Jos Studies Hub

30/08/2026

AWOLOWO HAD FORCED AKINTOLA INTO THE ARMS OF THE NPC. HE THEN BLAMED AKINTOLA FOR THE VERY ALLIANCE HE HAD PROVOKED.

How a Leadership Rift in the Western Region Reshaped Nigeria's Destiny

Introduction: The Fracture That Changed Everything

In the early 1960s, Nigeria stood at a crossroads. Independence had been won just months earlier, and the promise of a united, prosperous nation seemed within reach. But beneath the surface, a simmering rivalry was about to explode one that would not only destroy a political party but would set in motion a chain of events that led to military coups, a devastating civil war, and the entrenchment of a system of ethnic domination that plagues Nigeria to this day.

At the heart of this crisis was a bitter personal and political struggle between two men: Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the charismatic leader of the Action Group (AG) and Premier of the Western Region until 1959, and his deputy and successor, Chief Samuel Ladoke Akintola. Their conflict, which came to a head at the AG's annual congress in Jos in February 1962, was not merely a disagreement over policy. It was a battle for the soul of the Yoruba political establishment, and, ultimately, for the future of Nigeria itself.

The conventional narrative, carefully constructed over decades by Awolowo's admirers and apologists, paints Akintola as a traitor who sold out his people by seeking an alliance with the Northern People's Congress (NPC). But a deeper examination of the historical record reveals a far more uncomfortable truth: Awolowo had forced Akintola into the arms of the NPC. He then blamed Akintola for the very alliance he had provoked.

"THIS IS NOT REVISIONISM. THIS IS HISTORY."

THE JOS CONGRESS: THE BREAKING POINT

The Action Group's annual congress in Jos, held from February 1 to 8, 1962, was meant to be a moment of unity for the party that formed the official opposition in the federal parliament. Instead, it became the scene of a dramatic rupture. Awolowo publicly denounced his deputy, and Akintola, along with the party's General Secretary, Ayo Rosiji, walked out of the convention when it became clear they would be expelled.

What triggered this public humiliation? The immediate cause was a fundamental disagreement over political strategy. Akintola, who had become Premier of the Western Region in 1959 after Awolowo stepped down to lead the party at the federal level, believed that the Action Group should seek an alliance with the Northern People's Congress, the dominant party in the North. He saw the NPC's electoral strength and reasoned that the Yoruba people could not afford to be excluded from the centre of power.

Awolowo, however, refused. He insisted that the AG should instead ally with the NCNC, the party led by Nnamdi Azikiwe. But this was not merely a strategic disagreement. It was a power struggle. Awolowo wanted to maintain control over the party and the Western Region. Akintola, as Premier, had his own base of support and his own ambitions. Awolowo viewed Akintola's overtures to the North as a direct challenge to his authority.

And so, in Jos, Awolowo moved to crush his rival. He mobilized the party machinery against Akintola, forcing him out. But in doing so, he made a fatal miscalculation: he pushed Akintola directly into the arms of the very people he feared.

AKINTOLA EMBRACE OF THE NPC: A CALCULATED MOVE OR A DESPERATE ACT?

Following his humiliation at Jos, Akintola did what any politician in his position would do. He sought allies where he could find them. And the NPC, led by the Sardauna of Sokoto, Sir Ahmadu Bello, was more than willing to welcome him.

The Sardauna saw an opportunity. The NPC had long viewed the Action Group as a troublesome, unpredictable party that threatened Northern hegemony. By supporting Akintola's breakaway faction, the Fulani elite could destroy the AG from within, divide the Yoruba political front, and ensure that the South-West would never pose a united challenge to Northern domination.

The alliance was quickly cemented. Akintola "sought refuge in the Northern political tent and was enthusiastically welcomed by Sir Ahmadu Bello". The Sardauna visited Ibadan on a state visit to formalize the accord, much to Awolowo's annoyance.

The NPC's support for Akintola was not subtle. As one contemporary account noted, "It was clear that Chief Akintola had the sympathy, if not the support, of the NPC, which saw in the Action Group crisis an opportunity of destroying that turbulent party completely". The federal government, dominated by the NPC, was "interested in the fate of both the Action Group as a party and Chief Awolowo as the leader of that party".

But who had made this alliance inevitable? It was Awolowo himself. By publicly denouncing his deputy, by attempting to expel him from the party, by refusing to compromise, Awolowo had closed off every other avenue for Akintola. He had backed his rival into a corner, and the only way out was through the NPC. Awolowo had forced Akintola into the arms of the NPC. He then blamed Akintola for the very alliance he had provoked.

