Nigeria: The Palace Feasts While The Village Starves: Renewed Hunger In The Land Of Broken Promises

— The Feast of the Powerful in the Season of Famine —

They said the treasury was empty. Yet the first act of the new leadership was not to mend the broken walls of the nation, but to pour mountains of gold into already gilded palaces, into chairs with cushions softer than clouds, and into the overflowing pockets of politicians who could already feed small nations from their private larders. If this was “emptiness,” then the Sahara itself must be flowing with honey.

The Vice-President’s residence, already a proud and sturdy edifice, was marked for refurbishment at a staggering ₦21 billion — as though the walls yearned for celestial polish and the floors begged to mirror the moon. Outside, the streets were left plastered with hunger and dust, but inside, fairy-tale luxury was arranged for those at the top. As the elders say, “When the granary is empty, do not paint its door in gold.”

On another front, ₦70 billion was set aside for lawmakers’ SUVs, each one a moving mansion costing ₦160 million. Once upon a time, public servants drove modest vehicles, but today the corridors of power demand fleets so big they might need their own postcodes. The people trek the nation barefoot on broken roads, whilst their leaders tour it in luxury cocoons on wheels. One wonders if these cars come complete with swimming pools and jacuzzis.

Buildings, too, were fed like prize goats before a festival — ₦4 billion for Dodan Barracks, ₦3 billion for Aguda House. Fine structures they may be, yet our schools sit so poor that chalk refuses to write, and our hospitals hum with tragic silence because the medicine bottles have long been emptied. A nation’s treasures, it is said, should first heal its wounds before adorning its ornaments.

The Presidential Tax Reforms Committee — fewer than twenty in number — was granted ₦5 billion. While this might have purchased farms for each member, it was instead eaten up by refreshment so extravagant one might imagine golden chin-chin or diamond-studded puff-puff. Yet the land saw neither tax relief nor notable change afterwards. Reform seemed to have gone to bed with the feasting.

Even offices dreadfully absent from the Constitution received grand gifts — ₦1.5 billion went to purchase vehicles for the First Lady. If such generosity was shown to ordinary women, market traders would commute in private jets to sell tomatoes at dawn. The gavel, too, was fattened; judges enjoyed a 300% pay rise, though justice in the courts now seemed thinner than a stray cat in dry season.

Within the President’s sky fleet, ₦5 billion was spent, another ₦5 billion on a yacht, and ₦225 billion on a fresh presidential jet, even though the old one was in perfect health. It is not clear whether presidential aircraft grow weary of flying or simply desire younger siblings to keep them company. Meanwhile, the nation trudges in torn sandals.

For the faithful, ₦90 billion was allocated for the 2024 Hajj — a noble gesture for pilgrims. Yet the farmers and labourers at home continue to wrestle with hunger. Pilgrimage abroad now holds more state priority than the fight against famine at home. And in the skies above, dollars vanish through endless government travels, while on the ground the citizen’s daily journey leads not to safety but through forests of hunger and rivers of fear.

Senators and House members eat deep from the national pot, ₦21 million and ₦13.5 million per month respectively, growing round and content as citizens shrink into the form of dried raisins. And on the coastline, ₦15 trillion has been committed to the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Road — a project whispered into the hands of a long-time associate, more notable for shadows than sunshine. If such a road were food, it could feed the whole country for a decade. Instead, it will fatten but a handful.

The cabinet has swelled into the largest in the nation’s history, a football team of ministers with reserves waiting in the wings. Despite this, the Oronsaye Report’s call to streamline public offices was shelved, replaced instead by novelties like the Ministry of Livestock Development. One is left wondering if this government is a serious administration or a lavish wedding banquet.

Fuel subsidies have vanished, yet no one can say for certain where the savings went, or who drank from the pot. Fuel prices now climb hills so steep that even hope grows breathless. Electricity does the same, vanishing at the summit. Education has become the preserve of wealth, health care the province of the privileged, and bread itself threatens to join the ranks of luxury goods.

Insecurity stalks the land with brazen steps while jobs evaporate like steam from boiling water. Security votes gush into canals without end, but the people’s wells remain dry. In our father’s wisdom, “The goat with a full belly does not care if the yam field burns.” And so the Renewed Hope slogan has been twisted by reality into renewed hunger, renewed sadness, renewed pain and deep sorrow.

The leaders dine with kings while the people chew the bitter root of despair. They travel with fleets while the common folk journey with fear; their robes glisten while the people’s garments fade; their stomachs swell while the masses wither. This is not the repair of a broken house — this is painting cracked walls while the roof is ablaze. It is diamonds on a sinking ship, gold on a coffin. And if this road is travelled much further, it will not lead to hope; it will lead to a country where leaders feast in splendour, and its people are lost to the soft dust of forgotten dreams.

EBIKABOWEI KEDIKUMO – writes from Ayakoromo Town