NewStats: 3,261,336 , 8,173,709 topics. Date: Wednesday, 28 May 2025 at 08:56 PM 5k486j

By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 17/5/2025

In the lush, riverine landscapes of Nigeria’s South-South region, where the Cross River and Akwa Ibom States share a border, a long-standing communal conflict between the communities of Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku continues to cast a shadow over the lives of residents. This dispute, centered on competing claims over land and fishing rights, has fueled cycles of violence, displacement, and loss for over a century. The most recent flare-up on May 13, 2025, which claimed at least two lives and left several people missing, has reignited calls for urgent action to address this persistent crisis. This article explores the history, causes, impacts, and responses to the Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku conflict, shedding light on a complex issue that remains unresolved despite efforts by local and federal authorities.

A Historical Feud Over Land and Identity

The roots of the conflict between Ikot Offiong, an Efik-speaking community in Cross River State, and Oku-Iboku, an Ibibio-speaking community in Akwa Ibom State, stretch back to at least 1908. Historical s describe the dispute as originating from a “landlord and settler” misunderstanding, where both communities assert ancestral ownership over shared territories, particularly fertile lands and fishing settlements along the Cross River. These resources are critical to the livelihoods of both groups, who rely heavily on farming and fishing for survival.

The proximity of Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku, separated only by the river and poorly defined istrative boundaries, has intensified competition over these resources. Over time, this competition has been compounded by cultural and ethnic differences, as well as economic pressures. Historical records, such as those examined in *The History of the Conflict between Ikot Offiong and Oku Iboku in Akwa Ibom State (1908-2004)*, highlight how colonial-era boundary delineations and post-independence istrative changes failed to resolve these claims, leaving a legacy of mistrust and periodic violence.

Significant clashes have marked the conflict’s history. In 2004, for instance, an eviction attempt in Ikot Offiong led to the deaths of 60 people, many killed on farmlands. In 2017, another violent episode claimed over 20 lives, with reports of armed youths using machine guns and grenades. The following year, 2018, saw 11 people feared dead, mostly women and children, and over 2,000 displaced. These incidents underscore the devastating human toll of the dispute and its recurring nature.

The Latest Violence: May 13, 2025

On May 13, 2025, the conflict erupted once again, with reports of an attack by suspected assailants from Ikot Offiong on Oku-Iboku. According to the Akwa Ibom State House of Assembly, the violence resulted in at least two deaths, several missing persons, and the destruction of fishing boats and equipment. The attack disrupted the livelihoods of Oku-Iboku residents, many of whom depend on fishing for their income. The incident also heightened fears of retaliatory attacks, a common feature of the conflict’s cycle of violence.

The Akwa Ibom State House of Assembly responded swiftly, raising the issue as a “Matter of Urgent Public Importance.” Deputy Speaker Hon. KufreAbasi Edidem called for enhanced security measures, including the establishment of a naval base and regular gunboat patrols along the Cross River to protect lives and property. The Assembly also urged the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) and the State Emergency Management Agency (SEMA) to provide relief materials to displaced residents. These demands reflect the growing frustration with the recurring violence and its impact on local communities.

The Human and Economic Toll

The Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku conflict has left deep scars on both communities. Beyond the loss of lives, the violence has caused widespread displacement, with thousands forced to flee their homes. In 2018, for example, over 2,000 people were left homeless after an attack, and similar patterns of displacement have been reported in subsequent clashes. Refugees from Ikot Offiong have sought shelter in nearby areas of Cross River State, such as Odukpani Local Government Area, which shares cultural ties with the community.

The economic impact is equally severe. The destruction of fishing boats, nets, and farming equipment has crippled the ability of residents to earn a living. Farmlands, once a source of sustenance, have become dangerous battlegrounds, with reports of women and children killed while working in fields. A 2021 study noted that large-scale farming has become nearly impossible due to the constant threat of attacks, pushing many families into poverty.

The conflict’s ripple effects extend beyond the immediate communities. Neighboring areas in Cross River and Akwa Ibom States have experienced social and economic disruptions, as trade routes are blocked and local markets suffer from reduced activity. The humanitarian crisis, marked by homelessness, food insecurity, and trauma, underscores the urgent need for a lasting solution.

Government Efforts and Challenges

Both the Cross River and Akwa Ibom State governments have made efforts to address the conflict, though with limited success. In 2017, the deputy governors of both states held a t meeting in Calabar to discuss peacebuilding measures, and the federal government, through the National Boundary Commission, announced plans for boundary demarcation to clarify istrative limits. However, there is little evidence that these plans have been fully implemented, as violence has continued unabated.

The federal government’s role has been critical, given that boundary disputes between states fall under its jurisdiction. Yet, bureaucratic delays and a lack of sustained follow-through have hindered progress. Local communities have expressed frustration with the slow pace of government action, particularly in providing security and relief to affected areas.

Following the May 13, 2025, attack, the Akwa Ibom State government’s call for a naval base and gunboat patrols signals a shift toward prioritizing security. However, Cross River State’s specific response to the latest incident remains less clear in public reports, though its historical involvement suggests a collaborative approach with Akwa Ibom. The challenge lies in moving beyond temporary measures, such as increased security, to address the root causes of the conflict, including unclear boundaries and economic competition.

Why the Conflict Persists

Several factors contribute to the intractability of the Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku conflict:

1. Unresolved Boundary Issues: The lack of a clear, mutually accepted boundary demarcation fuels competing claims over land and fishing rights. Without a definitive resolution, tensions are likely to persist.

2. Economic Dependence on Shared Resources: Both communities rely on the same river and lands for their livelihoods, creating intense competition that often escalates into violence.

3. Militarization of the Conflict: The use of light and heavy weapons, including machine guns and grenades, indicates a level of militarization that complicates efforts to restore peace. Armed youths, often acting independently, have been implicated in attacks.

4. Cultural and Ethnic Tensions: Differences between the Efik and Ibibio communities, while not the sole driver of the conflict, add a layer of complexity to reconciliation efforts.

5. Limited Government Follow-Through: While state and federal authorities have proposed solutions, the lack of sustained implementation has allowed the conflict to fester.

A Path Forward: Toward Lasting Peace

Resolving the Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku conflict requires a multifaceted approach that addresses both immediate needs and underlying causes. Key steps include:

- Boundary Demarcation: The federal government must prioritize and expedite the demarcation process, ensuring that both communities are involved in transparent negotiations to avoid further disputes.

- Community Dialogue: Facilitating dialogue between Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku leaders, with the of neutral mediators, could help build trust and foster mutual understanding.

- Economic Development: Investing in alternative livelihoods, such as small-scale industries or cooperative farming initiatives, could reduce competition over shared resources and promote economic stability.

- Enhanced Security: While a naval base and gunboat patrols may deter violence, long-term security requires community-based policing and disarmament efforts to address the proliferation of weapons.

- Humanitarian Aid: Providing immediate relief, including shelter, food, and medical care, to displaced residents is critical to addressing the humanitarian crisis.

- Education and Reconciliation: Programs that promote cultural exchange and peace education could help bridge divides between the Efik and Ibibio communities, particularly among younger generations.

A Call for Action

The communal conflict between Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku is a stark reminder of the devastating consequences of unresolved boundary disputes. The loss of lives, displacement of families, and destruction of livelihoods have left both communities in a state of perpetual insecurity. While the Akwa Ibom State government’s recent call for security measures is a step in the right direction, it is not enough to address the deep-seated issues at the heart of the conflict.

The people of Ikot Offiong and Oku-Iboku deserve a future free from fear and violence. This will require sustained commitment from both state and federal governments, as well as the active participation of the communities themselves. By addressing the root causes of the conflict through boundary demarcation, economic development, and community dialogue Nigeria can pave the way for lasting peace in this troubled region. The time to act is now, before more lives are lost to a dispute that has already claimed too many.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
May 11, 2025

Imagine waking up every day with a weight on your chest, a quiet but relentless fear that one wrong move could cost you everything your family, your friends, your sense of purpose, even your eternal soul. For many people in certain religious communities, this isn’t just a fleeting worry; it’s a lived reality. Behind the sacred walls of faith, some groups wield psychological tactics fear of divine wrath, shunning, or eternal torment to enforce compliance. These practices, often cloaked in spiritual rhetoric, can cross into emotional abuse, leaving deep scars on those who experience them. Yet, the silence surrounding this issue is deafening. Victims hesitate to speak out, trapped by guilt, fear of ostracism, or simply not recognizing the manipulation for what it is. As a society, we must shine a light on these hidden dynamics, not to attack personal beliefs, but to protect the vulnerable and foster a world where faith uplifts rather than controls.

*The Tactics of Control: A Closer Look*

At the heart of psychological manipulation in some religious groups lies a powerful tool: fear. Fear of divine punishment whether it’s hellfire, eternal separation from God, or a spiritual void can be a paralyzing force. Sermons may paint vivid pictures of suffering for those who stray, embedding a sense of dread that lingers long after the service ends. For children raised in these environments, this fear can shape their worldview, making obedience feel like a matter of survival.

Then there’s shunning, a practice where dissenters or those who question the group’s teachings are ostracized. Imagine being cut off from your entire system parents, siblings, lifelong friends because you dared to think differently. In insular communities, where social ties are tightly woven, shunning isn’t just rejection; it’s annihilation of one’s identity. The message is clear: conform, or lose everything.

Guilt is another weapon. are often taught that questioning the group’s doctrine is a personal failing, a sign of spiritual weakness or sin. This internalized guilt can trap people in a cycle of self-doubt, making it hard to recognize that the problem lies not with them, but with the tactics being used. In extreme cases, such as cults, leaders may exploit this vulnerability further, using public confessions, surveillance, or financial dependence to tighten their grip.

These tactics aren’t always blatant. They’re often subtle, wrapped in the language of love, salvation, or community. A leader might frame shunning as “tough love” to save a soul, or eternal threats as warnings born of care. This makes it harder for victims to identify the manipulation and even harder to speak out.

*The Hidden Victims: Why Silence Persists*

Why don’t more people share their stories? The answer lies in the very nature of psychological manipulation. Victims often internalize the group’s narrative, blaming themselves for their doubts or struggles. “If I’m suffering, it must be because I’m not faithful enough,” they might think. This self-blame can silence even the most courageous.

Fear of ostracism is another barrier. Leaving a tightly knit religious group often means losing not just friends, but family who remain loyal to the group. For many, the cost of speaking out feels too high especially in communities where social isolation is a deliberate punishment. The prospect of being labeled a heretic or traitor can keep people quiet, even when they’re suffering.

Perhaps most insidiously, many victims don’t realize they’re being manipulated. When you’re raised to believe that fear, guilt, and control are normal parts of faith, it’s hard to see them as abuse. Without exposure to alternative perspectives, the manipulation becomes invisible, a fact of life rather than a violation of dignity.

This silence isn’t just personal; it’s societal. Public discussions about these issues are often stifled because criticizing religious practices can feel like attacking personal beliefs. Faith is deeply personal, and many fear that exposing harmful tactics in one group will unfairly taint all religion. As a result, the conversation gets stuck, leaving victims without a voice and society without a clear understanding of the problem.

*The Ripple Effects: Mental Health and Beyond*

The impact of psychological manipulation in religious settings extends far beyond the individual. For those who question or leave these groups, the emotional toll can be devastating. Studies and anecdotal s point to high rates of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among former of controlling religious communities. The constant fear of divine punishment can leave lasting psychological scars, while shunning can lead to profound loneliness and a fractured sense of self.

Take Sarah, for example, a woman who left a high-control religious group in her 20s. “I was taught that questioning the leader was questioning God,” she shared in a public forum. “When I started to doubt, I felt like I was betraying everyone I loved. Even after I left, I couldn’t shake the fear that I was doomed.” Sarah’s story isn’t unique. Many ex- describe sleepless nights, panic attacks, and a lingering sense of guilt that follows them for years.

The societal consequences are equally troubling. When critical thinking is discouraged when questioning is equated with sin it stifles intellectual growth. This can have far-reaching effects, limiting contributions to fields like education, science, or innovation. Communities that prioritize control over curiosity may produce who are less equipped to navigate a complex, rapidly changing world.

Social fragmentation is another cost. Families are torn apart when a member is shunned or leaves. Communities become echo chambers, reinforcing rigid beliefs and punishing dissent. This divisiveness weakens the social fabric, creating pockets of isolation in an already polarized world.

*Breaking the Silence: A Path Forward*

So, what can we do? The first step is to start talking openly, comionately, and without judgment. We need to create safe spaces where victims can share their stories without fear of being dismissed or vilified. This means listening to those who’ve left controlling religious groups, not as adversaries of faith, but as human beings who’ve endured real pain.

Education is key. Public awareness campaigns can help people recognize the signs of psychological manipulation, whether in religious settings or elsewhere. Schools, mental health professionals, and community leaders can play a role in teaching about healthy boundaries, critical thinking, and the difference between faith and control.

Mental health is critical. Therapists trained in religious trauma syndrome a term used to describe the psychological impact of leaving high-control groups can help survivors heal. Governments and organizations should invest in accessible mental health resources, particularly for those who’ve been shunned or ostracized.

We also need to rethink how we approach religious criticism. It’s possible to call out harmful practices without attacking faith as a whole. By focusing on specific tactics fear, shunning, guilt we can address the issue without alienating those who find comfort in their beliefs. This requires nuance, empathy, and a commitment to dialogue over division.

Finally, religious communities themselves have a role to play. Leaders can reflect on their practices, asking whether they uplift or control. Faith should inspire hope, not fear; connection, not isolation. By fostering environments where questions are welcomed and dissent doesn’t mean exile, religious groups can become forces for good rather than sources of harm.

*A Call to Comion*

Psychological manipulation in religious communities is a hidden wound, one that festers in silence and thrives in fear. But it doesn’t have to be this way. By speaking out, listening with empathy, and working together, we can break the cycle of control and create a world where faith is a source of strength, not suffering.

To those who’ve felt the weight of fear, guilt, or shunning: you are not alone. Your doubts don’t make you weak; they make you human. Your voice matters, and your story deserves to be heard. And to society as a whole: let’s commit to protecting the vulnerable, fostering critical thinking, and building communities where no one has to choose between their dignity and their faith.

Together, we can unveil the shadows and let the light of understanding and comion shine through.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 10/5/2025

There was a time when love meant preparing a child for the storms of life. When discipline, chores, boundaries, and firm instructions were not signs of hatred, but expressions of deep parental care. A time when a child who fell while learning to walk was allowed to rise again, not out of neglect, but because falling was part of the process.

Today, that era seems to be slipping away, quietly replaced by a dangerous form of overindulgence dressed as affection. In many homes across cities and villages, a quiet tragedy is unfolding. Parents, in a bid to love their children more than they were loved, now shield them from every hardship, responsibility, and discomfort. They intervene too quickly, defend too blindly, and excuse too often. They carry their children's burdens long after the child should have learned to carry his own. The result? A generation that is slowly, but surely, losing its backbone.

This pattern of over-pampering though often well-intentioned has created a worrying crop of adults who are emotionally brittle, entitled, and unprepared for the rigors of real life. Children are raised in comfort but denied the character-building tests that come with chores, failure, disappointment, and consequences. When a child refuses to do housework, it is laughed off. When a teenager skips school or disrespects a teacher, the blame is ed on to the school or church. When a young adult shows no interest in work or skill acquisition, the fault is heaped on the government or the economy. Everyone is to blame except the child.

We have created children who no longer see cause and effect. They grow up with a deep sense of entitlement, believing life owes them luxury, success, and ease. But life doesn’t work that way.

And then comes the tragic moment when reality knocks hard. That once pampered child is now 30, then 35, then 40. Still living at home. Still waiting. Still asking for transport fare. Still demanding that food be served. Still blaming everyone else. Competing with aging parents for the family’s last pot of soup. And in some heartbreaking cases, resenting the very parents who once doted on them. The home once a haven becomes a tense battleground of disappointment, regret, and unspoken shame.

It is not unusual now to see elderly parents in their 70s still struggling to feed or house children who should be out building homes of their own. Mothers who once dreamed of retirement now boil water for sons who no longer believe in trying. Fathers who once commanded respect now sleep with one eye open because the son they overindulged now hurls threats or fists when things don’t go his way.

These are not fables. These are real, painful stories playing out in homes across Nigeria and beyond. Ask any teacher, any pastor, any neighborhood elder they will tell you of parents who regret not enforcing boundaries earlier. Of families where mental health is in crisis because one child was allowed to believe he is the centre of the universe. Of siblings who now avoid each other because one has become a burden the rest are tired of carrying.

Yes, the economy is hard. Yes, governments have failed in many ways. Yes, opportunities are not equal. But these factors do not justify raising a child who cannot sweep, clean, plan, cook, take initiative, apologize, or work.

The truth is hard, but it must be said: *When parents remove every obstacle from a child’s path, they also remove the child’s ability to grow strong legs.*

True love teaches. True love disciplines. True love says “no” when necessary. It allows the child to fail, to feel the sting of consequences, to sit with discomfort. Because only then does the child learn resilience, innovation, and courage. That is how adults are made.

There is still time to turn things around. For young parents: start early. Let your child face some hard truths. Don’t excuse every bad behavior. Teach them to serve, to wait, to earn. Let them see you sweat, and then let them sweat too. For parents of older children, it is not too late to draw new boundaries. Hard, yes but necessary. You are not wicked. You are saving them from future disgrace.

And for all of us whether as uncles, aunties, mentors, or neighbors let us stop celebrating laziness in the name of "soft life." Let us call entitlement what it is: a ticking time bomb. Let us return to the values that built strong families discipline, service, ability, and love that is not afraid to correct.

Because if we do not fix it now, the day will come when too many of our homes will be filled with grown men and women, emotionally stunted, spiritually lost, and practically useless grasping for a pot of food their tired parents can barely stir. And when that unthinkable day arrives, no amount of regret will be able to undo the damage.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 7/5/2025

In the global pursuit of democracy and good governance, one model has consistently proven risky the *one-party system*. While it may appear stable on the surface, especially in countries facing political chaos or economic stress, this system is widely considered dangerous, especially in *multi-ethnic, democratic societies like Nigeria.*

Nigeria, Africa’s most populous nation, is a country of over *200 million people* with more than *250 ethnic groups* and a wide range of religious and cultural identities. The idea of consolidating power in "just one political party* poses a serious threat to national unity, fairness, and long-term peace.

*Dangers Hidden in Uniformity*

At first glance, a one-party system might look efficient. Without opposition, laws can quickly, decisions can be implemented swiftly, and the government appears united. But beneath this surface, the absence of *political competition* creates an environment that often leads to *authoritarianism, corruption, and civil unrest.*

In international human rights and governance standards, especially as outlined by institutions such as the *United Nations* and the *African Union, pluralism* the presence of multiple political voices is essential for protecting freedom and ensuring justice. Without it, a nation risks violating these principles.

1. *Diversity and Representation: A Nation Too Broad for One Voice*

Nigeria’s strength lies in its *diversity*. From the Hausa-Fulani in the North, to the Yoruba in the West, the Igbo in the East, and countless minority groups in the Niger Delta and Middle Belt, the country is a patchwork of cultures and histories. In such a context, a *one-party system is not just unrealistic it is unjust.*

Without multiple parties, *minority voices are easily silenced.* Decisions are made by a few, often representing a single region, ethnic group, or political ideology. Over time, this creates deep resentment and a *sense of exclusion* in communities that feel left behind.

