Opinion
Fashola dresses Buhari in borrowed robes
Tunde Odesola
(Published in The PUNCH on Monday, October 5, 2020)
After spending over 46,824 hours in office as the 15th Nigerian Head of State without tangible achievements to show for it, Minister of Works and Housing, Babatunde Fashola, has besmeared the image of Nigerian President, Major General Muhamadu Buhari (retd.), with the mishmash colours of green, white, grime and deceit.
I’ll confess. Fashola never set out to disfigure the President. He actually set out to drape the threadbare Buhari government in brilliant paints, but somewhere along the line, Fashola stepped on gloss and tripped, inadvertently dipping the canvas bearing Buhari’s image in a smorgasbord of riotous colours.
Thus a bespattered Buhari image emerged with red lips, purple head, green torso and blue limbs – in the eyes of millions of Nigerians who are daily whacked by hunger and stricken by diseases, withering and falling off to death like brown leaves falling off iroko tree.
Verily, verily, I say, Nigerians living below the poverty line won’t look at Fashola with kind eyes, aka ‘oju ire’, for the interview he granted last week to celebrate Nigeria’s 60th independence anniversary.
Eni ba ma je ogun k’ogun, o gbodo pa itan k’itan is a Yoruba proverb that warns against the antics of the undeserving, laying false claims to unmerited inheritance. Fashola really put up a keen effort to paint the Buhari regime in bright colours but his bucket of white paint fell flat on hot tar.
Exactly one year ago, an unpalatable index on the World Poverty Clock gave credence to the wracking poverty in the land, saying 94 million Nigerians spend less than $1 each per day and live below the poverty line. With the stagnating unitary system of government tenaciously run by the country and the ruinous coronavirus pandemic, the number of Nigerians living below the poverty line must have shot beyond the sky by now.
Nigerians who fall into this starving category can confirm that when hunger sits in the pit of the stomach, nothing else can enter, except food. Anger is the monster in a hungry man.
In the story published in The PUNCH on October 1, 2020, Fashola said Nigerians are disappointed in the Buhari regime because they lack a proper understanding of the functions of government at different levels. Insult upon injury!
The PUNCH report quoted Fashola as saying, “The government that can transform and give us what we want quickly are the governments closest to us – state and local governments.
“Looking for the Federal Government or a magic President is why we seem to have been disappointed. We’re looking for the results in the wrong place.”
Expatiating, Fashola said that basic infrastructure like primary healthcare, primary education, among others being agitated for by many Nigerians, are the responsibilities of state and local governments.
Fashola, a silk, is dead right and I agree with him.
But the over 94 million Nigerians daily threatened by starvation are grumbling and insisting that their tears of poverty haven’t blinded them from seeing the truth and asking, “Are state governments responsible for the billions-of-naira-gulping white elephant called Aso Rock Clinic? Are state governments responsible for federal universities, polytechnics, colleges of education and secondary schools, where maggots swim in toilets, bedbugs snuggle under duvets and electricity lies in the belly of darkness.
Ensconced within the high walls of his palatial residence in Abuja, the murmuration of Nigeria’s 94 million suffering heads can’t reach up to Fashola on his high horse, but I’ll help them amplify it, though I’m fully in support of Fashola in his intolerance of the masses’ stupidity.
With refreshed nowness, I can hear the 94 million rejects of the scorched Nigerian earth recalling that this isn’t the first time left-handed Fashola would viciously pull the ears of the Nigerian masses and ram down his knuckles on their fungi-ravaged head.
To properly situate Fashola’s indignation of the Nigerian masses, the 94 million poverty population looked back in time and paused at the December of 2018 when Fashola, defending the underachievement of Buhari in the power sector, said, “There are problems, without a doubt, and we must deal with them. But let me remind you, all of the assets that the Ministry of Power used to control were sold by the last administration before I came. And so if you don’t have power, it’s not the government’s problem. Let’s be honest.”
Fashola didn’t shut up. He spoke further, “The people who are operating the power sector, generation and distribution are now privately owned companies. I’m here because I’m concerned. If your telephone is not working, it’s not the minister of telecommunication that you go to. Let’s be clear.”
