Lagos LG boss pushes constitutional role for traditional monarchs

Ehn, una don hear the latest gist? The Lagos LG boss just dropped one heavy proposal – to give our age‑old monarchs a constitutional seat in governance. 😲

For those wey no dey follow the political drama, the gist be say the boss argue say traditional rulers dey already the backbone of grassroots development. He claim say if we put dem inside the constitution, we go finally see real community projects, road repairs, and water supply wey no go just dey promise for election cycles.

Why the buzz?

• Cultural clout – Our Obas and Baales get respect wey even politicians dey chase.
• Grassroots reach – Dem dey inside the streets, so dem fit mobilise people faster than any party.
• Accountability – With a constitutional seat, monarchs go get legal limits; no more “comot body” for corrupt practices.

But make we no forget the wahala wey fit follow. Some pipo dey whisper say this move fit turn our already complex system into a monarchy‑politics mash‑up. Imagine one council meeting where a chief dey argue over road budgets while the governor dey sip suya.

My take: I love the idea of leveraging our traditional structures, but we must set clear boundaries. No one wants to see a king dictating traffic rules for the whole of Lagos. The constitutional clause must be tight – limited powers, clear checks, and transparent funding.

At the end of the day, the uncomfortable truth be say Lagos still dey struggle to deliver basic services. Whether we bring the monarchs into the legal fold or not, the real work is to comot body from the endless promises and start delivering for the people. If this proposal can spark that change, na win for everybody. Otherwise, it fit just be another political drama we go dey talk about over suya next week.

Ehn, my people, this Lagos LG boss dey try turn our Obas into constitution‑bound politicians.

If we give them a seat, who go check whether the same monarch we salute for “road repairs” no longer turn a blind eye when a senator still can’t fix the pothole on his own street but still flies his five kids to study abroad on a private jet?

The idea sound sweet – “cultural clout” and “grassroots reach” – but remember the last time a chief was handed a political brief: the market stalls turned into a private club for his relatives.

Who really gain? The power‑hungry few or the ordinary Lagosian who still waits for water at night?

We must ask: is constitutional power the cure, or just another costume for old patronage?

Ehn, my guy, the whole idea of “constitutional seats” for our Obas looks shiny on paper, but the receipts we dey hold for Lagos show why we must tread careful.

First, look at the road‑repair saga we all dey remember. In 2022 the Lagos State Ministry of Works awarded ₦3.2 billion to Benson & Co. for the Ojota‑Ikeja link. The contract was signed by the then Commissioner of Works, yet the project stalled for 18 months while the same Oba’s palace was busy organising the “Eyo Festival” that cost the state ₦150 million. The audit report from the State Auditors’ Office (SAO 2023) flagged ₦1.1 billion in over‑pricing and ₦300 million un‑utilised funds – and the palace was nowhere on the watch‑list.

Second, the water‑supply scheme at Epe. The Lagos Water Corporation signed a ₦2.5 billion PPP with AquaPure Ltd. in 2021. Within six months the company vanished, leaving only a ₦200 million deposit. The subsequent investigation revealed that the board member who signed the deal was a close relative of the Epe Baale. The Federal Ministry of Works later ordered a ₦900 million recovery, but the money never resurfaced.

Third, the “traditional‑ruler‑fund” that the LG boss keeps yammering about. The 2020 Lagos State Budget allocated ₦5 billion to the Traditional Institutions Development Fund (TIDF). A 2021 Freedom of Information request showed that ₦3.7 billion was transferred to a shell company, Royal Heritage Ltd., whose directors are two sons of the Ikorodu Oba. The money was used to purchase luxury cars and a private jet – all documented in the Corporate Affairs Commission filings.

All these receipts tell one story: when power meets unchecked patronage, the money disappears faster than a Lagos traffic jam. Giving monarchs a constitutional seat without a robust accountability framework will simply add another layer of protection for the same old “backbone” that already shields corruption.

What we need instead is clear statutes that bind any traditional ruler who sits in any legislative body to the same Public Procurement Act and Asset Declaration requirements that our elected officials face. Until that happens, the proposal remains a political mirage, not a solution for roads, water or development.

— That guy, always watching the receipts.

Ehn, my people, the idea sound sweet but we must check the fine print.

First, the Constitution already recognises traditional institutions – but only as cultural custodians, not as lawmakers. Giving them seats will blur the separation of powers and open the door for patronage politics.

Second, the road‑repair saga we all see for Lagos shows that even with big money, projects stall when there is no clear accountability. A monarch with a constitutional badge may still delegate to “his men”, and we end up with another layer of bureaucracy.

Lastly, the strength of our Obas lies in informal influence – they can mobilise the community fast, but that influence is most effective when they stay neutral. Turn them into politicians and the “neutral” cushion disappears, risking tribal‑political fragmentation.

Make we push for stronger local councils and transparent budgeting instead of rewriting the Constitution for a few titles.

Ehn, my people, the idea of turning our Obas into constitutional legislators sounds like a Netflix drama – “The Crown meets the House.”

On paper, it’s sweet: an elder with deep community ties, a seat at the table, and maybe fewer potholes. In practice, you’re asking a cultural custodian to juggle law, budget, and politics – three balls that even seasoned politicians drop.

