By Mohammed Bello Doka.
Nigeria today is run, at the very top, almost entirely from the South.
The President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria is a Southerner.
The Senate President is a Southerner.
The Chief Justice of Nigeria is a Southerner.
This means the Executive, the Legislature, and the Judiciary—the three arms of government—are all led by Southerners.
Yet, despite this undisputed concentration of power, Nigerians are repeatedly told something else: that the Muslim North—particularly Fulanis—control Nigeria.
This contradiction is not accidental. It is foundational.
Who Really Controls Nigeria?
If the Muslim North controls Nigeria, one must ask a few inconvenient questions.
Who signs the budgets?
Who assents to laws?
Who controls the courts?
Who appoints service chiefs, ministers, and agency heads?
And if the answers keep pointing southward, why does the myth of Northern domination remain politically useful?
Perhaps because nothing deflects attention better than an invisible enemy.
Before This Stops Being Funny
This is Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka, where we study Nigerian politics with sarcasm, excessive honesty, and deliberate ridicule—because analyzing this country without humor risks emotional collapse.
Here, we do not whisper.
We do not pretend.
And we definitely do not ignore coincidences for the sake of peace of mind.
The Muslim–Muslim Ticket That Paid Only Once
In 2023, the Muslim North delivered one of the most controversial political bargains in Nigeria’s history: the Muslim–Muslim ticket.
It absorbed the backlash.
It endured the global lectures.
It buried reputations for the sake of national unity.
Two years later, it is being reassured that the arrangement was never meant to last—only to win.
Strategic positions quietly drift away.
Security oversight changes hands.
Party structures reset themselves.
And every time someone points this out, they are reminded: “Relax. It’s just coincidence.”
Nigeria must be the luckiest country on earth.
Coincidences With Appointment Letters
Then come the replacements — those magical moments when Muslim Northern officeholders disappear and Christian successors appear, again and again, purely by accident. Abdullahi Umar Ganduje exits as APC National Chairman; a Christian takes over. Mahmud Yakubu leaves INEC; Joash Amupitan, a Christian, arrives. Defence Minister Abubakar Badaru steps aside; Christopher Musa steps in. Bello Matawalle faces an unusually enthusiastic campaign demanding his removal — preferably, we are told, for a Christian replacement. Even Senate security leadership is reshuffled, somehow drifting in the same holy direction. One replacement is governance. Two is coincidence. Five starts looking like choreography. But Nigerians are assured this is about balance, competence, and nation-building — never mind that the balance sheet always shows the Muslim North in red and Christianity enjoying steady upward mobility. Remarkable luck, really. If coincidence had a political party, it would be winning landslide victories.
Insecurity Where Silence Is Policy
Northern Nigeria bleeds.
Northern Nigeria bleeds in named places and under clear command structures.
On December 3, 2023, in Tudun Biri, Kaduna State, more than 120 Muslims celebrating Maulud were killed by a Nigerian Army airstrike during the command period of General Christopher Gwabin Musa, then Chief of Defence Staff.
On December 25, 2023, in Sokoto State, another airstrike killed at least 10 Muslim civilians while they slept—because apparently sleep now qualifies as suspicious movement.
On January 13, 2025, in Zurmi, Zamfara State, a military strike killed 16 Muslim civilians, adding another footnote to the ever-growing file titled “Regrettable Errors.”
Investigations were announced.
Committees were set up.
Promises were made.
And just like that, national outrage clocked out early—no overtime pay required.
Had these strikes killed Christian worshippers in Southern Kaduna, Plateau, or Benue under a Muslim Chief of Defence Staff, the press releases would not have said “error.” They would have said “targeted.” The sermons would not have said “patience.” They would have said “genocide.” Letters would have travelled faster than bullets—straight to foreign capitals and international courts. But because the victims were Muslim, the country was advised to calm down, heal, and move on.
Apparently, grief also has a zoning formula.
Villages are wiped out. Call them Tudun Biri. Call them Zurmi. Call them places that should not exist in news reports but do anyway.
Children are orphaned. Don’t worry—orphans grow up.
Civilians die in “mistaken” airstrikes. Because nothing says mistake like precision hardware.
Investigations are announced. Accountability is postponed. National outrage takes an unfamiliar day off. Perhaps it applied for annual leave.
Curiously, these mistakes rarely provoke international petitions or emergency sermons. Perhaps coincidence, like morality, has a regional filter.
