Amódemájá and the Lies of Nigerian Politics

In 1969, famous Yoruba Sakara music star, Yusuff Olatunji, sang about the great qualities of Chief Abdul-Wahab Amódemájá, the Seriki of Egbaland. Amódemájá held a high-ranking title that came from military roots. In his album Amódemájá, Olatunji used deep metaphors and bright images to show how good people set examples for a good society. He called Amódemájá “Abudu Amodemaja,” highlighting him as his prime example. Olatunji sang: “If you behold some people gaily and expensively dressed, sitting in royal poise on elegantly embroidered horses, unbeknownst to an enraptured world taken in by these adornments, these men are merely decorated swindlers.” His Yoruba lyrics captured the idea perfectly: “B’óo r’òmo elòmíìn l’órí esin, jìbìtì l’ó fi ñs’èsó.” The contrast between esin (horse) and èsó (adornments) against jìbìtì* (swindle) was a powerful message about the qualities of good citizens.

Are there still good people in Nigeria? Can we find them in Nigerian politics? Are they in government circles at all? Yusuff Olatunji sang this song just nine years after Nigeria became independent. At that time, personal honor was very important, and dishonorable people faced social rejection. Olatunji made a great impact in society. He was a musical giant, known for promoting traditional Yoruba music across Nigeria and the West African coast. Using thoughtful lyrics and a special drum called the Sakara, Olatunji criticized social issues while celebrating good character.

Amodemaja was also known as “A. B. Council” due to his significant influence in the Abeokuta Council during the First Republic. Musicians of that time honored this powerful figure from Egbaland. But Amodemaja was also a leader in the Ogboni secret society, connected to the sacred edan, a revered pair of brass figures used as a symbol of membership and spiritual authority. In a time when Christianity and Islam were taking over people's beliefs, how did society handle this complicated reality?

Amodemaja served as the Adelé Oba (Regent) of Egbaland for many years before Oba Oyebade Lipede became the ninth Alake of Egbaland. His character likely played a role in the deep sorrow felt by his people when he died in the late 1970s. His fellow Egba son and Apala music star, Ayinla Omowura, paid tribute to him in a song. Omowura described death as a “disheveled idiot with ugly, black, and dilating eyes” for its audacity in taking the best from society. Suddenly, as Omowura sang, the beat of his drums changed. His drummers blended the heavy rhythms of the Ogboni dance into their playing. This was a final salute to a man who was bonded not by the Bible or the Quran, but by the cylindrical edan, a tribute that led many to believe that Omowura himself was part of the society.

This piece is not about music, traditional worship, or honoring heroes. It is about politics, the raw and unfiltered politics of Nigeria. Today, we focus on the declining values in Nigerian politics and the grand deception that governance has become. Look around you. Even before they start their campaigns, Nigerian politicians are already making big promises. In reality, these are just lies they don’t believe and that will never come true.

What role do lies play in Nigerian governance? There is a lot of writing on how lying is used as a political tool. The Nigerian electorate should prepare to hear a lot of falsehoods as we head towards the 2027 elections. Around the world, conversations about political lies are ongoing. Are these lies a sign of a serious problem, or just part of the game? In the 2022 Annual Billy Dudley Memorial Lecture, Professor JAA Ayoade discussed this issue in detail. His paper is important reading.

Ayoade pointed out that lying is “ubiquitous and prevalent in human society.” He defined a political lie as one “purposely constructed in the politician’s heart to deceive the public with a view to gaining and/or maintaining political power.” He also shared that studies show Americans lie about 11 times a week. In comparison, Donald Trump, according to the Washington Post, told 20,055 lies in 1,207 days, averaging about fifteen lies each day. An average politician, starting at age eighteen, would have told 33,747 lies by age seventy. Trump’s 30,000 false claims during his four years in office represent 88.9 percent of what the average citizen would lie in fifty-three years. Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka called Nigeria “the Republic of Liars” in his 2015 book, I*nterInventions: Between Defective Memory and the Public Lie*.

These numbers do not lessen the damage caused by political lies or how widely politicians use them. Ayoade argued that liars choose to lie because they believe the truth won’t give them the right reward. He cited Adolf Hitler’s belief that “it is not truth that matters, but victory.” He compared this to former Aviation Minister Femi Fani-Kayode’s claim that he would rather die than join the APC. When he later switched sides, he explained, “There is no point having principles without power”, a thought echoed by American politician Robert S Strauss, who famously said, “If you’re in politics, you’re a whore anyhow.”

Today, the petroleum subsidy is a prime example of dishonesty in Nigeria. It is a handy bait to catch unsuspecting citizens. Politicians know that removing the subsidy has hurt Nigerians for 39 months under Bola Tinubu. Yet, they see it as a way to win the people’s hearts. Both President Tinubu and former Vice President Atiku Abubakar are using this issue to gain attention. But the truth is, neither of them truly cares for the masses; their main goal is to protect their own status and political power.

