Opinion

Travelling through Nigeria in Tinubu’s yacht, by Tunde Odesola

Published

3 years ago

November 17, 2023

Trends Admin

Tunde Odesola

Travelling through Nigeria in Tinubu’s yacht, by Tunde Odesola

Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, November 17, 2023.

By the Rivers of Babylon, there I sat down; yeah, I wept, when I remember N-i-g-e-r-i-a. Verily, verily I say unto you, these words that I write, are words of redemption and wisdom.

Therefore, I beseech you, brethren, to keep these words in your hearts, inscribe them in stones and scribble them on scrolls.

I exhort thee, keep the stones and scrolls, do not hide them under the bushel, set them on the hill for light to shine on them and bring people to know the truth, for only the truth shall set the land free.

Like the hands of a sinner spread wide on the cross, River Niger and River Benue divide the land called Nigeria into three unequal communities of the North, West and East. The Fulani dominate the North, the Yoruba have the West, and the Igbo populate the East. Each region and people had their strengths and weaknesses. The land knew peace.

But when political iniquity became official, and the supplications of the oppressed minorities rose to the ears of the Most High God, the portion of the land that flows with oil, milk and honey became gazetted as the Niger Delta, a vast treasure that was initially part of the eastern and western regions.

And the Lord regretted creating man because the heart of man was perpetually evil. So, the spirit of the Lord hovered upon the face of the waters, inspiring patriots to call traitors to repentance and justice.

It came to pass that there arose a mutiny within the Nigerian Army when some young, idealistic officers, mostly from the East, toppled the civilian government of Alhaji Tafawa Balewa, a northerner, who was killed, and an easterner, Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi, ruled in Balewa’s stead. The January 1966 coup broke the embankment that had dammed the river of hate and suspicion from flooding the country.

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Six months later, a countercoup executed mainly by Hausa-Fulani soldiers was nicknamed a revenge coup, in which Aguiyi-Ironsi was killed. The fallout of the countercoup fed fodder to the cannons of a Civil War, which boomed between July 6, 1967, and January 13, 1970, as crazed soldiers played football with three million Igbo skulls felled by battlefield bullets, ethnic cleansing and starvation.

In anger, the Lord God of Host turned his eyes away from the people and the land, and He allowed jackboots in military uniforms to chastise them with scorpions because the innocent blood of coup victims and Biafrans refused to drain into the earth.

Here are the names and surnames of the rulers of Nigeria after the Civil War, in order of their ascension. Yakubu, the son of Gowon; Murtala, the son of Mohammed; Olusegun, the son of Obasanjo; Shehu, the son of Shagari; Muhammadu, the son of Buhari; Ibrahim, C the son of Babangida; Ernest, the son Shonekan; Sani, the son of Abacha; and Abdulsalami, the son of Abubakar. All these rulers ruled in the Old Testament.

But Babangida was wiser than a snake. Indeed, he was a deceiver extraordinaire. His bright smile has the cooling effect of iodine on a fresh wound, before the stinging pain. For is it not written that Babangida’s regime was the bloodiest in the 63-year history of Nigeria as many soldiers died in alleged coup plots while 163 senior soldiers died in a plane crash on September 28, 1992?

“They got me,” were the last words of Dele Giwa, the Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch magazine after a letter bomb blew open his entrails in his Ikeja home on October 19, 1986, shutting his eyes in brutal death. Giwa’s deputy and comrade-in-pen, Ray Ekpu, described the killing as ‘state assassination’, adding that the Friday preceding the Sunday Giwa received the letter bomb, he (Giwa) was grilled by the State Security Service, which accused him of ‘arms importation, planning a socialist revolution, doing a follow-up story on Commodore Ebitu Ukiwe, who had been removed by President Babangida, and planning to employ a former Lagos Police Public Relations Officer, Alozie Ogbugbuaja, who said the expertise of the Nigerian military top brass was in drinking pepper soup and planning coups. Ekpu said Giwa was only guilty of one of the four allegations, that is, planning to employ Ogbugbuaja.

