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The best way to measure the worth of a nation is to find out how much is required to buy the conscience and will of every individual citizen that subscribed to the sovereignty of that nation. Don’t task your brain, I will bail you out and help you to understand where I am going. The pathetic money for vote madness that played itself out like an obscene drama in the gubernatorial election at Ekiti is a clear indication that some citizens take the rest of us as mere commodities to be purchased and used as they deem fit – some kind of ingredients for pepper soup, or maybe they think we are their suya meat. The cabals have given us a clue of how much they think Ekiti is worth. If a learned State is priced that low, it is obvious that in the eyes of our leaders, men and women in many states of the Federation will not worth more than a loaf of bread each.... //



The Destiny of My Nation

I warmly welcome you to my blog where I strictly mind my business.

My business is to navigate the pathway to a United, Righteous and Prosperous NIGERIA. 

To many this is a herculean task; to me it is a Divine VERDICT – Welcome to my WORLD of REALITY


I treasure your first visit. It will be a real honour to have you here again.


With every best wish 



THE POWER PLAY IN NIGERIA... photo credit -

The Paradise Named Nigeria

There Shall Be A performance

Madness! Folly! Those probably were your spontaneous thoughts when you first sighted this seemingly weird title. You are not alone in such disposition towards Nigeria: ‘Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?’ But, please, hear me out. 


Just before dawn several years ago, on the 1st of October, Nigeria’s independence anniversary day, which happened to be my late father’s birthday also.  Very unusual of the old man, he summoned an emergency family meeting at dawn. He sat down calmly, but the environment was strange. Everyone was wondering what could have made him to call a meeting at such an odd hour. Suddenly, the old man wore a solemn look as he lifted up his head and stared at everyone in the large living room.  Before anyone could ask what must have been responsible for the unrehearsed drama that was playing itself out this morning, something even more dramatic happened. Papa smiled affectionately and spoke with assuring confidence, “There is a Paradise Named Nigeria!”


Everywhere became silent. Graveyard silence! Until Iyabo, the baby of the house who was just Five years old started whispering to Joseph, my senior brother: ‘Papa has gone crazy!’ She spoke softly, with fear punctuating her whispers. Silence reigned again. But Iyabo wouldn’t keep quiet still. ‘Please, is Daddy on drug?’ She whispered again, this time around talking to no one in particular.


‘Honestly, I am confused’, my brother spoke aloud.


‘There is a paradise named Nigeria’, Papa announced again, more affirmatively, thereby, causing more stares than before.


It was Mama, his wife of Forty four years that had the gut to probe into what was on his mind, and she did it harshly. “You yourself know that anyone that hears your statement about Nigeria that is at the verge of becoming a failed state will of certainty think you are either mad or on marijuana, if not cocaine, yet, you made the statement and went dumb.”


Rather than replying her harshly, he said softly: ‘You are very correct my wife, but I am about to pass across to you one of the most startling revelations I ever had before I say my final goodbye’!

We were all shocked to our bones. You will hear the sound, should a needle fall to the ground. Papa continued:







In the sixties, the era that you will see children kicking bread, roasted yam and plantain in the air and when employers would flood the convocation arena of our few higher institutions practically begging graduates to come and work in their establishment, I had a strange dream one night. I would have just forgotten all about the dream, but the following morning in the school our Religious Studies teacher spoke to us on ‘Men with dreams and visions: Joseph as a case study’. Honesty, until then, I never paid attention to dreams. What struck me most was my teacher’s illustration about Pharaoh’s dream. Ordinarily, if one should dream that cows were swallowing cows you will simply say what nonsense is that! But behind that dream was a reality that will shape the destiny of not just a few people but those of nations. So I thought about the dream I had and decided to write it down but never considered that any action was required, until of recent. ‘What was the dream?’ Papa asked himself, placing on his lap an old notebook that he glanced at from time to time:


I saw an unusual TV screen that was exactly the shape of the map of Nigeria, with children, young adults, men and women, even white folks wining and dining and having the greatest of fun, just like it was in those days. Suddenly the fun stopped, and I saw people begging for food and a young man wearing a black polo shirt that has an inscription Msc Sociology at the back working as a bus conductor! Then I saw that the driver of that commuter bus had on his face cap a bold tag -PhD Anthropology! I simply thought in that dream, this is madness, it can never happen. That was precisely on the 3rd of January 1962. Unfortunately, it was ugly incidences like this that kept on coming onto the screen one after another and it lasted for so long that I became disgusted, restless, grieved and worn-out in the dream. How can these things be? Never! I shouted and suddenly woke up. ‘What a nonsensical dream,’ I hissed and slept again. To my surprise, the dream continued, exactly from where it stopped!


When the pains became too unbearable for me and other personalities in the dream, suddenly, I saw a brightly lit face from the screen, and he said while smiling, ‘all of these shall surely happen, but I will give you marks that will guide you to understand the seasons and times you are at any given point.’ Papa sighed and was quiet again.