Nigeria’s 94 million suffer-heads won’t let Fashola the philosopher king be. They mutter and accuse him of also opening his mouth in November 2019 to say Nigerian roads weren’t as bad as they were being portrayed by Nigerians.
The latest lecture on the functions of government is the third consecutive year when the masses will be lacerated by the sharp tongue of Fashola, who as two-term Lagos governor, inscribed signs along horrible federal roads, saying, “This is a Federal Government road, please, bear with us,” to mock the Peoples Democratic Party-led FG when his All Progressives Congress administration rehabilitated some federal roads in Lagos.
Aside from the referenced story of Fashola in The PUNCH of October 1, 2020, the elated minister also granted an exclusive video interview to News Central TV to celebrate Nigeria’s pyrrhic independence.
In the interview, Fashola spoke about the need for Nigeria to continue to exist TOGETHER as one indivisible entity, the aspirations and duties of the Nigerian youth, the ‘enviable’ level of Nigeria’s infrastructure and his Sugar Candy Mountain dream about Nigeria’s future.
Despite ruling for more than five years in office, Fashola, in the video interview, couldn’t mention ONE tangible achievement of Buhari, but tried to teach Nigerians what they can do for their country, and not what the country can do for them.
If the interview was to project Fashola as a brilliant technocrat and position him ahead of 2023, it failed disastrously as his responses not only contained grammatical blunders, it also was an untrue assessment of the socio-political temperature of the country.
Blandly stating the obvious, Fashola said in the video interview, “I think the thing that is true is that our economy and our population has (sic) grown faster than the rate of deployment of the infrastructure,” while he enjoined the youths in these words, “You don’t need a title to serve, there are so many little little things everybody can do, in his community, in his home, his family that adds (sic) up…Life itself and progress is (sic) a very dynamic and continuing effort.”
Dubiously, all the mouthed projects of the Buhari government listed by Fashola as ongoing infrastructural works are in the pipeline, not one has been completed. These include five competitive 21st Century type airport terminal buildings, road network, rail network; Lagos-Kano rail, Ilorin-Abuja rail, Lagos-Ibadan rail and an increased broadband connectivity that will ‘link the last man’ and all Nigerian villages. Let someone shout, “H-a-l-l-e-l-u-y-a-h!”
Despite all these undelivered heaven-on-earth promises, an all-knowing Fashola still has the audacity to lecture Nigerians on how to use his word-of-mouth infrastructure, tasking Nigerians to use his unseen infrastructure with a sense of duty.
By telling Nigerians to place their expectations for electoral deliverables on state and local governments, Fashola underscores the deafening call for restructuring. But need I whisper to him that, ‘President Buhari mustn’t hear such a heresy!’
In the ecstasy of Nigeria’s diamond jubilee, Fashola says, “I see that future already in my mind’s eye.” I see no future but farce. If Buhari had put his hands to the plough since May 29, 2015, Nigeria should be singing Bob Marley’s ‘One Love’ today, but Eedris Abdulkareem’s ‘Nigeria Jagajaga’ is what I hear.
There’s a natural mystic blowing through the air.
Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com
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AFCON 2025: Flipping Content Creation From Coverage to Strategy
AFCON 2025: Flipping Content Creation From Coverage to Strategy
By Toluwalope Shodunke
The beautiful and enchanting butterfly called the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) emerged from its chrysalis in Khartoum, Sudan, under the presidency of Abdelaziz Abdallah Salem, an Egyptian, with three countries—Egypt, Sudan, and Ethiopia—participating, and Egypt emerging as the eventual winner.
The reason for this limited participation is not far-fetched. At the time, only nine African countries were independent. The remaining 45 countries that now make up CAF’s 54 member nations were either pushing Queen Elizabeth’s dogsled made unique with the Union Jack, making supplications at the Eiffel Tower, or knocking at the doors of the Palácio de Belém, the Quirinal Palace, and the Royal Palace of Brussels—seeking the mercies of their colonial masters who, without regard for cultures, sub-cultures, or primordial affinities, divided Africa among the colonial gods.
