Rem­i­nis­cences with Chief (Mrs) Ko­foworola Ak­erele-Buc­knor

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You know girls don’t play pranks, only the boys do that. Our par­ents were very strict, and the school too was. From Ab­dul­la­teef Aliyu, La­gos

Chief (Mrs) Ko­foworola Buc­knor-Ak­erele, 79, was the Deputy to Asi­waju Bola Tin­ubu in his first term as Gov­er­nor of La­gos State from 1999-2003 and is a mem­ber of the Board of Trus­tees of the Peo­ples Demo­cratic Party (PDP). In this REM­I­NIS­CENCES with Daily Trust on Sun­day, Chief Buc­knor-Ak­erele speaks about her child­hood, her im­pres­sion of the Nige­rian mil­i­tary, the prob­lems she had with Asi­waju Tin­ubu that forced her out as his Deputy and other rag­ing is­sues in the polity

Though you hailed from a fa­mous fam­ily in La­gos, many peo­ple hardly un­der­stand the con­ju­gal ar­range­ment of your names. Which of Buc­knor and Ak­erele is your spouse’s name?

None. My fa­ther was Dr Oni Ak­erele, a prom­i­nent politi­cian in the First Repub­lic, while my mother’s fam­ily name was Buc­knor, which is yet an­other fa­mous fam­ily in La­gos. So I sim­ply com­bined the two to form my own sur­name.

So what is your hus­band’s name?

Al­haji Ibrahim El-Yakubu, from Kano State. I was one of those who pi­o­neered in­ter-eth­nic mar­riages in Nige­ria be­cause I mar­ried my hus­band from the far north, which was rare at that time.

How did the ro­mance start?

I think we met at a party, at the late Zainab Buka-Diphcharima’s cock­tail party. I didn’t take much no­tice of him, but ob­vi­ously he had no­ticed me, be­cause the next day he was in my of­fice.

How would you child­hood?

de­scribe your

My child­hood was a very happy one. I had lov­ing par­ents who took good care of me as they were quite well off. I was the only child of my mother. I was brought up by my grand­mother, who, un­like many grannies who shielded their grand­chil­dren from mix­ing with friends, ac­tu­ally en­cour­aged me to have them. Al­though I was an only child, I re­ally didn’t suf­fer from any lone­li­ness prob­lem be­cause I was al­ways play­ing to­gether with the chil­dren of my par­ents’ friends.

My pri­mary ed­u­ca­tion was at the CMS Girls’ School. Peo­ple I went to school with in­cluded the late Mrs Oliv­ert Okoya Thomas, Femi Wil­liams and Am­bas­sador Ajose, many of whose par­ents were pro­fes­sion­als like mine.

How did, at that im­pres­sion­is­tic age at­tend­ing an all-fe­male school, af­fect your per­cep­tion of, and psy­chol­ogy about boys?

No, it wasn’t re­ally an all-girls school. There were some boys in the pri­mary school with us. The Femi Wil­liams I men­tioned was a boy, as were Taiwo Alak­ija (now de­ceased) and Dr Dayo Do­herty. It was just that for the se­condary ed­u­ca­tion, the boys would go to the CMS Gram­mar School, while girls would con­tinue at the Girls’ School. But I didn’t con­tinue. I went for my se­condary ed­u­ca­tion in the United King­dom.

The CMS Girls’ School was on Broad Street, next to the CSS Book­shop. The CMS Gram­mar School, the boys’ school, was across the road to us.

Our Head­mistress at a time was a white woman and she and the en­tire staff were very, very strict. They gave us very good ed­u­ca­tion. In fact, when I went for my se­condary school in Eng­land, I was al­ready ahead of my class. That shows the high qual­ity of ed­u­ca­tion we were get­ting at that time.

I was 10 when I was sent to board­ing school abroad. And that was a dif­fer­ent ex­pe­ri­ence al­to­gether be­cause there weren’t many black chil­dren in that school. In fact, I was the only black child there for quite a num­ber of years. Of course, they all had very funny ideas about Africa. They thought Africa was a jun­gle be­cause of all the films that ob­vi­ously they had been watch­ing. I turned their im­pres­sion into jokes, telling them all sorts of fan­tas­tic sto­ries like, ‘Yes, there were ele­phants walk­ing through my back gar­den.’

I was very good at sports. I got gold medals in 100 me­tres and high jump. I was also very good at gym­nas­tics and was in the hockey team.

So, for me, it was quite an en­joy­able pe­riod.

