Nigeria

By Sani Mu’azu

I am still reeling from the news of Souleymane Cissé’s passing. As a young filmmaker, I had the privilege of meeting him at the Shitengi Film Festival in Cape Town and later at Fespaco in Ouagadougou. His presence, wisdom, and generosity left an indelible mark on me.

Cissé’s cinematic legacy is a testament to his unwavering commitment to African storytelling, deep humanism, and profound political engagement. His iconic film Yeelen (Brightness) was a turning point for me. Its powerful narrative, stunning visuals, and masterful storytelling ignited a fire within me to tell African stories that matter.

Yeelen‘s exploration of traditional Bambara culture, the struggle for power, and the quest for knowledge resonated deeply with me. It was a cinematic experience that not only inspired me but also challenged my perspectives on African identity, culture, and history.

As I grew in my filmmaking journey, I often reflected on Cissé’s words, wisdom, and work. His passion for African cinema, dedication to mentoring emerging filmmakers, and unwavering commitment to telling our stories with dignity and authenticity continue to inspire me.

Papa Cissé, as I affectionately called him, may be gone, but his cinematic legacy, his wisdom, and his impact on African cinema will continue to illuminate our screens, our hearts, and our minds.

Rest in peace, Souleymane Cissé. Your brightness will continue to shine.

Farewell, Papa Cissé.

By Bashir Uba Ibrahim, PhD

Etymologically, the terms “autos”, “bios”, and “graphein” are Greek forms. While the former stands for “self”, the “bio” represents “life”, and the “graphein” which diachronically and morphologically changes over time to “graphy,” means “to write”. Thus, autobiography is a self-written narration of one’s own life. 

According to Celluni, “All men, whatever be their condition, who have done anything of merit, if so, be they men of truth and good repute, should write the tale of their life with their own hand”. Thus, the recent 420-page memoir launched by the former military Head of State, Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida, on Thursday, 20^th February 2025, is a typical instance of a self-written account of one’s own life experiences.

Babangida’s A Journey of Service: An Autobiography is highly anticipated due to the author’s role as one of Nigeria’s most controversial, if not enigmatic, military leaders. His perceptive ingenuity and cunning leadership style earned him the nickname “Maradona” or “evil genius.” Thus, his reign was marked by numerous seemingly unforgettable controversies and troubles, ranging from the mysterious death of journalist Dele Giwa, the failed coup of Mamman Vatsa and his subsequent execution, Gideon Okar’s bloody failed coup, the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP), the OIC palaver, and above all, the 1993 June 12 saga. 

As noted by Lejunre (1975), the supreme value of autobiography lies in its nature as a product of the writer’s self, the private realm of his reflective self that informs the bios and graphein, with which they interact to form a text as a discourse about his existence, particularly emphasising the development of his own life and personality. Therefore, as an autobiographical text, A Journey in Service represents a personal account of its author.

In addition, Babangida, in this book, makes a striking revelation, submissions and confessions that left some of its readers in a deep shudder and bewilderment. For instance, about the June 12 saga, an election that was annulled in broad daylight by him, he writes that on June 23^rd, 1993, he left Abuja for Katsina to commiserate with the Yar’adua family over the death of their patriarch, Musa Yar’adua, the father of Major General Shehu Yar’adua and the late Nigerian president Umar Musa Yar’adua when “a report filtered to me that the June 12 elections had been annulled” (pp-275). He thus shifts blame to former Head of State General Sani Abacha, who was then his Chief of Defence Staff, the accusation which some people view as not only baseless but rather a joke and a scapegoat as succinctly captured in the book “But annulment was only a component of series of other options. But to suddenly have an announcement made without my authority was, to put it mildly, alarming. I remember saying: ‘These nefarious inside’ forces opposed to the elections have outflanked me! I would later find out that the forces led by General Sani Abacha annulled the election. There and then, I knew I was caught between a devil and deep blue sea” (pp-275).  