After he annulled the June 12 presidential election won by MKO Abiola in 1993, and the backlash thereof was unbearable, Babangida planted on the throne, Sonekan, who was blown out of power by the hot air from the nostrils of Abacha. Abacha ruled for just four and a half years before karma handcuffed and flung him into the bottomless pit reserved for the shameless. Nothing confirms the looting of public treasury by successive Nigerian governments than the unending return of billions of dollars stashed in foreign countries by Abacha. Remember, Abacha spent just four and a half years in the vault and he became the Glutton of All Time!

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I am a full-blooded Nigerian. I have no family roots in Niger Republic like Buhari, or ancestrial link to Mauritania like Peter Obi’s presidential running mate, Datti Baba-Ahmed. Nigeria is my only home. I feel anguish daily when my hands hit the bottom of my empty trouser pockets, groping for unavailable naira, whose value equals the clap of thunder to the deaf.

Hope is dead in Nigeria’s New Testament. The testament of the latest Republic. Obasanjo’s civilian government opened the floodgates of corruption in the electricity sector, the privatisation process and the National ID card scam. Governments, thereafter, stirred the broth and served the booty, strangulating the economy.

Sadly, the chickens are back home to roost. Now, everywhere you turn, cries of economic hardship have taken over the land even within the Emi Lokan ruling party. Curses have replaced compliments. But me, I thank God I still have my mind intact. Many Nigerians don’t. Whenever I see any of the corrupt clique of 99.9% Nigerian leaders – former or present – I say in my mind, “Look at this one, it’s only God that knows how much of Nigeria’s money that this thief has stolen. Ole!” Treasury looters know what Nigerians think of them but they’re just shameless and unperturbed because the river of justice in the land has frozen.

The economy is gasping. Fathers have turned to beggars, and wives have turned to harlots. Children are deflowered for a bite of Gala. Commodity prices reside in the sky. Yet, our President buys a $6.1m yacht, and our senators and representatives crave N58bn SUVs, all living the life depicted in Luke 12:19, “And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.’”

Brethren, look closely at the pictures of their merriment, the voter is missing. So, tell me, what does it profit a voter, who supports bàráwò candidates, and is dehumanised after elections?

When the earth brimmed with iniquity, Noah stood up to be counted for righteousness. He built a three-deck ark with gopherwood and ushered in two of every kind of living creature, including the members of his family.

When Nigeria brimmed with escalating prices of goods, soaring foreign debts, double-digit inflation, and starvation, Tinubu, lawmakers, ministers and members of the ruling class tightened the belts harder on the masses. To cater for the insatiable gluttony, they have demanded underfunded federal universities to submit 40% of their meagre IGR to a federal purse which, characteristically, would lack accountability.

You don’t need righteousness to enter the presidential yacht. You need a brainless head and a soulless body. You need to make money your god and not flinch to proclaim all the seven colours of the rainbow black – like our judges who sell elections like pure water hawkers in traffic snarls, smashing and grabbing, kówó sá ti pe.

I thank God I have my mind intact. In my mind, I can see Noah in his robe, hewing wood and fetching water, sweating, sawing and nailing. I can see him clutching a bell, trekking the length and breadth of the land, calling the people to come and enter the ark. Noah’s ark is for salvation.

Tinubu’s yacht is for enslavement. He doesn’t need gopherwood or God’s directive to build his yacht, he needs dollarhood. He doesn’t need the masses inside his toy, he needs his people.

Barely a month left in 2023, the year of his election, Tinubu has bought a yacht for himself, SUVs for lawmakers, with the $2.176 trillion 2023 Supplementary Appropriation Act he signed a few days ago, and the masses are left wondering ‘is this not the ‘son’ of Abibatu Mogaji, who claims to build modern Lagos? Emi Lokan doesn’t only mean ‘it’s my turn’; it also means ‘I’m badly hit’. Ask the Yoruba.

True, it’s Tinubu’s turn but the masses are badly hit. True.

Since Tinubu performed so well in his first year, may he sail safely in his yacht and perform much better next year.

Amen.

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com; Facebook: @Tunde Odesola; X: Tunde_Odesola.