When I fin­ished my se­condary ed­u­ca­tion, I read Law at Sur­rey, in Eng­land there, and af­ter that was per­suaded by the late Gab Fag­bure, a jour­nal­ist, to study jour­nal­ism as well be­cause they were look­ing for peo­ple in that area of broad­cast­ing.

The child­hood of most chil­dren is re­plete with pranks, tricks and some fool­ing around. Look­ing back, what out­stand­ing pranks would you say marked your grow­ing up?

I can’t re­mem­ber me play­ing any real prank, es­pe­cially those that

would war­rant pun­ish­ment. You know girls don’t play pranks, only the boys do that. Our par­ents were very strict, and the school too was.

There was a lot of dis­ci­pline, and if you told a lie, you would re­ally get a good beat­ing.

But we did have fun. As chil­dren, we had birth­day par­ties and things like that. I re­mem­ber that in front of our school, there was a big fruit tree at which we threw stones to get the fruits.

I took so many pos­i­tive things away grow­ing up un­der my grand­mother’s tute­lage. I was stay­ing with my par­ents ac­tu­ally, but it was my grand­mother who took charge of me, so to speak. She taught me a lot of things. She taught me to sew, do em­broi­dery, do mats, and so many other things that de­fined a dis­ci­plined girl.

Would you say trav­el­ling out of La­gos at such a ten­der age de­prived you of ex­pe­ri­enc­ing, es­pe­cially in your teenage years, the high so­cial life­style La­gos was then known for?

No, not re­ally, be­cause I still ex­pe­ri­enced life my own way in La­gos be­fore I trav­elled. In those days, the La­gos so­ci­ety was very small; at least, we Lagosians, I mean real Lagosians, knew one an­other.

At that time, La­gos was a very com­pact so­ci­ety and every­body knew every­body else. Even till to­day, if you men­tion your name, peo­ple would know whether you are a true Lagosian or not. We all knew one an­other other and we were vis­it­ing one an­other. The chil­dren of the var­i­ous fam­i­lies were friends. It was a very happy La­gos at that time; you could walk any­where on the La­gos Is­land and there would be no prob­lem. It’s not like now when it has be­come some­thing of a jun­gle.

Even in those days, Yaba, on the La­gos main­land, was like Ikoyi, be­cause even­tu­ally my fam­ily moved to Yaba from La­gos Is­land. In Yaba, you had houses with beau­ti­ful gar­dens and lots of flow­ers. If you see my gar­den now, I have a lot of flow­ers. That was how my love for flow­ers started.

But there is this per­cep­tion about La­gos hav­ing a no­to­ri­ety for… No­to­ri­ety for what? That peo­ple from La­gos Is­land were or are bad, ag­gres­sive peo­ple? There were no bad peo­ple on La­gos Is­land. I know my fam­ily house at Cam­pus and my grand­mother’s house was on Bread­fruit Street in those days and the peo­ple were quite good.

But let’s put it this way. They say, ‘Eko o gba gbere’, mean­ing La­gos peo­ple don’t con­done non­sense. If you had read Chief Nnamdi Azikiwe’s au­to­bi­og­ra­phy, My Odyssey, you would see that he men­tioned my fa­ther and his brother in it, men­tion­ing how they main­tained or­der in that Cam­pus area. The peo­ple in La­gos at that time were very good peo­ple.

You talked about the Yaba mas­ter­plan and how beau­ti­ful the area was.

At what point do you think the mas­ter­plan was dis­torted, and how has that af­fected that beauty?

Yaba still re­tains some of that beauty. If you look at Yaba now, you will see that all the roads are in­ter­con­nected. You can hardly ever get in Yaba the kind of traf­fic jam that you have in other places be­cause it was well planned by the town plan­ning en­gi­neers of that time. I think ev­ery­thing in Nige­ria started derail­ing dur­ing the mil­i­tary era. For in­stance, mil­i­tary men were the first peo­ple I first saw drive up a one-way street in La­gos. It was then they talked about curb­ing in­dis­ci­pline among the peo­ple, but that was when in­dis­ci­pline re­ally started and things be­gan go­ing wrong.

You don’t seem to have a good im­pres­sion of the mil­i­tary. Did you ever have a brush with them?

I know that as a coun­try, we must have the mil­i­tary, but I be­lieve any coun­try’s mil­i­tary must be dis­ci­plined, which our mil­i­tary men were be­fore the first coup. Af­ter that coup, they started to de­rail be­cause it be­came a ques­tion of a man with the gun against civil­ians who were not armed and, there­fore, most of the time, they use the power of their gun to ter­rorise the civil­ian pop­u­lace.

