Preparations for the Upcoming Political Contest

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready, as the race has officially commenced. If the initial hints are any indication, we are set for a spectacle that could leave Kannywood envious. Key players are sharpening their strategies, coalitions are forming behind closed doors, and the arena is being prepared for a showdown that could determine who occupies Aso Rock when the final notes have played. This time, however, the audience—us, the often-overlooked Nigerian electorate—seems either ready to change the channel or to prepare for a very different type of action.

Take a look at the figures rallying in the opposition's corner. From Nasir El- Rufai, who has just returned from Cairo and found himself embroiled in an airport incident that could rival a spy movie, to Abubakar Malami and other significant players from the previous administration, the ensemble is regrouping. El-Rufai, never shy about expressing himself, as my lawyer friend Bilkis would say, has boldly stated that the fight to displace the current administration has “only just begun.” He believes that the current leaders are anxious about his reappearance, closely monitoring his activities and wishing he would remain abroad. Why this suspicion? Because, in his own words, “They are aware of my capabilities, and they know we have the ability to take them down.” He has allied himself with the coalition-sustained African Democratic Congress and openly criticized President Tinubu for his commitment to cling to power “at any price.” It’s quite a statement from someone who was instrumental in bringing this very government into existence. As he remarks, “Given that I played a role in putting them in power, I must also play a role in ousting them.” There’s a certain symmetry to that, if one thinks about it.

On the government’s side, operations are intensifying, like a generator straining under too much load. The APC governors have reaffirmed their resolve towards grassroots engagement by initiating an event called the Renewed Hope Ambassadors Summit 2026. Vice President Shettima recently shared that the focus has shifted from “stabilization to acceleration,” backed by a considerable N58.18 trillion budget to support this new agenda. While they claim inflation pressures are easing, fuel costs are declining, and the currency is solid, at least in their reports, the party chairman has expressed dissatisfaction over the apparent invisibility of their infrastructure projects, attributing it to poor communications. Invisible! That’s their diagnosis. Not that the successes aren't there, but rather they aren't being noticed. It’s reminiscent of the question: if a tree falls in a deserted forest, did it make a sound?

Despite their federal power, the gravity of their governing stature, and the myriad politicians they've reeled in who could embarrass even a seasoned trader, there’s a disquieting sense of unease floating above. What is fueling this anxiety? Why does the ruling party, in control and equipped with financial resources that could sustain a small nation’s economy, still seem restless? Why are they rushing to form coalitions, revising electoral regulations, and tightening security at airports for incoming opposition members?

The answer, my dear friends, is evident and it reflects an odor of diesel fumes and impending darkness.

A particular tweet has resurfaced like a ghost from the past. It features candidate “Tulumbu,” reminding Nigerians not to re-elect him if his administration fails to provide 24-hour electricity after four years. Such declarations once inspired hope among Nigerians yearning for reliable electricity and stability for their enterprises. Now, 32 months down the line, Peter Obi has brought this promise to light, highlighting that rather than fulfilling his bold commitments, the administration’s current strategy is to completely disconnect the Presidential Villa from the national grid, instead opting to invest billions in solar power for Aso Rock while the rest of the nation remains in darkness. It’s quite unjust to expect the populace to fast while feasting upon their own resources. You cannot secure your own position while your countrymen feel unsafe. The national grid has collapsed with alarming regularity—two instances in just January, with power generation plummeting from over 4,500 megawatts to zero, as all 23 power plants went offline at once. Remarkably coordinated, if you stop to ponder, but certainly not the kind of coordination anyone had hoped for.

The power crisis now surpasses the severity experienced at the end of the Buhari administration. Let that sink in. It seemed implausible, yet Nigeria, ever the overachiever, has discovered an even deeper pit. The very person who vowed to remediate this crisis is constructing a solar-powered retreat for himself while the grid struggles to maintain any semblance of function. This is a far cry from effective governance; it resembles a sleight of hand. Watch as the President vanishes into his solar sanctuary while the rest of us wonder which transformer has failed this time.

Furthermore, there’s the matter of the Electoral Act. The National Assembly, in its wisdom, passed a version allowing both electronic and manual transmission of results—the very loophole that overshadowed the 2023 elections. Nigerians took to the streets, protested, pleaded for attention, and even faced tear gas for their efforts. The Senate President assures us that “every vote will now count.” With haste, the President signed it into law, noting that while computers can’t do everything, human involvement remains crucial. Indeed, they were heavily involved last time, and we all remember how that played out. The burning question arises: with 29 out of 36 governors now affiliated with the ruling party and a majority of lawmakers supporting the government, what is the fear surrounding mandatory electronic transmission? Why leave the possibility for manual vote counting in areas experiencing “network challenges”—especially when the Nigerian Communications Commission asserts we have over 93% network coverage?

Thus, the pre-election show commences. El-Rufai and his newfound allies will traverse the nation, capitalizing on public dissatisfaction. The ruling party will utilize its incumbency advantages, the government’s financial might, and the influence of office. They will spin tales of transition from stabilization to acceleration, expounding on the results of their reforms and the strength of the economy. Meanwhile, the citizens will assess their empty pockets, their darkened homes, and their overdue salaries, and will come to their own conclusions.

The true challenge for the government lies not in the strength of the opposition; this opposition comprises former allies and estranged factions, held together primarily by mutual animosity. The real concern is that the electorate has never been more indifferent towards who occupies the presidency—or more eager for a change, vowing to vote not for a particular candidate but simply against the existing administration. When the populace turns out to vote against, rather than in favor, the incumbency advantage transforms into a hindrance, rather than a benefit.

No one could have predicted that we would endure even greater hardships than those experienced during Buhari’s era. Yet, here we are. The citizens have already endured much… and endure yet more! They are now expected to emerge and reward the party responsible for their struggles. Good luck with that.

The music is beginning. The performers are taking their places. The stage is prepared for the upcoming song and dance. This time, the audience may very well choose to stay home… or even worse, storm the stage!

When that moment arrives, no amount of meticulous choreography will salvage the performance.