The silent shield: A legacy of resilience and the question of betrayal

In the annals of Nigerian history, Muhammadu Buhari will be remembered not as a man of many words, but as a man of one singular, immovable focus: the survival of the common man. His journey was a legendary ascent across generations, from the trenches of the civil war to the pinnacle of civilian power. Yet, […]

In the annals of Nigerian history, Muhammadu Buhari will be remembered not as a man of many words, but as a man of one singular, immovable focus: the survival of the common man. His journey was a legendary ascent across generations, from the trenches of the civil war to the pinnacle of civilian power. Yet, his final tenure was a mysterious progress through physical frailty and administrative sabotage.

While he fought for his life in a sickbed, a “cabal” of gatekeepers and a challenging 8th National Assembly sought to steer the ship of state in his absence. Despite this, he emerged as a silent shield, holding back economic and security tides that have since burst forth with a vengeance.

While his health was fragile, his administrative footprint was made of steel and concrete. Buhari broke the 30-year jinx of the Second Niger Bridge, revived the Itakpe-Warri rail line that had been abandoned for three decades, and delivered the Lagos-Ibadan Standard Gauge.

These were not “phantom projects” but tangible legacies that linked the North and South. Even in his sickbed, his administration pushed through the Petroleum Industry Act (PIA) and the Kolmani Oil Field project, proving that a leader’s vision can transcend his physical weakness.

The starkest contrast between Buhari and the present administration lies in the “wisdom of the shield.” Buhari famously resisted the call to float the Naira or remove the fuel subsidy overnight. To him, these were not just economic variables; they were the thin lines standing between the Nigerian family and starvation.

He maintained the subsidy because he knew that in a country without functional refineries, removing it would trigger a 400 per cent surge in the cost of living, a reality Nigerians are now living through.

Through the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme, he brought farming back to our national conscience. By shutting the borders to foreign rice, he forced a nation of consumers to become a nation of producers, ensuring that even in our darkest hours, we could “produce what we eat.”

Buhari managed to degrade the existential threat of the Boko Haram “caliphate” without allowing it to expose Nigeria as a “failed state” to global superpowers. He kept the insurgency regionalized, preventing it from cutting so deep into our national conscience that it invited the kind of foreign interference that exploits internal weaknesses.

Compared to the widespread kidnapping and banditry that now feel like a daily tax on Nigerian lives, Buhari’s military discipline provided a sense of containment that many now look back on with a heavy heart.

As we look at the 2026 landscape, where the economy has been de-based, the Naira floated into an abyss, and the poor left without a shield, the question of “failure” takes on a new color.

1. Was it Buhari who failed, a man who struggled with terminal sickness yet still delivered the PIA, the Second Niger Bridge, and a stabilised food price?
2. Was it the “Cabal” and the 8th Assembly, who saw a sick leader and chose obstruction over national progress?
3. Or is it the present strategy, which has “opened” the economy only to watch the poor fall into it?
4. How was Buhari able to keep the insecurity from claiming so many and the economy 400% more affordable than today, even with his physical challenges?
5. If a “frail” president could protect the masses, what is the excuse for a “healthy” administration that has allowed the cost of living to become a terminal illness for the nation?

Buhari did his own journey; he made it to the top and used his last strength to hold the door shut against economic hardship. Today, that door is wide open, and the wind is blowing away the dreams of the common folk.

Thank you, Baba, for the years you stood in the gap. Rest in peace.

 

Comrade, IG Wala