From then until now, CAF has had seven presidents, including Patrice Motsepe, who was elected as the seventh president in 2021. With more countries gaining independence and under various CAF leaderships, AFCON has undergone several reforms—transforming from a “backyard event” involving only three nations into competitions featuring 8, 16, and now 24 teams. It has evolved into a global spectacle consumed by millions worldwide.
Looking back, I can trace my personal connection to AFCON to table soccer, which I played alone on concrete in our balcony at Olafimihan Street—between Mushin and Ilasamaja—adjacent to Alafia Oluwa Primary School, close to Alfa Nda and Akanro Street, all in Lagos State.
Zygmunt Bauman, the Polish-British sociologist who developed the concept of “liquid modernity,” argues that the world is in constant flux rather than static, among other themes in his revelatory works.
For the benefit of Millennials (Generation Y) and Generation Z—who are accustomed to high-tech pads, iPhones, AI technologies, and chat boxes—table soccer is a replica of football played with bottle corks (often from carbonated drinks or beer) as players, cassette hubs as the ball, and “Bic” biro covers for engagement. The game can be played by two people, each controlling eleven players.
I, however, enjoyed playing alone in a secluded area, running my own commentary like the great Ernest Okonkwo, Yinka Craig, and Fabio Lanipekun, who are all late. At the time, I knew next to nothing about the Africa Cup of Nations. Yet, I named my cork players after Nigerian legends such as Segun Odegbami, Godwin Odiye, Aloysius Atuegbu, Tunji Banjo, Muda Lawal, Felix Owolabi, and Adokiye Amiesimaka, among others, as I must have taken to heart their names from commentary and utterances of my uncles resulting from sporadic and wild celebrations of Nigeria winning the Cup of Nations on home soil for the first time.
While my connection to AFCON remained somewhat ephemeral until Libya 1982, my AFCON anecdotes became deeply rooted in Abidjan 1984, where Cameroon defeated Nigeria 3–1. The name Théophile Abéga was etched into my youthful memory.
Even as I write this, I remember the silence that enveloped our compound after the final whistle.
It felt similar to how Ukrainians experienced the Battle of Mariupol against Russia—where resolute resistance eventually succumbed to overwhelming force.
The Indomitable Lions were better and superior in every aspect. The lion not only caged the Eagles, they cooked pepper soup with the Green Eagles.
In Maroc ’88, I again tasted defeat with the Green Eagles (now Super Eagles), coached by the German Manfred Höner. Players like Henry Nwosu, Stephen Keshi, Sunday Eboigbe, Bright Omolara, Rashidi Yekini, Austin Eguavoen, Peter Rufai, Folorunsho Okenla, Ademola Adeshina, Yisa Sofoluwe, and others featured prominently. A beautiful goal by Henry Nwosu—then a diminutive ACB Lagos player—was controversially disallowed.
This sparked outrage among Nigerians, many of whom believed the referee acted under the influence of Issa Hayatou, the Cameroonian who served as CAF president from 1988 to 2017.
This stroll down memory lane illustrates that controversy and allegations of biased officiating have long been part of AFCON’s history.
The 2025 Africa Cup of Nations in Morocco, held from December 21, 2025, to January 18, 2026, will be discussed for a long time by football historians, raconteurs, and aficionados—for both positive and negative reasons.
These include Morocco’s world-class facilities, the ravenous hunger of ball boys and players (superstars included) for the towels of opposing goalkeepers—popularly dubbed TowelGate—allegations of biased officiating, strained relations among Arab African nations (Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco), CAF President Patrice Motsepe’s curt “keep quiet” response to veteran journalist Osasu Obayiuwana regarding the proposed four-year AFCON cycle post-2028, and the “Oga Patapata” incident, where Senegalese players walked off the pitch after a legitimate goal was chalked off and a penalty awarded against them by DR Congo referee Jean-Jacques Ndala.
While these narratives dominated global discourse, another critical issue—less prominent but equally important—emerged within Nigeria’s media and content-creation landscape.
