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Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

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Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

A few weeks ago, I spoke at a symposium in my university here in Georgia on the implications of the U.S. presidential election for the African diaspora. To the bemusement of my audience (who were a mix of Donald Trump and Kamala Harris supporters), I explained the curious phenomenon of African support for Donald Trump, particularly among Nigerian and Kenyan evangelicals.

I described how a surprising number of African Christians (and, in fact, some Muslims) consider Trump “God’s chosen one,” a valiant defender of conservative religious values whom they imagine will take on global LGBTQ rights with righteous vengeance.

The audience was incredulous and struggled to reconcile Trump’s infamous moral transgressions with his appeal to African conservatives. When I explained that these supporters see Trump as a warrior against the “cultural liberalism” they believe threatens their faith, eyebrows raised.

The eyebrows raised even further when I pointed out that there are Muslims who are so disillusioned with the Biden/Harris administration’s support for Israel that they prayed for a Trump win even when Trump is more manifestly hawkish than Biden/Harris and so disdains Muslims that he enacted a “Muslim ban” (which actually included non-Muslims) within the first few months of his first presidency.

But here’s the crux: Donald Trump is no more interested in religious morality than he is in the theological reveries of his African fan base. He is, in truth, a transactional man, a walking paradox of deals and calculations, utterly bereft of the very spiritual or moral foundation his African supporters so naively project onto him.

Trump’s “faith,” such as it is, is at best a performance, an asset to be deployed for strategic gains among America’s own conservative Christians, whom he has calculatedly courted for votes. To imagine Trump as the champion of conservative religious values is to mistake calculation for conviction and propaganda for principle.

His record speaks louder than his rhetoric. In 2015, for example, at a gathering of conservative Christians in Iowa, he openly admitted he never asks God for forgiveness, a theological anathema for any believer.

Later, on the campaign trail, he betrayed his biblical unfamiliarity, when he clumsily referred to “Two Corinthians” rather than the more common “Second Corinthians.” A slip of the tongue, perhaps, but in a subsequent interview, he tried to salvage his Christian credibility but ended up quoting a verse that doesn’t even exist: “Never bend to envy,” he offered, an adage Christians say is found nowhere in the Bible.

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Even when cornered about his favorite Bible verse, he misfired by citing “an eye for an eye,” a command Jesus explicitly repudiated. These are not the errors of a deeply religious man but the floundering of someone who considers faith a tool, not a calling.

Two Trump biographers sum up his attitude to Christianity and God nicely. Timothy O’Brien, in a 2007 book titled TrumpNation: The Art of Being Donald, wrote: “Donald has never been a spiritually or religiously serious person.”

And in 2001 book titled The Trumps: Three Generations That Built an Empire (which was revised and reissued as The Trumps: Three Generations of Builders and a President), Gwenda Blair wrote: “He’s a transactional guy with humans, and it’s no different with God — it’s all about whatever is to his advantage with regard to his supporters, and referencing God is exactly and only that.”

Yet for all his transparent artifice, Trump has nonetheless cast a beguiling spell on certain parts of Africa and the African diaspora, who see in him a savior of conservative values. They seem unfazed by the fact that his administration’s policies, his rhetoric, and his track record show little regard for Black humanity.

This disdain was palpable during his last tenure, and his recent rallies have done nothing to dispel it. Take, for instance, his unfounded claim during the first and only presidential debate that Black Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, were eating cats and dogs, a baseless assertion that isn’t just false but revelatory: it reveals a mind committed to degrading Blackness wherever he sees it.

There’s a dark and disheartening history here. Trump’s disdain for Black people isn’t new, nor has it emerged from thin air. His bigotry is old news, woven through an embroidery of disparaging comments, discriminatory practices, and racially motivated policies dating back decades.

In 1973, the Department of Justice sued Trump for refusing to rent apartments to Black families, citing his blatant violation of the Fair Housing Act. He fought the case before reluctantly signing an agreement to stop his racist practices.

His remarks afterward? He railed that the government was forcing him to rent to “welfare recipients,” the vile code by which he aligned poverty with Blackness. The sentiment was clear: in his mind, Black people didn’t belong, and it was his duty to keep them out.