As the 2027 political campaigns kick off, Nigerians will face yet another season of tears, sorrow, and chaos. It will be a time of threats, harmful speeches, and a dangerous slide into political disorder. The early signs are already visible across the country. Politicians are using aggressive language on the campaign stage. If asked for examples, I would say once you can see an okra farm, picking it before it spoils is not a difficult task. The Yoruba say, “Bí oko ò jìnnà, ilá ìí kó.”

One ongoing issue that has many Nigerians anxious is the drug allegations debate, a shameful situation for the country. It is shameful because, regardless of the truth, it is embarrassing that a Nigerian president is involved in a drug scandal. The Yoruba say that if one does not walk like an Òkété, the African giant pouched rat, no one will offer the rat’s favorite meal.

The main question, whether in American courts or public opinion, is whether the Nigerian president was a baron or courier for drug trafficking. Recently, the Washington-based lobbying firm hired by Atiku Abubakar, Von Batten-Montague-York, claimed FBI files link Tinubu to a criminal group smuggling heroin in the 1980s and 1990s. As this firm pushes its claims, the presidency's attempts to distance itself from the issue only draw more attention to the allegations. It seems that the more it tries to pull away from this mess, the more dirt it collects. The American lobbyists recently claimed that Tinubu would face global embarrassment at the UN General Assembly. It looks like Atiku has put on Tinubu a heavy burden surrounded by trouble (ó*ti ru igi oyin*).

In this search for evidence, which some call “legal tourism”, Atiku Abubakar seems determined to bring down what he sees as a shaky political structure built by his former ally.

Tinubu and Atiku, who were once friends, now risk leading the nation to a destructive showdown. This situation echoes the Cold War idea of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD), where a complete attack by one side means total destruction for both. For both men, this situation is dangerous. Francis Bacon once said that age brings out the best in four things: old wood for burning, old wine for drinking, old friends for trusting, and old books for reading. Yusuff Olatunji also warned in his album that a friend should not wish for another's downfall: “Òrìsà ilé òré eni, kò gbodò run ni.” Both men seem to ignore this advice.

Yet, this harmful political game goes on between men fighting for the ultimate prize. As this article was being prepared, news came that a regime supporter has called for a reopening of Atiku’s 2006 indictment by the EFCC. He has given a 14-day ultimatum to the EFCC to revisit and prosecute these old corruption charges against the Wazirin Adamawa.

Political campaign seasons in Nigeria are filled with anger and drama. Sadly, ordinary citizens often get caught up in these party conflicts. To be fair to today's politicians, exaggeration and tension have long been part of Nigeria’s political history. Just like with Tinubu and Atiku, when the friendship between Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Chief S. L. Akintola fell apart in the 1960s, the region suffered from heated words. Campaigns became spaces for ethnic fear and personal attacks, where hostility was openly used.

As the 1964 general elections and the 1965 Western Regional elections approached, Premier Akintola teamed up with the Northern People’s Congress (NPC) led by Ahmadu Bello, known as the NNDP. The Action Group also joined forces with Nnamdi Azikiwe’s NCNC to create UPGA. Akintola accused UPGA of trying to take over the West, claiming that the opposition was an ethnic force aiming to disenfranchise the Yoruba. He often repeated names like “Okafor” and “Okeke;” “Ikejiani” which he twisted to “Ekini-ani” to suggest Igbo control over western civil service jobs. He justified his partnership with the NPC using this argument. On the other hand, UPGA branded Akintola a puppet and traitor who sold the Yoruba to Hausa-Fulani control.

Akintola, a skilled speaker, was once called “Osanyin Awolowo”, “Awo’s deity” due to his small voice like that of a deity. He used Yoruba effectively at campaign events. Those who were there remember how during rallies in the Ekiti district, where Awolowo was respected, Akintola mocked the opposition's focus on education. He joked that only in Ekiti could one find professors named after birds, playfully changing the name of the famous economist, Professor Aluko, to “Professor Agbe and Professor Atioro.” In the Bendel area, he ridiculed Awolowo’s key supporters, like Dennis Osadebey, saying: *“Bí Òrìsà bá d’ébè, a ó f’òkò tu ká!”, meaning, even if a deity appeared as a farm mound, his party would flatten it with hoes.

In the Eastern region during the Second Republic, political battles were just as intense. In old Anambra State, the main fight was between Jim Nwobodo of the NPP and Christian Chukwuma (C. C.) Onoh of the ruling NPN. As both sides fought, language became a critical weapon. Campaign teams used satire and wordplay against their opponents. Nwobodo’s supporters mocked Onoh’s name by calling him ‘Onoh ono Okpa,’ meaning “Onoh who swallows Okpa,” a popular traditional pudding. Onoh’s camp painted Nwobodo as desperate for political survival. Figures like Nnamdi Azikiwe were surrounded by grand political stories, with supporters giving him almost mythical qualities to win voters.

When political activity turns into fake promises, old grudges, and targeted character attacks, good governance suffers. Just as Yusuff Olatunji warned listeners 57 years ago not to be fooled by the fancy appearances of riders on horseback who hide deceit, the modern electorate needs to see beyond the flashy displays of politicians.

Until citizens demand true honesty and accountability instead of clever deception, Nigeria will stay stuck in a paradise built on lies. This is a system where the quest for power is the main goal, while the public good is just an afterthought.