But our mil­i­tary, when­ever they in­ter­vened in gov­er­nance, claimed to be do­ing so to fight in­dis­ci­pline and cor­rup­tion. Didn’t you ever be­lieve them?

No, they were not. They were the most undis­ci­plined ones. And, of course, they were never in­ter­ested in fight­ing cor­rup­tion. It was dur­ing their rule that we saw im­punity, when peo­ple brazenly dug into the trea­sury and the states’ cof­fers, and they all got away with it.

In fact, most of the prob­lems we are hav­ing now were engi­neered by the mil­i­tary. They were very cor­rupt; they were steal­ing from the trea­sury with im­punity, as I said. That’s all I will say.

What in­formed your choice of law af­ter your se­condary ed­u­ca­tion?

My grand­fa­ther was a lawyer and he en­cour­aged me to study Law. Again, though my fa­ther was a med­i­cal doc­tor and my mother a nurse, the se­condary school I at­tended was not very hot on Physics and Chem­istry, which were needed for Medicine, so I had to set­tle for Law.

Con­sid­er­ing the med­i­cal ca­reers in the home in which you grew up, would you have stud­ied Medicine if you had not cho­sen Law?

Yes. So, be­sides the is­sue of Physics and

Chem­istry in the se­condary school you at­tended, would you say you opted for Law more in def­er­ence to your grand­fa­ther’s pref­er­ence?

No. I didn’t re­ally set out with a mind­set to study ei­ther. I wasn’t quite sure of what I wanted to do in my early years in se­condary school. It was in my last year that I de­cided I would study Law. And study­ing Law those days was a very gru­elling ex­er­cise as you had to do Latin suc­cess­fully to qual­ify for ad­mis­sion to en­able you study Law.

What love over­tures came your way when you were in the UK?

Our group of Nige­ri­ans who were stu­dents there did go out to par­ties, to clubs and we in­ter­acted well. Of course, there were guys who tried to date me and some ac­tu­ally pro­posed. But it was when I came back that my hus­band swept me off my feet.

When did you re­turn to Nige­ria?

It was af­ter my pro­gramme in jour­nal­ism. At that point, in 1963 or so, Voice of Nige­ria was start­ing up and they were look­ing for an­nounc­ers. I ap­plied and I was given an ap­point­ment as an an­nouncer.

Com­par­ing the broad­cast­ing you prac­tised then and now, what is the dif­fer­ence?

Things have gone dig­i­tal now. We were just do­ing elec­tronic at that stage, but we had some very good broad­cast­ers like Okonkwo Ndem. We had some very good writ­ers like Uche Chuk­wumer­ije. We had peo­ple like the late Abubakar Rimi; he was in the Hausa Ser­vice. We also had dy­namic peo­ple like Christo­pher Ko­lade and Chinua Achebe.

So when did you prac­tise law?

No, I didn’t prac­tise. Yes, law served as, and surely is good ba­sic ed­u­ca­tion be­cause you learn ev­ery­thing study­ing it. But I didn’t prac­tise it at all. Was that a de­lib­er­ate choice you made? Well, of course, I did a lit­tle bit of it in the UK but not here.

Apart from VON, where else did you work?

While I was work­ing in a cham­ber in the UK, I was also do­ing some broad­cast­ing for the BBC Africa Pro­grammes. Ac­tu­ally, I was re­cruited by Sun­day Young Harry who was at the BBC at that time. I wouldn’t know how we met. He just asked me to come to the BBC. I was in­ter­viewed and I be­gan free­lanc­ing for them, do­ing some pro­grammes.

When did you leave broad­cast­ing, and why?

I think it was in 1971. The pay was bad, so I de­cided I needed a bet­ter source of in­come. I was re­cruited into ad­ver­tis­ing as a Client Ser­vice Man­ager at Gra­ham and Gil­lies Ad­ver­tis­ing Lim­ited.

At what point did you think it was time to join pol­i­tics?

I joined ac­tive pol­i­tics when for­mer mil­i­tary pres­i­dent, Ibrahim Ba­bangida, asked Nige­ri­ans to form po­lit­i­cal par­ties. I came from a po­lit­i­cal fam­ily. My fa­ther, Dr Ak­erele, was the first pres­i­dent of Egbe Omo Oduduwa. In fact, the body was formed in his house in Lon­don be­fore it be­came the Ac­tion Group (AG). My fa­ther con­tested for a po­lit­i­cal seat on the plat­form of the AG but lost to one of his best friends, J.M. John­son. They re­mained good friends, though, un­til death sep­a­rated them.