Therefore, Abacha served as a whipping boy or a fall guy, thus taking the blame. This is where the need for thanatography- a death writing comes up. Had Abacha been alive, the people would like to hear his side of the story on this saga, or had it been possible to write from the grave, thanatographically, his submission will help in striking a balance. Therefore, it is probable to say that Babangida’s autobiography, A Journey of Service, is just a metaphor of self that conceptually and schematically treatises his life journey from his early years, school years in Wushishi and Bida, early military career as a young officer to Nigerian civil war and NDA teaching years, mounting the saddle of leadership as the military head of state and the challenges that follow. 

In short, this autobiography is timely as it emerges in an era where one of MKO Abiola’s disciples, who fought for the cause of June 12, which led to his exile, is ruling the country. Meanwhile, the public’s eagerness to hear Babangida’s perspective after 32 years since the incident, along with numerous intricate mysteries, controversies, and decisions that characterised his regime, makes the book’s readership thought-provoking. 

However, my prediction is that the book will be subjected to various interpretations, re-readings, and misinterpretations depending on the perspective of its readers. Therefore, critics of this autobiography or memoir may approach it with the intention of deconstructing it, as the autobiographical activity (by Babangida) is also a form of deconstruction, evident through the narrative account and the self-writing upon the subject self.         

Dr Bashir Uba Ibrahim writes from the Department of English and Literary Studies, Sule Lamido University, Kafin Hausa. He can be reached via bashirubaibrahim@gmail.com.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri 

On February 20, 2025, Nigeria marked a pivotal moment in its historical and literary landscape by launching A Journey in Service, the autobiography of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida, the nation’s former Military Head of State. Held at the Transcorp Hilton Hotel’s Congress Hall in Abuja, the event drew an illustrious crowd: President Bola Tinubu, former Presidents Yakubu Gowon, Abdulsalami Abubakar, and Goodluck Jonathan, alongside business magnates Aliko Dangote and Abdulsamad Rabiu. 

Beyond the fanfare and the nearly N17.5 billion raised for the IBB Legacy Centre—mistakenly dubbed a presidential library in early reports—the memoir’s release reignites a profound discussion about autobiographies. Far from being vessels of absolute truth, such works are meticulously crafted narratives designed to logically articulate an author’s perspective while justifying their actions and thoughts—past, present, and future. Babangida’s A Journey in Serviceembodies this, offering a lens to explore the constructed essence of autobiographical storytelling.

Autobiographies are, by design, subjective endeavours, distinct from impartial chronicles. They weave personal accounts from memory, intent, and selective disclosure, often prioritising coherence over unvarnished fact. Babangida, who governed Nigeria from August 27, 1985, to August 26, 1993, remains a divisive figure. Known for deft political manoeuvres—earning monikers like “Maradona” for his agility and “evil genius” for his cunningness—he oversaw a tumultuous era marked by economic upheaval and democratic setbacks. His most infamous act, the annulment of the June 12, 1993, presidential election—widely deemed Nigeria’s freest at that time, won by Moshood Abiola—has haunted his legacy for 31 years. 

Nigerians anticipated A Journey in Service as a chance for clarity or confession, yet its launch reveals a narrative sculpted to reflect Babangida’s self-perception. He acknowledges Abiola’s victory, a move Tinubu hailed as “unusual courage,” but frames the annulment as an unauthorised act by General Sani Abacha and other officers while he was in Katsina, sidelined by circumstance. This selective disclosure suggests not a full unveiling but a justification, repositioning him as a constrained leader rather than complicit.

This subjectivity underscores a broader truth: books, especially memoirs, filter reality through hindsight, bias, and audience expectation. Babangida’s 420-page work, reviewed by former Vice President Yemi Osinbajo, promises insights into his eight-year tenure—economic reforms like the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP), infrastructure feats, and banking deregulation—yet sidesteps a complete reckoning. 

Critics highlight glaring omissions: no confession regarding the October 19, 1986, assassination of journalist Dele Giwa by a parcel bomb widely linked to his regime; no accounting for the $12.4 billion Gulf War oil windfall, per the 1994 Pius Okigbo report; and no remorse for the executions of coup plotters like Mamman Vatsa in 1986 and Gideon Orkar in 1990. Babangida’s claim that he feared Abiola’s assassination if he took office—a speculative justification—casts him as a reluctant actor amidst a military cabal, absolving himself of agency. As much as the revelations, these silences illustrate how A Journey in Service constructs a narrative that defends, rather than fully discloses, a deliberate choice aligning with autobiographical norms.