This was part of the tension that fueled Nigeria's *civil war (1967-1970)* and continues to drive separatist movements and ethnic agitation today.

2. *Lack of ability: Power Without Pressure Breeds Complacency*

In a healthy democracy, leaders fear the ballot. *The possibility of being voted out of office* keeps them responsive and respectful of public opinion. But in a one-party system, that fear disappears.

With no real competition, the ruling party often begins to *ignore public grievances,* dismiss criticism, and make laws that serve the elite instead of the majority. There’s no incentive to improve roads, fix schools, reform the police, or reduce poverty because no one is threatening to take their place.

This lack of ability has been *a core problem in authoritarian regimes* across the world from North Korea to Zimbabwe. The people suffer, but those in power remain untouched.

3. *Corruption and Abuse of Power: When Watchdogs Are Silenced*

One of the key roles of opposition parties is to *hold the ruling government able.* They investigate wrongdoings, demand transparency, and offer alternative solutions. In a one-party state, there is no watchdog only loyalists.

This creates a breeding ground for *corruption.* Leaders appoint friends and allies into powerful positions, knowing there will be no pushback. Money meant for hospitals, schools, and rural development disappears into private pockets.

Nigeria already battles serious corruption challenges. Removing the checks provided by opposition parties would be like *removing brakes from a moving vehicle.*

4. *Suppressed Innovation: No Competition, No Growth*

In politics as in business competition drives innovation. When political parties compete for votes, they are forced to present better policies, improve their outreach, and solve real problems.

But in a one-party system, there’s no need for fresh ideas. The party in power can afford to be lazy. Citizens stop hearing new voices and *lose trust in the electoral process,* leading to low voter turnout and increased apathy.

This ultimately weakens democracy and deepens the gap between citizens and government.

*Nigeria’s Democratic Gains at Risk*

Since returning to democracy in 1999, Nigeria has made *painful but important gains* in civil liberty, electoral reform, and political participation. While the system is far from perfect, the presence of multiple parties PDP, APC, Labour Party, NNPP, and others has helped balance power, spark national conversations, and amplify voices from different regions.

A shift to a one-party system would undo decades of progress and place the country on a path toward dictatorship.

*What the International Community Says*

International law s the right to political participation and freedom of choice. *Article 21 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights* states that:

>* “Everyone has the right to take part in the government of his country, directly or through freely chosen representatives.”*

Similarly, the *African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance* emphasizes pluralism and the right to multi-party democracy. A one-party system stands in direct opposition to these ideals.

*Learning from Others: Global Lessons*

Countries that have embraced a one-party system such as *China, North Korea, Eritrea, and Turkmenistan* may enjoy control, but often at the cost of freedom, justice, and progress. Civil liberties are restricted, the media is censored, and the public lives in fear.

In contrast, thriving democracies like *South Africa, Ghana, , and Canada* benefit from *multi-party competition* that keeps leaders on their toes and citizens engaged in governance.

*Nigeria must choose the path of freedom not control.*

*The Way Forward*: Strengthen Democracy, Don’t Shrink It

Instead of calling for a one-party system, Nigeria’s leaders and citizens must work to:

Reform electoral laws to ensure fairness and transparency.

Empower independent institutions like INEC and anti-corruption bodies.

Protect press freedom and freedom of speech.

Educate citizens on the value of their vote and democratic rights.


A multi-party democracy may be noisy, slow, and frustrating but it is the only system that protects freedom, ensures representation, and prevents the rise of tyrants.

As Nigeria moves forward, it must resist calls for uniformity and embrace the *beauty and strength in its diversity.*

*Because a one-party system is not just a bad idea it’s a threat to the soul of the nation.*

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 5/5/2025

Every day in Nigeria, girls and women face a quiet war. It's not on the front pages. It's not in the breaking news. It's not trending on social media. But it's in our neighborhoods, our homes, our markets, our schools, our places of worship. It's the war of sexual violence and femicide a hidden epidemic eating away at the soul of our nation.

In February 2025 alone, Nigeria recorded 341 rape complaints and 136 reported cases of sexual violence. That’s more than 10 women and girls every single day. But these are only the ones we hear about – the brave ones who manage to speak, who are lucky enough to be counted. Thousands more never get the chance.

Most survivors never report their pain. Some are silenced by shame. Others fear their attackers, who often live just down the street or even in the same house. Some are discouraged by families who prefer to “settle” the matter quietly, or by police officers who ask, “What were you wearing?” or “Did you provoke him?” And then there are those who never survive to speak at all the victims of femicide.

*Femicide: A Word We Don’t Say, A Reality We Can’t Ignore*

*Femicide* – the killing of women and girls because of their gender is one of the most extreme forms of violence, yet Nigeria has no official, reliable database to track it. No national record of how many women are strangled, poisoned, set on fire, or beaten to death by jealous lovers, enraged husbands, or violent strangers. No consistent definition. No unified system for counting. Just names lost in silence, headlines that vanish, and graves that hold stories no one ever told.

And yet, it happens every day. A teenage girl found dead after visiting a family friend. A young woman stabbed by her partner in a fit of rage. A wife buried quietly after years of domestic abuse. Their names barely make it past a whisper.

*Why This Keeps Happening*

There is a pattern and it's not just about individual evil. It’s about a system that fails women at every level.

1. *Stigma*: Survivors are often blamed for what happened to them. They are called liars, or accused of bringing shame to the family. This culture of silence keeps victims hidden and emboldens perpetrators.


2. *Lack of :* Most Nigerian communities do not have proper shelters, trauma counselors, or accessible legal aid for survivors of sexual violence. Many women do not know their rights or have nowhere to go.


3. *Broken Institutions:* The justice system is slow, under-resourced, and often hostile to women. Police may dismiss cases. Courts may delay justice for years. Abs go free. Victims live in fear.


4. *Cultural Normalization*: In some homes, boys are taught that women are possessions, and girls are taught to endure pain. Harmful gender roles and outdated customs fuel a cycle of abuse and silence.


5. *No Central Data*: Without a national database for femicide and sexual violence, policymakers cannot see the scale of the crisis. What is not counted is not addressed.

*The Cost of Our Silence*

This crisis is not only about individual lives though each one lost is a tragedy. It is about the future of every Nigerian girl. A country where girls grow up afraid of walking alone, afraid of being touched, afraid of speaking out, is not a free country.

When we allow violence to go unpunished, we teach a generation of boys that power means domination, and a generation of girls that survival means silence.

When a girl is raped and blamed for it, we erode her self-worth, her future, her potential. When a woman is killed and no one is held able, we signal that her life did not matter. Multiply that by thousands, and we are raising daughters in a country that does not protect them.

*What Must Be Done*

We need a national awakening. Not just words, but real, concrete action. Here’s where we must begin:

Create a national database to track sexual violence and femicide. Without data, there is no urgency.

Define femicide in law and treat gender-based killings as a special class of crime.

Train the police and judiciary to handle sexual violence cases with sensitivity and urgency.

Fund safe shelters, counseling centers, and legal aid across every state in Nigeria.

Educate boys and men on consent, respect, and ability.

Encourage community reporting and protection systems, so survivors are not alone.

Stop settling rape and abuse cases at the family or village level. Justice must not be negotiated.


A Country That Fails Its Women Cannot Prosper

There is no development without dignity. No peace without protection. No future without our daughters.

We must begin to say their names. We must build a country where women are not afraid to live, not afraid to walk, not afraid to speak, not afraid to survive.

*Enough is enough.*

Let us break the silence before it breaks more lives.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 4/5/2025

In the shadow of Nigeria’s economic collapse, a social catastrophe is unfolding quietly, steadily, and destructively. What began as a trend among young people seeking quick wealth has now mutated into a full-blown epidemic of gambling addiction, sweeping across every stratum of Nigerian society. Fuelled by deepening poverty, staggering youth unemployment, and the relentless lure of mobile betting apps, gambling has become both an escape and a trap. Experts estimate that over 65 million Nigerians place bets daily, a staggering figure that barely s in policy circles or public debate.

*This is more than a moral panic. It is a social crisis*.

*The New Religion: Betting as a Way of Life*

Walk through the streets of any major Nigerian city, or even the remotest villages, and you’ll see them young men huddled around kiosks, women scanning betting odds on smartphones, children mimicking the words they hear at home: "*odds," "virtual," "stake." *Betting has become a new religion for the economically disenfranchised. To many, it is their only hope for financial salvation. It doesn’t matter that the odds are designed to favor the house. In a country where university graduates ride okadas to feed their families, the seductive promise of instant riches is too tempting to resist.

What used to be casual weekend gambling is now an everyday obsession. Betting slips have replaced grocery lists. Airtime is spent not to call loved ones, but to refresh live odds. And for many, payday no longer means rent or school fees it means topping up a virtual wallet to chase the mirage of a jackpot win.

*The Drivers: Inflation, Unemployment, and Smartphones*

The Nigerian economy has left millions behind. Inflation continues to spiral, eating away at household incomes, while unemployment especially among the youth remains catastrophic. With over 40% of the population living in poverty and job opportunities shrinking daily, young Nigerians are not just idle; they are desperate.

Enter the mobile phone a device that was once seen as a communication tool but has now become a weapon of self-sabotage in the hands of an addict. Betting apps, armed with aggressive algorithms and 24/7 accessibility, have infiltrated every corner of Nigerian life. With just a few taps, anyone can wager their future on a match in Slovenia or a virtual roulette spin. The barrier to entry is laughably low. The cost of exit is devastatingly high.

*Gambling and the Fracturing of the Nigerian Family*

Perhaps the most tragic consequence of this epidemic is its corrosive effect on families. Fathers now gamble away rent money. Mothers secretly bet away food allowances. Children go to school without lunch because someone in the house staked it all on a virtual match in Asia. In some homes, gambling is now a family affair. There are heartbreaking stories of parents encouraging their children to place bets, cheering them on as if it were a sport, not a symptom of societal decay.

This normalization of gambling is not just damaging it’s dangerous. The moment betting becomes a family activity, it ceases to be a game and becomes a generational curse.

The emotional toll is no less dire. Marriages are disintegrating under the weight of secret debts and broken trust. Domestic violence is on the rise many incidents erupt after a failed bet or a heated argument over gambling money. In such moments, the true cost of addiction reveals itself not just in naira lost, but in bones broken, lives disrupted, and relationships destroyed.

*Mental Health in Freefall*

The psychological consequences of gambling addiction are severe, yet rarely discussed. Compulsive gamblers often swing between manic hope and crushing despair. They suffer sleepless nights, anxiety, and severe depression. Many lie, steal, or manipulate their loved ones to sustain the habit. For those who lose everything and most do suicidal thoughts are not uncommon.

Unfortunately, mental health is nearly non-existent for these individuals. In a country where psychiatric services are grossly underfunded and addiction is often seen as a personal failing rather than a disease, most sufferers go untreated, unnoticed, and unaided.

*The Rise of Betting-Driven Crime*

As desperation deepens, crime becomes an inevitable byproduct. There are rising reports of petty theft, fraud, and even armed robbery committed by those driven by gambling debts. Young people who once dreamed of becoming doctors or engineers are now being lured into the murky underworld of cybercrime just to recoup their losses. For some, it's not just about recovering what they’ve lost it’s about maintaining an illusion of control in a life spiraling into chaos.

*Policy Blindness and Corporate Complicity*

Despite the scale of the crisis, the Nigerian government has largely turned a blind eye. Regulatory bodies exist in name only, often more focused on revenue generation than public health. Meanwhile, betting companies continue to thrive many owned or backed by powerful elites. These firms invest heavily in marketing, sponsoring sports teams and celebrities, painting gambling as glamorous and harmless.

There is virtually no age restriction enforcement. No mandatory addiction warnings. No spending caps. Betting companies rake in billions while Nigeria bleeds families, dreams, and futures.

*A Call for Collective Awakening*

The silence of policymakers, the complicity of corporations, and the ignorance of the general public must end. Gambling addiction is not a personal weakness it is a societal disease, fostered by systemic economic failures and corporate greed. Nigeria must act now to curb this scourge before an entire generation is lost to it.

Here’s what must happen:

1. *Strict Regulation and Oversight*: Government must place betting companies under serious scrutiny, enforcing age limits, betting caps, and mandatory warnings on all platforms.

2. *Public Awareness Campaigns*: Media, churches, schools, and community leaders must begin honest conversations about the dangers of gambling addiction.

3. *Mental Health :* Addiction recovery programs, counseling services, and groups must be made accessible and destigmatized.

4. *Economic Reforms*: The root cause remains poverty and hopelessness. Until Nigeria offers its youth real opportunities, betting will remain an attractive escape.

5. *Parental and Community Responsibility*: Families must recognize the danger and intervene early. Community leaders must discourage public endorsements of betting as a norm.

*Betting on Hope, Not Despair*

There was a time when Nigerians hoped through hard work, faith, and perseverance. That hope has been hijacked by the illusion of quick wins. A nation that bets its future on luck is a nation already bankrupt of vision.

It is time for Nigeria to reclaim that vision to bet on dignity, education, opportunity, and mental health. To trade instant gratification for long-term progress. And to understand that true wealth is not won at a kiosk or on an app, but built through unity, purpose, and care for one another.

Until then, we remain a nation betting on despair.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 2/5/2025

In today’s world, fairness has become an endangered virtue. In boardrooms, churches, family circles, and public spaces, the average human being no longer seeks what is right they seek what is convenient. People are no longer judged by the content of their character, but by how loyal they are to certain individuals, systems, or cliques. We’ve traded justice for favoritism, truth for influence, and righteousness for selective relationships. And in this trade-off, the spirit of Christ has been sidelined not by atheists or non-believers, but by those who proudly carry church titles and shout the loudest *“Amen.”*

It is tragic that in our generation, association with the church has become more of a political strategy than a spiritual journey. People wear titles like “Deacon,” “Pastor,” “Prophet,” and “Evangelist” not because they burn with the fire of God’s calling, but because these titles open doors doors to contracts, power, handshakes of influence, and the back corridors of political gain. But look deeper, and you will not find a trace of Christ in many of them.

Jesus Christ, whom we all claim to follow, was not a respecter of persons. He didn’t favor the rich over the poor. He didn’t dine with sinners because He was weak or compromised; He dined with them because they were human. He healed the outcasts, blessed the children, raised the dead, and challenged the mighty not for recognition, but for truth. He never used His divine power for profit, and He was never seen aligning with the political elite for personal gain.

But today, in many places of worship, the environment itself has become hostile. People are mocked, sidelined, and suffocated because they don’t ‘belong’ or cannot ‘contribute’ in material . Some leaders make it almost impossible for others to thrive in church. The moment they perceive you as a threat to their influence, they stifle you spiritually, emotionally, and socially. Their version of God is one that revolves around themselves. They cannot be corrected. They cannot be questioned. They’ve become gods in God’s house.

Worse still, some of these so-called ‘spiritual leaders’ publicly denounce “the world” its politics, its systems, its people but secretly dine with those they condemn. They are quick to preach holiness but are the first in line when it’s time to share stolen public funds. Their hands, lifted in worship, are the same hands g deals of corruption behind closed doors.

Let’s pause and ask: *Where is the heart of Christ in all this?* Where is comion? Where is truth? Where is humility?

To those reading this, listen and listen carefully: *Stop. Think. Reflect.* Apply the principles found in the Scriptures. Not just the verses that justify your actions, but the verses that checkmate your heart.

Look at how Jesus lived His life was a sermon in motion. Neutral to tribes, gender, status, or loyalty. He loved the betrayer, forgave the murderer, and restored the fallen. He never needed a position to be relevant, and He never used influence to oppress. He gave us a blueprint not of titles, but of service; not of influence, but of humility.

If we dare to live by those principles, we will see the difference. We will rediscover peace. We will create churches that feel like home. Communities will thrive again. Corruption will lose its grip. And the world our world will feel just a little more like heaven.

Check yourself. Strip off the titles. *Examine your motives.*

After all this after the fame fades, after the appointments expire, after the money is gone it will only matter how closely your life mirrored the truth of the Gospel.

Let us return to the simple yet powerful principle: *To be like Christ*.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 29/4/2025

In the heart of our country, where children once chased kites under the open sky and elders sat beneath baobab trees to share wisdom, the unthinkable has happened. We are no longer reading tales of ancient wars in dusty history books; we are living through them. But unlike the wars of old, which were fought between armies of relatively equal strength, this is different. It is an asymmetric war. A war where innocent villagers are forced to dig their own graves trenches that were meant to protect them but instead became their final resting place. This is no longer a case of insecurity. This is war. Real, brutal war.

How did we get here?

This is a question that must disturb the conscience of every Nigerian. Because we are not a nation lacking in defense capability. We are not a country without soldiers, without weapons, without intelligence networks. In fact, our military has been globally recognized as one of the most professional in Africa. Our troops have walked foreign lands not as invaders but as guardians. They’ve gone on peacekeeping missions across West Africa and beyond. They’ve protected communities, disarmed militias, and restored hope to people whose only crime was being born in unstable regions.
Nigeria is not a weak country. We have one of the most equipped and battle-hardened militaries in Africa. Our soldiers have served irably in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Sudan, and even far-off Haiti protecting communities, restoring order, and winning praise from global bodies. They are not just uniformed men; they are trained professionals who know how to confront and dismantle armed threats.

So why does that same military seem paralyzed at home?

Why are ragtag groups of bandits, extremists, and militia overrunning our villages with seeming ease? How do poorly coordinated, ill-trained insurgents operate unchecked, razing homes, abducting children, and massacring entire communities while the most capable defense institution in our region looks on?

The answer is painful, but it must be said. It is not about strength it is about will. Not about weapons but about leadership and courage. Our soldiers are capable. They are brave. They have sworn an oath to protect and defend. But they cannot operate at full strength when political bottlenecks and hidden interests tie their hands behind their backs. When politicians play chess with the lives of civilians, using response delays and bureaucratic sabotage to gain political mileage or to protect clandestine alliances, it is the people who bleed.

This systemic lukewarmness, this calculated silence in the face of terror, is not just a failure of leadership it is a betrayal. A betrayal of the constitution, a betrayal of our troops who watch helplessly as their mandates are watered down, and most tragically, a betrayal of the civilians who now live in fear for their lives.

The tragedy of entire communities being displaced, children growing up in refugee camps within their own country, and families forced to dig trenches that become their graves these are the images we associate with failed states. Are we ready to accept that label?

When villages are attacked repeatedly and no decisive military action follows, insurgents grow bolder. They study our complacency and weaponize it. They know which areas are left unguarded, which political figures will hesitate, and which security posts lack reinforcements. Every hesitation costs a life. Every delay reinforces the enemy’s confidence.

We must that security is not just a military responsibility it is a national obligation. Our leaders must be bold enough to authorize and decisive actions. Intelligence must be swift and utilized. Defense funding must be ed for and deployed purposefully. Most importantly, politics must be removed from the equation when the safety of the nation is at stake.

It is no longer acceptable for any region of this country to be under siege while press statements and hollow condemnations are all we offer. We need visible, strategic action. We need the government to rise not just in words, but in muscle, in precision, and in commitment.

