Sometimes political power becomes its own biggest enemy when it mistakes intimidation for strategy.
The reported move to investigate and prosecute Mallam Nasir El-Rufai is beginning to look, to many Nigerians, less like a sincere pursuit of justice and more like a politically motivated attempt to weaken an opposition figure. And if that is the intention, then the government should understand one simple thing: it is producing the opposite result.
Instead of reducing El-Rufai’s relevance, this approach is increasing public sympathy for him. People who were once indifferent to him are now beginning to ask why he is being singled out. People who may not have supported his politics are now looking at the process and seeing the familiar shadow of selective justice. That is how political persecution creates martyrs. That is how governments unintentionally turn opponents into symbols of resistance.
Nobody is saying El-Rufai is above the law. No Nigerian should be above accountability. If there is evidence against anyone, the proper thing is to investigate fairly, charge properly, and prosecute transparently. But where only political opponents are targeted while allies of the government with similar or even heavier allegations walk freely, the public will not see justice. They will see vendetta.
Justice must be consistent or it loses moral power.
Nigeria cannot build strong institutions with selective prosecution. You cannot use the law like a political whip and still expect citizens to trust the system. You cannot harass opposition figures, detain critics, intimidate dissenting voices, and then claim to be defending democracy. Democracy is not protected by fear. It is protected by due process, fairness, tolerance, and equal treatment before the law.
The Tinubu government must be careful. Power is temporary, but precedent is permanent. Any government that normalizes the weaponization of state institutions against political opponents is weakening the same democracy it claims to lead. Today it may be El-Rufai. Tomorrow it may be another opposition figure. Next tomorrow, it may be an ordinary citizen with no platform, no lawyers, and no public sympathy.
That is why Nigerians must speak now.
Accountability is good. Selective accountability is dangerous. Investigation is lawful. Political intimidation is not. Prosecution can strengthen democracy when it is fair, but it can destroy public trust when it appears targeted, vindictive, and one-sided.
Nigeria deserves institutions that pursue justice, not revenge. We deserve a government that is confident enough to tolerate criticism. We deserve leaders who understand that opposition is not a crime. We deserve a democracy where people are not punished for political disagreement.
If the government has a case against El-Rufai, let it follow the law openly and fairly. If it does not, then it should stop giving Nigerians the impression that state power is being used to settle political scores.
History does not remember powerful governments kindly because they silenced opponents. It remembers them by whether they respected justice when justice was inconvenient.
This is bigger than El-Rufai.
It is about the rule of law.
It is about democracy.
It is about whether Nigeria will be governed by institutions or by political vendetta.
BREAKING: Rotimi Amaechi arrives at Atiku Abubakar’s residence for a private meeting as 2027 political consultations gather momentum.
Ameachi/Atiku is coming
The African Democratic Congress (ADC) members of the House of Representatives, led by Hon Abdulsammad Dasuki, paid a courtesy visit on the National Chairman, Senator David Mark, at the national headquarters, Abuja.
Senator Mark charged members of the ADC to remain focused and prepare for their forthcoming elections.
According to him, the ADC will put forward only members that would win elections as its candidates.
He charged members who have been nominated to return to their constituencies and work hard for the elections.
“ADC is the only party that conducted primary elections and produced candidates in line with the provisions of the electoral act. We must go forth and win our elections,” Senator Mark submitted.
Muhammad Nur Zanna Deribe’s emergence under the African Democratic Congress (ADC) for Jere Federal Constituency is yet another indication of the party’s growing grassroots presence across Borno State.
Strong political movements are built not only through national visibility but also through credible and competent candidates who connect directly with their communities, understand local challenges, and provide a genuine alternative for the people.
Jere deserves representation that is responsive to the needs of its citizens prioritizing security, youth empowerment, quality education, community development, support for small businesses, agricultural advancement, and stronger federal engagement. The constituency needs a representative who is accessible, dedicated, and courageous enough to champion the interests of the people at all times.
The ADC continues to attract aspirants committed to transforming the political landscape through service, integrity, and people oriented leadership.