Opinion

If Nigeria Is Not Divided, We Will Never Have Any Sense in the North

Published

8 hours ago

June 15, 2026

Trends Admin

If Nigeria Is Not Divided, We Will Never Have Any Sense in the North

By Mohammed Bello Doka

There is a rumour circulating through Nigeria’s political underbelly that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, after completing his second term in office, is seriously considering the unthinkable: the formal division of the country. Could it be that the man from the South-West, who many believe has never fully embraced the idea of one Nigeria, has grown tired of the endless strain on our collective sanity? Could it be that the Northern experiment, which began with such promise in 1960, has finally revealed itself as a failed enterprise of monumental proportions?

And here is the question that should keep every Northerner awake at night: if the sword of division never falls, will the North ever produce a single ounce of sense?

My answer, as bitter as it may sound, is no.

Let us begin with the Northern elite. Their obsession with the federal purse is not merely an obsession; it is a pathology. For decades, the so-called leaders of the North have clung to federal revenue allocation like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood. They have been paid, rewarded, and accommodated repeatedly. What have they offered in return?

A region where children beg for food while governors travel in private jets. A region where life expectancy remains among the lowest in the country while politicians build mansions in Abuja, Dubai, and beyond. The Northern elite have turned federal allocations into a feeding bottle and have sucked it dry.

They have neglected the welfare of their people, failed to protect lives and property, and presided over a situation in which banditry, kidnapping, and insecurity have flourished. When villages are attacked and families are displaced, where are these leaders? They are often in Abuja, lobbying for more federal allocations, more appointments, and more privileges. To many of them, more public money simply translates into more wives, more mansions, and more luxury.

Then we have the educated class of the North. What a tragedy they have become.

Armed with degrees from Ahmadu Bello University, the University of Maiduguri, Bayero University Kano, and even prestigious foreign institutions, many have done little with their knowledge beyond decorating their résumés and feeding their egos. They sit in air-conditioned offices, write elegant policy papers that gather dust on shelves, and remain silent while their communities crumble.

They know the solutions. They understand the economics. They see the decline unfolding in slow motion. Yet they refuse to speak, refuse to act, and refuse to lead. They have traded conscience for comfort and duty for government vehicles, foreign trips, generous allowances, and plaques celebrating questionable achievements. The educated Northern elite has become one of the most disappointing and self-serving classes in contemporary Nigeria.

Then there is the business elite.

Their philosophy appears simple: profit above all else. They have watched their region descend into chaos and, in many cases, found ways to benefit from it. Displaced communities require food. Insecurity creates opportunities for middlemen. Crisis becomes commerce.

Rather than investing substantially in agriculture, solid minerals, manufacturing, renewable energy, and other productive sectors that could transform the region, many prefer quick profits and short-term gains. They are not builders of lasting prosperity; they are beneficiaries of dysfunction.

Then we come to the so-called Yan Boko—the educated youth who should have become the vanguard of reform.

Instead, many have become willing instruments of political manipulation. They spread division disguised as conviction and bigotry disguised as piety. They have learned little from education except how to argue more eloquently and hate more efficiently. They march proudly toward their own ruin, armed with polished English and intellectual arrogance, while contributing little to meaningful change.

Let me be clear: I do not place primary blame on traditional rulers for the current crisis.

Their powers were stripped away long ago by military decrees and constitutional arrangements. Today, an emir cannot raise an army, levy taxes, or even discipline a district head without government approval. Traditional rulers have largely become ceremonial custodians of culture with very limited authority over governance and security.

However, I do blame many Islamic scholars.

You have failed, and failed spectacularly.

You spend your days arguing over minor ritual differences—whether a finger should be raised during supplication, how a beard should be worn, or which sect possesses the correct interpretation of doctrine. Qadiriyya versus Tijaniyya. Izala versus Darika. Endless disputes over labels and loyalties.

Meanwhile, the core teachings of Islam—justice, knowledge, accountability, compassion, and the advancement of society—receive far less attention. Where is the emphasis on education? Where is the call for economic productivity? Where is the reminder that Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves?

Too many scholars have transformed religion into a tool of control rather than enlightenment. An ignorant follower is easier to command. An informed follower asks questions, and questions threaten authority.

Although traditional rulers possess little real power today, many have also contributed to their own decline. Some have traded prestige and influence for financial rewards and political patronage. As a result, public respect has diminished. A traditional institution that cannot protect its people or meaningfully influence governance struggles to maintain moral authority.

And what of the ordinary Northern man?

He, too, has failed himself.