My first cousin, the late Chief Babs Ak­erele, was a prom­i­nent politi­cian in La­gos in the Na­tional Party of Nige­ria (NPN), and later, in the Na­tional Re­pub­li­can Con­ven­tion (NRC). I had al­ways wanted to join pol­i­tics but I didn’t do so un­til my chil­dren had grown up enough to care for them­selves and I could go con­ve­niently go into pol­i­tics.

Which party did you first join?

I can’t even re­mem­ber. But when Ba­bangida first asked that po­lit­i­cal par­ties could be formed and we all took truck­loads of ma­te­ri­als to the then Elec­toral Com­mis­sion and then he (Ba­bangida) cancelled them and formed two par­ties, NRC and SDP, I joined the SDP.

I con­tested on the plat­form of the SDP for the La­gos Cen­tral Se­nate seat, which I won. Of course, the mil­i­tary stepped in again and dis­solved ev­ery­thing, in­clud­ing an­nulling elec­tion of Mos­hood Abi­ola as pres­i­dent.

Did you ever think of quit­ting pol­i­tics, de­spite the chal­lenges women in pol­i­tics face, in­clud­ing at­tend­ing noc­tur­nal meet­ings?

No, I was not dis­cour­aged at all be­cause, as I said ear­lier, I came from a po­lit­i­cal fam­ily. I was de­ter­mined to make my mark in pol­i­tics.

I re­mem­ber that the first meet­ing they called when I was in the Se­nate was at 11pm. Then, I was the only woman in the Se­nate out of 91 se­na­tors and I re­mem­ber walk­ing into the room and every­body just turned round and looked at me as if to say, ‘What the hell is she do­ing here?’ be­cause I don’t think they ex­pected me to come to a meet­ing at that hour.

Fel­low se­na­tors in the room that night in­cluded the late Chuba Okadigbo, Olayinka Omi­lani, Wande Abim­bola, Ayo Otegbola, the late Kanti Bello and the late Fran­cis Okpozo.

How did the po­lit­i­cal paths of you and Sen­a­tor Bola Tin­ubu cross and how did you emerge as his run­ning mate for the 1999 La­gos State gov­er­nor­ship elec­tion?

I first came across Sen­a­tor Bola Tin­ubu in the Se­nate. He was in the Peo­ples’ Front, led by the late Al­haji Shehu Musa Yar’Adua, while I was in the Peo­ples Sal­va­tion Party.

We be­gan re­lat­ing more in the Na­tional

I re­mem­ber that the first meet­ing they called when I was in the Se­nate was at 11pm. Then, I was the only woman in the Se­nate out of 91 se­na­tors and I re­mem­ber walk­ing into the room and every­body just turned round and looked at me as if to say, ‘What the hell is she do­ing here?’ be­cause I don’t think they ex­pected me to come to a meet­ing at that hour.

Demo­cratic Coali­tion (NADECO) where I was a prom­i­nent mem­ber of the steer­ing com­mit­tee. A lot of things had gone on be­fore then. When Sen­a­tor Bola Tin­ubu emerged as the gov­er­nor-elect on the plat­form of the Al­liance for Democ­racy, he was from a dif­fer­ent cau­cus. We were Afenifere, while he came from Prim­rose. But since the struc­tures and ev­ery­thing be­longed to Afenifere, Afenifere felt it was im­por­tant they had some­body from their fold who would be part of the gov­ern­ment and I was nom­i­nated to be Tin­ubu’s Deputy.

So why did you fall out with him so ir­rec­on­cil­ably you had to re­lin­quish that po­si­tion?

We fell apart be­cause Tin­ubu wanted us to take over the party from the elders of the party who were re­ally its founders. I, too, was part of build­ing the struc­tures that formed the AD and on which plat­form we rode to power. He wanted me to con­spire with him to take over the party from the party lead­ers, but I re­fused. He even­tu­ally took over the party struc­tures de­spite my warn­ings to the elders that that was what he wanted to do. They didn’t be­lieve me un­til it was too late and he had taken over the party.

Tin­ubu wasn’t an orig­i­nal mem­ber of Afenifere but he in­sti­gated some peo­ple to break away from the main­stream Afenifere and he formed the Afenifere Re­newal Group.

Do you have any re­grets over your re­la­tion­ship and dis­agree­ment with Tin­ubu?

