By Mogaji Wole Arisekola
If you think you are wise, then lend me your ears and listen to the story of Ali Baba and his nine thieves.
Over the years, Nigerians have witnessed one scandal after another.
We all remember the famous NNDC "traveling miracle" during the COVID-19 lockdown.
At a time when airplanes were firmly parked on the ground and the skies looked like they had gone on holiday, a certain professor who headed the agency reportedly managed to spend N80 billion chartering what many Nigerians jokingly called "ghost aircraft."
When the National Assembly summoned him to explain the astonishing travel expenses, the professor reportedly fainted before giving satisfactory answers. Since then, he has largely disappeared from the public spotlight. Yet, as life would have it, the same man is said to be living quite comfortably somewhere, apparently enjoying the fruits of his fortune.
That, my friends, is Nigeria's version of magic: planes that never flew, journeys that never happened, and money that somehow completed the trip.
But then again, that's life. We talk, we shake our heads, and... we move on.
Then came the fuel subsidy scandal. Billions of naira were allegedly siphoned from the national treasury. The media went into overdrive, social media exploded with outrage, and Nigerians demanded accountability. Yet, after a few months, the noise died down, and the country moved on.
The controversies surrounding the Central Bank under former Governor Godwin Emefiele also generated widespread public debate, with allegations involving billions of dollars. Investigations were announced, accusations were made, and once again Nigerians waited for justice.
So, when the news broke that one Prince Adeniyi Adeyemi and the so-called "Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council" (PFIPC) had scammed the Nigerian government and Nigerians, I was not perturbed. Initially, I thought he was a friend of the real prince or a friend of the Eko mafia led by Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmale. But when the reported scandal moved beyond denial and damage control, it exposed systemic gaffes in how Nigeria safeguards the sacred institutions of governance, public finance, and diplomatic protocol. If the state is serious about protecting its reputation, the response must be an open, independent commission of inquiry.
But why the story looks so suspicious to me is that the Lagos mafia in President Tinubu's cabinet do not pick the people they perceive as poor men's call. I can give that to them. It is always good to know your value when you have the opportunity to be identified with a big man like Mr. President, especially when you have never lived in God's own country, the United States of America.
But in real context, there is a Yoruba proverb that says: Owo la nfi nko oyinbo, ise lo nmu ni gbo Hausa, eni ti ara ba de kan ki re oke Oya. (We learn the English language with money; poverty makes you speak Hausa if you are from the South; no comfortable person will relocate to the far North if you are from the Western Region.)
Going abroad to study with your family's money is good, but if you go there to hustle, there is something you never tell people.
Omo buruku abi irin iya lese. (A prodigal child walking like a tout.)
Don't let me digress from the real issue of today.
This is why I have consistently argued for more than a decade that the presidential system of government is not working for Nigeria. In my opinion, it has failed to deliver the accountability, efficiency, and development that Nigerians deserve. I believe the country should return to a regional system of government and revive the healthy competition that existed during the early years of our independence.
Two possible futures lie before us.
The first is dangerous. If the current structure continues to deepen distrust, inequality, and unresolved grievances, Nigeria could face prolonged regional conflicts capable of tearing the nation apart.
The second offers hope. We can choose mutual respect, embrace our diversity, and adopt true federalism built on meaningful regional autonomy.
No single individual can effectively govern a country as complex as Nigeria under the present structure. Our institutions are weak, our civil service lacks the discipline and independence required to uphold accountability, and too often mediocrity is rewarded while excellence is ignored.
Over the past decade, allegations of massive financial mismanagement involving key government institutions, including the Nigerian National Petroleum Company and the Central Bank, have repeatedly dominated public discourse. Whether every allegation is ultimately proven or not, the recurring scandals have severely damaged public confidence in government.
The real enemies of ordinary Nigerians are not their neighbours from different ethnic groups. Too often, tribal and religious divisions are exploited by members of the political elite while public resources continue to disappear. Until Nigerians confront these realities honestly, we will continue moving in circles instead of making meaningful progress.
In my view, the greatest challenge facing Nigeria is not merely political; it is moral. Corruption has become deeply entrenched, impunity is often celebrated, and integrity has become increasingly rare. Nigeria is still searching for leaders capable of placing national interest above personal ambition.
History reminds us that things were once different. During the First Republic, the regions competed to develop their economies and improve the lives of their people. The Western Region pioneered free education, the Eastern Region became known for commerce and industrial growth, while the Northern Region built a strong agricultural economy. Regional leaders were largely accountable to their own people rather than depending almost entirely on the federal government.
Today, many state governments depend heavily on monthly allocations from Abuja. That dependence has weakened innovation, reduced accountability, and discouraged healthy competition among the states.
This is my opinion, and every Nigerian has the right to disagree. However, I believe history teaches us that unless we fundamentally restructure the federation and strengthen regional governance, we may simply be postponing a deeper national crisis.
Nigeria deserves another opportunity to succeed.
Let us seriously consider returning to a stronger regional system of government—not to divide the country, but to strengthen it. Let us build a Nigeria where every region is empowered to develop its own strengths while remaining committed to one united nation.
Only then can Nigeria truly dream again, heal again, and rebuild what decades of poor leadership and institutional failure have damaged.
Ire o.
Mogaji Wole Arisekola writes from Ibadan.