Muhammad Nur Zanna Deribe’s aspiration brings renewed momentum to the ADC in Jere and reinforces a clear message ahead of 2027: the movement is gaining strength at the grassroots, becoming more visible, and steadily expanding across communities.
FAKE NEWS:
Obedients will create a scenario in their heads, believe it, argue with everybody about it, then get angry when reality refuses to obey their imagination.
Stories From The Hardship Republic EPISODE (4)
By the time Mama Chidinma finished pricing half a basket of garri, she no longer knew whether to laugh at Nigeria or cry for herself.
She stood in the market at Mile 12, one hand holding her purse, the other hand holding the small nylon bag she had carried from home with confidence. Inside the purse was ₦7,500. In her mind, she had planned everything like a woman who still believed calculation could defeat hardship.
Garri, ₦2,000.
Beans, ₦2,500.
Tomatoes and pepper, ₦1,500.
Transport back home, ₦500.
Something small for the children, maybe biscuit or groundnut, ₦1,000.
That was the plan.
But Nigeria looked at her plan and laughed.
The woman selling garri scooped the first measure and said, “Mama, this one na ₦3,800.”
Mama Chidinma thought she did not hear well.
“How much?”
“₦3,800.”
“For garri?”
The woman selling it smiled with tired eyes. “Mama, no vex. Na so we see am too. We no manufacture suffering.”
That sentence followed Mama Chidinma like a shadow.
We no manufacture suffering.
She moved to the beans seller. The price there was worse. Tomatoes looked like jewelry. Pepper looked like imported electronics. Even onions, ordinary onions that used to enter stew without invitation, now stood proudly like a luxury item.
By the time she finished buying what she could, the nylon bag was still small, but her purse was almost empty. She had not bought meat. She had not bought fish. She had not bought biscuit for her children. She had not even kept enough for transport.
So she began to walk.
From the market road, past the noise of buses and conductors, past people arguing about change, past a man shouting that Nigeria would soon get better, past a young boy selling pure water with a voice that sounded older than his age.
She walked because ₦500 transport had become food money.
At home, her children were waiting.
Her first son, Emeka, was twelve. He had learned how to read his mother’s face before asking for anything. Her daughter, Chidinma, was nine and still believed mothers could solve everything. The last born, little Ifeanyi, was five and had no patience for political explanations. Hunger was hunger.
“Mummy, did you buy biscuit?” Ifeanyi asked before she even entered the room properly.
Mama Chidinma dropped the nylon bag on the floor and forced a smile.
“My baby, biscuit will come tomorrow.”
Tomorrow had become the most overused promise in their house.
Tomorrow for biscuit.
Tomorrow for school fees.
Tomorrow for new sandals.
Tomorrow for NEPA light.
Tomorrow for meat.
Tomorrow for a better Nigeria.
Emeka looked inside the nylon and said nothing. That silence wounded her more than any complaint. A child who understands poverty too early loses something soft inside him.
That evening, she cooked watery beans. She added pepper like decoration and prayed the children would sleep quickly before hunger returned for second round.
Her husband, Nnamdi, came back late from work. He was a security guard in a private building where the generator ran all night, the air conditioners never rested, and rich people complained when coffee was not hot enough.
He entered the room quietly, removed his shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How market?” he asked.
Mama Chidinma laughed. Not because it was funny, but because some pain needs laughter to pass through the throat.
“My husband, market is now a court case.”
He understood.
He opened his phone and showed her a message from the children’s school.
Second term fees balance must be paid before Friday.
They both stared at the message like it was a death sentence.
“How much is remaining?” she asked.
“₦86,000.”
The room became quiet.
Outside, someone’s generator was coughing. Inside, darkness held them like a blanket. The fan was there, but there was no light. The fridge was there, but nothing was inside it.
Stories From The Hardship Republic EPISODE (4)
By the time Mama Chidinma finished pricing half a basket of garri, she no longer knew whether to laugh at Nigeria or cry for herself.
She stood in the market at Mile 12, one hand holding her purse, the other hand holding the small nylon bag she had carried from home with confidence. Inside the purse was ₦7,500. In her mind, she had planned everything like a woman who still believed calculation could defeat hardship.
Garri, ₦2,000.
