Sarcastic Sunday: 2027, Let's Pretend There's Zoning and We're Abiding by It

by Mohammed Bello Doka

10 May, 2026 

In 1966, a group of southern-dominated military officers overthrew Nigeria's first elected government but forgot to add the zoning clause to the junta's handbook—probably because they were too busy writing "how to plunge a nation of over a hundred million people into decades of brutal military dictatorship" instead. This is Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka, where we study Nigeria's political gymnastics through the only lens that keeps us sane: sarcasm laced with humor. Because doing otherwise would choke us to death.

Ah, zoning. That beautiful, unconstitutional, voluntary, sacred, disposable, Northern-invented, Southern-weaponized, Jonathan-ignored, Tinubu-demanding little damsel. It is the ultimate shape-shifter of Nigerian politics, morphing from binding covenant to mere suggestion depending entirely on whose turn happens to be under discussion. One moment it is a solemn national pact etched in stone; the next, it is a worthless gentlemen's agreement that the constitution never even heard of. Welcome to the floor exercise where consistency scores a perfect zero.

Let us rewind the tape, shall we? We are often told, especially by those on certain Lagos-Ibadan evangelical Christian media stations singing equity like a Sunday morning gospel, that Nigeria did not begin in 1999. The North ruled longer during the military era, they remind us, calculators in hand and selective amnesia fully engaged. Fair enough, let us travel further back for the full picture.

In 1966, southern military officers staged a coup that ended the First Republic. They did not just remove a government, kill the prime minister, speared the President; they ushered in military dictatorship, counter-coups, a civil war, and decades of rule by decree. Curiously, those officers somehow omitted any zoning clause from their new handbook of power. Not one paragraph. Not even a whispered footnote, perhaps they thought they'll last forever. When the South helped open the door to gunpowder politics, rotational presidency was nowhere on the agenda. Yet today some voices demand the North honor an arrangement their own generals never bothered to write down. That is rather like setting the house ablaze and later complaining about the smoke.

Fast forward to 2010. A southern president Jonathan completes the remainder of a late northern president's term Yar,adua. By the very logic now being preached from pulpits of equity, power should have rotated neatly back North for a full term. Instead, the same southern voices that champion zoning today declared it unconstitutional, a mere voluntary arrangement with no binding force. Let the best man win, they chorused triumphantly. And so that southern president not only finished the inherited term but won a fresh four-year mandate and sought another. Two full bites at the cherry, extracted from what many saw as the North's slot, all served with a side of democratic righteousness. Back then, the Lagos-Ibadan equity conductors were the lead orchestra for the "Zoning Is Unconstitutional" symphony. They played the violins, beat the drums, and hailed the wisdom of letting the people decide.

Now, in 2026 heading into 2027, those same voices have experienced a sudden spiritual awakening. Zoning has become a sacred moral covenant once more. The North must allow the South to complete its eight years. Fairness, they insist, demands we look the other way on the numbers. Which is it exactly? Is zoning a sacred pact or a disposable tissue? Does it bind only when the North holds the ball?

Let us examine the math that certain debaters prefer remains uncalculated. Between 1999 and 2027, the South has held the presidency for roughly 18 years while the North managed about 10. Not a mere difference, but a noticeable gap enough to fill two terms. Yet the familiar refrain returns: the North dominated the military years. If those years truly count in the equity ledger, one wonders why southern officers never introduced rotation during their own time at the helm. Why wait until northern generals voluntarily returned the country to democracy in 1999 and inserted zoning into the PDP framework as a gesture of national unity? That was a concession, an olive branch. The repayment has often been selective memory—calling it unconstitutional when inconvenient and sacred when advantageous.

Certain northern politicians have also joined this interesting dance. Some who suddenly discovered the language of fairness and national unity appear ready to auction regional weight for personal relevance. Should the current southern president secure a second term, one can already hear the fresh script being rehearsed: let us alter the constitution to grant the current leader a third term so that democracy and continuity may prevail. They will always find the justification that keeps them at the table, even if that table rarely serves the broader interests of their own people. If one must trade influence, at least name the price plainly rather than wrapping the transaction in robes of equity and feigned morality. Justice superceed keeping Afro and speaking big English in the name of comradeship 

To those preaching power shift today, a few observations emerge naturally from the record. If zoning was unconstitutional when a southern president was urged to step aside after completing a northern term, what exactly changed in the intervening years? Did equity , justice and fairness or morality rewrite itself overnight? If the principle demands eight years per zone, why was there no insistence on returning power northward in 2011? Why does the discovery of this sacred rotational gospel always seem to coincide with moments when it disadvantages the North? And if military rule from 1966 to 1999 is counted as northern domination, why did southern-led regimes never embed zoning during their own coups and counter-coups?

Zoning is not in the constitution. Democracy allows any candidate from any region. That much is clear. Yet when southern voices selectively weaponize the idea—proclaiming it sacred in 2027 after treating it as optional in 2011—they test the patience of anyone who remembers the actual sequence of events. The North seeks no pity, only a measure of consistency in the national conversation. If the presidency heads south again in 2027, let it be won on merit without the borrowed garments of selective equity that conveniently ignore the broader tally and the convenient forgetfulness about previous terms.

Here we stand as 2027 approaches. The zoning debate remains Nigeria's favorite spectator sport, second only to lamenting fuel prices and launching fresh political parties. Southern voices will keep humming the eight-years tune. Northern voices will keep pointing at the calculator. And certain turncoats on all sides will audition for the next available slot at the high table.

Sarcastic Sunday will keep watching, popcorn in hand, sarcasm fully loaded. Because if we took every layer of double standard, historical revision, and selective amnesia at face value, we really would choke. So let us pretend there is zoning. Let us pretend we are all abiding by it. Let us pretend the numbers balance perfectly. But we are not fooled. And neither, dear reader, should you be.

This is Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka. Keep your conscience. Ignore the noise. And always, always check the math.

Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]