You have to hand it to Nigeria—our politics always delivers a cinematic experience that even Hollywood would reject for being too unrealistic. Picture this: a president with enough rumoured drug-related backstory to make Pablo Escobar’s ghost raise an eyebrow suddenly turns into a benevolent father of the nation—by pardoning convicted drug dealers. It’s like a cat issuing a proclamation on the rights of mice.
When the Pot Grants Amnesty to the Kettle
There’s something almost biblical about this moment. The pot—famous for being “adjacent” to white powder tales—now extends mercy to the kettle, freshly branded from prison life. Perhaps this is empathy in action: “I know your struggle, brother. We are one cartel under God.”
Forget policy reform, forget prison decongestion—this is street solidarity taken to presidential levels. In another country, it’d be conflict of interest; in Nigeria, it’s Tuesday.
Presidential Penance or Political Pepsi?
Of course, the spin doctors will tell you it’s “compassion,” “restorative justice,” or “a bold move for national reconciliation.” But Nigerians know better. Every pardon is either a favour owed, a debt paid, or a pre-emptive insurance policy. When you hand out pardons like gala at a traffic light, one begins to wonder if Aso Rock has turned into an extension of Kirikiri’s alumni association.
And let’s not forget the inevitable statement from the presidential spokesperson—who, by now, deserves a national award in creative writing. Expect phrases like “Mr. President acted within the ambit of mercy, reflecting his deep Christian values,” even though those same values conveniently skip over public accountability, power abuse, and the minor detail of… governance.
Rehabilitation, Naija-Style
Some say this is part of a larger “rehabilitation” agenda. After all, why let trained logisticians and distributors languish in prison when they can be re-integrated into national supply chains? Maybe we’re about to witness a new “War on Poverty (But Not Powder)” campaign, where ex-dealers teach ministries efficiency and discretion.
Imagine a post-pardon employment fair:
“Former cocaine courier? Perfect! Ministry of Transport.”
“Meth middleman? You clearly understand export strategy—welcome to Trade and Investment.”
A Nation on a High
This is the beauty of Nigerian politics—it’s all vibes and substances. The moral high ground is permanently under renovation, and even when you think the system has hit rock bottom, it digs deeper and finds oil—or something stronger.
So yes, while ordinary citizens are jailed for stealing plantain or phone chargers, convicted dealers are coming home to presidential handshakes. Perhaps, in the next independence speech, we’ll hear:
“Fellow Nigerians, the war on drugs is over. We have joined them instead.”
Final Puff
Let’s be fair: forgiveness is divine. But selective forgiveness administered from a cloud of irony and hypocrisy? That’s peak Naija governance. Somewhere in the background, Fela’s spirit is laughing—“I talk am since!”
Until then, dear citizens, stay clean, stay broke, and stay amused—because in Nigeria, even the drug war has gone full comedy.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 