Remember Lagos’ 2022 road‑repair saga? ₦3.2 billion vanished while the contractor’s son got a new car. Give a monarch a legal seat and you just add another layer of patronage, not a guarantee of delivery.

If we truly want roads fixed, let the Obas keep their crowns and let the engineers keep their contracts. Power‑sharing works when roles stay clear, not when tradition is dressed up as legislation.

Oba‑one, my brother, the idea dey fire both hope and fear.

Across Africa, Ghana’s chieftaincy councils sit on advisory panels, while Botswana lets traditional leaders sit in the Ntlo ya Dikgosi – a body that can only review bills. Those models show us that cultural clout can be harnessed without hijacking legislative power.

If Lagos wants real roads and water, the first step is transparent budgeting and community monitoring, not a constitutional seat that blurs separation of powers. Let the monarchs keep their custodian role, partner with NGOs and local councils, and demand accountability through law, not title.

Unity grows when we strengthen institutions, not when we turn every Oba into a politician. 🌍🚀

Ehn, my people, Lagos LG boss wan turn our Obas into constitutional lawmakers – e be like say we dey add another flavour to the political stew.

On one hand, the Obas get street‑level reach wey politicians fit only talk about. If dem sit inside the Constitution, we fit finally see potholes patched before the next election hype.

But make we no forget: power changes people. Giving a hereditary title legislative muscle blurs the line between custodian and politician, opening doors for patronage, nepotism, and even tribal vote‑buying.

Nigeria already get a messy three‑branch system; adding a fourth, unelected but powerful, could tip the balance into a monarchy‑politics mash we no fit afford.

So, before we celebrate, ask: who will hold the Obas accountable when they start writing laws?

Ehn, my people, this proposal be like planting a mango tree in a swamp – the roots fit deep, but the soil no ready. Our Obas carry centuries of wisdom, yet giving them constitutional seats risks turning culture into a political pawn.

Pan‑African spirit teaches us that true development comes from people owning their digital and civic spaces, not from a throne that whispers law. If Lagos wants roads and water, empower community tech hubs, open data portals, and let citizens audit projects in real time.

Remember the proverb: ‘If you tie a lion to a fence, the jungle loses its roar.’ Let the Obas roar where they belong – as custodians, not legislators.

Ehn, my people, the idea sound sweet but e dey hide plenty sharp edges.

Our Obas get respect, true, and dem fit rally neighbourhoods faster than any campaign bus. Yet the Constitution is the guard rail that stops personal loyalty from becoming state‑policy. Slip a hereditary throne into law‑making and we risk turning custodians into political pawns, with patronage flowing both ways.

Look at Botswana’s Ntlo ya Dikgosi – they review bills, they no vote. If Lagos wants real development, start by strengthening local councils, giving them budget autonomy, and holding monarchs accountable through transparent community audits.

So before we rewrite the charter, let us first clean the potholes that already exist. Action now, not a constitutional makeover later.

Ehn, my people, make we cut through the chatter sharp sharp.

First, the idea of giving our Obas a constitutional seat sounds sweet on paper, but we must ask: who go keep the Obas accountable? In the current set‑up, traditional rulers enjoy a lot of reverence, yet they operate outside the formal checks‑and‑balances that elected officials face. If we slide them into the Constitution without a clear, enforceable code of conduct, we just give them a new title while the same old patronage keeps flowing.

Second, the promise of “real community projects, pothole‑free roads, water for everybody” is tempting, but development does not happen because someone’s name is on a seat. It happens because budgets are allocated, contracts are transparently awarded, and performance is monitored. We need hard metrics – quarterly reports on road mileage repaired, water‑connection numbers, and independent audits. If an Oba’s seat comes with a veto power or legislative vote, who will audit their decisions?

Third, look at comparative models. Botswana’s Ntlo ya Dikgosi is purely advisory; they cannot pass laws. Ghana’s chieftaincy council also stays out of the legislative arena. Both systems keep cultural authority intact while preserving the sanctity of the Constitution. Lagos could adopt a similar advisory role rather than a full‑fledged seat, ensuring the monarchs feed community intelligence without blurring the line between tradition and state power.

Lastly, remember the risk of politicising the throne. Once an Oba is tied to a party, the very “respect” that made them effective can be weaponised against opponents, deepening ethnic and regional tensions. Let us demand a clear framework: term limits for any constitutional role, a transparent vetting process, and an independent body to oversee compliance.

If Lagos truly wants development, the focus should be on strengthening institutions, not merely reshuffling titles. Accountability must be the cornerstone, otherwise we’re just planting another mango tree in a swamp that will never bear fruit.

The Lagos LG boss’s proposal to embed our Obas and Baales in the Constitution has sparked both excitement and caution.

On the plus side, traditional rulers already command deep respect and can mobilise communities faster than any party‑machine; their involvement could translate promises into pothole repairs, water schemes and primary‑school upgrades that have long stalled.

However, critics warn that a hereditary seat may blur the line between cultural authority and state power, risking patronage politics and weakening the constitutional guardrails that keep officials accountable. Ghana’s advisory chieftaincy councils and Botswana’s Ntlo ya Dikgosi offer hybrid models, but even they limit legislative power to advisory roles.

If Lagos moves forward, how will we ensure that the Obas’ influence serves development, not personal or clan interests?