Dear Compatriots,
I write to you not as a politician, not as an expert, and certainly not as one without his own share of Nigeria’s many wounds but, as a fellow Nigerian who, like you, has seen too much pain, heard too many promises, and waited far too long for the sunrise that never seems to come.
Since 1999, when we returned to democracy with joy in our hearts; we have hoped, we have voted, we have endured, and sadly, we have suffered. We’ve queued for fuel in an oil-rich nation. We’ve buried loved ones due to insecurity, failed hospitals, and roads that swallow lives. We’ve watched our brightest minds flee the country for survival. And yet, we are still here, still breathing, still believing.
Why? Because deep inside every Nigerian, beneath the frustration and fatigue, there is still a flame. A small but fierce belief that this country can work. That our pain is not permanent. That someday, we will be proud to say “I am Nigerian” not as a burden, but as a badge.
Dear brothers and sisters, our tribes may be different. Our tongues, varied. Our beliefs, diverse. But our suffering is the same, and so must be our resolve.
No politician will save us until we decide to save ourselves by getting involved, by speaking up, by refusing to be silenced, divided, or deceived. Project Nigeria is not for politicians alone. It is for you and me. For the market woman. The graduate without a job. The security man. The teacher. The student. The artisan. The farmer. The broadcaster. The voter.
Only when we unite across religion, region, resentment, and regret can we begin to truly reset this nation.
A new political coalition is emerging in Nigeria and while many are quick to mock it as a gathering of old names and recycled ambitions, I urge you to look again. In this alliance of Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, Nasir El-Rufai, Rotimi Amaechi, and others, lies a critical opportunity not necessarily for them, but for us.
No, they are not saints. And yes, they have their baggage. But their coming together, after years of rivalry, betrayal, and political differences, is a powerful sign that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is not invincible and that should bring hope to every citizen who feels unheard, unseen, and uncared for.
This is not just about winning an election. It is about putting the presidency on notice, reminding those in power that the people are watching, that power must serve, not oppress; and that 2027 is not promised to anyone, no matter how loud the drums of praise around them may sound today.
Mr. President, I address you not with insults, but with truth. You rode into Aso Rock on the back of a hard-fought election, armed with big ideas and the aura of a political genius. Nigerians gave you a chance perhaps out of fatigue, perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of faith. But sir, let’s be honest: so far, your policies have brought more pain than progress.
The fuel subsidy removal may be right in theory but has been brutal in execution. The naira floatation has weakened the poor and empowered only the privileged. Your tax and revenue drives are choking struggling businesses. Your ministers speak fine grammar while the people can’t afford garri. The economy is squeezing us to the bone, and insecurity still roams like a wild dog.
Your supporters chant “City Boy!” and “Jagaban!” but hunger has no party logo. Inflation has no political loyalty. And the market woman doesn’t care who your economic adviser is; she just wants her money to buy pepper and pay her child’s school fees.
Sir, you must rethink, review, and reform. Not because of the coalition, but because of the citizens. Because we are not okay. We are not coping. And we are not fooled.
To my fellow Nigerians, this coalition may not be your messiah, but it is your moment. It is not a crown to place on anyone’s head, but a hammer to break the wall of arrogance in leadership. You may not trust all their faces but you must recognize what their unity means.
It means Tinubu cannot afford to sleep with both eyes closed. It means he cannot afford to ignore the people. It means the ground is shifting, and that even the mighty must now listen.
This is not about Atiku, Obi, El-Rufai or Amaechi becoming saints overnight. It is about creating a political climate where no man becomes a god. Where even the president must look over his shoulder not in fear, but in consciousness. Because the age of absolute political immunity must end.
So, what can you do? Use this moment. Weaponize your voice. Demand more. Expect more. Accept less. Refuse to be distracted by tribal games, religious manipulations, or social media noise.
Our democracy will not survive if we keep surrendering our power to those who think we are too hungry to think. The truth is: we are wiser now. We have been wounded too long not to learn.
Mr. President, let this coalition not anger you; it should instruct you. Let it not provoke pride; it should provoke performance. Let it not push you into mockery; it should push you into self-examination.
This country needs leadership, not loudness. Service, not showmanship. Healing, not hashtags.
And to every Nigerian still holding on, still working hard, still praying, still hoping, you are the true miracle of this nation. Let us not allow our suffering to become normal. Let us not let the light inside us die. Let us speak with one voice and push this nation to rise before it collapses.
Let this letter serve as both a comfort and a challenge. Comfort, because you are not alone in your frustration. Challenge, because the time has come to act.
Nigeria is not dead. But she is bleeding.
And if we do not act, if we do not rise above party, tribe, and religion to hold every leader accountable then one day, our children will ask us, “Where were you when the country finally collapsed?” And what will we say?
To President Tinubu and his circle: govern with humility. The tide is turning. The streets are whispering. The air is changing. Do not sleep with both eyes closed.
Let those who love Nigeria rise while there is still something left to rise for.
Yours in the struggle,
Adebayo Faleke.