Following Nigeria’s qualification from the group stage, the Super Eagles were scheduled to face Mozambique in the Round of 16. Between January 1 and January 3, Coach Eric Chelle instituted closed-door training sessions, denying journalists and content creators access, with media interaction limited to pre-match press conferences.
According to Chelle, the knockout stage demanded “maximum concentration,” and privacy was necessary to protect players from distractions.
This decision sparked mixed reactions on social media.
Twitter user @QualityQuadry wrote:
“What Eric Chelle is doing to journalists is bad.
Journalists were subjected to a media parley under cold weather in an open field for the first time in Super Eagles history.
Journalists were beaten by rain because Chelle doesn’t want journalists around the camp.
Locking down training sessions for three days is unprofessional.
I wish him well against Mozambique.”
Another user, @PoojaMedia, stated:
“Again, Eric Chelle has closed the Super Eagles’ training today.
That means journalists in Morocco won’t have access to the team for three straight days ahead of the Round of 16.
This is serious and sad for journalists who spent millions to get content around the team.
We move.”
Conversely, @sportsdokitor wrote:
“I’m not Eric Chelle’s biggest supporter, but on this issue, I support him 110%.
There’s a time to speak and a time to train.
Let the boys focus on why they’re in Morocco—they’re not here for your content creation.”
From these three tweets, one can see accessibility being clothed in beautiful garments. Two of the tweets suggest that there is only one way to get to the zenith of Mount Kilimanjaro, when indeed there are many routes—if we think within the box, not outside the box as we’ve not exhausted the content inside the box.
In the past, when the economy was buoyant, media organisations sponsored reporters to cover the World Cup, Olympics, Commonwealth Games, and other international competitions.
Today, with financial pressures mounting, many journalists and content creators seek collaborations and sponsorships from corporations and tech startups to cover sporting events, who in turn get awareness, brand visibility, and other intangibles.
As Gary Vaynerchuk famously said, “Every company is a media company.” Yet most creators covering AFCON 2025 followed the same playbook.
At AFCON 2025, most Nigerian journalists and content creators pitched similar offerings: on-the-ground coverage, press conferences, team updates, behind-the-scenes footage, analysis, cuisine, fan interactions, and Moroccan cultural experiences.
If they were not interviewing Victor Osimhen, they were showcasing the stand-up comedy talents of Samuel Chukwueze and other forms of entertainment.
What was missing was differentiation. No clear Unique Selling Proposition (USP). The result was generic, repetitive content with little strategic distinction. Everyone appeared to be deploying the same “Jab, Jab, Jab, Hook” formula—throwing multiple jabs of access-driven content in the hope that one hook would land.
The lesson is simple: when everyone is jabbing the same way, the hook becomes predictable and loses its power.
As J. P. Clark wrote in the poem “The Casualties”, “We are all casualties,” casualties of sameness—content without differentiation. The audience consumes shallow content, sponsors lose return on investment, and creators return home bearing the “weight of paper” from disappointed benefactors.
On November 23, 1963, a shining light was dimmed in America when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.
As with AFCON today, media organisations sent their best hands to cover the funeral, as the who’s who of the planet—and if possible, the stratosphere—would attend. Unconfirmed reports suggested that over 220 VVIPs were expected.
While every newspaper, radio, and television station covered the spectacle and grandeur of the event, one man, Jimmy Breslin, swam against the tide. He chose instead to interview Clifton Pollard, the foreman of gravediggers at Arlington National Cemetery—the man who dug John F. Kennedy’s grave.
This act of upended thinking differentiated Jimmy Breslin from the odds and sods, and he went on to win the Pulitzer Prize in 1986.
Until journalists and content creators stop following the motley and begin swimming against the tide, access will continue to be treated as king—when in reality, differentiation, aided by strategy, is king.
When every journalist and content creator is using Gary Vaynerchuk’s “Jab, Jab, Jab, Hook” template while covering major sporting events, thinkers among them must learn to replace one jab with a counterpunch—and a bit of head movement—to stay ahead of the herd.
Toluwalope Shodunke can be reached via tolushodunke@yahoo.com
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