He sits upon the hill where eagles rest, and where the burdens of a bruised republic nest. They call him Jagaban, the Lion, the Sage. Now he governs a land exhausted by age. But where is the roar, the promised flame? Or is this silence part of a longer game? We asked him for a subsidy, and he pulled the plug. Swift and sudden like a magician’s shrug. Yet, people are left in petrol queues feeling famished.
If suffering is now the new down payment for greatness, where then is the blueprint to gauge lateness? Oh, there was once a fire blazing in his campaign chest where talks of reformation and corruption were suppressed. But now the lion paces in careful silence, as wolves return to loot with defiant violence. Is he watching… waiting… and building his case? Or has real power simply fled the place? Can a second term redeem the first? Or will the river drown before it’s nursed?
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We whispered of Naira’s haemorrhage and theft, and he spoke in riddles, then turned to the left. The Central Bank spins, the Bureau stutters and markets flutter like trapped butterflies in gutters. He understands that politics is a game of breath timing, long silence, and a dance with death. But Nigeria is no chessboard of pawns and kings, so delay invites deeper and darker things. Sir, while you watch the clock and count your foes, the nation limps barefoot on burning coals.
Nigeria bleeds, not in metaphors alone, but in kidnaps, hunger, and marrow to the bone. Was it calculation or an emergency of will that made restructuring stand so still? Will you wait for re-election applause before justice is unchained and truth gets laws? Strategic patience may win you Abuja's keys, but history listens to broken families’ pleas. You spoke of a good legacy that is expected to begin now, not just in promises tucked in a distant vow, but in true fulfilment.
Sir, if you must strike, then strike in light, not in backdoor deals or midnight flight. Tell us the plan, even if it burns. Let governance be where transparency returns. Is this the calm before a cleansing storm? Or complacency dressed in seasoned form? For silence may be golden in royal rooms, but very pricey in nations with too crowded tombs. A federation fraying from norm to deform. So please, Mr. Jagaban, arise like a thunder, or history will tear your statue asunder.
Mr. President, there is power in restraint but it's dangerous when restraint turns faint. Delay may suit the tongue of a tactician, but the stomach speaks no such politician. How long shall the poor endure this wait before patience curdles into hate? They say that your eyes are fixed on 2027 but will a second term unleash your might, or simply dim this country’s light? Nigeria is no ladder for cautious ascent, it is a soul in torment. Let this not be the tale of one more king who delayed so long and finally lost everything.
The eagle does not wait to flap its wings, it simply soars when winds and justice sing.
Sir, play the long game if you must, but play it loud, fair, and earn our trust. God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
✍🏽 William Z. Bozimo
Veteran Journalist | Columnist | National Memory Keeper
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