Politics in Nigeria is not just about governance; it is also about creativity. While other nations focus on policies, our politicians are busy inventing words and phrases that shape national discourse. If democracy were a business, then Nigerian politicians would be the CEOs of “Lexicon Limited.” They produce new political expressions faster than they pass budgets, and these phrases often carry more weight than manifestos.
From “Stomach Infrastructure” to “Emilokan,” these political lexicons serve multiple purposes: they justify the unjustifiable, explain the unexplainable, and sometimes, win elections. Each election cycle, new phrases emerge like blockbuster movie titles, capturing the spirit of the times. Some of these phrases are humorous, some are deeply philosophical, and some are outright tragic—depending on which side of the political fence you stand.
The process of political lexicon production is straightforward. First, a politician makes a speech—usually in a moment of either confidence or desperation. In that speech, a catchy phrase is born, often by accident. The media picks it up, social media amplifies it, and before you know it, the phrase has taken on a life of its own.
Take “Go and Verify”, for example. This simple phrase became a national slogan used by both supporters and critics of a certain presidential candidate. The brilliance of the phrase lies in its philosophical depth—it encourages fact-checking but also cleverly shifts the burden of proof onto the doubter. It’s like being told, “I am the best student in class—if you doubt it, go and check the records yourself.”
Similarly, “Monkey dey work, baboon dey chop” captures the reality of governance in Nigeria. It is a poetic lament of the working class, watching helplessly as their labor benefits the political elite. It is both funny and tragic, making it one of the most philosophically profound statements ever uttered in Nigerian politics.
Another recent addition to the lexicon is “Court-Declared Senators”, a category of politicians who, unlike their colleagues, were not declared by INEC but by judicial pronouncements. This phenomenon has given rise to another group called “Mid-Streamers”—senators who join halfway through the game because the courts have substituted the original winners. It’s as if democracy in Nigeria has its own version of the English Premier League’s transfer window.
The rise of court-declared politicians has led many to ask: Who really decides elections in Nigeria—the people or the judges? But since no one wants to be held in contempt, the safest answer is, “Go and verify.” And if you are still not satisfied, well, “Go to court.”
Beyond the humor, these phrases serve as historical markers. Future generations may not read long political essays, but when they hear “Emilokan,” they will understand the entitlement politics of 2023. When they hear “Tazarce,” they will recognize it as the justification for leaders seeking to extend their stay in office. These lexicons are Nigeria’s version of political history books—short, catchy, and impossible to forget.
Moreover, they help citizens understand the nature of Nigerian politics without needing a political science degree. “Federal Might” explains why ruling parties rarely lose elections. “Banana Peel” describes why legislative leaders keep mysteriously losing their seats. “Stomach Infrastructure” justifies why voters prefer a bag of rice today over good governance tomorrow.
As long as Nigerian politics exists, new political phrases will keep emerging. With every election, a fresh set of expressions will enter our vocabulary, shaping political discussions and sometimes deciding who gets into power. Whether you are an INEC-declared politician, a court-declared senator, or a mid-streamer waiting for your turn, one thing is certain: the political lexicon factory will always be in business.
And if you have any doubts about this, well… Go and Verify. And if you still have complaints, Go to Court.
Abu can be reached via danjumaabu3750@gmail.com or +2348062380296
