The Farmer Governor of Niger state (where this writer hails from), Mohammed Umaru Bago, has finally realised the weight of his own decision. What once seemed like a bold and ambitious financial move has now become a burden he openly regrets.
He had secured a ₦1 trillion loan, a few months after assuming office, to fund his Urban Renewal Projects (a lathe chunk domiciling in Minna), believing it was the right step towards massive infrastructural development. But now, he has admitted that ₦500 billion would have been a better choice.
His regret is understandable. However, the real question is not whether ₦1 trillion was too much, but whether the projects themselves were necessary in the first place. Minna, the state capital, is not Lagos or Abuja, where road congestion is somewhat a major problem.
It is not an economic or industrial hub struggling with daily traffic gridlocks. The former roads – in the state capital – were not entirely in bad shape; they were functional. Yet, they were demolished and sought to be replaced at a staggering cost, while the state continued to grapple with more pressing development challenges.
If there was ever a loan of that magnitude to be taken, it should have been directed at solving the fundamental problems affecting the people. Across Niger state, schools remain dilapidated, forcing children to learn under harsh conditions.
Hospitals are poorly equipped, with many lacking basic medical supplies. The people are trapped in mass poverty, with the youth struggling to find employment. Meanwhile, insecurity, banditry, and terrorism have left many Niger communities in distress.
These are the real problems that should have been prioritised. Governor Bago is now lamenting that the weight of a ₦1 trillion loan is heavy on him. But what about the people of the state who are bearing the brunt of misplaced priorities?
A government exists to serve its people. It is supposed to make decisions based on what will improve the quality of life for the majority. Roads are important, but they should not come at the expense of essential services that directly affect the well-being of citizens.
The governor’s frustration is not just about the size of the loan, but also about the poor execution of the projects. Despite having access to funds, the pace of work has been frustratingly slow.
Contractors have failed to deliver at the expected speed, leaving the projects incomplete and raising concerns about financial mismanagement. Less than half of the money has been utilised, yet the projects remain largely unfinished.
Time is running out, and Bago knows that if drastic action is not taken, his legacy could suffer a massive blow. He has issued a stern warning to contractors, insisting that they must accelerate their work and meet the April 2025 deadline.
“So, you want me to come up and tell you to do it? You have to do it in two weeks,” he told them (spitting fire) at a meeting last week. His urgency is clear. He is desperate for results. While he acknowledged progress on certain projects, like the Paiko-Lapai road, he is deeply unsatisfied with the overall pace of work.
Those who fail to meet expectations will not just face verbal warnings; they will be removed. “If you don’t perform by April, I will give the project to someone else. I am serious,” he fiercely warned. His message is unmistakable: the era of sluggish execution is over.
Beyond his regret over the loan, the farmer governor faces a bigger dilemma. Will he push the contractors to deliver, or will his vision for our dear state’ infrastructural transformation collapse under its own weight?
His administration must prove that this was not just an expensive gamble, but a decision that will eventually benefit the people. Even with the struggles of the current phase, the farmer governor remains committed to his larger vision.
Bago has already announced that Phase II of the Urban-Rural Renewal Project will commence in 2027. But if Phase I is already facing financial and execution challenges, what guarantees that the next phase will be different?
The real issue is not just about borrowing money; it is about setting the right priorities. A trillion-naira debt should have translated into life-changing projects: better schools, hospitals, security and job opportunities. These are the things that would have directly improved the lives of Niger state residents.
Instead, the focus was placed on road constructions and urban renewal projects of a sort. Governor Bago has seen the consequences of hasty decisions. He is beginning to understand that grand financial plans mean nothing without proper execution and, more importantly, the right priorities.
His challenge is to ensure that the borrowed funds are not wasted. If he must redeem his administration, he must take bold steps, by holding contractors accountable, ensuring every project is completed on time, and, most importantly, redirecting future resources to sectors that truly need intervention.
The people of Niger state are watching. They have heard his regrets, but they are more interested in results. They do not want another wasted opportunity. The farmer governor must prove that he can turn his mistakes into lessons and his regrets into determination.
A leader’s legacy is not built on regrets; it is defined by the courage to correct mistakes and make amends. While Bago stands at a crossroads, he can either continue down the path of misplaced priorities or seize this moment to reset his government’s focus.
If he truly understands the weight of his decision, then he must act swiftly. The people of Niger state do not need more lamentations; they need leadership that delivers real change. The choice is his to make.
Seyi Tinubu’s lavish Iftar tour
Seyi Tinubu, the prominent son of our “Dear President”, has been on a well-publicised Ramadan tour across states in the North, engaging in Iftar gatherings and youth interactions. While the initiative is commendable, the manner in which it is being executed raises serious concerns.
His visits are not modest community outreach programmes; they are grand display of influence, complete with elaborate convoys, security escorts and protocol arrangements befitting a high-ranking government official.
The question is simple: In what capacity is Seyi Tinubu moving with such executive privileges? He holds no official government position, yet his movements mirror those of elected leaders.
His arrival at airports is met with government officials, his motorcade moves with the precision of a presidential convoy and his engagements are treated with the grandeur of state functions.
This is an unearned display of power, made possible only because he is the son of President Bola Tinubu. Nigeria is a democracy, not a monarchy.
Public office is not a family inheritance, and access to state resources should not be extended to the relatives of those in power. The country has seen enough of this pattern where the children of presidents, governors and ministers wield influence far beyond what their personal achievements justify.
Seyi Tinubu’s current tour reinforces the culture of entitlement that has long plagued Nigeria’s politics. What makes this even more troubling is that his visits are being conducted under the banner of the “Renewed Hope” agenda.
If the mission is to inspire and empower young Nigerians, then it should be done with humility and genuine service, not as a demonstration of wealth and access. There is nothing wrong with philanthropy, but it should not be packaged as a royal parade.
True leadership is about service, not spectacle. The irony is that many of the youths he is meeting across the North are struggling with poverty, unemployment and insecurity, problems that the government his father leads has yet to address meaningfully.
Seeing him arrive in a fleet of luxury SUVs, flanked by security personnel, only deepens the resentment among ordinary Nigerians who cannot even afford the basics. If the goal is engagement, then a more restrained, people-centered approach would be far more effective.
Seyi Tinubu has every right to pursue charitable causes, but he must do so as a private citizen, not as an unofficial prince of the Nigerian state. The privileges he currently enjoys are not his by merit but by proximity to power.
If he truly wants to make a difference, he should abandon the executive-style tours and embrace a more humble, grassroots-driven approach. Otherwise, his visits will only serve as a reminder of how power in Nigeria continues to be abused.