The memoir’s role as a legacy-building tool further amplifies its constructed nature. Launched as Babangida, now 83 (born August 17, 1941), nears life’s twilight, and Nigeria approaches the 2027 elections, the event doubled as a fundraising spectacle for the IBB Legacy Centre. Billion-naira pledges from Dangote, Rabiu, and others—totalling N17.5 billion per ThisDay—underscored Babangida’s enduring clout 31 years after stepping down. 

The title A Journey in Service reframes his rule as a patriotic endeavour, softening the authoritarian edges of his “evil genius” persona. By admitting Abiola’s win while distancing himself from the annulment’s execution, he crafts a complex portrait: a transformative leader navigating chaos, appealing to admirers who credit him with modernisation while mitigating critics’ ire over economic hardship and political repression. This duality reflects a narrative engineered to reconcile his past with the statesman image he seeks today, extending its influence beyond the page into Nigeria’s political present.

The historical context of Babangida’s tenure enriches this analysis. His regime followed a series of military coups, inheriting a nation battered by oil-dependent economics and factional strife. The SAP, intended to liberalise the economy, sparked inflation and unrest, while his annulment catalysed protests and deepened ethnic divides, paving the way for Abacha’s reign. A Journey in Service likely glosses over these ripple effects, emphasising achievements—like the Third Mainland Bridge or Abuja’s development—to counterbalance failures. This selective memory mirrors how autobiographies prioritise legacy over accountability, inviting readers to weigh Babangida’s narrative against Nigeria’s collective experience.

Reactions to the memoir underscore its status as perspective, not fact. Tinubu, a June 12 activist turned president, praised its candour as setting “records properly,” perhaps reflecting political pragmatism. Afenifere, a pan-Yoruba group, rejected it as too late to mend the annulment’s “ogbonge damage,” echoing Yoruba grievances. Activists accused Babangida of exploiting Nigeria’s accountability vacuum, a sentiment rooted in decades of unresolved justice. Literary scholar Pius Adesanmi, were he alive, might have called it a “textual performance,” blending truth and theatre. These responses reveal a fragmented reception: the book’s narrative is interpreted through readers’ biases, not universally embraced as truth, highlighting the elusive nature of autobiographical authority.

However, this constructed nature does not diminish the value of A Journey in Service; rather, it enhances its complexity. It provides a window into Babangida’s mind: his rationalisations, regrets, and aspirations amid a career of calculated risks. At the launch, Goodluck Jonathan urged the preservation of such narratives to enrich Nigeria’s political archive, calling for the institutionalisation of personal histories. 

Readers, however, must approach it sceptically, recognising it as one voice in a cacophony of perspectives—those of June 12 activists, SAP victims, and silenced journalists. Its significance lies not in claiming absolute truth but in sparking reflection and debate, compelling Nigerians to confront the ambiguities of their history. For youth, as commentators suggest, it offers leadership lessons—resilience and adaptability—albeit through a self-justifying lens that demands critical parsing.

Comparatively, A Journey in Service fits a global tradition of autobiographical narrative-building. Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom blends triumph with curated humility, while Barack Obama’s Dreams from My Father navigates identity with selective introspection. With its wit (per Osinbajo’s review) and strategic candour, Babangida’s work joins this lineage, tailoring Nigeria’s military past to a personal saga. Its launch timing—amid economic woes and democratic flux—amplifies its relevance, positioning Babangida as a commentator on leadership in crisis, a narrative thread justifying his past while influencing future discourse.

In conclusion, autobiographies like A Journey in Service are not absolute truths but woven narratives serving their authors’ ends. Launched on February 20, 2025, Babangida’s memoir—through selective revelations, strategic omissions, and legacy-driven intent—justifies actions like the annulment while shaping his present stature and future remembrance. 