Silence reigned still. No one would ask what the signs were, until I probed the old man: ‘Papa, what are the marks?’

‘Wait my dear son,’ Papa responded and he continued. I asked the same question in my dream, and the man in the screen said I should hold on. He instructed me to watch further, which I did, until finally, at a time that is best described as hopelessly hopeless, a wonderful billow started approaching from afar with a great speed and it suddenly collided with a magnificent billboard, the type I never saw before. Then, I saw a tremendous glory, and the finest of handwriting that I ever saw, spreading out soothingly on the awesome billboard -“THE PARADISE NAMED NIGERIA”. I was too happy to know what to do… But then I said to myself in the dream - it was only a dream. Maybe one of those nonsensical dreams! Suddenly I heard the man in the screen telling me again, ‘this is more than an ordinary dream. Now, listen to the marks. These are signs that will help you recognize the times and seasons you are in as I told you: I will tell you just one name each of all the leaders that will reign in your country from now till all of these revelations are fully accomplished, and you will briefly see their pictures too, starting from Balewa and Azikwe!’


 I was shocked when I heard Balewa and Azikwe, but the man gave me no room for further thoughts as he started to list their names. It was registered in my heart that how long he waited after calling each name is a signal to how long or short his reign will be, and I can deduce from his tone the character of that president! I heard him mention Ironsi, Yakubu, Ramat, Matthew, Shehu, Mohammed, Ibrahim, Shonekan, Sanni, Salami, Matthew,.. Then I suddenly could not hear him again, but a few questions were jostling for position in my mind. I sensed the film has not finished but paused…  Suddenly I saw the man in the screen again as I was becoming a little bit worried that the excitement had gone. I quickly corrected him that he repeated Matthew twice, but he told me it was no mistake! He then told me: ‘Listen carefully, you will be allowed to see the faces of the next few leaders clearer than those shown to you before, but the face of the last one, during which men on earth will say indeed this nation is like paradise, I will let you see him so clearly that when you describe him to your children in fifty years time, any of them will be able to identify him when they eventually meet him’. ‘Fifty years!’ I shouted on top of my voice and woke up immediately, sweating profusely.





‘Will the drama last that long?’ I frowned, but I soon came to my senses as I realized I was merely dreaming. In less than ten minutes, contrary to my nature, I was fast asleep and dreaming again… Finally, I saw Alheri!

‘Alheri?’ Everyone in the room chorused.

Papa smiled. The man in the screen told me he will not give me the true name of this last person, but I should just refer to him as Alheri. However, he said I should describe him to my family on my 80th birthday, and that of certainty, one of you will meet him within forty eight hours of hearing this from me, and that without any figment of doubt, anyone that sees him will recognize him immediately.

Ehh! Everyone shouted again in the living room!


‘Wait a little,’ Papa instructed. I have marveled at how the names of the Prime Minister and Presidents have turned out to be perfectly true one after the other twelve consecutive times! I therefore have no iota of doubt that everything about the dream will come to pass!


‘Am I dreaming? I found myself asking aloud… But in a manner beyond description, I was dumbfounded when less than six hours later I alighted at the gate of Thomas Adewumi International College for the very first time, where I went to drop my child, and there stood Alheri in his well tailored uniform waiting for a commercial motorcyclist to take him to Omu-Aran… ‘So you are a Corper?’ I asked foolishly! He stared at me, lost as to why I made that statement. I quickly came back to my senses and apologized for embarrassing him. He politely told me he was not offended. ‘But you don’t sound like someone from the north, how come you answer Alheri?’ He stared at me again, ‘till I became truly embarrassed.


Suddenly I remembered Papa said Alheri is not his real name. Alheri means Grace…  I am very sure Alheri didn’t know himself yet. How can 150 million people be waiting for a man that has not the slightest hint that anyone is waiting for him? I was tempted to tell him who he is, but I know that will even make me more foolish than before. I walked away disappointed but relieved. Since that morning, when I wake up and pray unto God in this land of glory -for so is Nigeria, I never failed to tell my children: ‘THERE IS A PARADISE NAMED NIGERIA… You belong to this generation… It will soon be the turn of Nigeria to shine!’ 



Omidiji Olabode Joel  

CEO, The Paradise Named Nigeria.

Roadmap to Glory


On Monday 25th of December 1995 I left Lagos to Abuja to tell the erstwhile dictator General Sanni Abacha who was then ruling Nigeria like a conquered territory that he was running this nation on the path totally contrary to her destiny. His security retinue that night thought it was patriotism taken too far by a very young man and they became agitated. Understandably, their utmost task was to protect their Principal. They seemed to care little about where Nigeria was coming from, where she was then, and little or no idea of where she is destined to be... Continue on //