From Rann in Borno to Rukubi in Nasarawa, Tudun Biri in Kaduna, Silame in Sokoto, Jika da Kolo in Giwa, and Zurmi in Zamfara, northern Nigeria has slowly become a cemetery of what officials politely call “mistaken airstrikes.” IDP camps, herders returning from markets, villagers celebrating Maulud, civilians sleeping at home, people near mosques, farmers and vigilantes — all bombed at different times, in different states, across different years, followed by the same chant: wrong intelligence, unfortunate error, investigation underway. Hundreds have died since 2017, yet accountability remains airborne. Curiously, whenever the dead are Muslim northerners, outrage is brief and sermons are muted; had these been Christian communities under Muslim command, “mistake” would have retired permanently and “genocide” would have gone on international tour. But in Nigeria, coincidence is not just policy—it is tradition.
Governors, Senators, and the Art of Standing Still
Let us speak plainly about Muslim Northern governors, senators, and political stakeholders.
Your people are under attack, yet your strongest public posture is loyalty—to Abuja. You stand firmly on the President’s mandate while your own constituencies collapse from insecurity, hunger, and political irrelevance.
You issue solidarity statements for power, not for corpses. You defend the centre more passionately than you defend your people.
A difficult question, asked politely:
When the power you protect finishes using you, will it protect you in return—or send condolences?
Media, Monetisation, and Selective Courage
Now to Northern Muslim media and influencers.
Tragedy no longer trends without sponsors.
Communities do not matter unless hashtags perform.
Outrage must first negotiate advert rates.
Is injustice still injustice if it arrives without branding?
Is silence professionalism—or just cowardice with filters?
At what point did defending your people become “unprofessional”?
Traditional Rulers Watching Their Thrones Burn
To Northern traditional rulers: your kingdoms are burning.
A first-class Emir in Sabon Birni is butchered by bandits. The response is silence—packaged as wisdom, restraint, and statesmanship. Because speaking while kings are dying is apparently impolite.
If a king cannot speak when kings are killed, what exactly is tradition preserving anymore—culture or cowardice?
Clerics Arguing Doctrine While the Ummah Burns
The Islamic clerical class remains fully occupied—arguing Sunnah versus Bid‘ah—while the Ummah loses lives, land, and political ground.
Mosques debate microphone etiquette. Villages bury the dead.
History has never been kind to leaders who fought internal battles while external ones consumed them. But perhaps this time will be different. Nigeria specialises in exceptions.
Bloggers With Rate Cards
Then come the Muslim bloggers.
Nothing moves without payment. Silence is cheap; truth is premium. Advocacy now waits for bank alerts.
Outrage is no longer moral—it is transactional.
A painful question:
When there is nothing left to monetize, what will be left to defend?
“Forget Religion,” Until Religion Is Useful
Enter the data boys and professional patriots.
They advise us to forget religion—especially when Muslims are the victims. We must focus on “performance,” they insist, pointing at charts while villages point at graves.
So let us obey them—with numbers.
Since May 29, 2023, poverty has jumped from about 40–46% to between 54–60%, pushing 30–40 million more Nigerians into hardship and raising the poor from roughly 90–100 million to about 130–139 million (World Bank; NBS). Multidimensional poverty remains above 60%, leaving over 130 million Nigerians without basic education, health, or living standards (NBS MPI; World Bank). Killings have surged, with about 6,549 deaths between May 2024 and mid-2025, including 570 deaths in April 2025 alone (Nigeria Security Tracker; NHRC). Kidnappings have nearly tripled, rising from around **1,000–1,500 per year pre-2023 to over 3,800 victims between May 2024 and mid-2025 (NHRC; NST). Adult illiteracy has worsened beyond 40%, increasing illiterate adults to nearly 70 million, while out-of-school children rose from 18.3 million to about 20 million (UNESCO; UNICEF). Inflation peaked at 34.19% in June 2024 and even after easing to around 16%, prices did not return—they simply stayed painfully high (NBS).
But we are told this is progress, necessary pain, and excellent management—so perhaps hunger is also coincidental, graves are transitional, and poverty itself just needs better PR.
Still, religion is dismissed—until Christians are harmed. Then the language changes. Suddenly, genocide becomes fashionable rhetoric, even when Christian leaders themselves publicly deny it.
So which is it?
Is religion irrelevant—or only inconvenient?
Terrorists With Selective Labels
And finally, the Southern media.
Every criminal becomes a “Fulani herdsman” or “Muslim extremist” at record speed—sometimes before fingerprints are even collected. But when IPOB kills, assassinates, and enforces violent shutdowns, labels soften, explanations lengthen, and context multiplies.
Is extremism selective—or is honesty regional?
So we return to the unavoidable question:
Is the Muslim North being quietly rebalanced out of Nigeria’s power equation—or is this the longest coincidence streak in political history?
On Sarcastic Sunday, we do not answer questions.
We simply refuse to stop asking them—especially when silence is clearly part of the plan.