Too often, he has neglected the pursuit of knowledge. Too often, he has accepted sentiment in place of reason and emotion in place of evidence. He has allowed himself to become a tool in the hands of politicians and religious opportunists. He applauds leaders who mortgage his future and supports systems that perpetuate his own suffering.

The tragedy is that the North sits atop resources capable of transforming not only Nigeria but much of Africa.

Agriculture: vast grazing lands and fertile soil suitable for groundnuts, cotton, sorghum, maize, rice, and livestock production. The North could feed much of West Africa.

Solid minerals: gold in Zamfara, tin in Plateau, lead and zinc deposits across several states, limestone, barite, and countless other resources that remain underdeveloped.

Rare earth elements: strategic minerals that power smartphones, batteries, and modern technologies.

Energy resources: coal deposits, hydroelectric potential along major rivers, and abundant solar radiation capable of powering entire cities.

Human capital: a youthful population that, if properly educated and empowered, could become one of Africa’s greatest assets.

Yet what do we see?

Farmers driven from their lands by insecurity. Illegal mining operations enriching foreign interests while destroying the environment. Abandoned energy projects. Unemployment. Migration. Frustration. A generation either fleeing abroad or falling into cycles of crime, extremism, and hopelessness.

Compare this with other countries. Botswana discovered diamonds and built one of Africa’s most stable economies. Chile transformed copper into national prosperity. Norway turned oil wealth into a sovereign wealth fund designed to benefit future generations.

The North possesses resources comparable to, and in some cases greater than, those that transformed these nations. Yet it remains trapped in poverty, insecurity, and underdevelopment.

What the North needs is a baptism of fire—not the fire of violence, but the fire of a profound and unavoidable awakening.

The comfortable lies must be shattered. The false prophets must be challenged. The educated class must leave its comfort zones and engage directly with society’s problems. The business elite must contribute meaningfully to development. Ordinary citizens must recognize that no saviour is coming. They must save themselves.

That is why the title stands.

If Nigeria is not divided, we may never develop any sense in the North. Division would force the region to stand on its own feet. There would be no federal purse to blame, no Southern revenues to contest, and no convenient excuses. There would only be the North, its people, and its resources.

Would we survive? Or would we collapse?

The answer to that question would reveal whether we are capable of genuine self-reliance.

Perhaps separation is the only lesson the North has not yet ignored, resisted, or corrupted. Perhaps the breaking of Nigeria would force a long-overdue confrontation with our failures. It is a harsh prescription, but harsh illnesses sometimes require harsh remedies.

So let the rumour be true.

Let the North stand alone and prove its worth.

Because only when dependence ends will accountability begin. Only when external lifelines disappear will we discover whether we possess the wisdom, discipline, and determination required for survival.

My deepest fear is that we do not.

And if we do not, then division will merely expose what has always existed beneath the surface: a region blessed with immense wealth and potential, yet crippled by greed, complacency, and self-inflicted decline, waiting for the final verdict of history.

Mohammed Bello Doka

Abuja Network News

bellodoka82@gmail.com

If Nigeria Is Not Divided, We Will Never Have Any Sense in the North

Opinion

Death of Retired General in Captivity Sparks Fresh Concerns Over Nigeria’s Security Crisis

Published

2 days ago

June 13, 2026

Trends Admin

Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade

Death of Retired General in Captivity Sparks Fresh Concerns Over Nigeria’s Security Crisis

The death of retired Major General Rabe Abubakar while in the custody of bandits has reignited concerns over the worsening security situation in Nigeria, with stakeholders calling for urgent and decisive measures to address the growing threat posed by criminal groups across the country.

In a commentary released on Friday, public affairs analyst Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade described the late military officer’s death as a troubling reflection of the country’s deepening insecurity, stressing that the incident should serve as a wake-up call for government authorities and security agencies.

Major General Abubakar, who reportedly dedicated decades of service to the Nigerian military and contributed to counterinsurgency efforts, was abducted alongside his wife while travelling in Katsina State. He later died while in captivity, according to information released by the state government.

The analyst noted that the incident raises serious concerns about the safety of citizens, arguing that if a retired senior military officer could fall victim to banditry, ordinary Nigerians remain even more vulnerable.

The Katsina State Government had described the development as a dark moment and reiterated the need for stronger collective action against criminal elements operating in various parts of the country.