Beans, ₦2,500.
Tomatoes and pepper, ₦1,500.
Transport back home, ₦500.
Something small for the children, maybe biscuit or groundnut, ₦1,000.
That was the plan.
But Nigeria looked at her plan and laughed.
The woman selling garri scooped the first measure and said, “Mama, this one na ₦3,800.”
Mama Chidinma thought she did not hear well.
“How much?”
“₦3,800.”
“For garri?”
The woman selling it smiled with tired eyes. “Mama, no vex. Na so we see am too. We no manufacture suffering.”
That sentence followed Mama Chidinma like a shadow.
We no manufacture suffering.
She moved to the beans seller. The price there was worse. Tomatoes looked like jewelry. Pepper looked like imported electronics. Even onions, ordinary onions that used to enter stew without invitation, now stood proudly like a luxury item.
By the time she finished buying what she could, the nylon bag was still small, but her purse was almost empty. She had not bought meat. She had not bought fish. She had not bought biscuit for her children. She had not even kept enough for transport.
So she began to walk.
From the market road, past the noise of buses and conductors, past people arguing about change, past a man shouting that Nigeria would soon get better, past a young boy selling pure water with a voice that sounded older than his age.
She walked because ₦500 transport had become food money.
At home, her children were waiting.
Her first son, Emeka, was twelve. He had learned how to read his mother’s face before asking for anything. Her daughter, Chidinma, was nine and still believed mothers could solve everything. The last born, little Ifeanyi, was five and had no patience for political explanations. Hunger was hunger.
“Mummy, did you buy biscuit?” Ifeanyi asked before she even entered the room properly.
Mama Chidinma dropped the nylon bag on the floor and forced a smile.
“My baby, biscuit will come tomorrow.”
Tomorrow had become the most overused promise in their house.
Tomorrow for biscuit.
Tomorrow for school fees.
Tomorrow for new sandals.
Tomorrow for NEPA light.
Tomorrow for meat.
Tomorrow for a better Nigeria.
Emeka looked inside the nylon and said nothing. That silence wounded her more than any complaint. A child who understands poverty too early loses something soft inside him.
That evening, she cooked watery beans. She added pepper like decoration and prayed the children would sleep quickly before hunger returned for second round.
Her husband, Nnamdi, came back late from work. He was a security guard in a private building where the generator ran all night, the air conditioners never rested, and rich people complained when coffee was not hot enough.
He entered the room quietly, removed his shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How market?” he asked.
Mama Chidinma laughed. Not because it was funny, but because some pain needs laughter to pass through the throat.
“My husband, market is now a court case.”
He understood.
He opened his phone and showed her a message from the children’s school.
Second term fees balance must be paid before Friday.
They both stared at the message like it was a death sentence.
“How much is remaining?” she asked.
“₦86,000.”
The room became quiet.
Outside, someone’s generator was coughing. Inside, darkness held them like a blanket. The fan was there, but there was no light. The fridge was there, but nothing was inside it.
BREAKING: This is the kind of security update Nigerians want to hear more often: action, rescue, and continued pursuit.
The rescue of five kidnap victims by troops under Operation Enduring Peace in Sanga LGA of Kaduna State deserves commendation. According to the report, the troops noticed an abandoned vehicle along the highway at Ungwan Gora village and immediately launched a search-and-rescue operation into the surrounding bushes. That quick response saved lives.
The rescued victims, Moses Samuel, Samuel Timothy, Godwin Audu, Mohammed Mustapha, and Mohammed Sale, are not just names in a security report. They are people with families, dreams, fears, and communities that waited in anxiety. Two of them are injured and receiving treatment, while two others remain unaccounted for. That means the job is not finished.
This operation shows why aggressive patrols, intelligence-led response, and visible security presence around rural highways must be intensified. Kidnappers thrive where roads are abandoned, forests are uncontrolled, and communities feel forgotten. Every rescue is important, but prevention must become the real goal.
We commend the troops for their courage and quick intervention. But we also urge security agencies to sustain the search for the remaining missing persons and dismantle the criminal networks operating around Sanga and other vulnerable corridors in Kaduna State.
