted himself more than the commissioner, even though he might be thinking otherwise. You have a vision of “effective service delivery across all sectors” but you are not aware that in the state capital, right at your backyard, downtrodden patients are sleeping on metal beds without mattresses. That is enough to add migraine to malaria. You are not aware that in the state capital, right at your backyard, there is waist-high flooding of a public hospital. That alone can add cholera to typhoid. If hospitals in the state capitals can be so miserable, let us not try to imagine the situation in rural areas. Most of those we call our leaders in Nigeria live in a different world.
Imagine how many mattresses the price of a 4WD in the Kebbi governor’s convoy can buy for the general hospital. Pardon my petulance, but every time I hear the billions being spent on cars and chartered jets and new government houses and retreats in Rwanda and Qatar, I am always thinking about boreholes and potholes, clinics and culverts. Imagine how many boreholes one RMAFC Land Cruiser can sink to banish cholera and guinea worm from a community. Imagine how many potholes can be mended with the money spent on one chartered flight for a political meeting in Abuja. Forgive me for drawing the attention of our leaders to these inconsequential matters: I just can’t help myself.
In our dearly beloved country today, millions are suffering the harsh economic conditions. They are being told to sacrifice, that there is light at the end of the tunnel. But they are yet to see anything in the lives of our leaders — and I mean leaders at all levels — to suggest that the message of sacrifice is for everybody. Sacrifice is only a message for the poor, the unfortunate. Nothing suggests that government officials are sacrificing something, even if it is a toothpick. They are sacrificing the people instead. No expense is spared. They see Nigerians as docile and dense. Nigerians are anything but docile and dense: there is obviously something that restrains their reaction. I don’t know what.
Truth be told, the Nigerians that I know and interact with daily are angry, bitter and resentful. They can see the convoys of siren-blaring “tear-rubber” 4WDs chasing them off the road. They watch the videos of government officials obscenely showing off their new billion-naira mansions despite failing spectacularly at showing us the light. They know who owns what mansion and discuss it in hushed tones. They are the ones being treated as scumbags and told there are no bed spaces at public hospitals. They know where government officials treat their own ailments. It is their children that are being taught chemistry without chemicals. They know where the children of their leaders school.
And you know what? They are in the vast majority. They are the ones that vote the most but have the tiniest voice. They are the real stakeholders of Nigeria but receive the smallest dividends. They are hungry. They are angry. They believe the country does not care about them. They believe they are always an afterthought, deserving only of crumbs. The leaders continue to carry on without a care in the world — living a life of luxury, running a system of waste and corruption, putting on cosmetic acts of governance, leaving the people high and dry all the time. It is wrong to think Nigerians are tame or lame. They are gravely disillusioned, and this is obvious from conversations.
I must necessarily admit that our leaders are lucky and smart — they have successfully turned us against one another so that we are unable to harness a consensus to tackle them without being impeded by manipulative sectional sentiments. They have chosen topics of discussion for us to keep us busy and distracted, to keep us fighting one another, to keep us blaming ethnicity, religion, war, amalgamation and constitution for the problems that ail us all regardless of the tribal marks on our faces. Nigerians might not be expressing their pains and disgust on the streets like the citizens of other countries such as Nepal have just done, but they feel rejected and neglected all the same.
And this should scare us. When you ride roughshod on the people and they do not respond in kind, don’t think they are stupid. Instead, you should be scared. Pent-up emotions can explode when least expected — and may be over a trivial matter. We have seen this before. Our leaders have to correct course. So, I repeat: the ordinary people must be the object and subject of governance. Good governance. It is not too late to tone down the insane extravagance in government, but many of those we call leaders are so tone-deaf that they cannot read the room. As seen in RMAFC’s indecent Land Cruiser extravaganza, people in power are so used to taking Nigerians for a ride. Insensitive.