Agunbiade emphasized that beyond official statements, the tragedy underscores the suffering experienced by victims’ families, many of whom endure prolonged periods of uncertainty, fear and grief while awaiting the release of abducted loved ones.

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He also referenced the reported death of Islamic scholar Alhaji Muhammad Maibarga in bandits’ captivity in Kebbi State, saying the incidents demonstrate that insecurity affects people across all social, religious and professional backgrounds.

According to him, farmers, traders, students, traditional rulers, religious leaders, security personnel and other citizens have all become targets of criminal attacks in recent years.

The Defence Headquarters had earlier explained that it refrained from making public comments on the abduction of the retired General because rescue efforts were ongoing. Military authorities also pledged that those responsible for the crime would be brought to justice.

However, Agunbiade maintained that the latest tragedy highlights the urgent need for a more effective and coordinated national response to insecurity.

He stressed that tackling banditry, kidnapping and terrorism requires more than military action alone, advocating improved intelligence gathering, stronger inter-agency collaboration, enhanced protection for vulnerable communities and sustained efforts to dismantle criminal networks.

The commentator further urged Nigerians to view insecurity as a national challenge rather than a regional or ethnic issue, noting that victims cut across all religious, ethnic and social divides.

He called on government at all levels to prioritize the protection of lives and property, insisting that the death of Major General Abubakar should not be treated as just another headline but as a reminder of the urgent need to restore security and public confidence across the country.

Death of Retired General in Captivity Sparks Fresh Concerns Over Nigeria’s Security Crisis

Opinion

Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi

Published

4 days ago

June 12, 2026

Trends Admin

Tunde Odesola

Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, June 12, 2026)

Cool fire emits from the potted plant in the backyard at night; it is the glowworm. A yawn, roll on the back, with four powerful paws playfully punching the air; it is the lion, king of the jungle. Water gently hits the shore, sings a splash-splosh song, and rolls back silently into the night; it is the ocean. Formally called Aurea, an eagle, America’s symbol of strength, freedom and resilience, soars up above the 88,000 heads gathered at the Jordan-Hare Stadium in Auburn, Alabama, gliding in and out of sight repeatedly, to the wild ecstacy of the crowd, before finally perching right on the kick-off spot in the centre-circle. Fireworks disappeared into the sky. The four natural elements – fire, land, air and water – are complete. They combine in equal proportions to forge the extraordinary spectacle fans are about to witness as they scream for the football messiah, the magic, the Messi.

About a month ago, when I learned that the god of soccer was leading Argentina to Auburn University for a friendly against Iceland national team on Tuesday, June 9, 2026, I knew none of the four elements could stop me from watching the match. I had long looked forward to an opportunity to pay yet another glowing tribute to the little man who climbed to football’s Olympus without exhibiting the arrogance of gods. Messi, the king who lives in his people, not among his people – like Nigerian leaders who live in abundance among the poor.

So, I got tickets for my soccer-loving children and me. How many are they? Ssshhhh! The Yoruba say: “Aí kọmọ fún ọlọ́mọ.” It’s a taboo to mention the number of one’s children publicly. Hahaha! Maybe that’s why population control is a big issue in Africa. So, I took two days off work. The 756-kilometre journey to and from Auburn is approximately eight hours. When citizens are happy, they gladly obey the laws of the land. Messi fans from far and near stopped at nothing to behold their king.

Messi earned the hero-worship of his fans, who saw him over the years dedicate his entire being to football, from age four when he joined his first local club, Albanderado Grandoli, in his hometown of Rosario, where his father was the coach. Commitment, consistency and dedication earn trust, love and loyalty. Nigeria teaches the opposite lesson daily.

Therefore, if I describe Messi as: “The extra drop of sweat on the farmer’s brow. The extra stroke of the sculptor’s chisel. The extra mile walked by the determined soul. Indeed, the little excess of effort poured into the chores of everyday life, crowning the ordinary with the diadem of the extraordinary,” I am not wrong. That is Messi, the leader who worked his way into the hearts of his people. The king who stopped to conquer.