Nigeria must become a country where citizens can travel, farm, trade, study, and sleep without fear.
BREAKING: This is the kind of security update Nigerians want to hear more often: action, rescue, and continued pursuit.
The rescue of five kidnap victims by troops under Operation Enduring Peace in Sanga LGA of Kaduna State deserves commendation. According to the report, the troops noticed an abandoned vehicle along the highway at Ungwan Gora village and immediately launched a search-and-rescue operation into the surrounding bushes. That quick response saved lives.
The rescued victims, Moses Samuel, Samuel Timothy, Godwin Audu, Mohammed Mustapha, and Mohammed Sale, are not just names in a security report. They are people with families, dreams, fears, and communities that waited in anxiety. Two of them are injured and receiving treatment, while two others remain unaccounted for. That means the job is not finished.
This operation shows why aggressive patrols, intelligence-led response, and visible security presence around rural highways must be intensified. Kidnappers thrive where roads are abandoned, forests are uncontrolled, and communities feel forgotten. Every rescue is important, but prevention must become the real goal.
We commend the troops for their courage and quick intervention. But we also urge security agencies to sustain the search for the remaining missing persons and dismantle the criminal networks operating around Sanga and other vulnerable corridors in Kaduna State.
Nigeria must become a country where citizens can travel, farm, trade, study, and sleep without fear.
No other presidential aspirant seems to have the intelligence and language to explain the problem and solution so clearly. The ADC leadership should choose Mohammed Hayatu-Deen.
He can beat anyone.
At what point did Nigerians realize that APC has no new story to tell?
The same excuses. The same blame game. The same empty grammar.
But hunger has no patience for grammar.
ADC must keep building because 2027 will reward structure, courage, and public trust.
The reactions online and on the streets show one thing clearly: Nigerians are no longer fooled by APC’s internal democracy drama.
What happened in the APC primary election is not just a party matter. It is a warning sign for the entire country. When ordinary members complain, aspirants cry out, supporters protest, results are questioned, and party leaders still pretend everything is normal, then democracy is already being weakened from inside.
APC has mastered the art of calling imposition “consensus” and calling selection “primary election.” But Nigerians can see through it. A party that cannot allow its own members to choose freely has no moral authority to lecture the country about democracy.
This is the same political culture Tinubu represents: control the structure, silence dissent, manage optics, reward loyalty, and expect citizens to clap while their voices are pushed aside.
If APC treats its own members this way, Nigerians should imagine what it will do with national power in 2027.
Democracy begins with respect for the people. Once party leaders believe ordinary voices do not matter, the result is arrogance, exclusion, anger, and crisis.
APC is not just facing primary election backlash. It is facing a credibility crisis.
Some leaders talk about the masses only when election is near. Others make the masses part of their journey long before the cameras arrive.
That is the difference Shugaba Bello El-Rufai represents.
Bello’s politics is not built on empty noise. It is built on resilience, accessibility, mentorship, and genuine concern for ordinary people. In a country where many politicians remember the poor only during campaigns, Bello has shown a different kind of leadership: the kind that lifts people, opens doors, builds confidence, and gives the children of the poor a reason to believe they also belong in the room.
Leadership is not only about holding office. Leadership is about impact. It is about how many people can say their lives became better because you showed up. It is about whether young people around you become stronger, wiser, more confident, and more prepared for the future.
This is where Bello stands out.
He has not only positioned himself as a political figure; he has become a guide, a mentor, and a bridge for many people who would have otherwise been ignored by the system. He understands that politics should not be a private ladder for the privileged. It should be a platform for human development.
When the children of ordinary people begin to stand tall, speak with confidence, compete with the privileged, and feel a sense of dignity, that is not ordinary politics. That is social transformation.
Nigeria needs leaders who can see potential in people before society sees it. Leaders who can identify talent among the poor and give it structure. Leaders who do not measure people by their background, but by their capacity to grow.
Shugaba Bello El-Rufai represents that rare political energy: firm, passionate, people-focused, and deeply invested in raising others.
A true leader does not only rise. A true leader raises people with him.
And that is why Bello’s story continues to inspire loyalty, confidence, and respect.