As Nigerians grapple with its contents, it stands as a testament to storytelling’s power: not a final word, but a provocation to question, analyse, and seek broader truths it skirts. In a nation wrestling with its past—where military rule, economic policy, and democratic betrayal remain raw—such narratives are vital, not for certainty, but for the conversations they ignite, urging a deeper reckoning with history’s many voices.

Ibraheem A. Waziri wrote from Zaria.

By Muhammad Rabiu Jibrin (Mr. J)                 

Isn’t the religious institution now on the brink of suffering the same fate as the traditional institution, whose integrity, moral authority, and influence have been swept away by the political hurricane?

Historically, the Nigerian traditional and religious institutions were best known as the custodians of culture and justice, commanding immense respect and dignity. They were no-go areas with clear boundaries known to politicians. Their political neutrality, ethical brevity, and golden silence made them stand out, shielding them against political threats and disrespect. But with the gradual mental shift and negligence of purpose, the passage of time paved unnoticeable ways for political interference in their affairs, rendering them into a vulnerability that warms what once cooled them.

Although the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria does not clearly prohibit traditional rulers from engaging in politics, it expects public officeholders, including traditional rulers, to remain neutral. The state laws of most states, if not all, prohibit traditional rulers from participating in partisan politics, as such acts can be seen as a breach of their traditional duties and a justification for removal.

History has shown that most allegations against Emirs were connected to issues like partisan politics, outspoken nature, and mismanagement, among others. On March 9, 2020, the Kano State government under Governor Abdullahi Ganduje officially dethroned Sanusi Lamido Sanusi as the Emir of Kano. His grandfather, Emir Muhammadu Sanusi I (1953–1963), faced the same issue under the Premier of the Northern Region, Sir Ahmadu Bello, on April 10, 1963. Similarly, Emir Mustapha Jokolo of Gwandu (1995–2005) was deposed in June 2005 by the Kebbi State government under Governor Muhammad Adamu Aliero, while Emir Abubakar Atiku of Zurmi (2010–2012) was removed from his position by the Zamfara State government in 2012.

Having successfully influenced traditional institutions, are Nigerian politicians not now attempting to test the same waters on religious institutions through their appointments and donations services?

How our religious leaders glorify and endorse politicians while also criticising one another on political matters in mosques, churches, or during their religious sermons is akin to setting a bushfire that would consume all its inhabitants. It is not difficult for politicians to offer them lucrative sums of money, gift them extravagant cars, and so forth, enabling them to manipulate their views and dilute their words during sermons for material gain.

The silver lining is that the spiritual blueprints and the footsteps that guide them would resolutely remain unchanged till eternity, no matter their deviation.

The recent verbal altercation between Sheikh Sani Yahaya Jingir and Sheikh Muhammad Kabir Gombe, which stemmed from the issue of the ‘Qur’an Festival,’ is disheartening. I view Sheikh Sani Yahaya Jingir as a cleric who strives to speak the truth but often talks excessively. He is a mature, responsible Sheikh who should not demean himself by engaging in disputes with younger individuals like Sheikh Kabiru Gombe. His reputation, knowledge, and age should elevate him beyond such conflicts. He ought to discourage the young, emerging ‘Shuyukh’ under his mentorship from becoming involved in such matters, let alone involving himself.

As for Sheikh Kabiru Gombe, I see his utterances as disrespectful and illogical toward a man of that age, no matter the heat of the moment. If two ‘Shuyukh’ and their followers resort to ranting and calling each other names, what credibility do their preachings hold, and how will their followers perceive them? Where is the unity, patience, and love for one another that Islam teaches and which they claim to promote? No matter the misunderstanding, religious leaders should be careful with their words toward one another in all circumstances.

In conclusion, unless our religious leaders fight selfishness among themselves, adhere to the teachings of Islam, respect one another despite divergent views, and remain united, the future will unravel unfavourably. Only by adhering to the holistic teachings of Islam and the prophetic tradition can they stand resolute against any factor that seeks to erode their strength.

Muhammad Rabiu Jibrin (Mr.J) wrote via muhammadrabiujibrin@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

The National Space Research and Development Agency (NASRDA) has confirmed that the new moon crescent for 2025 will be visible in Nigeria on February 28.