The king is coming to town! The news caught fire. Leo, the son of Messi, is coming to town!! Everywhere is buzzing!!! Everyone waits with bated breath to see “the little man from Rosario, Sante Fe, who pitched up in heaven, climbed into a galaxy of his own, and shook hands with paradise, as he lifted his heart’s dearest desire, the World Cup, four years ago”.

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The journey to Auburn was on a smooth black road. Driving was a pleasure; no potholes, no police tollgates, or army arm-twisting checkpoints, no dirt, no fear of bandits or terrorists or armed robbers. My car ate up kilometres upon kilometres of tar, and suddenly I saw a little object drop from the open truck in front of me. It was a metal that looked like a padlock. The vehicle sped ahead, but its dropping sped towards me. In that arresting moment when all there was to do was to simply look, I heard a thud on my windshield, less than an inch above the wiper on the passenger side. The hit left an impact that looked like a bullet was trying to get in. It was an impact without an opening, like congealed blood covering a stab, leaving some lines of cracks.

The driver in the offending vehicle did not know a thing. It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. My car had no camera. I can’t put it on him, though I saw the metal drop from his vehicle. If he denies the metal, I lose. How do I even begin to look for the metal? What if he owns up and says sorry? I won’t be able to bring myself to have him repair my car. I pondered all these thoughts. I let them slide and came to the conclusion that God was the ultimate protector, no matter what man does. Remember, I told you nothing was going to stop me from watching Messi, even if the whole of my windscreen shattered.

So, I journeyed on. My children did not drive with me. They drove in another car because we took off from different points. We talked intermittently along the way. They asked me for my Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA). I was six minutes ahead of them. Then my fuel signal went up. I veered into the next exit, thinking it led to a town. Behold, it was a link to another highway, with no gas station in sight. Quickly, I traced my way back to the Auburn highway and continued my journey. Shortly, I sighted a filling station. I drove in, relieved to find fuel and a place to take a leak. In less than two minutes, my children pulled up into the gas station as though they were monitoring me. Hugs. Pleasantries. Fuel. We all headed towards the temple to see Messi.

Auburn had never witnessed a mammoth crowd in its existence. It was like a pilgrimage. All the parks were filled. Federal cops, state cops, county cops and Auburn University security officials were on hand. All matted into the crowd in an unintimidating, but friendly way that exuded safety and service. The police matted into the crowd like ushers in a carnival, not bouncers in a concert.

Auburn University brimmed. Car parks were filled up, fans parked along the road in a single file, leaving a portion of the road for police, emergency services, etc. Thousands, including yours truly, parked far away from the stadium and embarked on an inevitable trek on the sidewalk. The last time I had a road walk in Nigeria was for one protest or another. But this walk was for pleasure, not pain. There was joy in the air. Vendors made quick money selling only one jersey, the Number 10 jersey of Messi. There was food, soda and beer for sale.

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Though I am a Jerusalem pilgrim, JP for short, it was Auburn that gave me a glimpse of the massive crowd that followed Jesus Christ when he preached during his 33 years of existence in a mortal body. Curiosity didn’t kill my cat, but being a journalist, I looked out for a squabble, altercation, or fight among the crowd; I found none. Everything seemed choreographed. Perfect. I trekked along with the crowd to Gate 16, where my children were waiting for me.

The game was billed to start by 7:30 pm, but, America being the summit of razzmatazz, there was so much fun lined up before the kick-off, with the crowd yelling and yelling nonstop. From outside the stadium, I thought the game had begun, only to discover that the players had not even filed out when I got into the stadium. America for show!

Soon, each team filed out; Argentina, without their little god. Nicolas Otamendi led Argentina out. The centre referee had a word with both captains, and the match got underway. For those expecting a drubbing, Iceland were third behind France and Ukraine in their World Cup qualifying group. And against the run of play, the first big chance of the game fell to Iceland, whose striker fluffed his lines in the fifth minute.

Argentina soon pegged Iceland back and took dominance, resulting in a ninth-minute left volley by Valentín Barco to score the opening goal from just outside the box. Then the song ‘Olé, Olé, Olé,’ rent the air. What is ‘Olè’? ‘Olè’ is a thief in the Yoruba language. In Spanish, however, ‘Olé’ means bravo or encore. La Albiceleste were dominating, and the partisan crowd were enjoying it. Before the half-hour mark, the crowd began to chant, “We want Messi.” Then the camera zoomed in on the small but mighty god on the bench, chatting with teammates. Fans went mad and started chanting “Messi, Messi, Messi”.