My only re­gret is that I ac­cepted to be his Deputy, be­cause truly, I did tell the late Baba Onasanya the day he phoned me and said they would like me to be Tin­ubu’s Deputy that I wasn’t keen on accepting that of­fer. I would have pre­ferred if it had been Wa­hab Do­sunmu, now late, who had also con­tested the gov­er­nor­ship. I knew Wa­hab was a gen­tle­man and I could work with him, but Tin­ubu was a dif­fer­ent ket­tle of fish al­to­gether.

Did you feel hu­mil­i­ated about what hap­pened be­tween you and him?

No, I wasn’t hu­mil­i­ated, but cer­tainly, I was an­noyed with his at­tempt to hu­mil­i­ate me.

Was it that he never gave you the op­por­tu­nity to per­form as Deputy Gov­er­nor?

Well, I was given some roles. For in­stance, I was in charge of lo­cal gov­ern­ments and we had made prom­ises to the elec­torate on what we planned to do for them. When I wanted to en­sure that the lo­cal gov­ern­ments were func­tion­ing prop­erly, Tin­ubu put a stop to it.

How do you think that par­tic­u­lar de­vel­op­ment has af­fected lo­cal gov­ern­ment ad­min­is­tra­tion in La­gos State to­day?

I don’t know how to de­scribe it, but it is as if we don’t have any lo­cal gov­ern­ment ad­min­is­tra­tion at all. The lo­cal gov­ern­ments are not do­ing any­thing. I was liv­ing in Vic­to­ria Is­land, a lo­cal gov­ern­ment sec­re­tariat was just op­po­site my res­i­dence and I knew that at the end of ev­ery month, all they seemed to be do­ing was share money. Peo­ple went with ny­lon bags, col­lected money and walked away. Most of the streets in Vic­to­ria Is­land are in a com­plete sham­bles.

Even in Ikoyi here, in the Eti-Osa Lo­cal Gov­ern­ment, they don’t clean the gut­ters. Ac­tu­ally, they don’t do any­thing. In fact, we have to vir­tu­ally do ev­ery­thing our­selves. I don’t know what func­tions lo­cal gov­ern­ments are per­form­ing right now, if any.

But some peo­ple be­lieve that La­gos State is the model for other states as the most per­form­ing state in the coun­try, and that it was Tin­ubu who laid that foun­da­tion. What is your take on that?

I don’t know what foun­da­tion was laid by Bola Tin­ubu be­cause I was in gov­ern­ment with him. We had a blueprint, which had since been dumped some­where and is re­ally not fol­lowed. When Ba­batunde Fashola came to power, he tried to make a dif­fer­ence by, at least, giv­ing us a more con­ducive en­vi­ron­ment. He planted flow­ers and tried to keep the state clean. But that was just about it.

Gov­er­nor Ak­in­wunmi Am­bode has also tried his best by re­pair­ing some roads. But re­ally and truly, with the kind of rev­enues that La­gos State is gen­er­at­ing, I think there could have been a lot more done.

Hasn’t Tin­ubu once again shown he is the main force to reckon with in La­gos pol­i­tics by how the APC gov­er­nor­ship pri­mary in the state went?

That was a com­plete sham­bles. When you look at it closely, it was one man dic­tat­ing, ‘You, you will be­come a Coun­cil­lor’; ‘You, go and sit down, it is not your turn’. It is a one­man show in La­gos. Even in other states, you can see that the APC is in tur­moil.

Lagosians have had enough of the APC. Go into the streets and hear what the peo­ple are say­ing. This time around, in the 2019 elec­tions, peo­ple are go­ing to re­sist that co­er­cion be­cause they have seen that their lives are not bet­ter un­der the APC.

What have you been do­ing since you left the Tin­ubu ad­min­is­tra­tion?

I have been do­ing my busi­ness. But I also joined the PDP in 2002 and I am now a mem­ber of its Board of Trus­tees.

How do you fancy PDP’s chances of re­turn­ing to power at the fed­eral level in 2019?

It is more than fea­si­ble. Every­body is see­ing the ‘change’ that the APC touted, and every­body now knows that the peo­ple are worse off for that change. There­fore, a lot of peo­ple will very much like to see the PDP come back be­cause they saw the con­crete pro­grammes which the PDP had ear­lier done.

The APC peo­ple are only pros­e­cut­ing the PDP for cor­rup­tion. But I be­lieve they are now be­com­ing a laugh­ing stock even with their cor­rup­tion cru­sade.