THE COKER COMMISSION AND THE TREASON TRIAL: THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ACTION GROUP

With the AG split, the federal government moved to consolidate its advantage. In 1962, Dr. Moses Majekodunmi, the Sole Administrator of the Western Region, set up the Coker Commission of Inquiry into the affairs of certain statutory corporations. The commission was tasked with investigating allegations of financial mismanagement within the Western Region.

The findings were devastating for Awolowo. The Coker Commission found him guilty of diverting regional funds to finance the Action Group, while exonerating Akintola. The commission's report was a political weapon, used to discredit Awolowo and legitimize Akintola's faction.

But the federal government did not stop there. In November 1962, Awolowo and several of his associates were arrested and charged with treasonable felony. The trial that followed was a spectacle. In September 1963, Awolowo was found guilty on three charges: treasonable felony, conspiracy to commit felony, and conspiracy to contravene the Fi****ms Act. He was sentenced to ten years in prison.

The New York Times reported the verdict: "Chief Obafemi Awolowo ... was found guilty and sentenced to 10 years in prison today for having plotted to overthrow the Government of Prime Minister Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa". The paper noted that "Chief Awolowo was found guilty on three charges: treasonable felony, conspiracy and illegal importation of fi****ms". His supporters were given even longer sentences.

Awolowo's conviction was the final blow to the Action Group. The party that had once been the voice of the Yoruba people was now shattered, its leader in prison, its structures dismantled. The Yoruba political front was divided, and the Fulani elite had achieved their goal: the South-West was no longer a threat to their hegemony.

THE 1965 ELECTION AND OPERATION WETIE: THE VIOLENCE THAT PRECEDED THE COUP

The 1965 Western Region elections were a bloodbath. The election was rigged beyond recognition against the Awolowo-led Action Group by the combined might of the Nigerian National Democratic Party (NNDP), led by Akintola, and the ruling NPC. The violence that followed became known as "Operation Wetie", a Yoruba term meaning to pour petrol on perceived opponents and set them on fire. Thousands were killed in an undignified manner.

This apocalyptic interlude, which consumed the Western Region from 1962 to early 1966, was the direct result of the Awolowo-Akintola feud. It was the first major test for Nigeria's government in the post-colonial era. And it essentially set in motion a chain of events that eventually led to the first military coup in Nigeria on 15 January 1966.

THE JANUARY 1966 COUP: A FULANI SMOKESCREEN

On January 15, 1966, a group of young military officers, led by Major Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu, staged a coup. The plotters included officers of Igbo, Yoruba, and other ethnic backgrounds. Their targets were the political elite who they believed had corrupted the nation. The coup was a response to the perceived corruption and authoritarianism of the NPC-dominated government.

The casualties included Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto and Premier of the Northern Region; Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, the Prime Minister; Chief Samuel Ladoke Akintola, Premier of the Western Region; and other senior political and military figures. Notably, the coup plotters also killed key Fulani figures, including Brigadier General Zakariya Maimalari and Colonel Kur Mohammed.

But the Fulani elite quickly twisted the narrative, labeling it an "Igbo coup" because the majority of the plotters were Igbo. This framing served a strategic purpose: it turned the anger of the Hausa-Fulani masses against the Igbo, diverting attention from the Fulani oligarchy's own failures and justifying a brutal crackdown on the Igbo population. The counter-coup of July 1966, spearheaded by Hausa-Fulani elements in the army, restored Fulani dominance—and the massacres of Igbo civilians in the North that followed were a calculated campaign of ethnic cleansing, not a spontaneous outbreak of violence.

BRITAIN AND THE FULANI: THE ALLIANCE THAT SHAPED NIGERIA

The British role in these events cannot be overstated. Declassified documents show that British policy in Nigeria was shaped by oil interests. The British secretly provided large quantities of arms to the federal government during the civil war, with the Foreign Office noting that "anything that we now do to assist the FMG should help our oil companies to re-establish and expand their activities in Nigeria after the war". The Fulani elite were the primary agents of this British-controlled political power, and they were more than willing to serve as collaborators in the extraction of Nigeria's resources.

QUESTIONING THE NARRATIVES WE HAVE BEEN SOLD

What I have written here is based on what I have learned from history, from the documented evidence, from the papers, articles, and documentaries that have painstakingly uncovered the truth. This is not a polemic against any tribe. This is not an attack on the Yoruba people, the Igbo people, or the Hausa people. This is a questioning of the narratives that the elites have been selling us for decades.

