There’s something profoundly humbling about the Senate President of Nigeria standing in the Vatican. A man whose name is now whispered not in reverence, but in accusation. In Nigeria, he walks with power and pageantry. But in Rome, he’s just another man in a sea of history, surrounded by sacred walls that have seen emperors fall and popes pray. No convoy. No red carpet. No special seat.
Only silence. And perhaps, a moment to reflect.
Sexual harassment, Abuse of office etc. These are not small allegations. They hang over him like smoke, following him across continents. And yet, there he stood in one of the holiest places on earth beneath the gaze of saints, perhaps hoping the cameras would soften the noise.
Nigeria doesn’t just need leaders who pose in churches and chapels. We need leaders who actually meet God there. Leaders who leave those spaces changed, broken if necessary, but willing to rebuild with clean hands and a clean heart.
We’ve been here too many times.
Trips to holy places.
Scripted smiles.
Business as usual.
Nigerians are tired of watching the chapel become a stage instead of a sanctuary.
And maybe just maybe the Vatican reminded him of something deeper. That in this place, he’s just a man. Not a Senate President. Not a god. Just another human among thousands, surrounded by greater power, older thrones, and leaders of deeper legacy.
Nigeria doesn’t need another photo op. We’ve had too many of those. What we need is a Damascus experience. The kind that strips a man of pride, confronts him with truth, and changes the course of his leadership forever.
Because we are tired.
Tired of powerful men running to the altar without ever reflecting.
Tired of chapels used as performance spaces.
Tired of being told to pray while the people we pray for mock our pain.
No
In that Basilica, I hope he felt it.
That sudden shift.
That awareness that in the grand scheme of things, he is small.
That surrounded by centuries of sacred tradition, he isn’t the most powerful man in the room. Not even close.
And maybe, just maybe, that realization will spark something deeper than politics.
A moment of truth. A whisper of conscience. A desire to do better.
Because faith is not a shield for wrongdoing. It is a light that exposes it.
It doesn’t hide misconduct. It demands repentance.
If the Vatican means anything at all, it should mean this. That no matter how high you sit in Abuja, there is a throne higher still. One that cannot be lobbied or deceived.
So I pray, as many Nigerians are, that this moment is not another Nyem taste parade wrapped in holiness.
I pray the chapel becomes sacred again, not just in bricks, but in purpose.
That it begins to demand of our leaders what we, the people, have been demanding for years.
Accountability, humility, and change.
Because Nigeria is bleeding. And while men pray in cathedrals, children die in villages.
We don’t need more rituals.
We need transformation.
May this be the moment he remembers he is not god.
May this be the day Nigeria’s leadership remembers how to kneel.
And may peace, true peace, begin where truth is finally told.
Stephanie Shaakaa
shaakaastephanie@yahoo.com
