By Ivan Grozny
In a world crying out for heroes, Nigeria’s President Bola Ahmef Tinubu has thrown his hat into the ring, declaring with the gravitas of a Nollywood villain turned saint: “I will not stop doing the right thing.” Pause for applause. Or perhaps a collective eye-roll so vigorous it could power Lagos for a week. Truly, this is the kind of statement that demands a choir of angels or at least a PowerPoint presentation to unpack its profundity.
But let’s not get carried away — after all, Nigeria’s problems won’t solve themselves while we’re busy canonizing the man who’s decided “the right thing” is his personal brand.
What, pray tell, is this “right thing”? Is it the fuel subsidy removal that sent prices soaring faster than a SpaceX rocket, leaving ordinary Nigerians clutching their wallets like life rafts? Or perhaps it’s the economic reforms that have the naira wobbling like a drunk uncle at a wedding?
Tinubu’s commitment to righteousness is so steadfast, it’s almost as if he’s auditioning for a TED Talk titled “How to Make Everyone Suffer for the Greater Good (Terms and Conditions Apply).” The man’s got a vision, you see — one where “the right thing” is whatever keeps the headlines spinning and the critics gasping.
Let’s give credit where it’s due: Tinubu’s got the charisma of a televangelist and the stamina of a marathon runner. He’s out here promising to fix Nigeria’s woes while dodging the kind of scrutiny that would make lesser mortals sweat through their agbada. Power shortages? Insecurity? Inflation that makes your grocery bill look like a ransom note? Fear not, for Tinubu is doing the right thing. Never mind that the details are fuzzier than a Harmattan dust storm. Specifics are for peasants; visionaries like our president deal in vibes.
And oh, the vibes are immaculate. At every turn, Tinubu channels the energy of a man who’s just discovered motivational posters. “Hope renewed!” he cries, as if hope alone can fill potholes or stop bandits. His speeches are a masterclass in rhetorical sleight-of-hand—equal parts defiance, deflection, and a dash of “trust me, I’ve got this.” It’s performance art, really, and the audience is too busy buying unaffordable fuel to notice the script hasn’t changed since “subsidy is gone”.
But let’s not be too harsh. Governing Nigeria is like herding cats during a thunderstorm. Tinubu’s insistence on “the right thing” is less a policy platform and more a survival tactic in a country where cynicism is the national sport. He’s betting that if he says it loud enough, often enough, we’ll all forget to ask what “right” actually means. Spoiler: it’s working. For now.
So here’s to President Tinubu, our tireless crusader for the nebulously noble. May his righteousness shine brighter than the generators keeping Nigeria’s lights on. And may we, the ungrateful masses, learn to appreciate the poetry of his pain. After all, doing the right thing is hard. Understanding what it is? That’s our problem.
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