According to a statement released by the Director of Communication and Public Relations of NASRDA on Saturday, the crescent will appear at exactly 1:45 AM Nigeria time (WAT).

This moment, known as the “Crescent Zero Hour,” marks the earliest point at which the new moon can be observed under optimal conditions using telescopes or special viewing equipment.

However, for those without such equipment, the crescent will be visible to the naked eye on the evening of Friday, February 28, between 6:17 PM and 7:35 PM in various parts of the country.

In Kachia, Kaduna State, the crescent is expected to be visible between 6:38 PM and 7:12 PM.

NASRDA has advised the public to use telescopes or special viewing glasses if necessary, and to choose open areas with unobstructed views of the western horizon after sunset.

Clear sky conditions are crucial for optimal viewing of the new moon crescent.

By Ishaka Mohammed

My employers often commended my efforts, increased my salary and gave me bonuses even when I didn’t see any significant impact of my tutelage as a private school teacher. I was worried about my studentsʼ poor comprehension, negative attitude towards learning, and low morals. I couldn’t even stop them from cheating in tests and exams.

Although it was safe to link my failure to a lack of formal teaching qualifications, I expected the impact of the workshops I attended. And to cap it all, most of the teachers I knew (with the required qualifications) weren’t getting any better results. I was frustrated; I blamed parents, society and inadequate facilities—in that order.

However, I was joyous to get a job with an international school in 2024. The school offered excellent educational facilities, teacher training, a six-figure salary, pension, heavily subsidised lunch, and transport and accommodation allowances, among other things. Everything about the school was promising.

Nonetheless, my first meeting with the students ended my excitement. I worked harder than ever before, but as each new week brought tougher challenges, I conceded that I could neither minimise nor tolerate the disruptive behaviour and utter disrespect of the children of politicians, diplomats, business tycoons, etc. They came to the school for two reasons: to have fun and build rapport with their future business partners or political allies.

I quit the job after a term. While I was leaving, some senior colleagues commended my courage to do what they had been unable to do for years despite facing the same challenges that prompted my resignation.

I became jobless but happier, and I didn’t wish to teach again. But a call from a school proprietor in a distant state changed my mind. The head of the department I resigned from recommended that I attend a school he believed would suit me.

This happened when I was already preparing to start a new position in a different industry. My prospective employer is notorious for delaying salary payments.

After weighing the salary factor and the state of education in Yorubaland, I chose to return to teaching, and bingo! My new students meet all my criteria, particularly regarding their morals. Even though they come from privileged backgrounds, they are humble, respectful, and eager for knowledge. 

There was a day when we didn’t have enough teachers to invigilate the tests, and I was the only one who seemed concerned. Two halls were left without invigilators, yet everything went smoothly. I was impressed by the students’ maturity and honesty.

My meeting with these students has reminded me of many things, one of which is the importance of being oneself. While I recognise the significance of adaptability, I still believe that some principles should not be compromised. I appreciate the gentleman who referred me to my new employer. I commend the parents and guardians of these learners, the school management, and all the staff for nurturing such remarkable members of society. Once again, I am optimisticthat Nigeria will be better in the future.

Ishaka Mohammed wrote via ishakamohammed39@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

The National Union of Electricity Employees (NUEE) has issued a 7-day ultimatum to Kaduna Electric and threatened to withdraw its services entirely due to ongoing disputes, including the issuance of ‘service no longer required’ notices to several affected staff members.

Despite intervention from the Governor of Kaduna State, Senator Uba Sani, the situation remains unresolved and left employees and the public in a state of uncertainty.

The NUEE has made it clear that unless their concerns are addressed within the stipulated timeframe, they will take further action.

The potential withdrawal of services could result in power outages affecting residents across Kaduna, Kebbi, Zamfara, and Sokoto states, who are already bracing for another possible blackout.

As the deadline approaches, all eyes are on Kaduna Electric and the state government to find a resolution before the situation escalates.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Ahmad Salkida, founder and CEO of HumAngle Media, laments the daunting challenges entrepreneurs face in Nigeria. With several years of experience and travels across 25 countries, he describes Nigeria as one of the most challenging environments for independent businesses.