Such is Trump’s enduring perspective, made all the more alarming by his political ascendance. The implications of his return for Africa are both direct and symbolic. During his previous presidency, Trump cut aid programs that many African countries rely on and dismissed African immigrants as a detriment to American society.

His rhetoric went beyond mere words; his policies made a statement, a policy posture that informed his supporters, shaped the broader narrative around Black immigration, and foreshadowed his now-infamous “shithole countries” comment in 2018.

When Trump disparaged Haiti, Nigeria, and other Black-majority nations in favor of immigration from Norway, it wasn’t just a one-off gaffe; it was a worldview rooted in negrophobic disdain.
In truth, Trump has never reckoned with the humanity of Black people. Even before his “shithole countries” remark, he lambasted a Black accountant in 1991, citing “laziness as a trait in Blacks.”

Years later, during his 2016 campaign, he praised Ann Coulter’s venomously xenophobic book, which decried the arrival of Nigerians in the United States as a criminal invasion.

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His decision to block the appointment of Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, a Nigerian-American, to lead the World Trade Organization in 2020, was yet another evidence of his disregard for Black excellence—American citizenship or no.

This is not a man whose opinions have been shaped by reasoned disagreement but by ingrained prejudice and an unwavering belief that Black lives, both within and outside of America, are lesser. Such a man at the helm of one of the world’s most powerful nations isn’t just a potential diplomatic nightmare; it’s a moral catastrophe for those who value the dignity of human life.

For Africa, the implications of a Trump resurgence are manifold. His approach to immigration alone could lead to increased restrictions on Africans seeking opportunity or refuge in the United States.

His contempt for Africans doesn’t only taint those who seek to immigrate but extends to those who remain. His willingness to denigrate entire nations with his vile language reinforces a global view of Africa as “the other,” a place he deemed too backward to deserve respect or dignify.

But Trump’s leadership affects more than just immigration. His previous administration gutted health programs that African nations relied on to tackle AIDS, malaria, and other epidemics. His withdrawal from multilateral agreements and climate initiatives destabilized African countries that disproportionately suffer from the effects of global warming and benefit the least from its economic causes.

Africa is neither immune to nor shielded from Trump’s reign. From economic pressures to ideological disrespect, his contempt manifests as policies that undermine progress and sow the seeds of isolationism.

For Africans, Trump’s victory isn’t just a foreign policy issue; it’s a personal affront. It’s a slap in the face to the millions of Africans who know America as a country that historically symbolized freedom, opportunity, and hope.

Africa’s bond with the United States transcends politics; it is the memory of independence movements supported by the promise of democracy, the aspiration for economic opportunity, and the reverence for cultural exchange. Trump’s worldview, with its utter disregard for Black humanity, threatens to erode this bond, leaving in its wake a continent left to question its ties with the West.

The challenge before Africa is to use this moment as an opportunity for unity and self-determination.

Trump’s contempt is an ugly mirror, a stark reminder that Africa cannot rely on foreign validation. Leaders and citizens alike must demand dignity, both in their interactions with the United States and in their own national narratives.

The message should be clear: Africa is neither a pawn nor a supplicant. It is a continent rich in resources, diversity, and human potential, undeserving of the scorn Trump so freely dispenses.

Trump’s victory may symbolize a return to darkness, but it is also an opportunity to galvanize resilience. Africa need not waste energy on a man who cannot see beyond his prejudice; instead, it should look to the future with resolve.

Africa’s destiny lies not in the hands of a foreign leader, and certainly not in one so blind to its humanity. Let his disdain be a rallying cry, not for despair, but for Africa to rise on its own terms.

Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned Nigerian columnist and United States-based Professor of Media Studies. 

Opinion

Super Bowl: Can Africa Spring Up anew?

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Super Bowl: Can Africa Spring Up anew?

With a landmass of approximately 9.83 million km² and a population of 334–336 million as of 2025—making it the third-largest country in the world—the United States is massive. It is four times the size of Algeria, Africa’s largest country, and dwarfs Nigeria, the continent’s most populous nation.

 

​The United States is a titan among nations. Who knows—perhaps neologists will coin a new term if the U.S. eventually purchases or forcefully takes Greenland from Denmark, further surging its landmass and population. When this massive scale fuses with unparalleled infrastructure, world-class venues, and a vast market, the USA becomes an ideal host for international sporting events with strong returns on investment.

