BABAFEMI OJUDU
I am going to play a dangerous little game this morning. It will make the BATists happy—at least for a moment—the Obidients furious, and the cynics exclaim, “Ṣé bí we told you? All politicians are the same. He don dey look for job!” Gbogbo wọn ò gbádùn.
Well, let the game begin.
I am a member of the APC. I am, however, not of the Emilokan persuasion. I am not endorsing President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for a second term, just as I am not prepared to endorse any of those already lining up to contest the office. My position is simple: no aspirant has yet presented a manifesto that I have had the opportunity to examine and find sufficiently convincing—or worthy of the continuing sacrifices of long-suffering Nigerians.
But beyond politics, I remain, first and foremost, a journalist. My calling has always been to observe, interrogate and report honestly, wherever the facts may lead.
For more than two weeks, I was in Lagos, away from The Farm, enjoying the invitation and generous hospitality of my friend and kindred spirit, Otunba Wanle Akinboboye. I stayed at La Campagne Tropicana Resort, the remarkable creation of that inveterate dreamer and doer, whose imagination, audacity and capacity for turning dreams into reality I have always found fascinating.
La Campagne holds a special place in my personal and political history. It was there, in 2006, that I kept 24 Ekiti State lawmakers, preparing them for the task of impeaching Governor Ayodele Fayose. Watch out for my forthcoming book on that episode—an account of the derring-do and intrigue surrounding that extraordinary political journey.
While at La Campagne, I decided to take a drive along the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway.
If I claimed that I was not impressed, I would be dishonest. I drove from the Victoria Island end to around the 98-kilometre mark, where construction had reached at the time. In fact, I made the journey three times, simply to satisfy myself that what I was seeing was real and not an illusion.
Let me be clear: I still have questions about the cost of the project. I also have reservations about the opacity surrounding the procurement process and the award of the contract. These are legitimate concerns in a democracy, and they deserve rigorous scrutiny. I intend to return to them at another time.
Today, however, I choose to focus on something else: the vision and transformative possibilities behind the project itself.
If this highway is completed all the way to Calabar, it will rank among the most consequential infrastructure projects ever undertaken in modern Nigeria. Whatever history may eventually say about this administration, such an achievement would unquestionably form an important part of President Tinubu’s legacy. Recognising that possibility is not an endorsement of his presidency; it is simply an honest acknowledgement of the significance of the project.
Driving along the highway—with its broad carriageways, solar-powered lighting and fibre-optic infrastructure—was an unexpectedly uplifting experience at a time when many Nigerians are weighed down by economic hardship and uncertainty.
Its implications extend far beyond transportation. A completed coastal highway would dramatically reduce travel time to Ondo, Edo, Delta and the rest of the South-South. It would open up enormous stretches of currently underutilised land, creating opportunities for new residential communities, industrial parks, logistics hubs, tourism ventures and service centres.
One can already imagine new estates, business districts, rest stops, hospitality facilities and commercial clusters emerging along the corridor. Strangely, many developers and investors do not yet appear to have fully grasped the scale of the opportunity unfolding before them.
For those with foresight, I recommend taking a drive along this route. Beyond the asphalt lies the promise of new economic activity and fresh possibilities. In a country where stories of hardship and disappointment have become all too common, this may yet prove to be one of the few developments offering a genuine reason for optimism.
As citizens, we must cultivate the discipline to criticise what deserves criticism and commend what deserves commendation. Governments are not entitled to applause merely for doing their duty, but neither should they be denied credit when something genuinely worthwhile is being accomplished.
That balance is the essence of responsible citizenship—and the obligation of independent journalism.