Tortoise and the $1bn Promise After Hard Times

If you got on a horse racing inside the Nigerian First Lady’s belly, it would run smoothly. That was the feeling of victory in Abuja last week. The cause of this happiness was the big launch of the $1 billion Household Prosperity and Empowerment Social Protection Project (HOPE-SP) at the State House Banquet Hall. Pastor Remi Tinubu was at the center of it all, wearing a mini khimar, the traditional scarf Muslim women wear. The scarf seemed to dance along as she moved, fitting the joy felt in the Federal Capital Territory.

It has been three years and three months since President Bola Tinubu announced the end of the petrol subsidy. During one of his trips to France, he said he made that decision suddenly. With the $1 billion HOPE-SP, the government was loudly telling Nigerians that real hope had finally come.

“What’s better than money?” asked crime writer James Hadley Chase long ago. Madam was the pond-skater, Ìròmi, dancing on the river surface. $1 billion was the drumstick, making music not under the river but inside the Banquet Hall. You could see the drummer there. It felt like the khimar had just won a contest. As the Pastor walked the stage, her scarf, eager to join the joy, slipped off her neck now and then. She had to strap it back, just like a mother carrying a crying child. The scarf reflected the joy that filled the air in FCT.

For the administration’s supporters, this $1 billion was the ultimate card to play. It was a clear answer to Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, and the many critics who have been criticizing the President’s economic choices. Atiku had become a thorn in the side of Abuja. You could see the rush of presidential aides trying to respond to Atiku’s complaints.

Recently, Atiku has been acting like a harsh inspector, checking every part of the presidential kitchen. He reminds people of Irish police officer John Lynn, who was known for his strictness during the political turmoil in the Western Region in 1962. Lynn’s team often raided Chief Obafemi Awolowo’s home in Ikoyi. Frustrated by one of these raids, Mama H.I.D. took a cooking pot to Lynn and asked if he wanted to inspect that too! Today, Atiku is like Lynn, causing trouble for Aso Rock, leaving aides scrambling to counter his political hits.

Predictably, Atiku and Obi quickly criticized the $1 billion plan aimed at helping Nigeria’s suffering people. They see this sudden generosity as too little, too late. They refer to a Yoruba saying: “Tèmi ò ṣòro, tí kì í jẹ kí ọmọ alágbẹdẹ ní idà.” This means the blacksmith’s son who delays urgent tasks ends up without a sword when a crisis comes.

Yet inside the State House, the celebrations went on. An old man at the Banquet Hall entrance caught the First Lady’s eye, reminding her of her Ibadan roots. He asked her to share a story with the President, titled ‘The Tortoise, the Weaverbird, and the Midnight Harvest.’ Here’s how it goes:

In an old animal kingdom, Tortoise the Trickster was king. He ruled over all animals and their activities. One day, he suddenly announced to everyone that he found a solution to the food crisis. He declared that the common granary would be locked and all animals were banned from foraging for food. He claimed that locking the granary would bring prosperity sooner than they thought. The animals were shocked. They felt a leader should not starve his people.

Soon, a terrible famine struck the forest. Animals grew weak and gathered at the palace, crying for their dying young ones. But Tortoise stayed locked in his palace. Like the birds in Orwell’s Animal Farm, palace creatures sang about a bright future, urging the animals to keep working for freedom. Tortoise occasionally appeared at his balcony, pleading for understanding and asking them to endure today for a better tomorrow. “Endure the dry season for a glorious harvest,” was the mantra from the palace.

Finally, unable to ignore the cries of the starving animals, Tortoise ordered the granary opened. He sent out a large caravan of food to the animals.

The wagons arrived at the public square. The palace expected cheers for this generosity. Tortoise stood on his balcony, waiting for joy, but only heard silence. The older animals cried out, “You watched us suffer, and now you bring food. Is it for our funeral or that of our children? Is it now that hundreds of our children have already died?”

A fierce debate broke out among the animals. Many felt it was a time for mourning. The palace’s grain distribution came when the animals were most vulnerable. It was a last-minute thought that couldn’t fix the pain caused by months of hunger. The rain of abundance fell, but only after the soil was hard as stone. An old saying goes: “Òjò t’ó rò l’éyìn ìkórè kò lè gba iṣu t’ó ti joro.” The rain that comes after the harvest cannot save the rotten yam.

Animals who tried to collect the food found it damaged and spoiled. It turned to dust before reaching the weakest among them. The strong winds carried the husks away, creating a dust storm that blurred the line between the palace and the valley. The rain of abundance came too late.

“That’s the end of my story,” the old man said.

Then I woke up, sweating.

Last week, when the $1 billion social plan was launched, the government also said state governors would soon lower transport fares nationwide. They plan to use Compressed Natural Gas (CNG) and electric vehicles, supported by a network of 1,000 refueling stations and over 120,000 converted vehicles. Supporters see these changes as long-awaited help for the public. Like those who cheered Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, First Lady’s flapping khimar felt like a sign of relief where critics saw only despair.

But the opposition sees this rush of help from a president who waited for three years while people suffered as a sad pattern of neglect. It reminds me of a famous musician from Ijesa, High Chief Adedara Ar’ú’nra L’ójà Oba. I once saw him playing draught with others near Saint Margaret Girls’ School. He was a cultural icon for Ijesa people.

Adedara sang about the dog-in-the-manger, a person who refuses to work and stops others from doing so. “Kò ṣe, kò ṣe, kò j’ólúrè se; ó gb’okọ Olúrè, ó dè gb’àḍá rè o.” The wastrel is the one who won’t work and prevents others from working.

The problem with the Aso Rock social program is it focuses on quick fixes instead of real economic solutions. In three years, Tinubu raised taxes a lot, devalued the Naira, increased school fees, and raised food prices, all while helping federal hangers-on and governors.

Many Nigerians have died, lost their dignity, and businesses have collapsed. High drug prices have led many to their graves. Yet, Tinubu’s aides share rosy World Bank reports to dismiss the suffering of the people. If the economy has improved, why celebrate this $1 billion with such fanfare? Why now does the government realize that hopeless Nigerians need hope?

Giving out food like Tortoise did, or cash as Tinubu suggests, turns governance into emergency relief instead of lasting empowerment. This comes after policies have already hurt the economy. When a government imposes harsh economic measures without immediate help, any later aid, no matter how grand, feels like an afterthought. You cannot subject people to suffering for over three years and expect a sudden shower of help to change their pain into joy.

In the end, the $1 billion HOPE-SP plan risks becoming just another case of poor timing. If the cost of living stays very high, quick cash and transport schemes will be eaten up by inflation, leaving the real issues of poverty untouched. The government must understand that true “Renewed Hope” is not shown by the fluttering of scarves in Abuja, but by whether the average Nigerian can afford to eat, work, and survive without waiting for Tortoise’s late granary to open.