 

​Between 1904 and 2025, the USA hosted one FIFA World Cup (with another to be co-hosted in 2026 with Mexico and Canada), four Summer Olympics, four Winter Olympics, and one FIBA Basketball World Cup. Unlike soccer, which is still finding its footing in the United States—even with Major League Soccer (MLS) having existed for 30 years—American football is the undisputed number-one sport. The Super Bowl—born from Lamar Hunt’s “light-bulb moment”—is the crown jewel. The Super Bowl has become what sociologists call a secular ritual, binding the social fabric of Americans together.

 

​Beyond the Vince Lombardi Trophy, the Super Bowl has evolved into a global marketing masterpiece. From the famous 1984 Apple commercial introducing the Macintosh, which is studied in MBA classes worldwide, to the 1979 Mean Joe Greene Coca-Cola commercial that showed genteel human warmth winning over fearsomeness, the intentionality of brands going head-to-head with rivals has been a recurring feature of every Super Bowl.

 

​While the USA is always attractive for hosting events, the Super Bowl’s success pivots on intellection that results in ingenious marketing. For the recent Super Bowl LX on February 8, 2026, two brands mirrored David Ben-Gurion’s principle of “taking the fight to the enemy.” Pepsi and Anthropic’s Claude entered with an offensive strategy: Claude’s AI ad—“Ads are coming to AI. But not to Claude.”—was a calculated strike in the competitive AI market, while Pepsi’s polar bear blind test revived the sulphurous rivalry with Coca-Cola. Many companies use their ad slots to build brand identity and equity or announce arrival in the business world.

 

Where does Africa stand in this Super Bowl business and sports calculus? While developed nations are making groundbreaking launches with chutzpah and creativity from creative shops—all resulting in a participatory economy—Africa’s involvement is largely an on-the-field display of Négritude spirit and ravenous passion.

 

​For Africa, the Super Bowl has become a “badge of honor” through representation. Mohammed Elewonibi, a Nigerian raised in Canada, was the first player of African origin to win a Super Bowl (XXVI, 1992, with the Washington Redskins). Since then, nearly 41 players of Nigerian origin or heritage have won—the most of any African country—including six who tasted victory with the recent Seattle Seahawks: Uchenna Nwosu, Nick Emmanwori, Boye Mafe, Jaxon Smith-Njigba (of Nigerian and Sierra Leonean roots), Jalen Milroe, and Olu Oluwatimi.

 

​Yet, as impressive as African athletes are in making the continent proud, we have blatantly failed to translate that audience engagement into commercial windfalls like the Super Bowl on home soil. It is appalling that most of Africa’s sporting events—the Durban July Handicap, Senegalese wrestling (Laamb), or the Safari Rally—have not fully harnessed the intersection of sports and marketing. Even the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON), despite its 3.45 billion cumulative viewers (far surpassing the Super Bowl’s ~125–127 million), lacks comparable marketing prestige. Why are there no global product launches during our matches? Why aren’t AI giants capitalizing on Africa’s tech startup boom?

 

​Africa is being fed celery when it deserves the whole salad. This asymmetry stems from structural economic factors, but the genie is out of the bottle—we must be forward-looking. To turn African sporting events into “goldmines,” we must reinvent the industry, much as Cirque du Soleil did for the circus. Facing declining audiences, rising costs, and fierce competition, it lost its grip on the circus business. Cirque, however, escaped the dying circus business by reinventing it.

 

​By viewing competition through a new lens, Africa can transform massive viewership into unparalleled economic advantage and value. Just as Cirque du Soleil created uncontested market space, African sports must adopt what W. Chan Kim and Renée Mauborgne called a “Blue Ocean Strategy”—creating uncontested market space and making competition irrelevant. Much as we can not compete toe to toe with advanced economies , we should not follow them like zombies.

 

​In their book Blue Ocean Strategy: How to Create Uncontested Market Space and Make the Competition Irrelevant, the authors highlight how companies in “red oceans” fight for shrinking profits in crowded, defined markets. African sports events currently sit in those crowded red oceans. To elevate them, we need disruptive leaders willing to venture into untapped markets, create new demand, and unlock unlimited growth opportunities.

