Peter Obi sat back, calm as a hitman on payroll, and said it again for the record:
“One term is enough. Four years. That’s all I need to turn the tide.”
And just like that, the room buzzed with disbelief. Whispers in corridors turned to headlines. Critics laughed, analysts scoffed. But Obi didn’t flinch. He wasn’t bluffing. You don’t bluff with a country like Nigeria — not when it’s bleeding from every institution like a gunshot wound that won’t clot.
You see, in a place like this, power is the real narcotic. And most who sniff it, never walk away clean. But here’s a man saying: Give me four years, and I’ll walk when it’s done. No strings. No legacy-hunting. Just service.
That’s not how the game’s played around here. And that’s exactly why people are nervous.
The Nigeria Nobody Wants to Fix
Let’s be clear — this country’s rot isn’t in question. By 2023, Transparency International ranked Nigeria 145 out of 180 countries in its global corruption index. Billions disappear like vapor. Ghost workers line federal payrolls. Basic infrastructure is a myth. We spend ₦10 billion annually maintaining presidential jets, yet our public hospitals can’t afford oxygen tanks.
The World Bank says 40% of Nigerians live below the poverty line, and UNICEF reports that over 10.5 million Nigerian children are out of school — the highest globally. But here we are, debating presidential convoys and new aircraft.
Obi’s critics don’t argue the facts. They argue the possibility.
48 Months, If You Mean It
But here’s where it gets interesting. Obi isn’t talking from theory. The man governed Anambra State for eight years and left behind ₦75 billion in savings — not debt. While others padded contracts and painted schools for show, Obi slashed costs, cancelled inflated budgets, and invested in education and health.
He left office without a pension law for himself. No corner office. No convoy immunity. No private jet perks. Just a clean sheet — rare as snow in Lagos.
So when he says he’s not desperate, you’d do well to believe him.
“Desperation comes with symptoms,” he says.
“Aggressive rhetoric, paranoia, character smears, buying loyalty with stolen money. That’s not me.”
He’s right. Nigerian politics is a jungle of backroom deals and rented thugs. But look at the record: no ballot snatching in his name. No lawsuits about rigged primaries. No secret tapes offering bribes in hotel rooms. In fact, ask those who ran against him — none came out claiming sabotage.
Can any other frontline politician say the same?
The Clock Is Ticking
Obi’s case is built on one thing: urgency. Nigeria doesn’t need a messiah. It needs a janitor. A ruthless cleaner with no loyalty to the cartel. Someone willing to burn bridges if it lights the way.
“In four years,” he says, “we can confront corruption head-on, redirect resources, enforce rule of law, and conduct credible elections.”
Hard to argue. Ghana did it in under a decade. Rwanda, ravaged by genocide, is now one of Africa’s most stable economies. Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew turned a swamp into a financial fortress in less than 15 years. They didn’t have oil. We do.
But here’s the kicker: Obi says he doesn’t want more than four years.
That’s the part that unsettles the vultures. No second-term deal-making. No time to be co-opted. Just enough time to turn on the lights — and expose the roaches.
The Real Enemy Isn’t Time — It’s Motive
This is why his critics panic. Not because he can’t do it. But because he might.
They know that four years of uncorrupted governance will break the pattern. If one man proves it’s possible, every excuse collapses. That’s dangerous. Not for Nigeria — for them.
Because then, Nigerians might demand real service, not stomach infrastructure. Real budgets, not press statements. Results, not rented crowds.
“Leadership,” Obi says, “is not about entitlement. It’s about service.”
Simple words. But in this country, simplicity is subversive. Service is revolutionary.
Final Word
Obi isn’t perfect. No one is. But in a nation where politics is a mafia club and governance is a side hustle, his offer sounds almost criminal — four years of clean hands, no second-term ambition, no empire to build.
It’s the kind of deal that makes you ask: What’s the catch?
Maybe there isn’t one.
Maybe Nigeria just needs someone who isn’t trying to own the future, just fix the present.
So go ahead. Doubt the man if you must.
But don’t doubt the math: 48 months is enough — if service is the motive.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time we tried that.
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Linus Anagboso
Columnist | Strategic Digital Communicator
Author of The Big Pen Unfilterd.
dbigpen_unfilterd@gmail.com
+234 802 638 7711 | 07036693730
I write to shape minds, build brands, and move ideas.