Let us be clear: this is no longer a security challenge. This is war an internal war that threatens the soul of our nation. The only response to war is decisive action. Not caution. Not cowardice. Not calculated silence.

To the Nigerian people: you deserve more. You deserve safety in your homes, in your farms, in your schools. You deserve to live without the fear of being kidnapped, slaughtered, or forgotten. You deserve a nation that defends you with the same vigor it defends its image abroad.

To our armed forces: we see your courage. We see your training. We know what you’re capable of. May your strength be matched by the political will to let you operate fully, decisively, and without undue interference.

To our leaders: history will where you stood when your people were at war. This is your moment to act, to protect, and to prove that Nigeria is not a failed state, but a sovereign one strong, united, and determined to defend its own.

The Nigerian people deserve more than tears and tributes. They deserve security. They deserve a leadership that matches the courage of the troops and the resilience of our communities.

History is watching. The world is watching. But most importantly, those digging their own graves are watching hoping that someone, somewhere, will finally act.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 19/4/2025

In this world of fleeting seasons and shifting tides, it is both a blessing and a warning to find oneself in a position of privilege. Whether you sit high in political office, walk confidently through the gates of great companies, head large industries, or enjoy comfort and luxury while others struggle—this message is for you.

Many who are privileged begin to see themselves as superior: they attribute their status solely to their intelligence, hard work, and a special connection with God. While those traits are valuable, it is dangerous to let them intoxicate you. When privilege becomes pride, and opportunity breeds arrogance, humanity begins to rot at its core.

Some of you believe your prayers are always answered because you are “chosen.” You see yourself as a god among mortals, as a hero in a world of forgotten faces. But let it be known—every position has an expiry date. No height is eternal. No crown sits forever. Nature teaches us this daily: trees that once stood tall fall to storms, and lands that once thrived are buried under the weight of human progress or disaster.

your childhood? The friends you played with, the classmates you grew alongside—many of whom you now look down upon. Those people you now dismiss as "not your class" once shared desks and meals with you. Just because you’re privileged now does not mean you are better. The tides of time are always changing. Today you’re the landlord, tomorrow you might beg for shelter. Corn only grows in its season, and even the fertile field must rest.

To those in politics who exploit the masses, take heed. Your season will . Power is like the morning dew—bright for a moment, then gone with the heat. You may silence the weak today, but you cannot silence consequence. You may boast of wisdom, but wisdom is proven by action, not advantage. And politics, no matter how firm it looks, is never permanent.

And to those who have made it—those basking in wealth and influence—pause for a moment. Ask yourself: who have I lifted up with my privilege? Whose life have I changed for good? The world is spinning faster than ever. Night always follows day. One day, age will knock on your door, and your hands will no longer be strong. Your legs will seek , your voice will tremble. In that moment, it’s not your titles that will matter—it’s your legacy.

Stop pretending that everyone who challenges you is jealous. Stop blocking others from rising just to protect your fragile ego. Stop building walls around your position as though it is a fortress—truth always finds a way in. If you know someone is qualified and deserving, and you still hold them back, know this: the judgment of time is slow but certain.

Some of you have used corruption to climb, and today you think you’ve won. But evil does not hide forever. There is no grave deep enough to bury truth. And when the wind shifts, the skeletons will surface. Stealing, cheating, and oppressing others might make your pocket full, but it makes your soul empty.

To the women in power who oppress other women instead of lifting them—what are you building? A legacy of fear? Or a trail of tears? Power was not given to you to become an idol—it was given so you could become a ladder.

To the men who exploit vulnerable girls seeking help—your time bomb ticks. There is a judgment that doesn’t need courts, and a justice that doesn’t need lawyers. The tears of the broken travel faster than your ego can run.

Even some religious institutions have fallen into this trap—treating unequally, favoring the wealthy, and ignoring the broken. But hear this: the rain falls on every roof, rich or poor, big or small. When it rains, money cannot keep you dry from what heaven has ordered.

And after all is said and done—when breath leaves the body and your name is spoken in past tense—what then? You will not be buried with your privilege. No title follows you into the dust. The rich and poor all return to the same soil. So, what have you done that will speak for you when your voice is gone?

This is not a curse. It is a call. A call to humility. A call to kindness. A call to purpose. Use what you have now to build, to heal, to bless. Think again. Sit down today, and ask yourself: *Who have I helped? Whose life is better because I lived?*

: Our Creator is watching. The sun rises for all. The grave receives all. But only those who loved well, gave wisely, and lived with comion will be ed for good.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 18/4/2025

In every nation, uniforms carry a special weight. They are not just garments; they are living symbols of duty, discipline, authority, and sacrifice. The military uniform, in particular, is revered across the globe—standing tall as a badge of honour worn only by those who have taken the oath to defend their country, often at great personal risk. But what happens when civilians, who are not part of the armed forces, don this revered attire?

In Nigeria, this is more than just an ethical question. It is a serious legal offense.

According to legal scholar M.O. Idam Esq, and anchored by the laws of the land, Sections 252 and 251 of the Penal Code (applicable in Northern Nigeria), Section 110(1) of the Criminal Code Act (applicable in the South), and Section 79 of the Criminal Law of Lagos State, the use of military uniform by any person who is not a member of the Nigerian Armed Forces is criminalized. The implication is direct: wearing military gear as a civilian is a crime—no ambiguity, no justification.

But let’s step back a bit. Why is this offense so weighty in the eyes of the law? Why would something that seems as trivial as a piece of clothing attract such serious consequences?

*The Uniform as a Symbol of Authority*

The military uniform represents the authority of the state. Soldiers are not just individuals; they are instruments of lawful force, trained and commissioned to protect Nigeria’s sovereignty and its people. When a civilian wears the uniform, it’s not mere mimicry—it is a misrepresentation of state power. That impersonation can be used to intimidate, extort, deceive, or even to commit crimes under the guise of military legitimacy.

*A Threat to National Security*

Consider this: a man in military camouflage is flagged down at a checkpoint. The officers, assuming he is one of their own, wave him through. Later, it is discovered that he was transporting illegal arms. This is not a fictional scenario—it has happened in real cases. The unlawful use of military attire has become a tool for criminals, insurgents, and even political thugs. It undermines national security, endangers lives, and erodes trust in state institutions.

*A Disservice to Real Soldiers*

Every stripe on a soldier’s shoulder was earned with discipline, sleepless nights, grueling training, and sometimes, blood. When a civilian wears that same attire for show, for social media clout, or for criminal ventures, it is a slap in the face of every man and woman who has truly served this country. It makes mockery of sacrifice, of honour, and of service.

*Legal Provisions and Penalties*

The law leaves no room for ambiguity:

Section 110(1) of the Criminal Code states that any person who “unlawfully wears the uniform of the armed forces, or any uniform resembling it, is guilty of an offense and liable to imprisonment.”

Section 252 of the Penal Code provides that “whoever, not being a soldier, sailor or airman in the armed forces of Nigeria, wears the uniform of such force, or any dress having the appearance or bearing any of the regimental or other distinctive marks of such uniform,” commits an offense.

Section 79 of the Lagos Criminal Law replicates this, criminalizing such impersonation within the state’s jurisdiction.

Convictions under these laws can lead to months or even years of imprisonment, depending on the circumstances and intent.

*Culture, Entertainment, and the Blurred Lines*

In music videos, Nollywood movies, and even traditional weddings, it’s not uncommon to see civilians donning camouflage outfits. Some wear them to dance, to entertain, or as part of a thematic photoshoot. While some exceptions may apply—especially with prior clearance from relevant authorities—many civilians are unaware that even this can be unlawful. The lines may seem blurred, but the law is clear: intent does not always absolve liability.

*The Rise of Military Fashion and Its Risks*

In recent years, military fashion has made its way into civilian wardrobes. Camouflage prints have become popular on t-shirts, caps, and even designer shoes. But when these resemble actual military gear too closely, it becomes a slippery slope. Many youths, unknowingly, walk the streets wearing items that could get them arrested. The enforcement agencies may not always exercise leniency.

This is why public education is essential. Citizens must know that ignorance of the law is not an excuse. Schools, media, and civil society must begin to sensitize the public on what constitutes impersonation and why it’s taken so seriously. Parents must also caution their children about wearing camouflage outfits “for fun,” especially in public places.

*The Danger of Romanticizing the Uniform*

Some civilians wear the military uniform because they idolize soldiers. While this sentiment may stem from respect, it is misplaced iration when expressed through illegal actions. If one truly respects the military, they should respect the laws that govern it—and the symbols that define it.

*The Role of the Nigerian Armed Forces*

The Nigerian military itself continues to advise civilians against the unauthorized use of military gear. Public advisories have been issued from time to time, especially during national events or in times of unrest. The military is not just interested in defending the country—they also defend the sanctity of their profession.

*Civil-Military Relations and Mutual Respect*

Strong civil-military relations are built on trust, respect, and clearly defined boundaries. Just as soldiers are expected to stay apolitical and disciplined in their engagements with civilians, civilians too are expected to honour the institution by not encroaching on its sacred identity.

*Youth and Urban Culture: A Wake-Up Call*

Many Nigerian youths are unaware that flaunting camouflage clothes, even on bikes or in clubs, can attract arrest. What begins as a fashion statement can quickly turn into a legal nightmare. Police and military patrols have clamped down on such trends in the past—and they are within the law to do so.

*Are There Any Exceptions?*

Yes, but they are rare. For instance, in film or theatre, permission can be sought and obtained. Also, ceremonial or honorary events sometimes involve military-themed dress codes, but again—only with clearance. Without proper authorization, any such use remains illegal.

*Civic Duty: Know the Law, Respect the Uniform*

Every Nigerian has a role to play in protecting the sanctity of our national institutions. That includes educating others on the importance of not misusing symbols like the military uniform. It is our civic duty to uphold the law and the dignity of those who defend it with their lives.

*A Message to Our Youth: Be Inspired, But Be Lawful*

Aspire to be like the brave soldiers if you must—but let that inspiration drive you to the forces legally, or to serve your country in other lawful ways. Wearing a uniform you didn’t earn isn’t bravery—it’s a crime.

*Final Thoughts: Wearing Honour Without Earning It is Dishonour*

To wear the military uniform without earning it is not just a violation of the law—it is a violation of national trust. It endangers lives, invites confusion, and disrespects a noble institution. Our soldiers stand at the gates so we can sleep at night. The least we can do is protect the symbols that define their service.

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By Ayaya Inuen Ayaya 12/4/2025

It begins with silence — not the peaceful kind that invites reflection, but a chilling quietude that lingers even in rooms filled with people. A family of five sits together in a living room. No one is speaking. Heads are bowed, not in prayer or thought, but in servitude to glowing screens. The world has shifted, and so have our values. What we once held dear — empathy, connection, respect, morality — are now relics fading into obscurity.

We are living in an era where the very essence of humanity is under threat, not by war or famine, but by a slow, creeping moral decay dressed in the cloak of “progress.” It is shocking, heart-wrenching, and overwhelmingly tragic how technology, something meant to enhance our lives, has instead hollowed us out. We’ve become slaves to the ping of notifications, to the unrelenting scroll of content, and in doing so, we’ve lost our souls.

Today, a fellow human being can collapse in pain on the street, and what do we do? Do we rush to help? No. Phones come out. Cameras roll. Angles are adjusted. It becomes a spectacle — content for social media. A man gasping for help becomes a trending video. A woman in distress becomes an opportunity for likes. And we, the viewers, scroll past with a fleeting “Ah! That’s terrible” before the next meme steals our attention.

Where is our empathy? Where is our shared humanity? Technology may not be inherently evil, but the way we’ve allowed it to take over our lives has birthed a society where the heart no longer leads. The soul no longer speaks. The conscience no longer stirs.

When did we stop feeling?

Visit a friend or relative today and see how quickly you become invisible. You sit there — hoping for conversation, hoping for warmth — but their eyes are buried in the screen. They smile, not at you, but at a reel. They laugh, not with you, but at a TikTok skit. You came to reconnect, but all you meet is a wall of silence and a glassy gaze. Our presence means little now. Flesh and blood no longer matter. Relationships have been reduced to emojis and voice notes. We are together, yet more alone than ever.

In homes across the world, kitchens once filled with the aroma of food and the laughter of preparation are now places of burnt meals and distracted minds. A woman scrolls endlessly through her phone while her pot boils dry. A child cries in another room, but the ping of a message draws more attention. In this new world, even care has become secondary.

Parents — once the moral com of the family — are now gifting phones to children as symbols of love, when in fact, it’s a shortcut to ruin. A child barely able to spell is introduced to the vast, unsupervised wilds of the internet. They are exposed, unguarded, vulnerable. And in this exposure, their innocence is stripped away. The child grows not by wisdom but by misinformation, not with discipline but distraction.

And then, on the roads, we see adults driving heavy machines, steering wheels in one hand, phones in the other. Calls, chats, movies — anything but attention to life, to duty, to safety. A single moment of distraction becomes a lifetime of regret. A life lost. A family destroyed. And for what? A text? A “like”?

It gets even more absurd. Young ladies — unemployed, uninspired, unengaged — are often seen flaunting the latest phones. No job, no income, yet equipped with high-end gadgets. And then comes the cycle of begging — “Please subscribe data for me.” “Can you buy me airtime?” Our priorities have been distorted. Status now is not based on character or value, but the size of your phone, the number of your followers, and the sparkle of your pictures.

We must ask ourselves: What are we becoming? Where are we going?

Today’s family gathering, once a warm place of laughter, stories, and love, is now a cold assembly of distracted souls. Grandparents are ignored. Children are neglected. Even spouses barely speak. Everyone is glued to their devices. And the one person without a phone? They sit quietly in the corner — lonely, isolated, invisible. We are replacing presence with pretense.

Only a handful still use this tool called technology for good — to learn, to educate, to inspire. But the vast majority are drowning in vanity, gossip, misinformation, and mindless trends. We value pixels more than people. We sacrifice hours worshiping content creators, but cannot spare ten minutes for prayer or gratitude.

Some spend an entire day with their phone — checking it first thing in the morning, clutching it at every meal, and falling asleep with it in hand. Yet, in that same day, they never once whisper a word to their Creator. No moment of reflection, no moment of reverence. Phones have become our new altars. And we, unknowingly, are worshiping them.

This is not just a shift. It is a collapse. A moral implosion.

We are not saying technology is evil. No, it is a powerful tool. But it must be our servant, not our master. Right now, it is driving our society into a ditch, and we are cheering it on, distracted by trends while the world burns.

Let us wake up before it’s too late. Let us look up — really look at each other. Let us touch hearts again, hold conversations, ask meaningful questions, and truly care. Let us teach our children values that do not need Wi-Fi to work. Let us that humanity is more important than hashtags, and that real life is not lived on a screen.

This is a cry — loud, raw, emotional — for the soul of our society. For the return of empathy. For the rebirth of values.

If we don’t pause and reflect now, then when? If we don’t fight for our moral survival, who will?

Before the last light of conscience is snuffed out — wake up, society. Wake up.

#Insight Reality
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By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

In the name of all that is rational, is this truly the life we were meant to live? Is this what being Nigerian has been reduced to—roaming the earth like lost cattle, forever hawking our hard-earned certificates and skills to foreign lands, begging for acceptance? Is this the grand purpose of our existence: to become modern slaves in societies that will never fully embrace us, no matter how accomplished we are?

Every day, more Nigerians flee—rushing towards the UK, US, Canada, Australia, Saudi Arabia, and anywhere else that offers an escape from the dysfunction at home. We disguise our desperation with words like “opportunity” and “better life,” but deep inside, we know the truth: we are running, and we have been running for decades. Each time we leave, we pray that too many others do not follow, lest our new haven becomes “overrun” with Nigerians, leading to the tightening of immigration policies and new barriers that send us scurrying toward the next destination.

But have we ever paused to ask ourselves: Is there more to life than this endless fleeing? How long will we keep pretending that the problem is outside of us? How long will we refuse to face the hard reality that Nigeria’s mess is our mess? That no foreign land will ever treat us as full citizens because we do not even respect our own homeland?

If you like, travel through the whole of Europe and the so-called “Five Eyes” nations—oyibo is oyibo. Their system is uniform: it is designed to exploit you, to remind you at every turn that you are a second-class being. You may be a doctor, an engineer, a professor, or an entrepreneur, but you will always be an outsider. You will always have to prove yourself twice as much, and even then, you will never fully belong. Whether subtly or openly, you will face discrimination, suspicion, and a glass ceiling that you can never quite break. And the worst part? They will always make you feel like they are doing you a favor by allowing you to exist within their borders.

So, tell me: when will we realize that the only place in the world where we have a shot at true personhood, true dignity, and true ownership is in Africa? When will we acknowledge that the Nigeria we are fleeing from will never improve unless we take responsibility for fixing it?

The problems of our country are massive, yes. Corruption, insecurity, poor governance, lack of infrastructure—these issues are real, and they are frustrating. But who will fix them if not us? Foreigners? The same people whose economic and political interests depend on keeping Africa weak and divided? The same system that benefits from our brain drain, draining us of our best minds while ensuring our home country remains a perpetual mess?

We must do something radical. We must do something that goes against the survival instinct that tells us to flee. We must turn around, face our problems, and fight. Not with guns and violence, but with our knowledge, skills, and resources.

What if, instead of building another man's economy, we built our own? What if, instead of enriching foreign universities and hospitals, we poured our expertise into Nigerian institutions? What if, instead of working tirelessly for companies that see us as expendable, we established our own? What if we stopped seeing Nigeria as a lost cause and started treating it as our collective project—one that only we can fix?

This is not to say that travel and exposure are bad. But when will we stop seeing foreign lands as the ultimate escape? When will we stop running from our home and start reclaiming it? The world will never fully respect us until we respect ourselves enough to fix our country. The choice is ours: will we continue to be modern-day nomads, endlessly searching for a place that will never truly be ours? Or will we finally take a stand and build the Nigeria we deserve?

History will judge us by the answer we choose.

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By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

In every society, crime is often perceived as a universal evil, something that must be punished and eradicated. However, in Nigeria, a nation rich in culture, history, and diversity, the perception of crime is not as straightforward. The phrase, "There’s no crime anywhere; it just depends on who committed the act," speaks volumes about the complexities of justice, morality, and power dynamics in the country.

From the bustling streets of Lagos in the Southwest to the oil-rich communities of the Niger Delta in the South-South, from the vast landscapes of the North to the commercial hubs in the East, crime is not always defined by the law but by who is involved. In this article, we explore how crime is perceived differently across Nigeria’s regions, shedding light on the socio-political and cultural factors that shape this perception.

*Crime in the North: A Matter of Influence and Faith*

Northern Nigeria, with its deep Islamic influence and traditional hierarchical structures, often deals with crime through both formal and informal justice systems. Sharia law operates in many northern states, but its enforcement varies depending on who is involved.

For the common man, a petty thief caught in the market might face swift justice—sometimes even street justice—without a fair trial. However, when a politician or a high-ranking figure is caught embezzling millions meant for public infrastructure, the response is often muted, with legal processes dragging on for years or resulting in mere slaps on the wrist. The same society that might the harsh punishment of a low-level offender may turn a blind eye when the individual involved holds power or influence.

Religious leaders and traditional rulers also play a role in shaping these perspectives. A poor man stealing bread to feed his family may be considered a criminal, but a powerful figure misallocating public funds may be seen as engaging in "strategic wealth distribution." This disparity fuels the belief that crime is not about the act itself but about who commits it.