 

​Joseph Pine and James Gilmore, in their book The Experience Economy, wrote about the need to transform commodities into experiences. As Africans, we have been able to move our sporting events from the commodity stage to the third stage—service delivery—but the experience stage is the North Star we should aspire to reach.

 

​Our cultures, as varied as they are, define us. Despite dilution by Western civilization, our culture stands uneroded, like the mountains that litter our landscape and serve as a canopy to preserve our common heritage. This means our forefathers took culture into the realm of experience—something we are still grappling with in our sporting spectacles today. For us to make headway, our cultures—already bubbling with experience—must mix seamlessly with our sporting spectacles.

 

​Now is the time to merge cultural events like the Eyo Festival, Argungu Festival, Gnaoua World Music Festival, Osun Osogbo Festival, Meskel Festival, and others with our sporting spectacles—that is the Blue Ocean Strategy. This can only be achieved through close collaboration between leaders in sports administration and marketing professionals selling experiences, and the time is now. As this is done, a line from David Diop’s poem Africa—“That is your Africa springing up anew”—would fill our lips.

​The experience stage is the nirvana!

 

Toluwalope Shodunke

Can be reached via tolushodunke@yahoo.com

 

Super Bowl: Can Africa Spring Up anew?

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Dele Momodu vs. Fani-Kayode: The pot fighting the kettle

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Fani-Kayode, Dele Momodu

Dele Momodu vs. Fani-Kayode: The pot fighting the kettle 

 

Tunde Odesola

 

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, March 27, 2026)

 

Back in the Italy of 44 BC, there lived a babalawo called Spurinna. Spurinna was a haruspice. In ancient Rome, a haruspice was a priest or soothsayer who practised divination by inspecting the entrails–specifically the liver and gallbladder–of sacrificed animals, to interpret the messages of the gods. Spurinna was popular in his time and was much sought after. He was like Nigeria’s present-day A-list religious leaders.

 

So, it was to Spurinna that the Roman military general, Julius Caesar, went when the exceptionally important month of March beckoned. In ancient Rome, March was the first month of the year and the start of military campaigns and farming seasons. Caesar offered a bull for sacrifice; Spurinna inspected its entrails, communed with the gods, who showed him that the sacrificed bull lacked a heart, a metaphor for the pool of blood ahead.

 

Therefore, the diviner went up to Caesar, hit his staff on the ground, and warned, “Roman General, I see danger in March! Beware of the Ides of March! Danger lurks, Caesar. Yes, the Ides of March, beware!” And he left.

 

But, Caesar, engrossed in statecraft, never remembered the warning until the day the siegecraft of his enemies subdued him at the Senate, and he fell to their swordcraft, as he was stabbed 23 times by his fellow senators, crying, “Et tu, Brute,” at the final stab. Ironically, the assassination that was meant to save the Roman Republic from Caesar’s dictatorship led to its end, giving rise to the Roman Empire.

 

Just like Caesar, two Nigerian politicians, Chief Dele Momodu and Chief Femi Fani-Kayode, in the March of 2026, forgot the Ides of March. They threw caution to the wind and engaged each other in a dogfight that members of the National Union of Road Transport Workers had outgrown. The bloodless power tussle between the forces of Alhaji Tajudeen Baruwa and Alhaji Musiliu Akinsanya aka MC Oluomo over control of the national headquarters of the NURTW in Abuja a few days ago shows that ‘Up National’ members are far more civil than many Nigerian political leaders.

 

If we share the same parentage, both Momodu and Fani-Kayode, at 65, should pick pieces of meat ahead of me at the family table. Ẹ̀gbọ́n Momodu should pick meat before ẹ̀gbọ́n Fani-Kayode because he arrived in the world five months before FFK. By reason of age, both should talk before me in family gatherings. And, I should wash the plates and pots if the three of us had a family cookout, and there was no Reno Omokri, who I’m older than, around. But when old men fight dirty and disrobe themselves in the marketplace, society allows their younger brother to separate them, exorcise the March Madness and call a spade by its proper name.

