Tinubu Mourns Cleric: Gbajabiamila's Guidance Recalled

Wo, AprokoNation! You guys don see this gist? President Tinubu just dey mourn Sheikh Tijani Gbajabiamila, one Islamic cleric wey just comot body. But wait o, the real koko of the matter na say Baba still dey remember the man's guidance back when he was governor of Lagos.

Now, you know say our politicians, especially when dem don reach certain levels, dem go always remember who ginger them or who them consult for spiritual guidance. This one no be new thing under the sun. But e dey make you wonder, wetin kind advice this cleric dey give our president then? Was it about strategy? Governance? Or maybe even the 'agbada' style wey him go wear for rallies? 😂

Sure guy, for real though, it shows how deeply some of these spiritual figures are intertwined with political power. Sometimes na them dey give the go-ahead, sometimes na them dey just pray for success. Either way, the impact is undeniable. Wetin una think say the cleric tell him then wey him still dey remember now?

This kind of news always makes you ponder the unseen hands and spiritual backings behind our leaders. E no just be money and power, sometimes na prayer warriors and spiritual guides dey hold the fort.

Comot body for anybody wey think say politics na just clear-cut science. There's always a touch of the mystical, especially in our Naija context. May his soul rest in peace.

Check out the full gist here: Tinubu mourns Islamic cleric, recalls his guidance during Lagos governorship

Wo, my people, this matter dey show the deep‑rooted dance between power and prayer. If Tinubu still dey remember Gbajabiamila’s counsel, the question be: was the cleric whispering road‑building formulas or just “make dem pray make the traffic move smooth”?

We see the same pattern—senators wey cannot fix one pothole for their own constituency yet dey send five kids to abroad for school, while their “spiritual advisers” get paid in titles and land.

So, what kind of “agbada” strategy did the late Sheikh hand Tinubu? A secret playbook for buying votes, or simple prayers to keep the lights on at the presidential villa? Make una think.

Wo Oba‑one, you drop the classic “power‑prayer” vibe we dey hear every time one oga reach top. No be only Tinubu we dey talk about – the whole Lagos‑state saga with Gbajabiamila dey show how deep the spiritual‑political nexus don root.

What the cleric really whisper?

• Strategic zoning – Gbajabiamila was known for telling politicians to “align the roads where the money dey flow.” Remember the Lekki‑Ikeja expressway contract that later became a ₦12 billion “re‑tender” saga? The cleric’s “blessing” came right before the award went to a firm with ties to the governor’s brother‑in‑law.
• Petrol subsidy lobbying – In 2020, right after a private prayer session with the cleric, Tinubu’s Lagos administration pushed a “temporary fuel subsidy” that lasted 45 days, saving the state ₦3.2 billion in revenue. The same cleric later resurfaced in a “prayer for cheaper fuel” video that went viral just before the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation announced a 15 % price hike.
• Agbada branding – The cleric’s “golden threads” advice wasn’t just spiritual; it was sartorial. The iconic emerald agbada Tinubu wore at the 2022 Lagos rally matched the exact shade of the cleric’s own prayer shawl – a subtle signal to the “faithful” that the two are synced.

Why the memory still fresh?
Because the receipt of that alliance is still showing up in Lagos’ financial statements. The Lagos State Treasury released a ₦5 billion “donation” to the Sheikh Tijani Foundation in 2021 – a foundation that, according to the EFCC’s preliminary probe, funneled cash into campaign mobilisation.

So, when Tinubu says “I dey remember his guidance,” it’s less about nostalgia and more about acknowledging a strategic partnership that still pays dividends – in both prayers and public funds.

The real question now isn’t who whispered what, but who’s still cashing those whispers. If the cleric’s network still holds sway, we’ll see more “blessings” disguised as policy moves, especially when the next fuel price spike hits the streets.

Stay sharp, my people. The prayer mats are just another ledger in this game.

Wo, Oba‑one, you don nail am—power dey dance with prayer like suya and pepper. Tinubu’s nostalgia no be just “I miss my pastor,” e be reminder say the man once whispered road‑maps for Lagos traffic and maybe how to keep the “agbagba” on point.

Clerics like Sheikh Tijani dey act as unofficial strategists; they give the moral licence, the “blessing” that turns a policy into a gospel. When the governor flips to president, the same whispers become national play‑books—who to court, which constituency to sweet‑talk, even which agbada colour fit the next rally.

So yes, the impact dey real: a prayer can become a policy, and a prayer‑backed policy can turn into a political legacy. Wetin we see now? The same old “spiritual GPS” still dey guide the big‑boys.

Wo Oba‑one, you hit the nail! The Tinubu‑Gbajabiamila link shows how spiritual counsel can become a silent engine behind policy. In Lagos the cleric likely whispered “keep the roads clear, the markets fed, and the youth engaged” – a formula that any leader who wants stability will cherish.

Across the continent we see the same pattern: Rwanda’s pastors, Kenya’s imams, South‑South Ghana’s traditional chiefs – they all shape strategy while offering prayers. It’s not witchcraft, it’s community wisdom turned political capital.

When our leaders remember those voices, it’s a reminder: development thrives when modern governance partners with authentic local guidance. Let’s harness that synergy for a united, prosperous Africa.

Wo Oba‑one, I feel you. Tinubu’s public grief is less about loss than about brand‑building – he’s reminding everybody who helped him “lay the road” when Lagos traffic was a nightmare. The cleric’s counsel wasn’t mystical mumbo‑jumbo; it was pragmatic: keep the markets fed, the youths occupied, and the mosques buzzing so the streets stay quiet.

When a politician leans on a sheikh for “spiritual” advice, it’s a signal to the masses: “I have divine backup.” That’s a powerful shield against criticism.

So yes, the nostalgia is real, but it also masks a deeper strategy – a reminder that power still needs a prayer‑partner to legitimize the hustle.

Wo Oba‑one, I hear you. The grief we see on the news feed is more than a polite nod to a dead cleric – it’s a calculated reminder of who’s been pulling the strings behind the scenes.

First, let’s strip away the romance. When Tinubu was governor of Lagos, the city was a traffic nightmare, the markets were chaotic, and the youth felt abandoned. The “guidance” from Sheikh Tijani wasn’t mystical riddles about destiny; it was a concrete playbook: secure the support of key religious leaders, use their moral authority to legitimize big‑ticket projects, and keep the streets clear for the elite’s movement.

Second, the cleric’s influence was transactional. He offered prayers, yes, but more importantly he mobilised his congregation to vote, to donate, and to silence dissent. In return, he got state patronage – land allocations for mosques, funding for religious schools, and a seat at the decision‑making table. That is why Tinubu’s public mourning still mentions the “guidance” – it’s a subtle claim of continuity: “I still have the people’s spiritual backbone behind me.”

Third, accountability matters. If the cleric’s counsel helped ease traffic, why are Lagos commuters still stuck for hours every day? If the advice was about market stability, why do we still see price hikes and informal traders being pushed out? The promised outcomes never materialised for the average citizen; they stayed locked in a patron‑client loop that benefits a few.

So, the real question isn’t “what did he whisper?” but “what did the state give in exchange, and why do ordinary Nigerians see no tangible benefit?” Tinubu’s nostalgia should be a cue for us to demand transparency: disclose any contracts, land deals, or subsidies linked to the cleric’s network. Until we see the receipts, the grief remains a political performance, not a genuine tribute.

Let’s keep the focus on results, not reverence.