*The South: The Oil Money and Double Standards*

In Southern Nigeria, particularly in the oil-producing Niger Delta, the notion of crime is even more nuanced. Oil bunkering, pipeline vandalism, and illegal refineries are rampant, yet those involved are often viewed as "economic freedom fighters" rather than criminals. Many believe these activities are a justified reaction to decades of exploitation by the government and foreign corporations.

Meanwhile, the treatment of internet fraudsters, popularly known as "Yahoo boys," further reinforces this double standard. While law enforcement agencies, especially the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), clamp down on young men engaging in cyber fraud, politicians who embezzle public funds worth billions often escape with minimal consequences. The question then arises: If a young man defrauds a foreigner of a few thousand dollars, he is a criminal, but if a politician siphons public funds meant for hospitals and roads, he is a statesman?

The perception of crime in the South is, therefore, largely influenced by economic frustrations and historical injustices. The people often justify certain acts as a means of survival in a system that seems rigged against the common man.

*Crime in the West: The Politics of Legitimacy*

Western Nigeria, home to major commercial and intellectual hubs like Lagos and Ibadan, presents a unique blend of legal frameworks and cultural dynamics. In this region, crime is often determined by status and the ability to manipulate the system.

For example, in Lagos, a street hawker caught selling without a permit may be arrested and fined, while a well-connected businessman involved in tax evasion worth billions may never see the inside of a courtroom. Similarly, political thugs who wreak havoc during elections may later be rewarded with government appointments, their past actions conveniently forgotten.

The Yoruba concept of "Omoluabi" (a person of good character) is often used selectively. A well-respected individual in society may be excused for financial crimes because of their contributions to the community. Thus, crime in the West is less about legality and more about **legitimacy—**if society deems an act justifiable, it ceases to be a crime, regardless of the law.

*Crime in the East: The Business of Survival*

Eastern Nigeria, historically known for its entrepreneurial spirit, has its own way of viewing crime. In a region where self-sufficiency is highly valued, success is often celebrated regardless of the means through which it is achieved.

The controversial yet widely accepted phrase, "Igbo amaka" (loosely translating to "Igbo excellence", sometimes allows for a flexible interpretation of ethics. Someone who engages in smuggling or illicit business but brings wealth to the community may be seen as a hero rather than a criminal. This is why some individuals who have faced legal troubles abroad return home to be honored and respected.

However, this does not mean crime is tolerated outright. Rather, it is weighed against the perceived benefits to the community. If an act benefits the people, it is often overlooked. On the other hand, crimes committed by outsiders or acts that harm the community directly, such as armed robbery or kidnapping, are swiftly punished, often with mob justice.

*The Role of Power and Politics*

Across all regions, one factor remains constant: power determines the definition of crime. The same act that sends a poor man to jail can elevate a rich man to a position of greater influence. Politicians, business tycoons, and traditional rulers often escape consequences not because they are innocent but because the system favors them.

This is not unique to Nigeria, but the country’s deeply entrenched patronage system makes it more visible. Laws exist, but their application is selective. Justice is not always blind—it often peeks to see who is standing in front of it.

*Final Thoughts: The Future of Justice in Nigeria*

If Nigeria is to progress, this selective perception of crime must be challenged. There needs to be a shift towards true ability, where the law applies equally to all citizens, regardless of their status or influence.

For this to happen, institutions must be strengthened, and society must demand fairness, not just when it affects the powerless but also when it involves the powerful. Until then, the saying will remain true: "There’s no crime anywhere; it just depends on who committed the act."

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By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

Labor shortages and skills gaps are significant challenges currently facing the housing and built environment sectors across the world, including in Nigeria. With the rapid changes in the labor market, aging workforce, and evolving technologies, these sectors are particularly vulnerable to disruptions. Many regions, including Nigeria, face a shortage of skilled workers due to the retirement of experienced artisans and a lack of younger individuals entering skilled trades. This shortage has profound implications on construction timelines, the quality of infrastructure, and the overall development of communities. Addressing this issue requires coordinated efforts from government, industry stakeholders, and educational institutions. This article delves into the reasons behind the labor shortage and skills gap, the impact of technological disruptions, and the crucial need for government initiatives like town hall meetings with artisans to address the challenges and find viable solutions.

*Aging Workforce and Retirement of Skilled Artisans*

The construction industry, especially in Nigeria, has long depended on a highly skilled workforce of artisans, including carpenters, electricians, bricklayers, masons, plumbers, and welders. However, a significant number of these skilled workers are nearing retirement age, and as they exit the workforce, they are leaving a void that is difficult to fill. The problem is further compounded by the fact that fewer young people are pursuing careers in these trades. Cultural shifts, changing aspirations, and the desire for more formal education and white-collar jobs contribute to the decline in interest in trades.

This aging workforce is a pressing issue that requires immediate attention. Without a sufficient number of new skilled workers to replace retirees, construction projects face significant delays, and the quality of built environments can suffer. Moreover, the knowledge and expertise of retiring artisans are often lost, as many older workers have not ed on their skills to younger generations, leading to a deeper skills gap.

*Insufficient Training Programs and Education Gaps*

Training programs for skilled trades in many parts of the world, including Nigeria, have not kept up with the growing demand for construction labor. Vocational training programs, apprenticeships, and technical schools are often underfunded, outdated, or not accessible to a wide range of young people. The lack of access to quality training programs exacerbates the skills gap, leaving many potential workers ill-prepared to enter the industry.

In addition, existing programs often focus on outdated practices and techniques, failing to equip workers with the skills required for modern construction. Many programs do not emphasize the latest technologies, construction methods, or safety standards, making it difficult for young workers to meet the needs of today's dynamic building environment. This disconnect between training and industry needs contributes to delays in projects and inefficiencies in construction.

*Impact on Housing Development and Infrastructure*

The labor shortage in the construction industry has direct and profound effects on housing development and infrastructure projects. In many regions, including Nigeria, housing demands are increasing due to rapid urbanization and population growth. However, without enough skilled workers, it becomes difficult to meet the demand for affordable housing.

Construction delays are one of the most visible consequences of labor shortages. Homes take longer to build, which can raise costs and discourage investment in the sector. Delayed housing projects mean that fewer families have access to adequate shelter, and the overall pace of urban development slows down. In addition to residential housing, the labor shortage also affects the construction of critical infrastructure such as roads, schools, hospitals, and public utilities, which are essential for community development.

*Technological Disruption and Its Effects on Traditional Trades*

Technological disruption is reshaping many industries, and the construction sector is no exception. Automation, robotics, and prefabrication technologies are transforming how homes and buildings are constructed. These advancements can lead to increased efficiency and cost savings, but they also present challenges for traditional artisanal roles.

Automation and robotic systems can perform repetitive and labor-intensive tasks that were once done by skilled workers, such as bricklaying or painting. Prefabrication techniques, where parts of buildings are manufactured offsite and assembled on location, also reduce the need for large numbers of workers. While these innovations are undoubtedly beneficial for improving productivity and reducing costs, they can also make traditional trades obsolete, leaving artisans who are not equipped to adapt to new technologies vulnerable to unemployment.

*The Need for Skilled Workers to Adapt to New Tools and Technologies*

As the construction industry embraces technological innovations, skilled workers must adapt to the changing landscape. Workers who have been trained in traditional construction methods face the risk of obsolescence if they do not acquire new skills. The demand for familiarity with automated systems, computer-aided design (CAD) tools, and advanced prefabrication techniques is growing.

This shift requires retraining and upskilling programs that enable artisans to keep pace with technological advancements. Without these programs, many workers will find themselves left behind, unable to compete for jobs in an increasingly high-tech industry. Governments, educational institutions, and employers must collaborate to provide the necessary resources and training to ensure that workers remain relevant in the evolving job market.

*Economic Consequences of Labor Shortages in Housing and Construction*

The shortage of skilled labor in the housing and built environment sectors has broader economic implications. When construction projects are delayed or cost more than anticipated due to a lack of skilled workers, the ripple effects can be felt across the economy. Increased construction costs are ed on to homebuyers, leading to higher prices for housing and a slowdown in real estate transactions. This, in turn, can hinder economic growth, as the housing market is closely linked to other sectors such as banking, retail, and manufacturing.

Additionally, the lack of skilled labor also limits the ability of governments to invest in infrastructure projects that could stimulate job creation and economic development. Unfinished roads, bridges, and schools impede economic progress and reduce the quality of life for communities.

*The Role of Government in Addressing the Skills Gap*

Governments have a crucial role to play in addressing labor shortages and the skills gap in the housing and built environment sectors. In Nigeria, state and local governments should prioritize investment in vocational education and training programs that are aligned with the needs of the construction industry. This includes updating curricula to reflect the latest technologies, materials, and construction methods.

Governments can also incentivize private sector involvement in training programs by offering subsidies, tax incentives, and grants to companies that invest in apprenticeships and skill development. Public-private partnerships can create a more robust workforce pipeline and ensure that skilled workers are available to meet the growing demand for housing and infrastructure.

*The Importance of Town Hall Meetings with Artisans*

In Nigeria, a country with a rich tradition of skilled craftsmanship, town hall meetings between government representatives and artisans can play a crucial role in identifying and addressing labor shortages and skills gaps. These meetings provide a platform for artisans to voice their concerns, share their experiences, and propose solutions to the challenges they face.

Such forums can help the government better understand the realities of the construction industry, including the difficulties artisans encounter in accessing training, securing employment, and adapting to new technologies. Additionally, these town hall meetings can foster collaboration between different stakeholders, including industry leaders, educators, and policymakers, to develop actionable solutions to the labor shortages.

*Promoting the Trades as a Viable Career Path*

One of the key challenges in addressing labor shortages is changing perceptions of skilled trades. Many young people in Nigeria and other countries are discouraged from pursuing careers as artisans due to societal biases that favor white-collar jobs. Governments and industry leaders must work together to promote skilled trades as viable and lucrative career paths.

Public awareness campaigns can highlight the importance of trades in national development and showcase the potential for financial success and job satisfaction in these fields. By changing attitudes towards vocational education, more young people may be inspired to pursue careers in construction and the built environment.

*Leveraging Technology to Enhance Training Programs*

In light of technological disruptions in the construction industry, it is essential to incorporate digital tools and resources into training programs. Virtual reality (VR), augmented reality (AR), and online platforms can be used to simulate real-world construction scenarios, allowing workers to practice skills in a safe and controlled environment.

These technologies can also make training more accessible to individuals in remote areas, where traditional training centers may not be available. By integrating these modern technologies into vocational education, training programs can be more engaging, efficient, and relevant to the needs of the industry.

*Collaboration Between Educational Institutions and Industry*

Educational institutions play a pivotal role in preparing the next generation of skilled workers for the housing and built environment sectors. To bridge the skills gap, there must be closer collaboration between vocational schools, universities, and industry stakeholders.

Partnerships between academia and industry can ensure that curricula are aligned with the latest trends and technologies in construction. Additionally, students can benefit from internships, apprenticeships, and on-the-job training, which provide practical experience and expose them to the realities of the workforce.

*Increasing Investment in Skilled Labor and Vocational Education*

Governments and private sector players must invest more in vocational education and the development of skilled labor. Public policies should the establishment of modern training facilities, the creation of apprenticeship programs, and the certification of workers to ensure that they meet industry standards.

Such investments will not only address the current labor shortages but also create a sustainable pipeline of skilled workers who can meet the demands of the housing and construction sectors for years to come.

*Empowering Women in the Trades*

Empowering women to pursue careers in construction and the built environment can help address labor shortages and diversify the workforce. Women have traditionally been underrepresented in skilled trades, but by offering targeted training programs and mentorship opportunities, governments and organizations can encourage more women to enter the sector.

Gender inclusivity in the trades can also bring fresh perspectives and innovative solutions to the challenges facing the construction industry, benefiting both workers and the communities they serve.

*Overcoming Cultural Barriers*

In many cultures, there are social stigmas attached to working in manual labor or vocational trades. Overcoming these cultural barriers is essential for ensuring that young people consider careers in construction and the built environment.

Public awareness campaigns that emphasize the dignity and value of trades, as well as the potential for career growth, can help shift public perception and encourage more young people to pursue vocational training.

*Encouraging Apprenticeships and On-the-Job Training*

One of the most effective ways to address labor shortages is by expanding apprenticeship and on-the-job training opportunities. These programs allow young workers to gain hands-on experience under the mentorship of seasoned artisans, helping them develop practical skills and confidence.

By increasing the availability of apprenticeships, the industry can provide workers with the opportunity to learn while earning, ensuring a steady flow of skilled labor to meet the needs of the housing and construction sectors.

*The Role of Government in Regulating Labor Standards*

To ensure that workers are adequately compensated and protected, governments must implement and enforce labor standards in the construction sector. This includes establishing minimum wage laws, ensuring safe working conditions, and providing access to social benefits such as healthcare and retirement savings.

Protecting workers' rights not only improves the quality of life for artisans but also helps to attract new talent to the industry, as workers feel secure and valued in their roles.

*Addressing the Informal Labor Market*

In many parts of Nigeria, the construction sector relies heavily on informal labor, where workers are not formally trained or certified. Addressing this informal labor market is essential for ensuring that all workers are properly trained and meet industry standards.

Governments should implement policies to formalize the labor market, ensuring that workers have access to proper training, fair wages, and social protections. This will improve the quality of work and create a more sustainable workforce for the future.

*The Importance of Sustainability in Housing Development*

Sustainable construction practices are becoming increasingly important in the housing and built environment sectors. As the demand for eco-friendly homes and green buildings grows, there is a need for skilled workers who are trained in sustainable construction techniques.

Training programs must include courses on energy-efficient building practices, renewable energy technologies, and environmentally responsible materials to ensure that workers are equipped to meet the demands of a green economy.

*The Role of Public-Private Partnerships*

Public-private partnerships (PPPs) can play a critical role in addressing labor shortages and the skills gap in the construction sector. By working together, governments and private sector players can pool resources to fund training programs, apprenticeship opportunities, and workforce development initiatives.

Through PPPs, the housing and construction industries can build a more resilient, skilled workforce capable of meeting the challenges of modern construction and development.

Labor shortages and skills gaps in the housing and built environment sectors are pressing challenges that require immediate attention. Governments, educational institutions, and industry stakeholders must work together to address the causes of these shortages and ensure a steady supply of skilled workers to meet the growing demand for housing and infrastructure. By investing in training programs, embracing new technologies, and fostering collaboration between various sectors, we can build a sustainable and skilled workforce capable of driving the future of the built environment.

In Nigeria, town hall meetings with artisans offer a valuable opportunity for dialogue and collaboration between the government and the skilled workforce. These meetings can help identify solutions to the challenges facing artisans and provide a platform for creating policies that the growth of the construction industry. By taking action now, we can ensure that the housing and built environment sectors remain robust, resilient, and able to meet the needs of communities for years to come.

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27/3/2025

By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

In the bustling streets of Nigeria’s cities and towns, towering structures, sprawling estates, and intricate infrastructures stand as testaments to human ingenuity and labor. While architects and engineers often receive accolades for their visionary designs and meticulous plans, there exists a group of skilled individuals whose hands and minds transform these blueprints into tangible reality: the artisans. These practitioners of traditional and modern trades—masons, carpenters, tilers, plumbers, electricians, and more—are the backbone of the construction industry. Yet, despite their indispensable contributions, artisans are frequently overlooked, undervalued, and disregarded by public individuals, professionals, and even policymakers. This article delves into the critical role artisans play in building construction, the systemic neglect they face, and the urgent need for collaboration between governments, private sectors, and artisans to elevate their status and contributions in Nigeria.

*Artisans: The Hands and Minds Behind Construction*

Artisans are the skilled workers who execute the detailed, hands-on work of construction. Unlike architects who conceptualize structures or engineers who calculate structural integrity, artisans are the practitioners who interpret technical drawings, wield tools, and bring precision to every brick laid, every wire connected, and every tile set. Their expertise spans a wide array of trades, each demanding years of apprenticeship, practical experience, and an acute attention to detail. A mason, for instance, ensures that walls are plumb and foundations are solid, while a carpenter crafts frameworks and finishes that define a building’s aesthetic and functionality. Electricians and plumbers weave the unseen networks of power and water that make a structure habitable. Without these skilled hands, the grandest architectural designs would remain mere sketches on paper.

The construction process is a symphony of collaboration, and artisans are the orchestra that brings harmony to the notes written by designers. Their work requires not just physical dexterity but also problem-solving skills, creativity, and an intuitive understanding of materials and techniques. For example, when a blueprint calls for a curved wall or an intricate ceiling design, it is the artisan who figures out how to bend wood, shape concrete, or align tiles to achieve the desired effect. This blend of technical knowledge and practical wisdom is honed over years, often ed down through generations or learned through rigorous on-site training. In essence, artisans breathe life into the skeletal frameworks of buildings, turning abstract ideas into spaces where people live, work, and thrive.

*The Disregard of Artisans: A Public and Professional Oversight*

Despite their pivotal role, artisans in Nigeria often face a profound lack of recognition and respect. Public individuals—ranging from homeowners to developers—frequently view their work as menial, relegating them to the fringes of the construction hierarchy. This perception is compounded by professionals such as engineers and architects, who sometimes regard artisans as mere tools rather than partners in the building process. The disdain is not just attitudinal but systemic, rooted in societal biases that prioritize white-collar professions over manual trades. As a result, artisans are often underpaid, undervalued, and excluded from meaningful decision-making processes in the industry.

One glaring manifestation of this disregard is the preference for foreign artisans over their Nigerian counterparts. Across construction sites in Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, and beyond, it is not uncommon to encounter skilled workers from neighboring countries like Benin Republic, Ghana, and Togo. These foreign artisans are often praised for their attention to detail, reliability, and affordability—qualities that Nigerian artisans are equally capable of exhibiting, yet rarely given the opportunity to prove. The irony is stark: while Nigerian youth roam the streets in search of elusive white-collar jobs, opportunities in the construction trades—jobs that could provide dignity, income, and purpose—are being outsourced to foreigners. This trend has been noted by experts like Ayaya Inuen, a prominent voice in housing construction, who has written extensively on the need for Nigeria to harness its local talent.

Ayaya’s articles highlight a troubling reality: Nigerian artisans are not inherently less skilled, but they are often less ed. The lack of structured training programs, certification processes, and investment in their development has left many local artisans at a disadvantage. Meanwhile, foreign artisans from Benin Republic and Ghana benefit from more robust vocational systems in their home countries, equipping them with the skills and confidence to excel in Nigeria’s construction market. This disparity has fueled a vicious cycle where Nigerian youth shun artisanal trades, perceiving them as low-status and unprofitable, while professionals and clients turn to foreigners to fill the gap.

*The Consequences of Neglect: Quacks and Building Failures*

The disregard for artisans has far-reaching consequences, one of the most alarming being the proliferation of quacks in the construction industry. With formal education increasingly prized over vocational skills, many Nigerian graduates—engineers and architects included—lack the practical know-how to address minor housing design issues. This knowledge gap creates a vacuum that unqualified individuals exploit. Quacks, posing as skilled artisans or even professionals, take on projects they are ill-equipped to handle, leading to shoddy workmanship, cost overruns, and, in the worst cases, building collapses.

