Distinguished ladies and gentlemen,
Permit me to extend my deepest admiration to those who have perfected the fine art of selective memory. Today, we gather to witness a masterclass in hypocrisy—an exhibition so dazzling it deserves its own museum wing.
When Nasir El-Rufai declares, with righteous indignation, that “Nuhu Ribadu just picks his phone and calls any security outfit to arrest anybody without investigation”—one must pause, not out of shock, but out of sheer amusement. Because if irony had a face, it would be smiling right now.
You see, this is not merely a statement; it is a performance. A man who, during his governorship, wielded the security apparatus like a personal sledgehammer, now dons the robe of victimhood. He speaks as though we—the public—have suddenly developed collective amnesia. As though Steven Kefas, Audu Maikori, Elnathan John, Chidi Odinkalu, Gloria Ballason, and countless others were figments of our imagination, rather than living witnesses to his reign of harassment.
So let us applaud the courage it takes to condemn in others the very sins one has committed with gusto. Truly, it is a rare skill to point fingers while standing knee-deep in one’s own record.
And perhaps the quote should be updated for accuracy: “Nobody is as wicked as Nasir El-Rufai as governor of Kaduna State.” A line endorsed not by one, but by many who bore the brunt of his selective justice.
Hypocrisy is alive, well, and thriving. And if there were medals for double standards, some men would not just win gold—they would retire the trophy.