 

I knew FFK between 2009 and 2010 when he eyed the governorship of Osun State on the ticket of the Peoples Democratic Party. In a field brimming with Ife-born political heavyweights such as Senator Iyiola Omisore, former Attorney General and Commissioner for Justice, Chief Niyi Owolade; former Nigerian Ambassador to Cuba, Senator Segun Bamigbetan-Baju; former Commissioner for Education, Prof Muib Opeloye, etc, the young Fani-Kayode stood little chance in emerging the PDP candidate, despite the ‘it is our turn’ clamour by Ife. Femi Fani-Kayode aspired and failed.

 

Like FFK, Momodu, in 2011, ran for the nation’s presidency on the platform of the National Conscience Party, losing in his ward, where he got just one vote, according to a Vanguard newspaper report. In the PDP presidential primaries, which he contested in 2022, Momodu, who bought the PDP presidential primary form for N50 million, lamented the monetisation of Nigeria’s electoral process. He magnanimously donated copies of his magazine, Ovation, at the PDP primaries.  But, for his troubles, Momodu got the type of fat zero mischievous teachers draw in the books of dullard students. PUNCH newspaper reported that no delegate voted for Momodu.

 

When glitz and glam fuel political aspiration, and public service becomes trackless like a snake crawling on a mountain, prefixes such as ‘former governorship aspirant’ and ‘former presidential candidate’ become mere tickets to the corridors of power.

 

Though both Fani-Kayode and Momodu never won an election, both are streetwise. Both are grandmasters of Nigeria’s prebendal politics. They understand perfectly how the crooked Nigerian system works. They know the power of visibility, timing and positioning. They understand power and its laws. Both know that most Nigerian men and women of power are vulnerable, lonely and insecure creatures who need public validation to ease the guilt their conscience suffers from years of public mismanagement. The brains of Bob Dee and FFK calculate better than the best Casio calculators.

 

When FFK wants something from you, you cannot survive his pressure. During the administration of President Goodluck Jonathan, FFK would daily bombard me with press statements. One day, after speaking with me a couple of times on various press statements, he called me yet again. So, I sighed and sounded sleepy. Quick-minded, FFK noticed the drop in the cadence of my voice and said something like this, “Tunde, I have spoken to you many times today, and on each occasion, your voice was different. How many voices do you have?” I smiled at the other end of the phone, and intoned silently to myself, “I go let you kill me with PDP stories, abi?”

 

For someone who started from scratch, Momodu’s life story resonates with the rags-to-riches tales of resilience and consistency among never-say-die Nigerians. For this, I choose Momodu’s plastic spoon over Fani-Kayode’s silver spoon. Momodu’s youthful life leaves a noticeable trail of labour and salary, while FFK’s life reflects connection and affluence. But that is where my admiration for Momodu stops. The Yoruba say ‘kò sí bí ọ̀bọ ṣe ṣorí, tí ìnàkí o ṣé…’, meaning that there are similarities in the features of the monkey and the gorilla.

 

‘Trouble dey sleep, yanga go wake am’ when Momodu, in a television interview, said the President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Bola Tinubu, was a civilian image of former military dictator, General Sani Abacha, the rogue. An angry Fani-Kayode, who had just been named ambassador-designate to Germany by Tinubu, argued that comparing a democratic government to a military regime was a distortion of history. Thus, FFK threw down the gauntlet and flung his hat into the ring, but an unfazed Momodu laced his gloves and rolled on his side into the ring, barechested. No way, we die here today!

 

For calling Tinubu, Fani-Kayode’s current benefactor, a dictator, FFK opened the Book of Remembrance to Chapter 1, and recalled how Dele is ‘friend and brother’ bagged a Third Class degree in Yoruba, and how the late Chief MKO Abiola picked him up from the gutter, washed him, and employed him. Not done yet, Femi, the son of Remi, flipped the Book of Remembrance to Chapter 2, recollecting how unhinged, emotional and illogical his friend, Dele, could be, stressing that he (FFK) had been loyal to the President, unlike Bob Dee, whom he accused of being a back-biter, untrustworthy, and ungrateful individual.

 

FFK said, “Unlike Dele, I did not benefit from him (Tinubu) for close to 40 years, eat from his plate, collect handouts from him, stayed in his house, claim to be his brother and yet refuse to support him in achieving his dream of becoming president.” The former aviation minister went on to call his publisher friend a glutton, saying Momodu’s big size was evidence of his gluttony.