Building collapses have become a distressing norm in Nigeria, with incidents reported in cities like Lagos and Abuja claiming lives and exposing the fragility of the nation’s construction standards. Experts attribute many of these failures to poor craftsmanship, a direct result of relying on untrained or undertrained workers. When artisans are not properly trained, certified, or respected, the industry suffers. The hands that should be building safe, durable structures are instead compromised by a lack of investment and recognition, leaving room for impostors to thrive.

*Ayaya Inuen’s Vision: Collaboration as a Path Forward*

Ayaya Inuen, an expert in housing construction, has long advocated for a collaborative approach to uplift artisans and integrate them into Nigeria’s development narrative. In his writings, Ayaya argues that both governments and the private sector must work together to create a sense of belonging among artisans. He envisions a system where artisans are not just laborers but stakeholders—valued contributors whose skills are nurtured and rewarded. His ideas resonate with broader calls for vocational reform and economic inclusion, particularly in a country grappling with high unemployment and a growing housing deficit.

Government intervention, Inuen suggests, could take the form of revitalizing technical schools and craft centers, which were once vibrant hubs for training artisans before their decline under Nigeria’s 6-3-3-4 education system. By equipping these institutions with modern tools and curricula, the government can produce a new generation of skilled artisans capable of competing with their foreign counterparts. Certification programs, too, would professionalize the trade, giving artisans credentials that command respect and higher wages. Meanwhile, the private sector—construction firms, developers, and real estate companies—could play a role by investing in apprenticeship programs, offering fair pay, and involving artisans in project planning.

Such collaboration would not only elevate artisans but also address Nigeria’s housing crisis. With a population projected to reach 274 million by 2030, the demand for affordable, well-constructed homes is skyrocketing. Artisans, if empowered, could be the key to meeting this demand, creating jobs and reducing poverty in the process. Inuen’s vision is a clarion call to shift the narrative from disregard to recognition, from exclusion to inclusion.

*The Way Forward: Valuing Artisans as Nation-Builders*

To fully appreciate the role of artisans, Nigeria must confront its cultural obsession with white-collar jobs and the stigma attached to manual labor. This shift begins with education—not just of artisans, but of society at large. Public campaigns could highlight the dignity and importance of artisanal work, showcasing success stories of masons, carpenters, and plumbers who have built thriving careers. Schools and universities should also integrate practical training into their curricula, ensuring that even graduates with degrees in engineering or architecture can wield a trowel or wire a circuit when needed.

Moreover, artisans themselves must be empowered to advocate for their rights. Associations like the Association of Building Artisans of Nigeria (ASBAN) have already taken steps to protest the influx of foreign workers and demand better opportunities for locals. Strengthening these organizations, providing them with resources and a platform, could amplify their voices and influence policy.

Ultimately, the role of artisans in building construction is not just about laying bricks or installing pipes—it is about building a nation. Every home, school, hospital, and road they construct contributes to Nigeria’s physical and economic landscape. To disregard them is to undermine the very foundation of progress. By investing in their skills, respecting their expertise, and fostering collaboration between governments, private sectors, and artisans, Nigeria can unlock the full potential of these unsung heroes. As Ayaya Inuen reminds us, the hands and minds that shape our buildings deserve a place of honor in the story of our development. It is time to stop walking the streets in search of elusive office jobs and start building the future, one skilled trade at a time.

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27/3/2025

In the heart of Ukwa Eburutu, a village often dismissed as a place where "nothing good can come out of it," a quiet revolution is unfolding. The Ukwa Eburutu Young Women Forum (UEYWF) has emerged as a beacon of hope, proving that greatness can rise from the most unexpected corners. This group of committed women, limited to Ukwa women by birth or marriage, has taken it upon themselves to transform lives, touch hearts, and reach out to every family within their reach, especially women. With their motto "Love Leads," they have shown that love, when put into action, can break the chains of despair and build bridges of hope. Their work is a testament to the power of unity, resilience, and the unwavering belief that no one should be left behind.

The UEYWF is not just a forum; it is a family, a lifeline for women of marriageable age or those married, both at home and in the diaspora. These women, driven by comion and a deep sense of purpose, have chosen to give back to their community in ways that are both material and emotional. They offer financial assistance, food, clothing, and, most importantly, a shoulder to lean on. Their efforts are not backed by vast resources or external funding; instead, they are fueled by the little they have—their savings, often from their cooking money. As their coordinator, Mrs. Atim Opheba, poignantly states, "We are just selfless because some don't even have a job, they give out from the little." This selflessness is the heartbeat of their mission, a shining example of what it means to serve others with love.

Ukwa Eburutu has long been overshadowed by a narrative of limitation, but the UEYWF is rewriting this story, one act of kindness at a time. These women understand the struggles of their community intimately—they have lived them, felt them, and witnessed them. But instead of succumbing to despair, they chose to act. With limited resources but boundless determination, they have made it their mission to transform lives, proving that progress is possible even in the face of adversity. Their humanitarian achievements are not just acts of charity; they are a powerful declaration that every life matters, and every family deserves . From a village where opportunities may seem scarce, the UEYWF is proving that the human spirit can rise above challenges to create lasting change.

The impact of the UEYWF is both direct and indirect, rippling through the community in ways that are both seen and felt. They have helped countless families with essential needs, from providing food and clothing to offering financial assistance during times of crisis. Their efforts have restored hope to households that had all but given up, showing that even the smallest acts of kindness can make a monumental difference. Indirectly, they have inspired others to believe in the power of community, fostering a culture of care and mutual . The UEYWF is not just changing lives; it is changing the very fabric of Ukwa Eburutu, proving that collective action can break the chains of poverty and despair.

One of the most touching examples of their work was their recent humanitarian surprise visit to the family of Eki Ayaya. Eki's wife had been hospitalized since April of the previous year, following the delivery of their twin children. The joy of welcoming new life was overshadowed by the pain of her prolonged illness, leaving the family in a state of emotional and financial strain. The twins, unable to bond with their mother or enjoy the nourishment of her breast milk, had to rely on industrial milk—a heartbreaking reality for any parent. This situation struck a deep chord with the of the UEYWF, who knew they could not stand idly by. Moved by empathy, they rallied together to the Ayaya family, proving once again that comion knows no bounds.

On the day of the visit, the UEYWF arrived at the Ayaya household bearing gifts of love and hope. They brought baby food, diapers, and food items to ease the family's immediate burdens. But beyond the material , they also offered financial assistance, a lifeline for a family struggling to make ends meet. The visit was more than just a gesture; it was a powerful reminder that the Ayaya family was not alone. The UEYWF stood with them, shoulder to shoulder, offering not just resources but also emotional strength. For Eki and his wife, this act of kindness was a light in their darkest hour, a beacon of hope that reminded them that their community cared deeply for their well-being.

At the heart of the UEYWF's success is their coordinator, Mrs. Atim Opheba, a woman whose leadership and dedication have been instrumental in driving the group's mission forward. Married to Hon. Bassey Opheba from Uyanga, Akamkpa LGA, and hailing from Okpo village in Ukwa Eburutu, Mrs. Opheba is more than just a coordinator; she is a pillar of strength, a source of inspiration, and a tireless advocate for the women of Ukwa Eburutu. She ensures that both of the forum and other women in the community always have a group to lean on, a safe space where they can find and encouragement. Her commitment to making sure every woman smiles is not just a promise—it is a reality she works tirelessly to achieve, day in and day out.

Mrs. Opheba's leadership is a reminder that true change begins with individuals who are willing to step up and lead by example. She has fostered a culture of unity within the UEYWF, encouraging to see themselves as agents of change. Under her guidance, the forum has grown into a tight-knit family, bound by a shared commitment to serve their community. Her vision is simple yet profound: no woman should feel alone, and no family should suffer in silence. This vision has become the driving force behind the UEYWF's humanitarian efforts, inspiring to give their best, even when resources are scarce.

The UEYWF's commitment to their community goes beyond individual acts of kindness; it is woven into the very fabric of their existence. They have made it a priority to touch lives at least three times a year—on Valentine's Day, Ukwa Day, and Christmas. These occasions are not just dates on a calendar; they are opportunities to give back to humanity, to remind their community that they are seen and valued. This commitment is non-negotiable, a testament to their unwavering dedication to service. Whether it's providing food, clothing, or financial , the UEYWF ensures that no family is forgotten during these times of celebration.

One of the most poignant aspects of the UEYWF's work is their effort to honor the memory of Eld. Ayaya Umo, a fallen hero whose life was taken in 1993 during an attack on Ukwa Eburutu. His death gave birth to the historical Ukwa Day, but for years, his family was forgotten and abandoned by the community. The UEYWF refused to let his legacy fade into obscurity. They immortalized him by creating a sculpture that now stands as an antiquity, a reminder for future generations of the sacrifices made for their community. This act of remembrance is not just about honoring the past; it is about inspiring the future, ensuring that the lessons of history are never forgotten.

The UEYWF's commitment to education and empowerment is equally inspiring.
They have carried out scholarship programs for Ukwa children at the secondary school level, giving them the opportunity to pursue their dreams. They have visited the aged in their community, particularly those residing in Calabar, offering them companionship and . Their empowerment programs for women, funded entirely from their own pockets, have provided skills and resources to help women build better lives. These efforts are a testament to the UEYWF's belief that education, empowerment, and care are the cornerstones of a thriving community.

The group's annual thanksgiving service is another powerful example of their commitment to unity and . Held in a church led by an indigenous son or daughter of Ukwa, especially one that is a work in progress, this service is not just a time of worship; it is an opportunity to encourage and uplift their own. By choosing to gather in such spaces, the UEYWF is sending a message of solidarity, reminding their community that they are stronger together. This tradition is a beautiful blend of faith, community, and service, a reflection of the values that drive the forum's work.

The story of the UEYWF is a powerful reminder that greatness is not defined by wealth or status, but by the willingness to serve others. These women have shown that even in a village where opportunities may seem limited, the human spirit can rise above challenges to create lasting change. Their work is a living testament to the power of community, proving that when people come together with a shared purpose, they can achieve the impossible. The UEYWF is not just transforming lives; it is transforming the very perception of what Ukwa Eburutu can be—a place of hope, resilience, and boundless potential.

For the women of Ukwa Eburutu, the UEYWF is more than just a forum—it is a lifeline. It is a reminder that they are not alone, that they have sisters who care, and that together, they can overcome any obstacle. The forum's efforts have empowered women to dream bigger, to believe in themselves, and to take charge of their futures. By providing material and financial , the UEYWF has lifted the burden of immediate needs, allowing women to focus on building better lives for themselves and their families. But beyond the tangible assistance, the forum has given women something even more valuable: the gift of hope, the belief that they are seen, valued, and ed.

The UEYWF's work is a call to action for all of us. It challenges us to look beyond our own needs and see the needs of others. It reminds us that we all have the power to make a difference, no matter how small our contributions may seem. These women, with their limited resources and boundless love, have shown us that change begins with us—with our willingness to reach out, to care, and to act. Their story is a testament to the power of community, a reminder that we are stronger when we stand together, lifting each other up in times of need.

As we celebrate the achievements of the Ukwa Eburutu Young Women Forum, let us be inspired by their example. Let us that greatness is not about what we have, but about what we give. Let us honor their work by embracing the spirit of community, by lending a hand where it is needed, and by believing that together, we can build a brighter, more comionate world. The UEYWF has shown us that love, when put into action, can change lives. Let us carry this lesson forward, spreading love wherever we go, and proving that no community is too small to make a difference.

The UEYWF's journey is a story of hope, resilience, and the transformative power of love. It is a story that reminds us that even in the face of adversity, we can rise above, lift each other up, and create a legacy of kindness that will endure for generations. These women, with their selfless hearts and unwavering commitment, have shown us what it means to truly serve others. They have shown us that love is not just a feeling; it is a choice, an action, a force for change. And in Ukwa Eburutu, love is leading the way.

Let us take this story to heart, letting it inspire us to be better, to do better, and to give better. Let us the women of the UEYWF, who, with their limited resources and boundless love, have transformed lives and rewritten the narrative of their community. Let us honor their work by spreading love wherever we go, by reaching out to those in need, and by believing that together, we can make a difference. The UEYWF has shown us that love leads—and when love leads, anything is possible.

In the end, the story of the Ukwa Eburutu Young Women Forum is not just a story about a group of women; it is a story about the power of humanity. It is a story about what we can achieve when we come together, when we choose to care, and when we refuse to let anyone be left behind. It is a story that reminds us that greatness is not about where we come from, but about what we do with the opportunities we have. The UEYWF is proving that even in the smallest villages, the biggest dreams can come true. And for that, we celebrate them, we honor them, and we are inspired by them.

Let us carry their legacy forward, spreading love, hope, and kindness wherever we go. Let us that we all have the power to transform lives, one act of love at a time. The Ukwa Eburutu Young Women Forum has shown us the way—now it is up to us to follow. Let us walk this path together, proving that love, indeed, leads.

Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
Cross River State, located in Nigeria’s South-South geopolitical zone, is often regarded as one of the more peaceful states in the country, known for its tourism potential and relative stability. However, its proximity to conflict zones in the North East, North Central, and North West regions—areas plagued by insurgency, banditry, and communal clashes—means that it is not entirely immune to the ripple effects of insecurity. While Cross River State is not directly mentioned in the Nigeria Crisis Response Plan 2024–2025, which focuses on addressing displacement and humanitarian crises in the aforementioned regions, its strategic location necessitates proactive measures to prevent spillover effects. In 2025, the state government took significant steps to bolster internal security, notably through the renaming and equipping of its t security task force, Operation Okwok. This article explores the implications of Cross River State’s proximity to conflict zones, the significance of Operation Okwok, and broader lessons for security management in Nigeria.

The Nigeria Crisis Response Plan 2024–2025, developed in collaboration with the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and the Federal Government of Nigeria, highlights the severity of the humanitarian and protection crisis in the North East, North Central, and North West. In the North East, conflicts involving non-state armed groups like Boko Haram and military operations have displaced millions and caused widespread human rights abuses. In the North West, escalating farmer-herder conflicts, banditry, and climate-related challenges such as floods and droughts have worsened insecurity. Similarly, intercommunal clashes over land and water resources, coupled with flooding in the North Central region, particularly in Benue State, have compounded the crisis. These conflicts accentuate protection risks, especially for women and girls, increasing their vulnerability to violence, exploitation, and abuse. While Cross River State is not directly referenced in this plan, its proximity to these regions raises concerns about potential indirect impacts, such as the influx of displaced persons or the spread of criminal activities.

Cross River State’s geographical position makes it a potential destination for internally displaced persons (IDPs) fleeing conflict zones. The state shares boundaries with Benue State in the North Central region, where intercommunal conflicts and flooding have displaced significant populations. The Displacement Tracking Matrix (DTM) implemented by IOM has recorded new arrivals in Benue State as recently as February 2025, with many displaced by bandit attacks and communal clashes. If insecurity in Benue escalates, Cross River State could see an influx of IDPs seeking safety, which could strain local resources and infrastructure. Additionally, the porous borders between states could facilitate the movement of armed groups or criminals, such as bandits or herders involved in conflicts, into Cross River State. *This underscores the need for robust border security and community-level vigilance to prevent the spread of violence*.

Recognizing these potential threats, the Cross River State government has taken proactive steps to enhance internal security. In February 2025, Governor Bassey Otu relaunched the state’s t security task force, previously known as Operation Akpaku, under a new name: Operation Okwok. The renaming, which draws on the Efik word for "bee," symbolizes the task force’s dual role of providing protection (like bees producing honey) while fiercely defending the state against threats (like bees stinging intruders). Operation Okwok is a collaborative effort involving personnel from the Nigerian Army, Police, Air Force, Navy, Department of State Services (DSS), Immigration Service, and Correctional Service. This multi-agency approach ensures a coordinated response to security challenges, leveraging the strengths of each formation to maintain peace and deter crime.

A key component of Operation Okwok’s launch was the deployment of 30 brand-new pickup trucks to security agencies in the state. This donation, described by the Commissioner of Police, Gyogon Augustine Grimah, as a "festival of vehicles," enhances law enforcement efficiency by improving mobility and response times. Governor Otu has also outlined plans to deploy a total of 100 vehicles to operatives, alongside infrastructure upgrades within security formations, such as improved internal roads and remodeled facilities. These measures are part of a broader strategy to build a robust security architecture that not only reacts to threats but proactively prevents them. The state’s investment in advanced surveillance tools, such as drones and gunboats, further demonstrates its commitment to modernizing security operations and staying ahead of potential threats.

Operation Okwok’s symbolic name and operational enhancements send a clear message to criminals: Cross River State is no safe haven for lawlessness. Major General Okoi Ubi Obono (Rtd), the State Security Adviser, emphasized the task force’s dual nature, noting that it will "produce honey when needed but sting when provoked." This imagery resonates with residents and investors alike, reinforcing the state’s reputation as a secure destination for economic activities. The decline in crime rates, particularly in critical areas like kidnapping and armed robbery, is a testament to the effectiveness of these measures. By prioritizing security, Cross River State is positioning itself as an attractive hub for investment, job creation, and economic prosperity, which are essential for long-term stability.

While Operation Okwok addresses internal security, the broader Nigerian crisis highlights the interconnectedness of conflict across regions. The North East, North Central, and North West zones face multifaceted challenges, including insurgency, banditry, and climate-driven conflicts. In the North East, Boko Haram and the Islamic State in West Africa (ISWAP) continue to pose significant threats, with attacks leaving civilians at risk of atrocity crimes. In the North West, bandit groups have escalated mass kidnappings, leveraging Ramadan for higher ransoms and using abductees in prisoner exchanges. The North Central region, particularly Benue State, grapples with intercommunal conflicts over land and water resources, exacerbated by climate change. These conflicts often cross-cut religious tensions, further complicating resolution efforts.

Cross River State’s proximity to these conflict zones necessitates a proactive approach to prevent spillover effects. For instance, the escalation of violence in the North West, where bandit leaders like Na’ballo and Aminu Kanawa were killed in military operations in January 2025, could displace armed groups seeking new territories. Similarly, the advance of jihadist groups like JNIM and IS Sahel in border areas between Niger and Nigeria could indirectly affect Cross River State through increased migration or criminal activities. While the state is not currently a focal point of these conflicts, its security forces must remain vigilant to detect early warning signs, such as unusual movements of armed groups or increased criminal activities along its borders.

Operation Okwok’s multi-agency approach offers valuable lessons for other states in Nigeria. The integration of various security formations under a unified command structure enhances coordination and reduces operational silos. This model could be replicated in conflict zones to improve response times and resource allocation. Additionally, the state’s investment in mobility tools and infrastructure upgrades underscores the importance of equipping security forces with the necessary resources to perform their duties effectively. Other states, particularly those in the North East, North Central, and North West, could adopt similar strategies to enhance their security operations and deter criminal activities.

Community engagement is another critical aspect of Operation Okwok’s success. By fostering collaboration between security agencies and local communities, the task force builds trust and encourages residents to report suspicious activities. This approach aligns with IOM’s emphasis on strengthening social cohesion and integrating displaced populations into broader development efforts. In conflict zones, community-level dialogue and resource-sharing agreements could help address the root causes of violence, such as competition over land and water resources. Cross River State’s proactive measures demonstrate that security is not solely the responsibility of the government but requires collective action from all stakeholders.

