One early morning in 1997, I was deployed to interview Lagos lawyer and human rights activist Chief Gani Fawehinmi, SAN. As usual, the chief was ready for the interview, but I noticed he was not in his usual jovial mood that morning. I was ushered into the compound as he was just completing his daily exercise routine. “Welcome, Mr. Adisa,” he said, his face showing a bit of a frown. He nevertheless asked me to enter the living room — a library of sorts, with major parts of the walls decorated with framed newspaper cuttings detailing Gani’s activism, media interviews, and anti-government crusades.
When Chief Fawehinmi returned to the living room, he burst into something louder than a soliloquy, pacing from one end of the room to the other. “I warned him, I warned Olu not to ride on the back of the tiger. He who rides on the back of the tiger will definitely end up in the belly of the tiger.” Of course, I knew what the subject matter was. It was all about Chief Olu Onagoruwa, Gani’s one-time ally. When they were in accord, they were known as “twins in activism.” They shared ideas and offices. The bond was that close.
Gani’s lamentation that day concerned the tragedy that had befallen his former alter ego, Onagoruwa, who had offered to serve in the cabinet of the late dictator, General Sani Abacha, as Attorney-General and Minister of Justice. Though Gani had objected vehemently to the appointment, Onagoruwa defended his decision, citing the need to soften Abacha’s dictatorship from within.
Eventually, Onagoruwa’s sojourn with the military did not work out as planned. He had to resign after ordering the release of Turner Ogboru, brother of Great Ogboru, who had been accused of financing the 1990 coup against General Ibrahim Babangida. The government categorised the release order as treason, while Onagoruwa believed he was protecting the rights of a supposedly innocent man. In December 1996, Onagoruwa lost his son, Oluwatoyin, in controversial circumstances when unknown gunmen shot him dead in Lagos. The young man was a lawyer with the National Intelligence Agency at the time. The late Attorney-General suffered his first stroke a few months after the killing of his son.
The interview appointment with Gani coincided with the breaking of the news of Onagoruwa’s stroke to him. Chief Fawehinmi had lamented loudly, but as they say, the deed had been done.
The story of those who ride on the back of the tiger is instructive. Tigers and their look-alikes, leopards, are solitary beings. Unlike their big brother in the cat family, the lion, tigers don’t keep family ties. Once a male and female tiger mate, they hardly remain together for long. The female is soon left to care for the pregnancy and the cub(s). Once it is time to wean the little tiger, the mother puts up a brutal fight, which easily convinces the offspring that the time for their association is up. So, the elders who chose the tiger to illustrate this proverb knew exactly what they were driving at.
If an animal can kill its own kind for supper, you don’t befriend such an animal and expect the friendship to last. That is why tigers kill zookeepers, even those who have tended to them from cubhood. It is much the same with lions — a slight slip by the zookeeper, and the animal will pounce and send the man to the great beyond.
The Nigerian political and security scene is replete with stories of men — and systems — that have ridden on the back of the tiger. Strangely, they expect such rides to be as smooth as a trip on a luxury yacht. Let’s examine the nation’s security system, for example. The nature of insecurity blossoming across the length and breadth of Nigeria is one long ride on the back of the tiger — and it is clearly not leading to a good end.
Abubakar Kawu Baraje was the leader of the breakaway New Peoples Democratic Party (nPDP), formed to deal a fatal blow to the administration of Dr. Goodluck Jonathan in 2013. In 2014, the group aligned with the All Progressives Congress (APC) in their bid to oust Jonathan from the presidency. On the occasion of his 70th birthday in Ilorin, Kwara State, in 2021, Baraje — perhaps pressured by conscience — spoke about the genesis of the rising insurgency. He told the nation that APC leaders had imported Fulani militants from Mali, Niger, Sierra Leone, and Chad to cause violence if Jonathan refused to hand over power in 2015.
He said, unfortunately: “After the election, the Fulani have refused to leave. I and other like minds wrote and warned those we started the APC with that this (rising insurgency) was going to happen, but nobody listened.”
Baraje’s confession affirmed the desperation of the Buharists for power in 2015. Indeed, Buhari himself had been quoted during electioneering as saying that the streets (of Nigeria) would flow with the blood of baboons and monkeys — and he was not questioned by Jonathan’s government about what he meant.
In essence, the Nigerian security architecture has been on this long ride on the back of the tiger. The cries of citizens we hear today about insurgency, kidnapping, banditry, and Boko Haram tendencies are all offshoots of this unwholesome ride.
If anyone doubts that our security system has been on a jolly ride on the back of the tiger, let them ask the operatives what happens each time a food supplier to the insurgents is arrested, or what becomes of the intelligence gathered from such prime suspects. Ask them what has happened to the many insurgents’ logistics providers arrested over the years. Ask them what brought about the deradicalisation policy even as insurgents continue to wage a ferocious war, beheading soldiers and civilians, kidnapping, and ridiculing retired generals who should be resting peacefully after meritorious service to their fatherland.
The list of riders on the back of the tiger is long. You may also ask the judiciary why courts hand out paltry five-year jail terms to those who participated in the kidnapping of dozens of innocent schoolchildren, keeping them from their mothers’ care for as long as the captors fancied. You would need to ask the Ministry of Interior, especially under the late President Buhari, why it experienced several jailbreaks across correctional centres and what became of the criminals — especially the incarcerated insurgents who “escaped” (or were set free?).
In case you still harbour any doubt that our political system is in bed with danger, consider the words of Sheikh Abubakar Gumi. He stated that the government knows every bandit leader and their hideout, and that he always visits the enclaves of the bandits in the company of security operatives. In March, during an interview with DRTV, Gumi said: “The government knows every terrorist by name and by location. I don’t go alone to negotiate; I go with the police and other security agencies.” The government has yet to respond to or interrogate him since that statement went viral.
But that’s not all about this dangerous ride on the back of the insurgents’ tiger. Former Borno State governor, Senator Ali Modu Sheriff, was once reported to have had dealings with the leader of Boko Haram before the sect’s brutal campaign intensified. It has been claimed that the sect had a handshake with Modu Sheriff as he moved to oust then-Governor Mala Kachalla in Borno State, and that his administration, which took over in 2003, rewarded persons aligned with the group with political posts. Today, Sheriff, as a chieftain of the ruling party, who supposedly knew the sect in its infancy, should be able to tell the nation about its roots and how it transformed into a deadly force. One wonders why he has not been called upon to render that service to his country.
You have also heard statements such as “the insurgents are our brothers… they are our children,” and similar remarks from some commentators across the Niger. Such talk must have emboldened the 50 elders from Magamin Diddi Village in the Maradun Local Government Area of Zamfara State to enter the Muntsira forest to negotiate farm access with the bandit leader known as Jammo. The elders were promptly abducted. As of press time, the elders on that “peace mission” were still in Jammo’s custody. Talk of a ghastly ride on the back of the tiger. You can’t expect a smooth ride out there, anyway.
(Published by the Sunday Tribune, June 14, 2026)
