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By Aare Amerijoye Dotb
Scene: The edge of the savannah. The sun rises in slow majesty as whispers slither beneath the thickets. There, under the baobab tree, a council of jackals gather, tongues wagging, tails twitching, hearts corrupted by envy. Yet, not far off, the King of the wild stretches with ancient calm, undaunted, unbothered, unmoved. His mane glistens. His name is Atiku.
“He’s coming again!”
One jackal snarled, scratching the dust.
“We buried him with propaganda! We bludgeoned him with betrayal! We ambushed him with alliances wrapped in agbada!”
“But he roars again,” whined another, the croaker from the creeks.
“This time, we must poison the path. Let us fetch water with a basket and flood his destiny.”
A hiss of approval.
A chameleon from the South-West adjusted his cap and said solemnly:
“I cannot go against my blood. The Lion must be stopped, the leopard on the seat of throne is my kinsman though not in the same habitation.”
Meanwhile, the Lion licks the wounds of yesterday, not with bitterness, but with wisdom.
He has watched their conspiracies crawl beneath the earth, subterranean saboteurs who wear the masks of kinsmen, but sell their tongues for coins of survival.
He has heard the frogs croak:
“Tinubu is a man of integrity! If he performs well, I will support his second term!”
“Tinubu has done well. Those who doubted are now ashamed!”
“Tinubu is my President! I shall support him again!”
These frogs, these jackals, these hollow drums of hypocrisy, wade in puddles and believe they are in oceans. Their strategy? Echoes and mischief. Their weapon? Memory loss. Their diet? Opportunism garnished with betrayal.
But history, like a Lion, never forgets.
It remembers that in the heart of Nigeria’s storm stood a man, Atiku, who, despite betrayals and bruises, still offers a banner of hope. Not because he is desperate to rule, but because he is desperate to heal.
In his words: “My ambition is not worth the blood of any Nigerian. But my determination is worth the revival of every broken institution.”
What they fear is not his ambition, but his competence. He knows too much. He remembers too well. He has seen too many seasons.
This Lion has roamed the terrain of Nigerian politics when some of these jackals were still pups of provincial obscurity. He was Vice President when Nigeria began her first conscious attempt at digital governance. He brought reform, restructuring, and radical administrative innovation to a bureaucracy drowning in decrepitude.
Let us break it down.
Wike, the self-anointed croaker of confusion, has become the very metaphor of contradiction. Yesterday, he declared that PDP must never go North. Today, he dines with the Tinubu APC. Tomorrow, he may join the Middle Belt masquerade.
Like a snake with three tongues, his gospel changes with the convenience.
His collaborators, Ortom, Ikpeazu, Ugwuanyi, men who were handed honour and repaid it with humiliation,have now morphed into Judases with microphones. They seek to derail the Lion not with strength, but with scheming.
“I’ll do anything to make sure Tinubu wins in 2027,” Wike confesses, as if betrayal is now a badge of patriotism.
And yesterday he was saying PDP should not field its candidate from the North.
Is that not a good permutation for the Tinubu APC he once said he would do anything to make sure wins in 2027?
But how does one trap a Lion with paper snares? How does one silence thunder with whispers?
It is the joke of the jungle that frogs imagine they can summon a drought.
Atiku is not a tourist in politics. He is a tactician. A strategist. A survivor.
The Lion knows the terrain, the traps, the traitors, the treachery. He walks not just with strength, but with silence. He waits not just with hope, but with history.
He once said: “You may bend the truth, but you cannot break it. The truth will stand tall in the end.”
That truth now walks upright. That truth bears a mane.
His enemies dig pits of intrigue, but forget:
“He who digs a grave for another may end up as its occupant.”
In 2027, the battle shall be drawn again. Not with swords, but with memories. Not with bullets, but with ballots.
And on that day, the Lion shall rise,not to roar in vengeance, but to remind Nigeria that:
“The noise of a frog does not stop the Lion from drinking from a stream.”
And what a drink it will be. A long, satisfying gulp of redemption. Of national reawakening. Of justice untarnished by stomach politics.
The Lion is not distracted by barking scavengers. He is focused on the herd, on the people. And the people remember.
They remember that while Tinubu’s regime turns the economy to ashes, Atiku offered a plan. While others shouted slogans, Atiku unveiled strategy. While others danced for votes, Atiku dissected Nigeria’s problems with surgical intellect.
They remember his pledge:
“If Nigerians can give me the opportunity, I will restructure this country. I will bring competence to governance. I will make Nigeria work again.”
To Atiku’s enemies, those fetching water with baskets, weaving webs of deception and hallucinating on their own lies, it is time to realise:
You cannot conquer destiny with deceit. You cannot outsmart experience.
Your plots are but theatre.
Your schemes, like smoke in a storm.
Your alliances, like shadows at dusk.
What the nation needs now is not theatrics, but thoughtfulness. Not tribal tricks, but transcendent truth. Not noise, but nation-building.
And so, the Lion drinks.
While they quarrel in whispers, he plans in silence.
While they grope in darkness, he charts in daylight.
While they shout, he strategises.
While they plot, he prepares.
And when the moment comes, he will not bark.
He will roar.
And when he does, Nigeria will remember that a true leader is not the loudest in the room, but the one who understands the silence between chaos and courage.
This is not noise. This is movement.
This is not rumour. This is resurrection.
Let the Lion drink. Let the jackals bark. Let the frogs croak.
The jungle knows its King.
Aare Amerijoye DOT.B
Director General
The Narrative Force.
SB E-news
SB Events magazine
Efficiency magazine
Efficiency award for Excellence EAE.
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