Salkida points to excessive taxation and a lack of basic amenities, arguing that the legal framework fails to distinguish between social enterprises and traditional businesses. 

“The legal and regulatory framework fails to differentiate between social enterprises and traditional businesses, with the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS) focused solely on meeting unrealistic revenue targets at the expense of struggling businesses.

Success relies solely on relentless hard work and prayers,” Salkida stated, lamenting the physical and mental exhaustion that often comes with achieving success in such a challenging landscape. 

Salkida emphasizes the urgent necessity for systemic reforms to assist small and medium-sized enterprises in Nigeria.

By Amir Abdulazeez, PhD

In ancient times and through the Middle Ages, people used autobiographies to share hidden truths, make confessions and communicate genuine experiences. Nowadays, they are used by politicians and world leaders for self-justification and self-glorification. Whether in the West, across Africa, or within Nigeria, the pattern remains the same—political figures use autobiographies to rewrite history in their favour, often ignoring their failures or controversies.

Between 1948 and 1954, former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill published multiple volumes of memoirs portraying him as World War II’s hero. While Churchill was undeniably a key figure in the war, his narratives downplayed criticisms of his leadership, including his alleged role in the Bengal Famine of 1943, which resulted in the deaths of millions. His autobiographical works cemented his legacy as a wartime leader while sidestepping his more controversial decisions.

Modern political memoirs have increasingly become exercises in selective storytelling, where leaders carefully articulate their narratives to present themselves in the most favourable light possible. Former United States President Richard Nixon used his autobiography, The Memoirs of Richard Nixon, to repair his image after the Watergate scandal. After lying about the possession of weapons of mass destruction as a justification to invade, Tony Blair’s A Journey and George W. Bush’s Decision Points cruelly and shamelessly attempted to justify their baseless war in Iraq in 2003. 

Across Africa, many leaders have also engaged in the practice of using autobiographies to deny or justify their shortcomings. As good as they were, Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah, Zambia’s Kenneth Kaunda, Tanzania’s Julius Nyerere, and Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta have all been accused of using autobiographies to exaggerate their legacies, downplay their shortcomings, and ignore controversies around their stewardships.

In Nigeria, Olusegun Obasanjo’s 2014 book My Watch has been widely criticised for being self-serving. While Obasanjo portrays himself as a patriot and a visionary leader, he conveniently overlooked his authoritarian tendencies and allegations of corruption and electoral fraud during his tenure.  

Despite all the glaring circumstances that led to Dr. Goodluck Jonathan’s decisive defeat in the 2015 Presidential elections, in his 2018 book My Transition Hours, he tried hard to justify and downplay his actions while also constructing different conspiracy theories that gave the impression that he didn’t lose the elections freely and fairly. 

Just when we thought we had enough of all these politicised autobiographies, former Military President General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida has released his own memoirs. While often and correctly presented as one of Nigeria’s finest soldiers, strongest leaders, and elder statesmen, we cannot expect his memoirs to differ significantly from those of other Nigerian, African, and world leaders. IBB is unfortunate to be one of the most studied and documented Nigerian leaders, and there are numerous controversies, inconsistencies, and tactical deceptions associated with his tenure that no autobiography can reconcile. 

One major criticism of IBB’s memoir is its timing. The delayed release suggests a strategic waiting period for public emotions to cool and memories to fade. Apart from the main actors, many others in a position to validate or refute whatever he might say in his book are deceased. In fact, the majority of the current generation of Nigerians were not even born when he left power in 1993. In a nutshell, while Babangida’s autobiography may attempt to rationalise many of his decisions, the scars left by the events he oversaw, such as the Structural Adjustment Programme, state executions, public corruption, and the endless and wasteful transition programme, will remain fresh in the country’s memory.

In Nigeria, what have these autobiographies taught us? Many leaders and political figures have left behind terrible legacies that they cannot afford to entrust to impartial storytellers. While they ought to spend the remainder of their lives in regret and reflection, they prefer to add salt to the wound by publishing half-truths and falsehoods as autobiographies. When they do this, they invariably have other elitist co-conspirators, who benefited from their actions and inactions in power, gathering to celebrate them as heroes. 