 

Momodu roared back. He grabbed the Book of Response, and read from Chapter 7, saying, “He (Femi Fani-Kayode) went to Cambridge University…but became an enfant terrible, fighting anyone and anything in sight. All supplications and intercessions by friends and family on his behalf have failed to cure his malady. And this is the man President Tinubu is about to unleash on Germany as an ambassador of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, for God’s sake.”

 

Bob Dee did not stop. He attacked Omokri, who was in the same boat with FFK over the issue. He said, “I was going to ignore these two, but later decided to respond to them just in case they thought they could bully me into silence and submission. No, they can’t. They both have no credibility whatsoever.

 

“Together, they have expressed the worst views ever about Bola Tinubu that they will never be able to erase in a million years, except the world finally comes to an end. The only reason I could adduce for Tinubu’s tolerance of both irritants is desperation and his inability to find better people to do the dirty jobs. The brains of these ones have been configured to say anything and delete immediately.

 

“I have never disparaged Tinubu in my life. I have never called him a murderer. I have never called him a drug baron or addict. I’m intelligent enough not to say what I have no proof of. Only morons talk without thinking. I thank God for a good upbringing. I do not fight like pigs. And I have a job and manage my modest income. I’m not seeking government appointments. I know how many times Femi and Reno have reached out to me, privately, either begging for publicity or apologising for attacking me publicly.”

 

But Omokri denied the claims of him reaching out to Momodu, challenging the Edo-born politician to make his claims public. He said the only time he reached out to Momodu was when he urged the opposition stalwart to carry blood thinners such as aspirin along with him because of sudden death associated with frequent flying. He maintained that the Tinubu administration had recorded giant strides in economic growth and security. “Based on the aforementioned statistics devoid of emotions, I put to you that your claims are alarmist and a misrepresentation of the true state of Nigeria and the health of our democracy,” Omokri said.

 

If you think the Momodu–FFK-Omokri fight is a contest between democracy and dictatorship, you are missing the point. No, it’s beyond such smokescreens. Neither is it a struggle between light and darkness, nor is it a tussle between good and evil.

The fight among the estranged friends and the younger Omokri could be deconstructed through a layered prism. Sitting smugly at the heart of the fight is the degeneration of elite political communication, battle over access to power, struggle for relevance in political-media space, egocentrism, and the fleeting nature of loyalty.

 

While Momodu put the loyalty of Fani-Kayode and Omokri to the test of integrity, and found them both falling short, FFK’s recall of how close Momodu was to the late MKO Abiola, and how he (Momodu) later went back and associated with the family of the late dictator, Sani Abacha, after Abiola died, put a big question mark on the honour of  Momodu. The pot knows when the kettle whispers.

 

In October 2025, a former Mayor of Blanco, Texas, Mike Arnold, labelled Omokri a “pathological, habitual liar’ and ‘social media influencer’ who misrepresents facts for political gains. Arnold, the founder of Arise Africa International, was formerly associated with Omokri, but broke up the friendship after enumerating instances of ‘constant, calculated lying’ by Nigeria’s ambassador-designate to Mexico.

 

Arnold accused Omokri of screaming ‘Christian genocide’ during the administration of President Muhammadu Buhari, but turned around to call it a hoax under Tinubu, accusing Omokri of possessing the penchant to flip to the side that holds the fattest chequebook.

 

Omokri never responded to Arnold’s accusations, even as the former mayor accused the ambassador-designate of begging him to cease fire. Uhmm, Omokri, renowned for his caustic wit and quick fingers on the keypad, has never said ‘pim’ in response to Arnold. Does silence mean guilt? Abi, where has Omokri’s courage gone? Arnold said many other unprintable things about Omokri, but Omokri is my aburo, so I won’t drag him.

 

The fight of the Three Lions is not in the interest of Nigeria. All three men are public brands, not just political actors. So the quarrel is also a market contest over visibility. Momodu typifies elder-journalist candour; FFK typifies gladiatorial loyalty; Omokri typifies data-driven regime advocacy. FFK and Omokri write not just to wound Momodu, and vice versa, but each writes to reassure his own constituency that he is still indispensable.