The Awolowo-Akintola crisis was not a simple story of a hero and a villain. It was a complex struggle for power, one in which both men made mistakes, and in which the Fulani elite played a cynical role. Awolowo forced Akintola into the arms of the NPC. He then blamed Akintola for the very alliance he had provoked. This is not an opinion. This is the historical record.

We owe it to ourselves, to our children, and to the generations yet unborn to question the narratives we have been fed. We owe it to ourselves to dig deeper, to read widely, and to think critically. Only then can we begin to build a new Nigeria, one based on justice, equity, and the dignity of all our people.

Further Reading and References:

· The New York Times, "Nigeria Imprisons Opposition Head for 10 Years," September 11, 1963

· The Guardian, "This Awo, when is he coming?" May 17, 2017

· Daily Post, "Obafemi Awolowo: Hero of Yoruba, Killer of Biafra, Betrayed by the North," March 6, 2013

· The Will News, "Obafemi Awolowo: Hero of Yoruba, Killer of Biafra, Betrayed by the North," August 15, 2013

· The Cable, "FLASHBACK: How Nzeogwu killed Ahmadu Bello and wife," December 17, 2017

· The Cable, "Operation Wetie: When power chose restraint," August 17, 2026

· Max Siollun, Oil, Politics and Violence: Nigeria's Military Coup Culture (1966-1976)

· Taylor & Francis, "The Hausa-Fulani and their Authority Patterns"

khaleed yazeed
founder wakilin yamma youth development network Katsina state Nigeria.

26/07/2026

This picture was taken before the war; Lagos used to be a quiet place…This picture depicts the junction of Bamgbose and Oil Mill Streets, down the street Holy Cross Primary School, where many went to school, and it was taken in 1965 or thereabout. Can you believe that the population of Lagos was around 350,000 not too long ago?

Prince Charles Dickson

26/07/2026

The First Public Water Tap in Lagos

In July 1915, history was made in Isale Eko. Lord Lugard, then Governor General of Nigeria, commissioned Lagos’ very first public water tap.
The event took place at the busy junction of Church Street and Oju Olobun Market. Today, that same spot is commonly referred to as the Enu-Owa / Dosumu Street junction.

This single tap was the first point where ordinary Lagosians could access treated, pipe-borne water, a direct result of the Iju Waterworks project completed five years earlier.

The unveiling of that standpipe marked the beginning of treated, public water supply in Nigeria, and a major shift in how Lagos managed its urban growth.

By the early 1900s, Lagos was growing fast under colonial administration. With that growth came urgent concerns about sanitation, disease outbreaks, and public health.

Before 1915, most Lagosians got water from private wells, collected rainwater, or bought from water vendors who carried it around in buckets and barrels. As the population increased, this informal system became both inadequate and unsafe.

To address this, the colonial government began searching for a reliable water source. In 1900, Mr. Thomas Lydall, a colonial engineer, was assigned to lead the survey. After extensive exploration, he identified Iju, a village on the outskirts of Lagos, as the most suitable site. Iju was supplied by the Ogun River and had enough elevation to allow water to flow toward the city by gravity.

Construction of the Iju Waterworks began in 1910. It was the first large-scale water treatment and distribution project in Nigeria.

Raw water was drawn from the Ogun River, treated at Iju, and then pumped through newly laid cast-iron pipes into Lagos. The first areas to receive supply were Ikoyi and Obalende, where colonial officials and the emerging African elite lived. This was the first time treated water reached Lagos Island through a piped network.

The project was not introduced without resistance. In 1908, the colonial government proposed a £130,000 water scheme and announced that residents would be charged water rates. Oba Eshugbayi Eleko Dosumu led the opposition. He argued that Lagosians had lived for generations on well water and that the pipe-borne system was mainly intended to serve Europeans. He insisted that Europeans should pay for it.

The disagreement sparked protests and political tension in Lagos. Despite this, the administration continued with construction. By 1915, the policy shifted toward public provision, and the first public tap was commissioned at Isale Eko for general use.

What started in 1910 as the Federal Water Supply at Iju has since gone through several stages of expansion and modernization. Over time it was restructured and eventually became the Lagos Water Corporation (LWC), which now provides water to millions of people across Lagos State.

The tap at Isale Eko is remembered not just as a utility, but as the first public symbol of modern infrastructure in Nigeria. It represented the colonial government’s effort to modernize Lagos and fundamentally changed how water was sourced, treated, and distributed in the city.

Even today, historians, cultural organizations, and heritage groups refer to this site when discussing the early development of Lagos.