Are you say­ing the PDP was cor­rup­tion­free when it ruled at the cen­tre?

Cor­rup­tion has al­ways been there and there is no coun­try where we don’t have it. It all depends on the level. But the level of cor­rup­tion now is far higher than what it was in the days of the PDP.

You were one of the del­e­gates at the re­cent PDP con­ven­tion in Port Har­court which pro­duced for­mer Vice-Pres­i­dent Atiku Abubakar as the party’s pres­i­den­tial can­di­date in the 2019 elec­tions. What would you say about the al­le­ga­tion that the del­e­gates were heav­ily com­pro­mised with dol­lars?

Yes, I was a del­e­gate there and I was not bought and I did not see any­body be­ing bought. I was there from the start to the end for the two days. It is all pro­pa­ganda just to dis­par­age the PDP.

How do you rate Atiku’s chances against Pres­i­dent Muham­madu Buhari in next year’s pres­i­den­tial elec­tion?

Atiku has strong struc­tures on the ground through­out the fed­er­a­tion, and he has a lot of good­will too. And Atiku has ac­com­plished a lot. He has been pro­vid­ing em­ploy­ment, as he has done a lot in ed­u­ca­tion with the Amer­i­can Univer­sity in Yola. He has com­pa­nies which em­ploy thou­sands of peo­ple. When you have some­body with a mind­set like that as Pres­i­dent, you would see gen­uine ef­forts in im­prov­ing the lives of the ci­ti­zens.

We fell apart be­cause Tin­ubu wanted us to take over the party from the elders of the party who were re­ally its founders. I, too, was part of build­ing the struc­tures that formed the AD and on which plat­form we rode to power. He wanted me to con­spire with him to take over the party from the party lead­ers, but I re­fused.

When was your hap­pi­est mo­ment in life?

That was when I gave birth to my first son. It was re­ally fan­tas­tic be­ing able to give life to an­other hu­man be­ing.

And when did you ex­pe­ri­ence the op­po­site side of life, a par­tic­u­lar pe­riod of melan­choly?

My most tragic mo­ment was when I lost one of my sons.

You are 79 years old and have been a ma­jor player in Nige­rian pol­i­tics. Are you think­ing of cap­tur­ing all that in a book?

Yes, I am writ­ing my mem­oirs. I am telling ev­ery­thing as it is. The pub­lic should be ex­pect­ing my au­to­bi­og­ra­phy sometime next year.

What would you say has changed in Nige­rian pol­i­tics be­tween when you came into it in the 1990s and now?

Money is play­ing too much of a part in pol­i­tics these days. When we started AD, we were all broke. Let’s put it that way be­cause when you heard Bola Tin­ubu was fund­ing NADECO, maybe he was help­ing some peo­ple who were in ex­ile abroad. But cer­tainly he was not fund­ing we who were here in Nige­ria in NADECO.

We were fund­ing our­selves and, there­fore, none of us re­ally had much money or any money to con­test elec­tions. Yet, we con­tested and the party won in all the Yoruba states. We didn’t spend any money apart from print­ing our posters and things like that.

But now it is cash-and-carry pol­i­tics. It is very sad. I don’t know whether it is be­cause the peo­ple have be­come so im­pov­er­ished that they now only go for cash to be put in their hand and don’t re­ally think of their fu­ture. They don’t think that once they col­lect cash from politi­cians, those politi­cians might not de­liver any­thing for them in fu­ture.

What are your words to Nige­ri­ans?

My mes­sage to Nige­ri­ans is that, ‘Please, stop sell­ing your votes’, be­cause that is what is giv­ing us bad gov­er­nance, which is af­fect­ing all of us and will af­fect not only those of us alive to­day but will also af­fect gen­er­a­tions to come if we do not have a change of at­ti­tude.

PHO­TOS:

Chief (Mrs) Ko­foworola Buc­knor-Ak­erele Benedic Uwalaka

Mrs Buc­knor-Ak­erele: “I first came across Sen­a­tor Bola Tin­ubu in the Se­nate. He was in the Peo­ples’ Front, led by the late Al­haji Shehu Musa Yar’Adua, while I was in the Peo­ples Sal­va­tion Party.”

Chief Buc­knor-Ak­erele: “Gov­er­nor Ak­in­wunmi Am­bode has also tried his best by re­pair­ing some roads. But re­ally and truly, with the kind of rev­enues that La­gos State is gen­er­at­ing, I think there could have been a lot more done.”

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