 

The roforofo fight shows that proximity to power in Nigeria speaks the language of outrage, where defenders of incumbency no longer defend policy but often attack dissent as betrayal. It also exposes how fast media and social reaction change once policy debates become public discourse, with the way attention shifted from Tinubu’s alleged authoritarian tendencies to personal attacks.

 

None of Momodu, Fani-Kayode and Omokri was fighting for Nigeria. The three of them are fighting for power.

 

 

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

 

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

 

X: @Tunde_Odesola

 

Dele Momodu vs. Fani-Kayode: The pot fighting the kettle

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OPINION: Refining Without Relief: Nigeria In The Midst Of Global Oil Wars!

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Port Harcourt refinery

OPINION: Refining Without Relief: Nigeria In The Midst Of Global Oil Wars!

The vision was bold. The expectation was clear. And the promise was powerful. When the Dangote Refinery began operations, it was hailed as Nigeria’s long-awaited escape from decades of energy contradiction, which involves exporting crude oil while importing refined fuel at high costs. It was meant to guarantee supply, stabilise prices, conserve foreign exchange, and most importantly, deliver relief to ordinary Nigerians.

What appears to be a distinct contradiction is that, despite months into its operation, a different reality is emerging, with fuel prices rising sharply. Inflationary pressures are intensifying. This occurrence has forced Nigerians to ask a difficult question once again, one that calls for an urgent answer.: Why does a country that produces and refines crude oil still suffer the consequences of global oil shocks?

Looking at the trend, it is clear that the answer lies not just in geopolitics, but in the deeper structure of Nigeria’s oil economy, where global pricing, policy gaps, and now the looming risk of monopoly intersect.

With the recent development, the latest alarming surge in petrol prices has been driven largely by escalating tensions in the Middle East. This is particularly the U.S-Israel strikes on Iran and retaliatory measures from Tehran. A well-known fact is that at the centre of the crisis is the Strait of Hormuz, a vital oil transit route through which a significant portion of global supply flows. Any disruption, even a speculative one, triggers immediate spikes in crude prices.

Within a week, oil prices jumped from the mid-$60 range to nearly $120 per barrel. For global markets, this is expected. For Nigeria, it is devastatingly ironic. This is because, despite having crude oil in abundance and despite refining it locally, Nigeria remains fully exposed and this has continued to re-echo the same ironic question.

In a rare moment of corporate candor, the refinery’s leadership acknowledged this reality. The plant is deeply affected by global shocks. Crude oil, even when sourced locally, is priced at international benchmarks. Shipping costs have surged dramatically, from about $800,000 per tanker to as high as $3.5m. Insurance premiums have climbed, and logistics have become significantly more expensive, with total costs further driving higher.

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Even more revealing is the refinery’s sourcing structure. Only about 30 per cent – 35 per cent of crude comes from the Nigerian government supply under the crude-for-naira framework. A significant portion is still purchased in U.S. dollars on the open market, while another 30 per cent – 40 per cent is sourced internationally, including from the United States and other regions. This means the refinery is not insulated; it is integrated into the global oil system. The implication is unavoidable as local refining has not translated into local pricing control.

The impact on Nigerians has been immediate and severe as petrol prices have surged from under N800 earlier in the year to over N1,200, and in some regions, it is even more alarming when the prices skyrocketed close to N1,400 per litre. Within weeks, multiple price increases have been recorded, driven largely by global crude price spikes and rising logistics costs. Doubtless, the country has witnessed the consequences ripple across the economy as transport fares rise, food prices increase, businesses struggle with higher operating costs, and inflation accelerates.

The development has attracted the attention of the labour unions and the organised private sector, prompting them to raise concerns and alarm about the consequences of job losses, business closures, and worsening hardship if the trend continues with each passing day, witnessing a daily increase and causing possible artificial scarcity.

Nigeria remains trapped in a painful contradiction. It produces crude oil. It refines crude oil. Yet it cannot protect its citizens from global oil volatility. As Aliko Dangote himself acknowledged, Nigeria has no direct role in the conflict driving these price increases, yet it bears the consequences due to global economic interdependence.

In a real sense, this is the deeper tragedy, as Nigeria has achieved capacity without control.

