Da farko, duk wanda yake da kishin Najeriya ba zai yi shiru kan matsalar rashin tsaro da ke addabar ƙasa ba, kuma ba zai hana wasu bayyana damuwarsu a kai ba. Rashin tausayi da fifita son rai ko zama karen en siyasa , da fifita son rai fiye da muradun al’umma ba abin alfahari ba ne. Ka kasance mai kishin ƙasarka, ka daina fifita siyasa a kan gaskiya, sannan ka ji tsoron Allah a cikin duk abin da kake yi @kahuturarara
Dangote has done three things in the last 72 hours that the Nigerian government could not do in 60 years.
He cut aviation fuel to N1,650 per litre, slashed diesel and aviation fuel prices at ex-depot level, and filed a lawsuit to stop NNPC and private marketers from importing fuel that his refinery is already producing in surplus.
Now the oil marketers are crying monopoly.
Let us be honest about what monopoly means in this context. For 60 years, a cartel of fuel importers held Nigeria hostage, collecting $10 billion annually in subsidy, keeping state refineries deliberately broken, and charging Nigerians premium prices for refined crude they sent abroad themselves.
Nobody called that a monopoly. Nobody filed a lawsuit about market stability when ordinary Nigerians queued for fuel in an oil producing country for decades.
One private refinery starts cutting prices, increasing supply, and going to court to enforce a law that already says imports are only permitted when local supply is insufficient, and suddenly the marketers have discovered the language of competition and consumer protection.
The law is clear. The Petroleum Industry Act only permits fuel imports when domestic supply cannot meet demand. Dangote’s refinery is supplying over 90% of Nigeria’s daily petrol consumption. The legal basis for those import licences does not exist. He is not asking for a favour. He is asking for the law to be applied.
The marketers built their business model on Nigeria’s inability to refine its own oil. That inability has been solved by one man with private capital. Their business model is obsolete and their objection is not about market stability. It is about market access to a rent they no longer deserve.
Saraki and Lamido: The Silent Casualties of Wike’s PDP Collapse
If there are two people who should be watching the slow collapse of Wike’s PDP empire with deep regret, they are Bukola Saraki and Sule Lamido.
These were men who once carried serious political weight. They were not small names in the PDP. Saraki was once Senate President, a master of political maneuvering, a man who understood structure, timing, and power. Sule Lamido was once one of the strongest voices of the old PDP order, a man who spoke with confidence as if the party could not move without elders like him.
But today, where are they?
Wike came into the PDP crisis with raw ambition, money, noise, and ruthless political calculation. Instead of Saraki and Lamido standing firm to rescue the party from internal capture, they watched, calculated, hesitated, and allowed the house to burn while pretending to be elders.
Now the same PDP they once hoped to control has become a political accident scene.
The irony is painful. Saraki and Lamido thought they were too big to take risks, too experienced to move early, and too strategic to join a new coalition when the warning signs were clear. They waited for perfect timing, but politics punished their delay.
Wike fought like a man protecting his own interests. Saraki and Lamido watched like men waiting for inheritance from a collapsing building.
Now the PDP is weaker, the opposition space has moved on, the ADC coalition is gaining attention, and the old landlords are beginning to look like tenants in a house they once owned.
This is the tragedy of political overconfidence. When leaders confuse past glory with present relevance, history moves without them.
Saraki and Lamido are not just losers in Wike’s PDP downfall. They are symbols of an old political class that waited too long, moved too slowly, and underestimated how fast power can shift.
How the mighty have fallen.
And how quickly Nigeria’s politics reminds everyone that yesterday’s influence is not today’s guarantee.
Decade ago, Nigeria’s collective moral compass was gripped by the plight of Ese Oruru—a 13-year-old Christian girl abducted from Bayelsa and taken to Kano. Today, history has repeated itself in Walida's case!
Time to break the silence!
https://t.co/m2YLITdY2v