The Nigeria Crisis Response Plan 2024–2025 emphasizes the importance of addressing displacement drivers and enhancing social cohesion. Cross River State’s efforts to prevent spillover effects align with this goal, as maintaining internal security reduces the likelihood of displacement and strengthens resilience. However, the state must also prepare for potential humanitarian challenges, such as providing shelter, food, and healthcare to IDPs if influxes occur. Collaboration with organizations like IOM and the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) could enhance the state’s capacity to manage such scenarios, ensuring that displaced populations are integrated into local communities without straining resources.

Operation Okwok’s focus on deterrence and prevention offers a blueprint for sustainable security management. By investing in advanced surveillance tools and modernizing security infrastructure, Cross River State is addressing both immediate threats and long-term challenges. This approach contrasts with reactive measures often seen in conflict zones, where security forces are stretched thin responding to ongoing violence. Other states could learn from Cross River’s proactive strategy, prioritizing early warning systems and community-level interventions to prevent conflicts from escalating.

The broader Nigerian crisis also highlights the need for regional and international cooperation. Cross River State’s efforts to secure its borders and prevent spillover effects align with the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) frameworks for migration management. By collaborating with neighboring states and regional bodies, Cross River State can strengthen its capacity to address cross-border threats, such as the movement of armed groups or illicit goods. International partners, such as IOM and the United Nations, could provide technical assistance and funding to these efforts, ensuring that Cross River State remains a bastion of stability amid regional instability.
Operation Okwok’s success is not without challenges. Sustaining the task force’s operations requires continuous funding, training, and coordination among agencies. The state government must also address potential risks, such as corruption or misuse of resources, to maintain public trust. Additionally, while crime rates have declined, emerging threats, such as cybercrime or human trafficking, could test the task force’s adaptability. Cross River State must remain agile, updating its security strategies to address evolving challenges while maintaining its commitment to protecting residents and investors.

Cross River State’s proximity to conflict zones in the North East, North Central, and North West regions underscores the importance of proactive security measures. Operation Okwok’s renaming and equipping in 2025 demonstrate the state’s commitment to maintaining peace and deterring crime. By integrating multiple security formations, investing in mobility tools, and fostering community engagement, Cross River State is building a robust security architecture that serves as a model for other states. The broader Nigerian crisis highlights the interconnectedness of conflict, emphasizing the need for regional and international cooperation to address displacement and insecurity. Cross River State’s efforts offer valuable lessons for sustainable security management, proving that prevention, collaboration, and resilience are key to safeguarding peace in an increasingly volatile region.

As Nigeria navigates its complex security landscape, Cross River State’s proactive approach serves as a beacon of hope. By staying ahead of potential threats and prioritizing the safety of its residents, the state is not only protecting its own interests but also contributing to national stability. Operation Okwok’s success underscores the power of collective action, strategic investment, and community trust in building a secure and prosperous future. For security professionals and policymakers, Cross River State’s experience offers a roap for addressing insecurity, proving that even in the shadow of conflict, peace is possible with determination and innovation.

By: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

In the southern region of Nigeria, nestled in the lush landscapes of Cross River State, the 40 clans of Odukpani stand as living testaments to a rich cultural tapestry that has thrived for centuries. These quaint villages, often overlooked by mainstream tourism, offer a rare glimpse into a world where tradition reigns supreme. From the moment you step into this serene region, you are greeted by the warmth of its people, the charm of its architecture, and the vibrant pulse of its way of life. For travelers seeking an authentic experience, Odukpani is a treasure trove of heritage, where every corner tells a story of resilience, community, and timeless beauty.

The 40 clans of Odukpani, including villages like Adiabo Ikot Otu
, Adiabo Ikot Mbo, Adiabo Okut Ikang, Akamkpa, Akpap Okoyong, Akwa Obio, Anwa Edua, Creek Town, Ebiom, Edik Okon Idem, Efik Iboku, Efut Ibonda, Ekori Anaku, Eniong Abatim, Esuk Mbat, Idere, Idun, Okon, Ikoneto, Inuakpa Okoyong, Isong Inyang, Ito, Mbiabo Edere, Mbiabo Ikoneto, Mbiakpan Atan, Mkpatak, Ndon Nyok, Ntan Obu, Ntamenyen, Ntanaga, Obio Usiere, Obomitiat, Odot Ediong, Odukpani Central, Okoyong Usang Abasi, Okurikang, Onim Ankiong, Ukem, Ukwa Ibom, Usung Esuk, Utuma, are more than just geographical entities—they are the heartbeat of Efik and other indigenous cultures. Each clan has its own unique identity, yet they are bound by a shared history and a deep reverence for tradition. The villages are often small, with populations that have lived in close-knit communities for generations. This intimacy fosters a sense of belonging, not just among the locals but also for visitors who are welcomed as part of the extended family. It’s not uncommon to find yourself invited to share a meal or participate in a communal activity, a hallmark of Odukpani’s legendary hospitality.

Walking through these villages, you’ll be captivated by the traditional architecture that dots the landscape. Mud-brick houses with thatched roofs, often adorned with intricate patterns, stand as symbols of sustainable living. These structures, built using locally sourced materials, are designed to withstand the tropical climate while blending seamlessly with the environment. In some clans, you’ll find communal meeting halls, known as “Ekpe lodges,” which are architectural marvels in their own right. These lodges, used for traditional ceremonies and gatherings, feature carved wooden pillars and symbolic motifs that reflect the spiritual and social values of the community.

The craftsmanship of Odukpani is another highlight that draws visitors into its cultural embrace. Artisans in these villages are masters of their trade, creating everything from woven baskets to intricately carved wooden masks. The art of weaving, ed down through generations, is particularly prominent, with women often seen crafting mats and baskets from palm fronds. These items are not just functional; they are works of art, often dyed with natural pigments and designed with patterns that tell stories of lineage and heritage. For visitors, the opportunity to watch these artisans at work—or even try their hand at weaving—is a deeply enriching experience.

Pottery is another craft that thrives in Odukpani, with clay pots and vessels being both utilitarian and decorative. The potters, often working in family units, use techniques that have remained unchanged for centuries. The clay is sourced from local riverbeds, shaped by hand, and fired in open kilns. The resulting pots, adorned with geometric designs, are used for cooking, storage, and even rituals. Visitors can purchase these items as souvenirs, each piece carrying with it the essence of Odukpani’s cultural identity. The act of buying directly from the artisans also s the local economy, ensuring that these traditions continue to flourish.

The way of life in Odukpani is a beautiful blend of simplicity and depth. Daily routines revolve around farming, fishing, and communal activities, with each clan contributing to the collective well-being. Agriculture is a cornerstone of the economy, with crops like yam, cassava, and plantain being staples. Fishing, especially in villages near the Cross River, is another vital livelihood, with men and women casting nets and setting traps in the early morning hours. Visitors can these activities, learning the rhythms of rural life and gaining a deeper appreciation for the connection between the people and the land.

Hospitality in Odukpani is not just a courtesy—it’s a way of life. The locals believe that a visitor is a blessing, and they go to great lengths to make you feel at home. From the moment you arrive, you’ll be greeted with smiles and offers of refreshment, often in the form of freshly tapped palm wine or homemade dishes like afang soup and pounded yam. Sharing food is a sacred act here, symbolizing trust and unity. It’s not uncommon for visitors to be invited to in traditional dances or storytelling sessions, where elders recount tales of ancestors and folklore under the moonlight.

The spiritual life of Odukpani is deeply intertwined with its cultural practices. The Ekpe society, a traditional institution, plays a significant role in governance and social order. Rituals and ceremonies, often accompanied by drumming and dancing, are held to honor deities, ancestors, and the land. Visitors with a keen interest in spirituality can witness these events, though some aspects may be restricted to initiated . The vibrant masquerade performances, featuring colorful costumes and elaborate masks, are a highlight, offering a visual feast that captures the essence of Odukpani’s heritage.

Festivals are a cornerstone of life in Odukpani, bringing the clans together in celebration. Events like the New Yam Festival and the Ekpe Festival are marked by feasting, music, and dance. These festivals are not just social gatherings; they are a reaffirmation of identity and a way to traditions to the next generation. Visitors lucky enough to attend will find themselves immersed in a sensory experience, from the rhythmic beats of the drums to the aroma of roasted yams. Participating in these festivals offers a unique opportunity to connect with the community on a deeper level.

For history enthusiasts, Odukpani holds a special significance as a region with ties to Nigeria’s colonial past. The area was a key site during the slave trade era, and remnants of this history can still be seen in places like the Odukpani Slave Market site. While this history is somber, it is an important part of understanding the resilience of the local people. Guided tours, often led by knowledgeable elders, provide context and insight, ensuring that visitors leave with a nuanced perspective on the region’s past and present.

Nature also plays a starring role in the allure of Odukpani. The villages are surrounded by lush forests, rolling hills, and meandering rivers, offering opportunities for eco-tourism. Visitors can explore the Cross River National Park, which is home to diverse flora and fauna, including rare primates and exotic birds. Guided hikes through the forest reveal hidden waterfalls and sacred groves, where locals perform rituals to honor the spirits of the land. These natural wonders add another layer of beauty to the Odukpani experience, making it a destination for both cultural and nature lovers.

Accommodations in Odukpani are modest but authentic, with options ranging from guesthouses to homestays. Staying with a local family is a popular choice, offering an immersive experience that allows you to live like a villager. Meals are often prepared with fresh, locally sourced ingredients, and evenings are spent sharing stories or learning traditional games. For those seeking a more structured experience, community-led tourism initiatives provide guided tours, workshops, and cultural performances, ensuring that every aspect of your visit is meaningful and memorable.

The 40 clans of Odukpani are not just a destination—they are a journey back in time. They remind us of the importance of preserving traditions in a rapidly changing world. For visitors, the experience is transformative, offering a chance to disconnect from the hustle of modern life and reconnect with the roots of humanity. The lessons learned here—about community, sustainability, and the power of heritage—are universal, resonating long after you’ve left the villages.

As you plan your visit, that Odukpani is a place to be savored slowly. Take the time to listen to the stories, observe the crafts, and embrace the hospitality. Respect the customs and traditions, and approach each interaction with an open heart. The locals are eager to share their culture, but they also appreciate visitors who show genuine interest and respect. By doing so, you’ll not only enrich your own experience but also contribute to the preservation of this unique heritage.

In conclusion, the quaint villages and 13 clans of Odukpani are a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. They offer a rare opportunity to step into a world where tradition is alive, where crafts tell stories, and where hospitality knows no bounds. Whether you’re drawn by the architecture, the crafts, the way of life, or the natural beauty, Odukpani promises an unforgettable journey. So pack your bags, leave behind the noise of the city, and embark on an adventure that will leave you inspired, humbled, and forever connected to the timeless spirit of these remarkable villages.

[email protected]

Open Letter of Awareness: The Neglect of Ukwa Eburutu in Odukpani LGA by the Cross River State Government

To the Government of Cross River State, Stakeholders, and Concerned Citizens,

We, the people of Ukwa Eburutu in Odukpani Local Government Area, write this open letter to bring to your urgent attention the systemic neglect and exclusion of our community from developmental initiatives, particularly the ongoing electrification and electricity rehabilitation projects scheduled by the Cross River State Government. It is disheartening to note that, once again, Ukwa Eburutu has been omitted from the list of villages and communities slated to benefit from these life-changing interventions. This exclusion is not an isolated incident but part of a broader pattern of neglect that has left our community in darkness, both literally and figuratively, for decades.

Ukwa Eburutu, like many other communities in Odukpani LGA, is endowed with hardworking and resilient people who contribute to the economic and social fabric of Cross River State. Yet, despite our contributions, we have been consistently overlooked for basic amenities that are essential for modern living. The lack of electricity in our community has stifled economic growth, limited educational opportunities for our children, and made it nearly impossible for small businesses to thrive. While other communities enjoy the benefits of government-ed electrification projects, we remain in the shadows, disconnected from the national grid and unable to access the opportunities that electricity brings.

The absence of electricity is not our only challenge. Ukwa Eburutu has never benefited from any significant government opportunities, leaving us without motorable roads, potable water, or functional health centers. Our roads are imable, especially during the rainy season, making it difficult for farmers to transport their goods to markets and for residents to access emergency medical care. The lack of clean water has exposed our people, especially children and the elderly, to preventable diseases. Our health center, if it can be called that, lacks basic equipment and trained personnel, forcing us to travel long distances for medical attention. These challenges are compounded by the absence of electricity, which further isolates us from progress.

The recent electrification and electricity rehabilitation projects announced by the Cross River State Government were met with hope in Ukwa Eburutu, as we believed this would finally be our chance to be ed. However, our hopes were dashed when we discovered that our community was not enlisted among the beneficiaries. This exclusion raises serious questions about equity and fairness in the allocation of resources. Why must Ukwa Eburutu be left behind when other communities in Odukpani LGA and beyond are being connected to the grid? Why must our children continue to study under kerosene lamps while others have access to modern educational tools powered by electricity?

The lack of electricity in Ukwa Eburutu has far-reaching consequences. Without power, our youth cannot acquire digital skills that are essential in today’s global economy. Our women, who are the backbone of our community, are unable to operate small-scale businesses that rely on electricity, such as tailoring or food processing. The absence of street lighting has also made our community vulnerable to insecurity, as criminals take advantage of the darkness to perpetrate crimes. These challenges are not unique to Ukwa Eburutu, but our exclusion from government initiatives makes it harder for us to overcome them.

It is worth noting that Ukwa Eburutu is home to valuable natural resources, including limestone, which has been a source of conflict with neighboring communities. Despite the wealth beneath our land, we remain impoverished and neglected. The irony is stark: while others exploit our resources, we are denied the basic infrastructure needed to improve our lives. The Cross River State Government must recognize that development cannot be selective. Every community, regardless of its size or location, deserves an equal opportunity to benefit from government programs.

We are aware of the challenges faced by the state government, including limited resources and competing demands. However, we believe that Ukwa Eburutu’s exclusion is not solely a matter of resource constraints but a reflection of systemic oversight. Our community has been invisible to policymakers, and our voices have been unheard. We call on the government to conduct a comprehensive needs assessment in Ukwa Eburutu and prioritize our inclusion in future electrification and development projects. We also urge stakeholders, including traditional rulers, youth leaders, and civil society organizations, to advocate for our cause.

The people of Ukwa Eburutu are not asking for special treatment; we are asking for fairness. We are asking for the opportunity to live with dignity, to have access to the same amenities that other communities in Cross River State enjoy. Electricity is not a luxury; it is a fundamental right that unlocks the door to education, healthcare, and economic empowerment. By including Ukwa Eburutu in electrification and rehabilitation projects, the government will demonstrate its commitment to inclusive development and social justice.

We also appeal to the Federal Government and international development partners to take note of our plight. The neglect of Ukwa Eburutu is a microcosm of the broader challenges faced by rural communities across Nigeria. By investing in our community, you will not only improve the lives of our people but also contribute to the sustainable development of Cross River State. We are ready to work with all stakeholders to ensure that projects in Ukwa Eburutu are implemented transparently and effectively.

In conclusion, we, the people of Ukwa Eburutu, refuse to remain silent in the face of neglect. We demand to be seen, heard, and included. The Cross River State Government must act urgently to address our exclusion from electrification and rehabilitation projects and to provide the basic amenities that we have been denied for far too long. Let this open letter serve as a clarion call for justice, equity, and development. Ukwa Eburutu deserves better, and we will not rest until our voices are heard and our needs are met.
Signed,

The Concerned Citizens of Ukwa Eburutu, Odukpani LGA, Cross River State
Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
[email protected]

In the heart of Odukpani Local Government Area in Cross River State, Nigeria, lies Ukwa Eburutu—a community once bound by the unbreakable threads of kinship, where every soul lived as brothers and sisters under the same ancestral roof. Tears well up as I recount their story, for what was once a harmonious tapestry of shared language, culture, and belief has unraveled into a frayed fabric of suspicion and division. The Ukwa people, who spoke with one voice and danced to the same ancestral rhythms, were a family forged not just by blood but by an unspoken vow of unity. Their core values—love, trust, and mutual care—were the heartbeat of their existence, pulsating through every interaction. But oh, how the winds of change have swept through, leaving behind a landscape of cultural shock and fractured bonds.

Advancement in knowledge, like a double-edged sword, crept into Ukwa Eburutu, slicing through the simplicity of their once-shared worldview. Education, meant to enlighten, instead planted seeds of individualism, pulling minds away from the collective wisdom of the elders. Where once a child would sit at the feet of a grandparent to learn the songs of the land, now they chase degrees and titles, their ears tuned to foreign tongues rather than the melodies of home. The brilliance of this new knowledge promised progress, but it came at a cost—an erosion of the unity that defined them. The young, armed with books and ambitions, began to see the old ways as relics, and with every lesson learned, a piece of their cultural soul slipped away.

Migration, too, played its cruel part in this heartbreaking tale. The sons and daughters of Ukwa Eburutu, lured by the shimmering lights of distant cities and foreign lands, left their ancestral soil in droves. They carried with them the dreams of a better life, but in their wake, they left behind a hollowed community. Those who returned came draped in new accents and customs, their hearts no longer fully tethered to the dusty paths of their youth. The once-tight families grew distant, their bonds stretched thin across miles and borders. What was once a village of open doors became a place of wary glances, where brothers and sisters eyed each other with caution, strangers in the skin of kin.

Political influence, that cunning puppeteer, tugged at the strings of Ukwa Eburutu’s unity with ruthless precision. Power games and partisan loyalties seeped into the community, turning neighbors into rivals and relatives into foes. Where once decisions were made around a communal fire, guided by the wisdom of the elders, now they were dictated by distant leaders with agendas of their own. The sacred trust that held Ukwa together was traded for promises of favor and wealth, and with each election cycle, the fissures grew deeper. Politics, meant to serve, instead became a wedge, driving apart those who once stood shoulder to shoulder.

The cultural shock that followed was a silent earthquake, shaking the very foundations of Ukwa Eburutu. A people who once revered the same deities and celebrated the same festivals now found themselves fractured in belief. The old ways—those rituals that bound them to their ancestors—were dismissed as superstition by some, while others clung to them with desperate fervor. The single language that rolled off their tongues like a lullaby splintered into dialects of discord, each voice straining to be heard over the din of change. What was once a symphony of unity became a cacophony of clashing identities, and the tears of the elders fell unnoticed on the dry earth.

Oh, how the relationships within families have crumbled! Where once a close relative was a confidant and comforter, now they are met with indifference or calculation. If you are a nobody—poor, uneducated, or unconnected—no one spares a glance your way. But let fortune smile upon you, let wealth or learning crown your head, and suddenly the whole village claims you as their own. The hypocrisy stings like a fresh wound, for the love that once flowed freely is now a transactional currency, doled out to those deemed worthy. What a change indeed! The Ukwa Eburutu of old would weep to see their descendants bartering affection for status.

Our forefathers, though unlettered in the ways of the modern world, lived by principles that echoed the Bible’s call to love thy neighbor. They fought wars not with hatred but with a fierce devotion to protect their own, wielding love and affection as their truest weapons. Their victories were not just over enemies but over division itself, leaving behind a legacy of unity for us to inherit. They toiled under the sun, their hands rough but their hearts soft, building a community where no one was left behind. And yet, here we stand, squandering that precious gift with every step we take toward self-interest.