A photograph from the 1940s shows the standpipe still in use decades after its commissioning. It remains a quiet testament to the engineering ambition that carried clean water from the Ogun River at Iju, over several kilometers, to the streets of Lagos Island.

From wells in 1900, to a public tap in 1915, to a statewide corporation today the ystory of this first tap tells the story of how modern water access began in Lagos.

26/07/2026

Two decades after the defining political drama of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic, former President Olusegun Obasanjo maintains a defiant narrative: “If I wanted a third term, I would have prayed for it, and God would have given me.”

Yet, beneath the official denials lies a well-documented trail of clandestine meetings, massive financial inducements, and brutal political maneuvering designed to alter Section 137 of the 1999 Constitution and extend his stay in A*o Rock beyond May 2007.

Through insider testimonies, parliamentary records, and historical analysis, this investigation examines the architecture of the infamous "Third Term Agenda"—and the critical convergence of forces that scuttled it.

An ABT NEWS Investigative Report Two decades after the defining political drama of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic, former President Olusegun Obasanjo […]

18/07/2026

In 1970, four Lagos officials travelled to Sweden and paid £68,000 for 98 used buses to serve as city buses in central Lagos.

Four months later, the deal became a media scandal in Sweden after reports revealed that the buses were already 17 years old and had been marked for demolition because they were no longer considered roadworthy.

The Swedish State Commission for Traffic Safety said there were no spare parts available to restore them. Yet, by the time of the report, 30 of the buses had been retouched and were ready for shipment to Nigeria.

New Nigerian newspaper observed: "One wonders how buses unsuitable for Stockholm roads can be used in Lagos."

Weeks into the investigation of the deal, it emerged that Lagos had actually paid £274,000 for the fleet of buses that the Swedish seller had originally bought for just £12,069.

When the buses arrived in Lagos in October 1970, they were accompanied on the same ship by three cars, one Austin Cambridge and two Opel Rekords, reportedly to be delivered to two officials of the Lagos City Transport Service (LCTS) who negotiated the controversial deal.

New Nigerian also reported that the Nigerian lawyer and politician, Chief A.M.A. Akinloye, introduced the LCTS to the Swedish seller and was paid about £14,000 for his role in the transaction, a claim he denied.

Once the buses were deployed, Lagosians nicknamed them "Robirobi buses" (meaning: deal buses) and "Oku Eko" (meaning: Lagos co**se) because they broke down so frequently, often leaving passengers stranded.

The military state government defended the purchase, arguing that Lagos urgently needed more buses to ease the city's transport shortage and meet growing public demand for mass transit.

14/07/2026

Things can work in Nigeria…

Lengdung Tungchamma
Segun Oruame
Prince Charles Dickson

29/06/2026

Narratives…

30/05/2026

A sound debate

21/04/2026

EASY PLACES ARE FULL: What My Lebanese Friend Taught Me About Business in Nigeria

By Kemi Adeosun

Before you scroll off in anger: calm down. He is real. He has been in Nigeria longer than some of you reading this have been alive. His children go to school here. His grandchildren may well be buried here. The Lebanese community in Nigerian business is not a rumour, not a colonial hangover awaiting apology, and not going anywhere. They are woven into the fabric of commerce in this country. So pour yourself something cold and read on.

I will not name him — that was the price of the conversation, and I paid it gladly. As part of my work on Nidacity, I put together a board of advisers and concluded it would not be honest or representative without input from the Lebanese business community. So I assured him he would only ever be identified as ‘my Lebanese friend,’ and in exchange he gave me something rare: the kind of unhurried candour that only becomes available when a man is not managing his reputation. I had expected the usual litany: the generators, the customs officials, the phone calls from people whose names you never quite catch. I thought I knew what he was going to say. I was wrong.

Intentionality

His family did not end up in Nigeria by accident or desperation. They chose it. After careful study conducted over generations — cousins sent ahead like scouts, findings reported back, sectors analysed for structural need. The question was never “Is Nigeria easy?”

“We don’t come to easy places. Have you been to Lebanon?” he said. “Easy places are full. We look for places where there is need and where many are too fearful to take on.”

A conscious decision, renewed deliberately, to believe in the upside of a place that some investors treat as a risk footnote. Compare that to the Nigerian entrepreneurs I have encountered who entered sectors because they fell into them — because an official had briefly left a door open. Circumstantial businesses, built not on a view but on an accident. There is nothing wrong with opportunism. But it is not the same as intentionality, and in a market as volatile as Nigeria’s, the difference reveals itself quickly.

