“I blame Nigerians for being weak. For continually fawning over men with money, never asking questions, and then pretending to be shocked when the true purpose of these criminals comes to light”
Opinion | The Kio Solution — Letters from Stockholm
A voice inside my head tells me I will not have to endure this present government much longer — that its fate is sealed no matter how many votes they rig, that jail cells and courtrooms await the Tinubu crime organization.
It is a nightmare having to write about this family. It is an eyesore reading the rubbish they have put Nigeria through — the corruption, the misuse of state security services, the drugs, the juju, the killings, the beatings. The criminality is terrible, on a scale never before seen in Nigeria.
I have lived through every government. I was born into colonial Nigeria. I sat at the table with the freedom fighters, the architects of our country — powerful businessmen, generals, politicians — and I have never seen or experienced the nonsense I am going through with Tinubu.
I blame Nigerians for being weak. For continually fawning over men with money, never asking questions, and then pretending to be shocked when the true purpose of these criminals comes to light.
I have never gone public about my politics — maybe in a few songs about corruption, but never on paper. Yet I have never seen or heard so many people so despondent, so fed up, so angry. And I have never seen the terrible insecurity now plaguing our nation.
As I write, two-year-olds and five-year-olds are still being held in captivity by terrorists, while the son of the President threatens to lock up anyone who insults his ageing, senile father, and his stepmother buys votes with free SUVs — oblivious to the suffering going on in the country her husband supposedly rules.
It is a shit show. A real shit show, run by gangsters trying to be gangsters — men with no morals, no integrity, and absolutely no respect for Nigeria. And this angers me.
I have been insulted. My life has been threatened, openly and in writing, by men working for Tinubu.
I have a dead cousin still waiting for justice. But the more they insult, the better — because it motivates me. It brings out the Amachree in me. It gets me up at 4:00 a.m. to research my stories and write my articles.
This is not work to me. This is my patriotic duty. This is what my father sent me to Eton College and Wharton for — to be there when my country needed me, not for my own self-pleasure.
I watch men like Wike ruin the state my father was the main architect in creating — a state whose first governor worked from my father’s law chambers in Lagos. I watch this man, listen to his gin-soaked voice, hear his ganja-infused bullshit, and I commune with my Kalabari ancestors — asking them for direction, asking them to help me fathom the evil I am witnessing, asking for inspiration, demanding justice, and praying that sanity returns to Rivers State and Abuja.
Wike — a man who signed away $3.6 billion worth of federal property to his two sons and drives a Rolls-Royce just to rub it in the noses of every Nigerian. Today’s star thug. Star criminal. Star nonentity with power — power that will one day see him in Kirikiri prison, like so many before him.
There is a God. You had better believe me — He does exist. And He tells me to be patient. To keep writing. To keep believing. To keep my life and the lives of my family secure. To keep the doors open to my powerful friends across Europe, and to the powerful international organisations that will one day catch up with the criminal element presently running Nigeria.
I pray today for the schoolchildren still kept in captivity, for their teachers, and for all the other victims of terror and insecurity in Nigeria and her churches. I pray for the strength to keep motivated in my mission to make a difference in the country of my birth.
My Nigeria.
Thank you!
**Kio**