Where have we gone wrong? The question hangs heavy, a lump in the throat of every Ukwa soul. Was it when we traded the warmth of the communal hearth for the cold glow of ambition? Or when we let the voices of outsiders drown out the whispers of our ancestors? Our forefathers, with their simple tools and boundless love, wove a tapestry of togetherness that weathered storms. But we, with all our advancements, have torn it apart thread by thread. The tears fall freely now, for the loss is not just theirs—it is ours, a wound we inflict upon ourselves with every choice to turn away from one another.

Today, as we tread this uncertain path, what future do we carve for our children and the generations yet unborn? The Ukwa Eburutu of tomorrow will inherit the echoes of our actions, the legacy we leave behind. Will they speak of us with pride, as we do of our forefathers, or with sorrow for the unity we let slip through our fingers? The wars we fight now are not of spears and shields but of pride and greed, and the casualties are the bonds that once held us close. Our children deserve better—they deserve the love and joy our ancestors fought to preserve, not the cold indifference we’ve sown.

We are still one family, despite the rifts that scar our land. Beneath the layers of change—knowledge, migration, politics—beats the same heart that pulsed in our forefathers’ chests. It is not too late to reclaim what we’ve lost, to mend the broken ties with threads of empathy and understanding. The Ukwa Eburutu spirit, though battered, is not dead—it flickers in the memories of our past, waiting for us to fan it into flame. Let us pause and listen to the cries of our own hearts, for they call us back to the unity we once knew.

Our forefathers did their work with love and joy, their laughter echoing through the years as a testament to their strength. They left us a blueprint of harmony, a gift wrapped in the stories they told and the lives they lived. But what legacy will we leave when our names are whispered to our children? Will it be one of division and loss, or one of redemption and reunion? The choice lies in our hands, trembling though they may be, and the tears we shed today can water the seeds of a better tomorrow—if only we dare to plant them.

Imagine a child of Ukwa Eburutu, years from now, asking . Will they hear tales of a people who rose above the chaos of their time, who chose love over ambition, unity over separation? Or will they bow their heads in shame at a generation that traded its soul for fleeting gains? The story is not yet finished, and the pen is ours to wield. Let us write a chapter worthy of our heritage, one that dries the tears of the past and lights a path for the future—a path back to the Ukwa Eburutu we were always meant to be.

So here I stand, voice breaking and eyes brimming, pleading with every son and daughter of Ukwa Eburutu: let us not forget who we are. The advancements, the migrations, the politics—they need not define us. We are the children of a proud lineage, bound by a love that once conquered all. Let us honor our forefathers by rebuilding what we’ve broken, by reaching across the divide with hands outstretched in peace. For in the end, it is not wealth or knowledge that will echo through time—it is the legacy of our hearts, beating as one, that will tell the true story of Ukwa Eburutu.

[email protected]

1. A Land of Unfulfilled Potential
Nestled in the heart of Cross River State, Odukpani Local Government Area (LGA) is a region brimming with untapped potential. Boasting fertile lands, scenic landscapes, and a strategic position as a gateway to southern Nigeria, Odukpani could be a model of rural prosperity. Yet, this promise remains unfulfilled, overshadowed by systemic neglect and a cascade of social crises. The community’s youth, healthcare system, and educational infrastructure are crumbling under the weight of political apathy, threatening to plunge the area into irreversible decline.

2. Education in Ruins: A Generation Left Behind
Odukpani’s education system is a shadow of what it should be. Schools operate in dilapidated buildings, many without roofs, windows, or functional furniture. Classrooms are overcrowded, with ratios as high as 100 students per teacher—far from the global standard. Textbooks are relics of the past, and basic learning tools like chalkboards and writing materials are scarce. Teachers, demoralized by unpaid salaries and inadequate training, often abandon their posts, leaving students to fend for themselves. This dire environment stifles curiosity and ambition, setting children up for failure before they even begin.

3. The Human Cost of Educational Collapse
The consequences of this neglect are already visible. Literacy rates in Odukpani lag far behind national averages, with girls disproportionately affected due to cultural biases favoring boys’ education. Many teenagers drop out by secondary school, lured by menial jobs or early marriages. Those who persevere face insurmountable odds: without quality instruction, national exams become barriers rather than stepping stones. The few who escape to higher education rarely return, creating a brain drain that further impoverishes the community.

4. Healthcare: A System on Life
If the education crisis is alarming, Odukpani’s healthcare system is catastrophic. The LGA’s handful of clinics lack essential drugs, electricity, and clean water. Equipment like ultrasound machines or X-rays exists only in theory; diagnoses are often guesswork. Qualified doctors and nurses are virtually absent, leaving underpaid, overstretched community health workers to handle everything from malaria to childbirth. Maternal mortality rates are among the state’s highest, and preventable diseases like cholera and typhoid claim lives weekly.

5. The Vicious Cycle of Health and Poverty
Poor healthcare perpetuates poverty. Families sell land or livestock to pay for treatments in distant cities, plunging them into debt. Chronic illnesses disable breadwinners, leaving households destitute. Children miss school to care for sick relatives, entrenching illiteracy. The psychological toll is equally devastating: parents bury children, and communities lose faith in institutions meant to protect them. Health inequities here are not just statistics—they are death sentences.

6. Youth Unemployment: A Tinderbox Ignored
Unsurprisingly, unemployment and underemployment rage like wildfires among Odukpani’s youth. Over 60% of those aged 18–35 lack stable income, surviving through petty trading or hazardous informal labor. The lucky few with diplomas find their qualifications rejected in competitive urban job markets. Skills-training programs are nonexistent, and agricultural potential remains untapped due to lack of investment. This idleness breeds desperation—a demographic time bomb in a region already teetering on the edge.

7. Desperation Breeds Deviance: Crime and Social Decay
As hope dwindles, criminality surges. Drug abuse, armed robbery, and cultism have become rites of age for disillusioned youth. Local gangs, offering a twisted sense of belonging, recruit minors into cycles of violence. Families live in fear, and once-vibrant communal bonds fray. The police, under-resourced and corrupt, offer little protection. Odukpani’s social fabric is unraveling, yet those in power remain disturbingly silent.

8. The Cycle of Poverty and Hopelessness
Poverty here is hereditary. Children of uneducated parents inherit their struggles, trapped in a loop of subsistence farming and menial labor. Without intervention, each generation grows poorer, sicker, and angrier. The community’s elders, once custodians of tradition, now weep for a future they cannot fix. “Our leaders have forgotten us,” laments a village chief. “We are drowning, and they watch from their mansions.”

9. Political Neglect: A Legacy of Broken Promises
Odukpani’s woes are not accidental but engineered by decades of political neglect. Elected officials, fixated on short-term gains, divert funds meant for schools and clinics into private pockets. Campaign promises—new hospitals, scholarships, job initiatives—vanish after elections. The LGA’s budget remains opaque, with no ability for missing allocations. Politicians exploit ethnic divisions to distract from their failures, leaving communities fractured and powerless.

10. Corruption: The Cancer Eating Odukpani Alive
Corruption is the lifeblood of this dysfunction. Contracts for school renovations vanish into thin air; ambulances meant for clinics are repurposed as luxury vehicles for elites. A recent audit revealed that over 70% of federal grants for education never reached their targets. Meanwhile, councilors flaunt wealth from dubious sources, mocking the poverty they helped create. This brazen theft isn’t just immoral—it’s a death warrant for Odukpani’s next generation.

11. Failed Initiatives and Empty Gestures
Occasional government “interventions” only deepen the wound. A token health outreach in 2022 provided expired medications, sickening recipients. A state-sponsored skills acquisition program trained youths in outdated trades, offering no startup funds. These projects, designed for photo ops rather than impact, insult the intelligence of a people yearning for real change.

12. A Call to Action: ability Before It’s Too Late
The path forward demands urgent, radical action. Odukpani’s politicians must be held able through audits, protests, and legal action. Civil society groups must amplify residents’ voices, demanding transparency in resource allocation. Investments in vocational centers, modern clinics, and teacher training could spark transformation. But none of this is possible without political will—a commodity sorely lacking among today’s leaders.

13. Conclusion: A Future Hanging in the Balance
Odukpani stands at a crossroads. Without immediate intervention, its youth will succumb to despair, its elders to grief, and its potential to dust. The looming crisis is not just Odukpani’s—it is a microcosm of Nigeria’s broader failures in governance. To the politicians who have turned away: history will judge your silence as complicity. To the world: look to Odukpani, for its fate warns of what happens when leaders abandon their people. The time to act is now—before the ticking bomb explodes.

Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
[email protected]

In the heart of Cross River State, Nigeria, lies Odukpani Local Government Area (LGA), a region rich in cultural heritage and natural resources yet plagued by persistent developmental setbacks. The primary antagonist in this narrative of struggle is not a lack of resources or ambition but rather the intricate web of political barriers that have festered within its governance structures. These political factors have significantly hampered effective istration, leading to a cycle of underdevelopment that affects every aspect of life in Odukpani.

The political landscape of Odukpani is characterized by a governance model where local elections are manipulated to favor incumbent parties, often at the expense of democratic choice. The State Independent Electoral Commission (SIEC), under the sway of state governors, frequently rigs elections, ensuring that only those aligned with the ruling party ascend to power. This manipulation is not just a breach of democratic principles but also a direct attack on the autonomy and integrity of local governance, leaving the residents of Odukpani with leaders who are more loyal to political patrons than to their constituents.

ability and transparency in Odukpani's local istration are notably absent, largely due to these political machinations. Local government chairpersons, often handpicked by influential "kingmakers", prioritize political allegiance over public service. This loyalty is expected to be rewarded with kickbacks from public funds, which in turn siphons resources meant for community development into private pockets. The lack of transparency in financial dealings further exacerbates the issue, as there's little to no public oversight on how funds are allocated or spent, leading to widespread corruption.

The consequences of such political interference are dire for Odukpani's development programs. Projects are frequently delayed, underfunded, or abandoned altogether. For instance, the much-needed Adiabo-Ikoneto Road project, which was neglected for over three decades, only saw progress after significant public outcry and political change. Including Adiabo Efut, Akamkpa, Creek Town, Creek, Creek Town II, Ekori/Anaku, Eniong, Eki, Obomitiat/Mbiabo, Odot, Odukpani Central, Ito/Idere/Ukwa, Oniman Kiong which has no road. This pattern of neglect is not isolated but symptomatic of a broader systemic failure where political considerations trump community needs.

Moreover, the political culture in Odukpani often discourages genuine participation from civil society and grassroots organizations. These groups, crucial for advocacy, health education, and resource mobilization, face numerous barriers in engaging with local governance. The study by Etokidem et al., published in Health Research Policy and Systems, highlighted how civil society organizations in Odukpani struggle with male child preference and geographical inaccessibility as they try to increase immunization coverage, illustrating just one area where political barriers stifle progress.

The manipulation of local elections not only undermines democracy but also breeds a culture of political jobbery, where positions in local government are seen as rewards for loyalty rather than opportunities for service. This system has entrenched a cadre of political cronies who lack the motivation or skill to drive meaningful change, further diminishing the prospects for development in Odukpani.

The financial implications of these political barriers are profound. With a significant portion of the LGA's budget potentially siphoned off through corrupt practices, the funds available for essential services like health, education, and infrastructure are woefully inadequate. This misallocation of resources is a direct contributor to the poor health and educational outcomes in Odukpani, where indicators like maternal and child mortality rates remain alarmingly high.

Furthermore, the political climate has fostered an environment where local leaders are more focused on maintaining their power through patronage networks rather than on fostering sustainable development. This has led to a governance vacuum where initiatives for environmental protection, cultural preservation, or economic diversification are sidelined, leaving Odukpani vulnerable to exploitation and environmental degradation.

The lack of political will to address these issues is perhaps the most worrying aspect. When local governance is seen as a prize to be won rather than a responsibility to be shouldered, the focus shifts from governance to political survival. This shift is evident in the frequent amendments to local government laws by state legislatures, which are often more about consolidating power than about enhancing local autonomy or efficiency.

The people of Odukpani are not ive in this scenario. There have been instances of community mobilization, like the demand for the Adiabo-Ikoneto Road, but these are often met with resistance or promises without fulfillment. The political barriers not only stifle these movements but also create a pervasive sense of disillusionment among the populace, reducing civic engagement over time.

To break this cycle of political interference and governance failure, there needs to be a concerted effort from both local and external stakeholders. Transparency mechanisms, like public budget tracking or independent audits, could be pivotal. Additionally, empowering civil society to act as watchdogs could bring about the needed ability. However, these interventions require political courage and a genuine shift in how political power is perceived and practiced in Odukpani.

The story of Odukpani is not just a local issue but a microcosm of broader Nigerian governance challenges. It serves as a stark reminder of how political barriers can strangle the potential of a region, turning its resources into liabilities rather than assets. For Odukpani to thrive, there must be a fundamental restructuring of how politics interacts with governance, ensuring that the interests of the people are not merely a footnote in the narrative of political power plays.

In conclusion, while Odukpani is endowed with potential, its journey towards development is continuously derailed by political interference. Unless there is a significant change in the political ethos that governs local istration, the residents of Odukpani will continue to bear the brunt of a system more interested in power than in progress. The time for action is now, to dismantle these political barriers and pave the way for a governance system that truly serves its people.

Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
[email protected]

In the lush landscapes of Cross River State, nestled within its 18 local government areas, lies Odukpani, a land of 13 villages, each with a story to tell. Adiabo Efut, Akamkpa, Creek Town, Creek Town II, Ekori/Anaku, Eniong, Eki, Obomitiat/Mbiabo, Odot, Odukpani Central, Ito/Idere/Ukwa, and Oniman Kiong are not just names on a map; they are the heartbeats of a rich cultural heritage, yet they beat with the sorrow of neglect.

*Adiabo Efut*, where the morning sun first kisses the land, is a place of beauty and tradition. Its people, hardworking and resilient, watch as their dreams fade into the horizon, overshadowed by the silence of development. They ask, "Why does our land sleep while others thrive?" you can hear the whispers of the past, where ancestors once thrived in peace and prosperity. But now, the streets echo with the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams. The villagers look up to the sky, wondering why their land, rich with potential, lies so still, as if forgotten by time.

*Akamkpa*, known for its natural resources, sits atop treasures that could light up the future. But the wealth beneath their feet does not translate to the well-being of its people. The children here play amidst the ruins of what could have been schools, hospitals, and opportunities.

*Creek Town and Creek Town II*, where history whispers through the ancient trees, are now echoes of their former glory. These villages, once pivotal in trade and culture, now struggle with the basics. The elders speak of times when their voices were heard, wondering why now, they are but whispers. with its historical significance, tells tales of traders and warriors, a once bustling hub now struggling with the weight of poverty. The children of Creek Town dream of schools and hospitals, not just for themselves but for the future generations who will inherit this land. They wonder, why does progress seem to by their village?

*Ekori/Anaku*, a village of song and dance, has seen its cultural celebrations dwindle. The youth, eager to share their heritage with the world, are met with closed doors. They cry out, "Why must our talents be hidden in the shadow of our own land?" the songs of the land speak of unity and collective strength. Yet, the reality is a community divided by the quest for personal gain, forgetting the communal spirit that once was their pride. The elders lament, "Why do we fight among ourselves when together we could build a legacy?"

*Eniong*, with its vibrant festivals, should be a beacon of cultural pride, yet its people live with the pain of being overlooked. They dream of a day when their dances and songs can be shared, not just in their village but across the globe, bringing joy and recognition to Odukpani. with its vibrant festivals, is known for its dance and music, a culture so rich yet so undervalued. The youth here dream of showcasing their talents to the world, but without , their voices remain whispers in the wind. They ask, "When will our culture be our strength again?"

*Eki*, a village where the land is as fertile as the hopes of its people, sees its fields yielding less joy each year. The farmers here question, "How long must we wait for our efforts to bear fruit for our community?"

*Obomitiat/Mbiabo*, a community of unity and strength, feels the sting of division. The once-tight-knit community now seeks individual gain, forgetting the power of collective action. They yearn for the days when "us" meant more than "I." a village of farmers, knows the land's bounty but lacks the means to harvest its full potential. The fields are fertile, yet the hearts of the people are heavy with despair. They cry, "Why do we toil in vain when together we could cultivate abundance?"

*Odot*, with its potential for growth, watches as its youth leave for better prospects elsewhere. The village aches with the loss of its children, wondering when it will become a place they'd want to return to.

*Odukpani Central*, the center that should bind all these villages, feels the weight of its responsibility unfulfilled. The market, a place of meeting and exchange, now stands as a testament to what could be if only the love was shown not in words but in actions.

*Ito/Idere/Ukwa*, a place where rivers meet the land, could be a hub for fishing and tourism. But without the to develop these resources, the people here live day by day, their potential untapped, their waters calm yet uncelebrated.

*Oniman Kiong*, with its unique dialect and customs, struggles to maintain its identity in the face of modern challenges. The elders here speak of unity, of the need to work together, to move beyond the quest for titles and status.

As we reflect on 1 John 3:18, "Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth," it becomes clear that Odukpani's plight is not due to a lack of virtue or capacity but a failure to act collectively. Our forefathers left us a blueprint for unity and development, yet we've chosen paths of division and self-interest.

The call to action is clear across Odukpani - let us use whatever little we have to start a movement of change. Let us celebrate our culture, not with pride alone but with actions that benefit us all. It's time to ask, who among us has done something that uplifts not just themselves but the entire community?

The plight of Odukpani isn't a curse but a challenge. The legacy of our forefathers, who left us a blueprint for unity and development, should not be in vain. Let us turn a new leaf. I appeal to us all, as penned by Ayaya Inuen Ayaya, to turn a new leaf. Let us start with what we have, however little, to lift our brothers and sisters, to share our culture with pride, and to build a legacy not of individual accolades but of communal joy and sustainable development. Let Odukpani no longer be a dormant LGA but a shining example of what love in action can achieve.
Let's make Odukpani a beacon of hope and development, a testament to what can be achieved when love is shown through deeds, not just words.

Author by: Ayaya Inuen Ayaya
[email protected]

Long ago in Ukwa Eburutu, a village in Odukpani Local Government Area of Cross River State, Nigeria, people lived in perfect harmony. Sixty years back, everyone was like family. They farmed together, leaving their doors open because they trusted each other completely. Everything was shared; no one was left out because of who they were or what they had. If anyone disagreed, they talked it out, making sure everyone was happy with the solution.

This unity made them strong. When neighboring villages tried to take their land or start fights, the people of Ukwa Eburutu stood together. Their love for each other was like a shield, and they often found peace instead of war.

But then, things started to change. As people learned more about the world outside, got educated, and saw new ways of living, the old ways began to fade. Now, people locked their doors, not because of strangers, but because they didn't trust each other like before. The village wasn't as close as it used to be.

Today, even though we know so much more, it's hard to live like our grandparents did. But some young people in Ukwa Eburutu care deeply about their home. They're working hard to bring back that feeling of peace and togetherness.

Thanks to modern technology, people from Ukwa Eburutu, even those who live far away, can talk to each other easily. They use phones and the internet to check on each other, share stories, and help out when someone is in trouble. If someone from Ukwa needs help, there's always someone ready to lend a hand, just like in the old days.