Preparation and Optimism — Held Together
I have watched enough foreign investors arrive in Nigeria with optimism, survive the first six months on momentum, and then — somewhere around the fourteenth week a container sat in Apapa, or a promised approval went quiet — curdle into bitterness. Undone not by a single disaster but by the accumulated weight of friction.

My friend’s answer was almost offhand. Before any member of his network opens a business in Nigeria, there is a period of what he called “mental loading” — an acceptance, in advance, of the specific costs Nigeria will impose. The generator will fail. The duty will change. The official will need to be managed. These are not surprises to be absorbed; they are variables to be budgeted.

“When it happens,” he said, “we are not shocked. Shocked people make bad decisions.”

But here is where it gets interesting. You might assume that a community which prepares for friction would develop a siege mentality. The opposite is true. The mental preparation does not produce pessimism — it liberates optimism. Because the difficulties have already been priced in, he is free to focus entirely on the upside.

“The problems here are the opportunities. Every broken thing is a business waiting to be built. We just have to decide we are staying long enough to build it.”

Two hundred million people with needs the formal economy has consistently failed to meet is not a crisis. It is an unserved market. Most people who fail in Nigeria fail not because Nigeria defeated them, but because they were surprised by the Nigeria that actually exists. Pre-acceptance of the cost is what turns friction from a shock into a schedule.

Nigeria Is Not Lebanon

Lebanon’s economy has contracted by more than 38 per cent since 2019. The pound has lost over 98 per cent of its value. Banks are effectively insolvent, having accumulated losses north of $72 billion, with depositors locked out of their own savings for years. The country defaulted on its sovereign debt in 2020 — the first time in its history. The economy that was $54 billion in 2018 was worth around $28 billion in 2024.

I asked him, as carefully as I could: is the loyalty to Nigeria strategic, or is it simply that going home is no longer an option?

“Nigeria is not our consolation prize. Lebanon happened to Lebanon because Lebanon had no size to absorb the shocks. Nigeria can always absorb the shock. That is the asset you people keep undervaluing.”

Lebanon’s commercial model depended on openness — the banking sector, tourism, remittances, regional transit. When those foundations cracked together, there was nothing structural underneath. Nigeria’s famous problems — its infrastructure gaps, its institutional friction — are also, viewed from the right angle, the moat. They keep out the faint-hearted and make the businesses built here difficult to displace. “Lebanon has no moat,” he said. “Anybody can come in and anybody can leave. That is why everybody left.”

The Money Never Goes to the Bank
Then I made the mistake of mentioning banks. His expression shifted in a way that only good manners prevented from becoming a laugh.

His community does not put its money in banks. Not as a cultural quirk but as a lesson paid for by people they knew personally — depositors who worked forty years and could not withdraw their own savings from a machine on the street. So they use banks as transaction rails, nothing more. The actual capital circulates within the network.

“We lend to each other. If my cousin needs capital, I give it to him. If I need to bridge a gap, someone gives it to me. We know each other. We know who is good for it.”

I told him Nigerians would recognise that — ajo, esusu, the thousand small arrangements by which money moves between people who trust each other more than they trust institutions. He shook his head gently. Correctively.

“You call it helping. We don’t see it that way. Helping is emotional. What we do is structural. If I put my money in a bank and the bank fails, I have nothing. If I put my money in my nephew and his business fails, I know where he lives. I know his father. That relationship is the security. The bank was never the security — it was just the place we pretended the security lived.”

The $72 billion locked behind Lebanese bank counters belonged largely to people who trusted the institution over the network. The people who kept their capital in the family, in the cousin’s trading account and the nephew’s warehouse, lost far less. Not because they were lucky. Because they had decided, long before the crisis, that trust was the only bank that does not fail.

This is not a piece about why foreigners understand Nigeria better than Nigerians do. Indeed my work interviewing Nigerian entrepreneurs suggests otherwise. There are Nigerians putting serious capital to work in Nigeria and making money. The Lebanese community did not invent discipline or patience or long-term thinking. What they have done is systematise it — intentionality over accident, preparation over surprise, the network over the institution, and a generational commitment that outlasts any single political weather change.

The good news is that what is transmitted can be learned. It is the decision, made in advance and renewed daily, to stay.

-Adeosun is a former Minister of Finance of the Federal Republic of Nigeria and former Commissioner for Finance of Ogun State. She is the founder of Nidacity.com

Prince Charles Dickson
Lengdung Tungchamma

03/02/2026

Fela Grammy 2026 (Palava)