At the heart of the issue is a structural reality, crude oil is priced globally, not locally. Even under the crude-for-naira arrangement, pricing is benchmarked against international rates. This means refineries pay global crude prices, fuel prices reflect global market conditions, and domestic consumers absorb international shocks. In essence, Nigeria has moved refining home without bringing pricing sovereignty with it.

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To be fair, the Dangote Refinery has played a stabilising role. Nigeria still enjoys relatively lower petrol prices compared to many global markets. In several countries, supply disruptions have led to panic buying and rationing, while Nigeria has maintained a consistent supply. As the refinery’s CEO aptly noted, what is worse than $120 oil is no oil. The refinery has prevented scarcity, but it has not prevented high prices. Availability, in this case, has not equated to affordability, which is the painful part for the citizens.

While much of the current debate focuses on pricing, another critical issue is quietly taking shape, which is the risk of market concentration. Dangote Refinery deserves credit for its scale and ambition, but scale brings power, and power demands oversight. If fuel importers are gradually pushed out and no competing refineries emerge at scale, Nigeria could find itself transitioning from a public sector monopoly to a private sector dominance led by a single player.

Nigeria has seen this pattern before. In the cement industry, increased domestic production did not necessarily translate into lower prices. Limited competition allowed prices to remain elevated despite local capacity. The same risk now looms in the downstream oil sector. Without competition, price-setting power becomes concentrated, supply risks increase, and consumer protection weakens. In a country with fragile regulatory institutions, this is not a theoretical concern; it is a real and present danger.

No one should perceive this wrongly, because it is important, however, not to misplace blame. It should be made known that the Dangote Refinery is not a charity; it is a private enterprise operating within market realities. It must recover its investment, manage costs, and deliver returns. Its exposure to global pricing is not a failure of intent but a function of the system within which it operates.

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The real issue lies in the structure of the market and the absence of sufficient competition.

It is no longer news that Nigeria’s downstream sector is now largely deregulated following the removal of fuel subsidies. While deregulation has reduced government fiscal burden and encouraged private investment, it has also exposed consumers to price volatility and limited the scope for intervention, as this has continued to cause pain. Markets, in theory, deliver efficiency, but in practice, they require competition and effective regulation to function properly. Without these, deregulation can simply replace one form of inefficiency with another.

Nigeria does not need to weaken Dangote Refinery; it needs to multiply it. The goal should be to build a competitive refining ecosystem to replace one dominant structure with another. The truth is not far from this, as part of a lasting solution, it requires encouraging new refinery investments, removing bottlenecks for players such as BUA and modular refineries, ensuring transparent crude allocation, providing open access to pipelines and storage infrastructure, and enforcing strong antitrust regulations.

Competition remains the most effective regulator of price, which is sacrosanct and it protects consumers, strengthens supply security, and reduces systemic risk.

This must also be perceived beyond competition, which calls for the government to act strategically. The fact is that when supplying crude to local refineries at discounted or stabilised rates, expanding naira-based transactions, and introducing temporary relief measures during global crises are all viable options that must be put into consideration. Energy is too critical to be left entirely to market forces, especially in a developing economy where millions are highly vulnerable to economic shocks.

It is time that Nigerians understood that the nation’s refining crisis has been decades in the making, and it cannot be solved by a single refinery, no matter how large. If asked, it will be said that this is a fact that can’t be argued. The Dangote Refinery is undoubtedly a turning point, but it will only remain so if it is embedded within broader systemic reform. Otherwise, Nigeria risks replacing one form of dependency with another, from import dependence to domestic concentration.

The question is no longer whether Nigeria can refine crude oil. It can. The real question is whether Nigeria can build a system that ensures fair pricing, competitive markets, consumer protection, and economic resilience, as these are exactly the core answers.

If global conflicts continue to dictate local fuel prices, if monopoly risks go unchecked, and if citizens remain vulnerable despite abundant resources, then the promise of local refining will remain unfulfilled, as it will bring no expected relief.

What is playing out is the well-known fact that in refining, as in democracy, concentration of power is dangerous. And in both, the strongest safeguard remains the same, competition, transparency, and institutions that serve the public interest.

OPINION: Refining Without Relief: Nigeria In The Midst Of Global Oil Wars!

—Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: blaise.udunze@gmail.com

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