It's not easy to go back to how things were, but with love, care, and the new tools we have, the youth of Ukwa Eburutu are trying their best to stitch their community back together, hoping to see a day when the village feels like one big, loving family again.

Ayaya Inuen Ayaya

In Cross River State, in a place called Odukpani, there's a village named Ukwa Eburutu. It has a lot of history and culture. But the stories told to kids today are not about how great it is. Instead, parents tell scary stories saying Ukwa Eburutu is full of bad people. This makes everyone feel divided and scared.

Think about kids learning that their home is a bad place. How can they grow up loving their village when they're taught to fear it? Parents should teach wisdom and happiness, but they're teaching fear. They tell everyone that all people from Ukwa Eburutu are bad, not caring about who they really are. This makes the village cold and unfriendly.

Why don't we talk about the good things? Ukwa Eburutu has stories of brave people, times when everyone helped each other, and fun celebrations. But we only hear about the bad stuff, making the good stories seem small.

This has caused problems. People in the village know each other, have eaten together, and danced together, but now they're suspicious. They pretend not to know their neighbors because of these scary stories. Love has turned cold, and trust is broken.

But some people still love and respect Ukwa Eburutu's culture. They're called "local champions," but they're really the keepers of our traditions. One of them is Okon Uyo from Ewen village. He shows everyone the true beauty of our culture. He's like a light showing what Ukwa Eburutu really is - not a bad place, but a lively, proud community.

It's time for a change. We need to start telling good stories about Ukwa Eburutu. Instead of looking at the dark, let's shine a light on the good. Let's tell our kids about how our ancestors built this place with love and strength. Let's share the joy of our festivals, dances, and songs.

Our kids should know the real Ukwa Eburutu, where people are known for being good, not bad. They should learn about respect, community, and kindness from our past, not about fear and lies.

By doing this, we can bring love back to our village. We'll see each other as friends and family, not as the bad stories say. We'll dream together and make Ukwa Eburutu a place where kids are proud to be from.

We shouldn't let lies divide us. Let's tell a new story about unity, where everyone feels part of Ukwa Eburutu. This change starts with us - parents, elders, and young people - telling the truth instead of the dark tales.

Imagine a Ukwa Eburutu where young people can't wait to learn about their culture, where they're proud to say they're from here. Imagine a place where visitors come because they're amazed by our stories of love, unity, and cultural richness.

Let’s make our village known for love and pride, not fear. "May Almighty God bless Okon Uyo from Ewen village" because he shows us what we can achieve by focusing on the positive in our culture.

This is our call to action, written by Ayaya Inuen Ayaya, to everyone in Ukwa Eburutu: Let's change our story into one of pride and joy, not fear. Let's make Ukwa Eburutu a village where love and unity live every day.

Kayi App to unveil era of banking without limits

Kayi App, a secure and innovative pan-African Digital Payment Platform, today announced it has obtained necessary regulatory approvals to launch in Nigeria to accelerate access to financial inclusion by individuals and businesses in the country and beyond through secure, seamless and hassle-free transactions.

As an innovative fintech product, Kayi App was born out of a vision to revolutionise the financial services landscape in Africa to fulfil the need for accessible, secure and customer-centred financial services that cater to the unique needs of Nigerians and Africans at large.

“We are excited to introduce our innovative fintech product, Kayi App, to the Nigerian market. With our dedicated and young team of innovative and creative Nigerians drawn from across the world, we have worked tirelessly to develop a suite of fintech solutions that will make financial transactions simpler, faster, secure and more convenient for everyone,” Says Alhaji Saadina Dantata


L-R: Promoter of KayiApp, Alh. Saadina Dantata; Managing Director, KMC MFB, Alh. Yunusa Muhammad; Minister of Communications, Innovation and Digital Economy, Dr. Bosun Tijani and Director-General, National Information Technology Development Agency, Kashifu Abdullah, during the unveiling of KayiApp, a new digital platform for secure financial transactions, at the Transcorp Hilton Hotel, Abuja on Thursday (September 28, 2023)
Dantata said “The Kayi App aims to empower Africans with the tools and knowledge to take control of their financial future. He also expressed gratitude to the Honorable ministers and Director Generals present at the Kayi App launch. “I envision a continent where every individual and business can thrive financially, regardless of their location or income level.” as he closed off.

Speaking on market opportunity that informed Kayi Apps introduction, its Product lead, Abdulganiyu Rufa’i said the African fintech market is brimming with opportunities and that Kayi App is poised to make a significant impact.

“With vast majority of Africans unbanked and underbanked, we are confident in our ability to meet the growing demand for digital financial services across Africa. Having recognised unmet needs in the country’s payment digital industry, therefore, Kayi App is poised to showcase strength in delivering core services and solutions such as instant digital payments for individuals and businesses; financial inclusion and social banking for people in rural and semi-urban areas; blockchain-backed cross- border trade for exporters and importers across Africa; and remittances and investments for Nigerians and Africans in Diaspora,” says Rufa’i.

Speaking on the key factors that stand Kayi App out in the mobile payments sector, the technology team of the Kayi App headed by Chukwunonimem Ike, said, “What truly distinguishes the Kayi App is our unwavering commitment to relentless innovation and a customer-centric approach that places YOU at the forefront. We recognize the distinctive challenges faced by individuals across Africa, and it’s precisely these challenges that have inspired us to craft solutions that confront them head- on.

“Our -friendly super app, cutting-edge security features, field staff in every ward in Nigeria and 24/7 customer are just a few examples of how we’re putting our customers first,” Ike said. “Even when there is a need for customers to communicate with the Kayi team, all you need is to dial our toll-free number 0800-000-KAYI, which is 0800-000-5294, and our customer satisfaction team will answer instantly, in your preferred language.”

Kayi App will be officially launched soon to provide secure and innovative payments services to individuals and businesses in the African market. The launch event is being designed to be a celebration of innovation and unveiling of the era of banking without limits.

Stay tuned for more details in the coming days by visiting www.kayi.ng or our social media handles on Facebook, Instagram, X and YouTube on @mykayiapp while Linkedin is at linkedin.com/company/mykayiapp.

*BREAKING NEWS*

The new ‘Strategic Agenda for the Naira’ was announced by the Central Bank of Nigeria, generating a healthy national debate. Before we undertake a nationwide enlightenment program (beginning November 2) to educate the public on the new policy, it is important to clarify some of the issues/questions that are emerging.

Needless to emphasize that to appreciate the full impact of the new policy on the Naira/national economy, we need to take the 4-point agenda as a package. As a package, the new agenda will:

better anchor inflation expectations,
strengthen public confidence in the Naira,
make for easier conversion to other major currencies,
reverse tendency for currency substitution,
eliminate higher denomination notes with lower purchasing power,
reduce the cost of production, distribution, and processing of currency,
promote the usage of coins and thus a more efficient pricing and payments system,
promote the availability of cleaner notes,
deepen the Forex market,
ensure more effective liquidity management and monetary policy,
convertibility of the Naira and hence greater confidence in the national economy and lead to greater inflow of foreign investment
position the Naira to become the ‘Reference currency’ in Africa.
However, most of the questions so far pertain to only one aspect of the agenda, i.e., currency Re-denomination. We have monitored the reactions so far, and note that the concerns/questions raised so far are similar to the ones raised in all the countries that have undertaken re-denomination, including Ghana that is still implementing it now. We clarify some of the concerns as follows:

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?
Currency redenomination is the process where a new unit of money replaces the old unit with a certain ratio. It is achieved by removing zeros from a currency or moving some decimal points to the left, with the aim of correcting perceived misalignment in the currency and pricing structure, and enhancing the credibility of the local currency.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝?

It is by dropping two zeros from the currency or moving two decimal places to the left. The name of the national currency will still be the Naira. However, during the transition period, the existing Naira will be referred to as the “Old Naira”, and the new one to be called the “New Naira”. After the transition period, the word “New” may be dropped. For example, the following equivalents will obtain as we re-denominate:

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐚
(𝐢.𝐞, 𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲)
𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐍𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐚
(𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 ,𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐛𝐧 )

50 kobo Half kobo**
N 1 = 1 kobo coin
N 2 = 2 kobo coin
N 5 = 5 kobo coin
N 10 = 10 kobo coin
N 20 = 20 kobo coin
N 50 = 50 kobo coin or note***
N 100 = N 1 note
N 200 N 2 note**
N 500 = N 5 note
N 1000 = N 10 note
N 2000* = N 20 note

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤?
The ‘new Naira’ coins and notes will be different from the existing ones i.e. in design, appearance, security features, etc.
All Naira assets and liabilities (including bank deposits), prices, fees, rents, and contracts (including salaries and wages) will be re-denominated by dropping two zeroes or moving two decimal points to the left.
During the ‘transition period’ prices will be quoted in both the ‘new Naira’ and the ‘Old Naira’ and everyone will choose whether to pay in the new or old Naira. These five months will be allowed so that everyone will get familiar with the conversion, and it will become self-evident to everyone why he/she would prefer to transact in the ‘new Naira’ rather than the ‘old Naira’. For example, if a bag of garri sells for N2,000 (old Naira), the price in ‘new Naira’ will automatically be N20. The customer will choose to pay either N2000 in old Naira or N20 in the ‘new Naira’. In the supermarkets and formal markets, prices will be displayed in both ‘old’ and ‘new’ Naira. In the informal markets where prices are negotiated, the negotiation could be done in the ‘old Naira’ as usual and converted into the ‘new Naira’ if the customer wishes to pay with the ‘new Naira’. This will ensure that prices do not rise due to rounding-up. The five months are also needed for everyone (formal and informal sectors) to become fully familiar with the conversion. It will become obvious to everyone that N50,000 of the ‘old Naira’ has the same purchasing power as N500 of the ‘new Naira’. The question then would be: why carry N50,000 of old Naira when N500 of the new Naira will buy you the same thing? Consequently, if you have N50,000 in your bank , it will automatically become N500 in the ‘new Naira’ i.e. if you want to withdraw in the ‘new Naira’ or you can still withdraw N50,000 in ‘old Naira’ during the transition period (January 2024). Similarly, someone whose monthly salary is N50,000 can choose (during the transition period) whether to withdraw and spend the N50,000 in ‘old Naira’ or N500 in the ‘new Naira’. Both would buy him/her the same value of goods and services.
Examples of price equivalents in the new and old Naira could be:

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐀𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐀𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐮.

House rent (e.g. a flat in some parts of Nigeria) N5000 per month N50 per month
Stock price of a company Assume it is, say:
N20 or N80
20 kobo or 80 kobo
Airline ticket for domestic flight N12,500 = N125
Fuel Price N500 = N5
Exchange rate: N to US$ Assume it is say:
N125
Or N130
Or N100 to US$1.
N1.25 = US$1
Or N1.30 = US$1
Or N1 = US$1

This decision has been taken by the cbn by the directive of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to reduce the surfering of Nigerians and also slow down inflation. If you have the old Naira start getting ready to switch to the new Naira, this message is meant to prepare Nigeria for the changes ahead. It needs to be shared to ensure everyone is well prepared for the new Naira notes. Nigerians

As a public figure of several decades standing, my antecedents are widely known. Nevertheless, it has become necessary to restate who I am and correct some misleading information made about my person.
My name is Florence Mayen Ita-Giwa (Asibong Ita, was also my maiden native Efik name). I was born on the 19th of February 1946. Although I do not have a birth certificate, I have an age declaration document sworn to by my late Mother, which I have used all my life. My mother almost died of post-partum hemorrhage during my birth at the hospital; a situation which was made worse as the hospital did not have a blood bank. The story of the circumstances of my birth stuck in my memory, and because of it I donated a blood bank to the hospital, much later in life.
My late Father, Obong Ofiong Umoh Ita Ofiong, was a traditional Ruler in Atabong, Bakassi. He attended Methodist Boys’ High School, Oron (founded in 1905) back in the early 20th century. His parents’ choice to send him to school in Oron was influenced by the fact that Archibong Town, and then James Town, both in Bakassi, were the first ports of call of the Methodist Church Mission in Nigeria in 1893. And, when the Mission set up its first school in these parts, it was natural that my late Father would be educated there. My mother, the late Chief (Mrs.) Beatrice Bassey Ita, was at first a school teacher before venturing into journalism and becoming a renowned pioneering female journalist in South East of Nigeria. Her parents were from the Ekpo Abasi Royal House of Calabar, and their family house was No. 19 Boco Street at Bayside of Calabar South Local Government Area in Cross River State, where I grew up right from infancy until we moved to No. 55 Beecroft Street, also at Bayside in Calabar South. I vividly recall how my Mom used to entertain family and friends with tea in the afternoons; a veritable vestige of Calabar's affinity with the culture of the British colonialists.
I started my education as a girl-child at the renowned Duke Town Primary School, Calabar (with a history dating back to 1846) before attending The Edgerly Memorial Girls’ School, also in Calabar. I took up Nursing as a Profession and went for training in it at Aba in the present-day Abia State, although my dear Mother had wished that I went into journalism like her. If there is anything like re-incarnation, I will still choose to belong to the noble profession of Nursing.
​My late mother was an avowed Zikist, who worked as a correspondent for the Zik Group of Newspapers in Calabar. She eventually sought transfer to Aba in order to remain close and keep watch over me while I was undergoing my studies. The Nigerian civil war broke out while we were in Aba, and my mother and family chose to remain in the "Biafran" territory for the entire duration of the War until it ended in January 1970. I never set eyes on any federal troop or officer until when the war ended while we were at Ahiara, where we had fled to, having lost everything we owned in life. That is the closest exposure I had to fighting that raged between the armed forces during the Civil War. A Nigerian Military officer rescued us alongside other relatives and graciously arranged for our safe age to Calabar. Sometime after we arrived in Calabar, I recall that my mother was briefly detained by the Federal authorities as was the late Margaret Ekpo. My mother was eventually employed by the Sketch Newspaper as the South Eastern State correspondent at the time, and Aremo Segun Osoba, who was its Managing Director. The photograph of myself, Ndidi Okereke Onyuike the former Director General of the Nigerian Stock Exchange, and the late Cecilia Ekpenyong, the former Deputy Governor of Cross River State, which appeared in a book written by Brigadier General Alabi Isama was taken at a party in Port Harcourt sometime in the middle of 1970, long after the Civil War had ended.
I proceeded to the Kilburn Polytechnic London to train as a Medical Secretary. At the end of my studies, after my field work experience at the cancer follow-up department and periodontal department of the university college Hospital Gower Street, London, on the strict insistence of my mother, I returned to Nigeria and was immediately employed by Beecham Laboratories as a Medical Representative. After receiving some training in Pharmaceutical Detailing, I was then posted to be in charge of the company’s Northern Nigeria operations. After doing a good job at Beecham, I got head-hunted by Sandoz Pharmaceuticals and was appointed the Medical Representative in charge of Lagos State. I thereafter left paid employment to found Flobett Pharmacy and Med-Equip Limited, with branches at No. 1 Norman Williams Street, Ikoyi, and No. 1 Kofo Abayomi Street, Apapa – both in Lagos. Med-Equip Limited was an accredited agent of AJ Seward Medical Equipment UK and won a contract to fully equip seven 30-bed military hospitals (MRS) in different parts of Nigeria, including Zuru in Bornu State, Owode in Ogun State and Ibawa in Akwa Ibom State. To this day, I am still able to conceptualize and set up a hospital from the reception to the morbid section.
I ed politics, contested elections and won four very difficult contests starting from 1991, each time on “opposition party” platforms. I voluntarily opted out of seeking elective office to allow space for the next generation to express themselves in Nigerian politics, after my outing as Senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria in 2003. As a law maker, I attended a course on Legislative Management at the Thames Valley University, London. I am currently working on a book on “Legislative Management and Parliamentary Lobbying” with the objective of sharing knowledge with the next generation of politicians, public office holders and the general public.
Apart from my daughter, I have 15 other lovely children that I brought out from the Creeks of Bakassi and single-handedly weaned, nurtured and groomed into responsible and promising persons; to the glory of God Almighty. The youngest of them is now nine years old. She was rescued from the creeks of Bakassi at just four months old. Today, she attends one of the best private schools in Calabar. I also have a pair of 14-year-old twin boys whose parents were killed right in their presence at the age of four. They both attend what is considered one of the best high schools in Calabar, Access School. Most of my other children have graduated from the best private universities in Nigeria and Ghana as Petroleum Engineers, Electrical Engineers, Computer Engineers and so on. In my family there are no titles or divisions, because I believe that a child is a child, no matter how he or she came into this world. All these children are mine, given to me by God. And, I am committed to training them into good and worthy citizens of Nigeria, complete with strong family values, love, respect and comion for their fellow human beings.
It is common knowledge that a typical Calabar lady’s physiological issue cannot be “aesthetic augmentation”, but ‘reduction’. Besides, aesthetic procedures are not normally done under general anesthesia. So, a third-party or next-of-kin is not usually needed, unless there are underlying conditions which may be considered threats to the procedure, thereby warranting the assurance of a relative as surety. It is a fact that, 18 years ago I underwent liposuction (fat reduction) around my hips; a feature I obviously inherited from my late Mother. This was public knowledge, as I had informed the media. I do not do things and hide in the shadows, or are ashamed of. Nobody leaked any secret, as that procedure was public knowledge. I have consistently counselled younger women not to be scared of ageing, as it is an inevitable phase of life, but rather they should embrace the prospect of ageing gracefully and beautifully in good health, by embracing a healthy lifestyle and seeking any wholesome and safe medical intervention needed.
On a final note, I have always advised career women and female politicians to stay strong and courageous, and not to ever cave into the threats or bullying or blackmail of chauvinists and other predators, irrespective of their gender.
This is who I am. It is well. God bless you all.

Senator (Princess) Dame Dr. Florence Ita-Giwa, OON, KSW
Eka Iban Esien Efik Duop-iba (Mother of the female folk of the Efik Eburutu Kingdom & Member of the Royal Palace of the Obong of Calabar)
Sunday, 17th September, 2023

To me is a routine, i Carry out this activities daily

My daughter is now 3 years with an amazing character. When ever i or my wife is cooking it is a must for her to pound although we have two blenders. She started that right from when she was 2years she really enjoyed the sound of the small morter. This afternoon i have a meeting with a client coincidentally my wife also have to visit a friend who have just put to birth, while i assisted my wife in the kitchen so we could finished up on time; our daughter also was busy moving up and down in there kitchen. My wife rush to freshen up while i went to picked call, just to return and met 15 sachets cubes of maggi because she saw her mum putting the cubes in the food. I already brought the pot down before going to pick call and she also follow me, unknown to me that the time i spent to answer calls she has returned to add more cubes with the help of a stool.
When i saw the cubes sachet i asked her gently where did you keep the Maggi, she said she added it to the food and i ask how she managed to reach the pot she said she pull the stool and climb on it. When I opened the pot i was so devastated I just have to calm; i was very hungry when the mum dress all and came to kitchen to dish the food for us to eat I showed her the Maggi sachet and explained what our daughter did. She almost injured her, the way she scream at our daughter make her to cry and run away. I have to calm her down while I took our daughter with me. The food was mainly for this evening and tomorrow and she was to dish it also to her friend who just put to birth.

Please sir, women are usually emotional when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex. They easily get jealous.