As a former Nigerian leader, as long as you are alive and influential, you can always find a way to redeem your image despite your atrocities. I often ask people to imagine if General Sani Abacha were still alive; who would dare to recover any foreign loot associated with him? Who doesn’t have skeletons in their cupboards? Unfortunately for Abacha, apart from being dead, he had also stepped on most, if not all, of the toes that would have protected him, and again, one of the most affected became President just 11 months after his death.

Not everyone is the same. There are patriotic Nigerian leaders, statesmen, and freedom fighters who deserve to write autobiographies. Unfortunately, when they do, their works often get drowned in the ocean of the more negative ones who are wealthier and more popular. By tradition, Nigerians tend to promote and accept things that are popular and glamorous rather than those that are truthful and sincere. This is why you don’t hear trending biographies about Gani Fawehinmi, Abdulkadir Balarabe Musa, and others.

Ultimately, everyone has the right to their own opinion and narrative of events as they wish others to perceive them. While autobiographies offer valuable insights into the minds of world leaders, they should be read critically. Readers must recognise that these books are not always honest reflections of history but are often carefully crafted narratives aimed at preserving a leader’s legacy. 

The memoirs of political leaders frequently function more as instruments of image control than as genuine historical accounts. The ultimate judgement of political leaders should not lie within the pages of their autobiographies but rather in the lived experiences of their citizens and the tangible impacts of their policies. 

I read three autobiographies recently, and I found them to be outstanding and honest: Sir Ahmadu Bello’s My Life, Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom and Mahatma Gandhi’s The Stories of My Experiments with Truths. Sardauna’s was simple, least self-glorifying and occasionally self-critical. Mandela’s was strictly a chronicle of collective struggles, only mentioning but leaving out details about subjective issues and cleverly terminating his story to the point he was inaugurated as President. He left the story of his presidency to be told by others. Gandhi’s was the best; when he was literally forced to write his memoirs in 1925, he named it ‘My Experiments’; the translators added the word ‘autobiography’. He never wanted to write because he believed that if your actions were right, there was nothing to boast about; for the wrong ones, there would always be many people to help you write them.

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez 

By Uzair Adam

The Deputy Speaker of the House of Representatives, Hon. Benjamin Kalu, has disclosed that none of the 31 proposals submitted for the creation of new states in Nigeria met the constitutional requirements.

Speaking at the opening of a two-day retreat for members of the Constitution Review Committee in Ikot Ekpene, Akwa Ibom State, Kalu, who also serves as the chairman of the committee, revealed that over 200 bills seeking amendments to the 1999 Constitution had been received.

He stated that while some of the proposed amendments had reached the second reading stage, others were still at the first reading.

According to him, the retreat aimed to review the bills, incorporate expert input, familiarize members with their contents, and prioritize them based on national interest.

The committee is also preparing for zonal public hearings and a harmonization meeting with the Senate.

“The compilation process has revealed instances of duplication—whether by sponsors or overlapping subject matters. This necessitates meticulous harmonization to streamline efforts and eliminate redundancy,” Kalu said.

He further explained that the bills had been grouped into thematic areas, including federal structure and power devolution, local government autonomy, public revenue, fiscal federation, revenue allocation, electoral reforms, judicial reforms, gender issues, human rights, and state creation.

Regarding state creation, Kalu said the committee received 31 requests but found none of them met the constitutional criteria.

Consequently, the submission deadline has been extended to March 5, 2025, to allow applicants to fulfill the necessary requirements.

In a move to enhance public engagement, Kalu announced the establishment of a situation room in collaboration with Policy and Legal Advocacy Centre (PLAC) to address concerns from Nigerians during the constitution amendment process.

He urged lawmakers to ensure that citizens’ voices are reflected in the ongoing reforms.

The deputy speaker also disclosed plans for zonal public hearings across the six geopolitical zones to gather more input from stakeholders before finalizing the amendments.