Once upon a time in the thickest part of the forest, a great meeting of animals was convened. The air was tense, filled with murmurs of resentment and fear. They had grown weary of the Elephant’s dominance — his size, his gait, his booming voice, and the way his presence silenced even the most ferocious of beasts. The Lion had long been dethroned, the Leopard stripped of pride, and even the cunning Hyena bowed to the Elephant’s imposing might.
At this council, it was the tortoise — slow, sly, and always underestimated — who stood up. With eyes full of schemes and a voice seasoned in deceit, he proposed a plan that would end the Elephant’s reign for good. “Let us honour him,” he said, “let us give him a grand throne to rule all animals. Let us throw a feast, dance in his name, and crown him king of the jungle.”
The animals, tired of their own irrelevance, agreed. A giant pit was dug at the centre of the forest, wide and deep. It was covered with palm fronds and animal skins, carefully layered and painted red — a royal carpet fit for a king. The tortoise led the way in song and celebration, guiding the unsuspecting Elephant to his doom.
Adorned in beads and royal robes, flanked by flutes and drums, the Elephant danced. Each step echoed pride. Each sway of his trunk was joy. And then — with a mighty crash — he fell. Into the pit. Into betrayal. The animals roared with laughter. The tortoise bowed.
This tale — told in Yoruba homes under moonlit skies — was never just for children. It was a lesson. A warning. And perhaps, a mirror for today’s political theatre.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, the Elephant of the Nigerian political forest, now finds himself at the centre of a curious dance. From governors to senators, former foes to aggrieved party men, there is a sudden procession — one not entirely unfamiliar. They sing his praises, adorn him with words of loyalty, and march in celebratory rhythm around the corridors of Aso Rock. But history, like folklore, carries memory.
From PDP to Labour, NNPP to APGA, there’s been an unsettling alignment towards the All Progressives Congress (APC) — the president’s power base. Men who once labeled him unfit are now eager visitors. Leaders who swore never to align with his politics now post his photos with glowing captions. In their eyes, it seems, 2027 is closer than it appears.
But the president must beware. For while there is strength in numbers, Nigerian politics has never been about the crowd — it is about the quality of the company. The road to the pit is always paved with song, loyalty, and red carpets. The very men dancing today may be the ones who dig tomorrow’s betrayal.
The political elite in Nigeria are not bound by ideology or people’s needs. They are often driven by proximity to power and preservation of influence. Their movements from party to party are less about national interest and more about personal survival. To be surrounded by them is not strength — it is vulnerability.
President Tinubu, rightly celebrated for his strategic acumen, must not forget that the most dangerous players are those who clap the loudest. His court is swelling, but so is the deception that could come with it. This is not paranoia. This is Nigeria — where betrayal is part of the game.
The history of our democracy is littered with “friendly foes” — men who sang songs of praise only to write memos of mutiny. From the days of Obasanjo to Jonathan and Buhari, sycophancy has often been the most deceptive form of opposition.
It is one thing to be a master chess player. It is another to recognize when your bishops and knights are actually playing for the other side.
The caution here is not to isolate the president, but to remind him — and indeed Nigerians — that sustainable governance cannot be built on praise alone. The same governors defecting now had opportunities to build their states, yet left schools in decay, hospitals in ruins, and roads as death traps. Their loyalty to the people was questionable then; their sudden loyalty to the president should be doubly questioned now.
Yes, there is room for reconciliation. Yes, we must build inclusive politics. But inclusiveness must never come at the cost of discernment. The president must separate the genuine from the opportunist, the builder from the bandwagoner, and above all, the ally from the actor.
Nigeria deserves governance rooted in truth — not a palace of mirrors where everyone smiles while sharpening their knives.
So, as the drums get louder and the parade swells, the Elephant must walk carefully. The tortoise still plots. The pit still waits. And the red carpet — as always — hides more than just dust.