Argentina continued their dominance in the second half, but the Icelanders made up for their blunt attack by exhibiting tactical discipline in the midfield and defence. When Coach Scaloni made a couple of changes after the hour mark, the “We want Messi” chant boomed in the stadium. But Scaloni wasn’t going to bring on the GOAT simply because the fans were calling on him to do so. Messi had suffered muscle fatigue in his last match for Inter Miami, his club team in the MLS, and was subbed off.

So, Scaloni was going to introduce his most prized jewel with utmost caution, measuring the minutes and seconds Messi was going to play, because on Messi’s shoulders rests the hope of the Argentinian team to the FIFA World Cup, starting the next day. At the 67th minute, Argentina had a free kick right outside of Iceland’s 18-yard box. The free kick was in an area of the pitch fans worldwide call the ‘Messi area’. The spectators yelled for Messi, who was already warming up. They wanted him to come and do his thing.

But Scaloni was not to be hurried. He brought Messi on in the 70th minute, and the match came alive immediately. The attack became sharp and penetrating. Five minutes after he came on, Messi, crowded outside the centre-circle, gave a defence-splitting pass to Lautaro Martinez, who was brought down by goalkeeper Elías Rafn Ólafsson. Penalty!

Messi placed the ball on the spot, stood back, looked Ólafsson in the eye, and sent the ball through the middle, as the keeper went the wrong way. 2-0. Aside from the “Messi” chants, fans also performed ‘The Wave’ for their soccer idol. To perform this iconic crowd movement, adjacent groups of fans stand, raise their arms, and sit back down in quick succession, creating a visual effect of a rolling wave travelling continuously through the stands.

‘The Wave’ first emerged in North American sports arenas, such as at U.S. baseball and American football games in the late 1970s and 1980s, gaining global popularity during the 1986 World Cup in Mexico.

The fans were not done yet. As if on a cue, they switched on the lights of their phones, jumping and singing and chanting the name of the GOAT.

I’m sure Messi won thousands of converts that day. I mean spectators who were not primarily soccer-loving, but who came in company with soccer-loving fans. My children were formerly Ronaldo fans, but they couldn’t help jumping and yelling for the king when they saw him in his majesty.

In all the merriment, there was no ‘bigmanism’, no VIPs. Asians, blacks, whites, Latinos, Arabs, Jews, etc dissolved into one humanity. There was no siren, no pushing or shoving, everyone was equal. No unemployed youths were stamping their feet on the ground, hands up in the air, in total submission, for a few crispy currencies from the rich.

Everyone knows that if they misbehave, they won’t be sleeping at home later in the night. A young white man in the row in front of me came to the stadium with his two beautiful daughters. He heard my accent as I spoke with my children, and he asked where I was from in Africa. I said Nigeria. He said he had worked in Uganda, Zambia and Ghana, and that he gave birth to his younger daughter in Ghana. I asked him if he enjoyed Africa. He said yes, but that the sun was too much. “It’s like the Texas sun. Too hot!” he said, laughing. He asked me where I was from in Nigeria, and I told him the South-West. “Oh, that’s close to Ghana,” he said, revealing his familiarity with Africa.

People behave themselves in public because parents can call the police on you if you utter profanities in front of their children. Though the stadium was brimming with reckless abandon, the crowd knew the law and the limits of their freedom. You don’t say the ‘f’, ‘n’, and other prohibited words in public because parents and individuals can call the police.

In all of these, I looked at the effect one man could have on his country’s image. I looked at the effect of sport as a unifying tool for global harmony. I’m sure police officers, who witnessed the Messi spectacle in Auburn, would have a place of admiration for Argentina in their hearts and are more likely to treat Argentinians with respect.

Messi, the greatest, yet the humblest. Combining greatness with humility is what sets Messi apart from any sportsperson, dead or alive. He has never publicly uttered a word of pride all his life. This virtue cements his legacy, apart from his unparalleled creativity, vision, and genius. The accomplishments of Messi are the dreams of some of his rivals, like Ronaldo.

Messi, the Ultimate.

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

X: @Tunde_Odesola