By Sar Terver
It’s a disturbing contrast that captures the painful duality of Nigeria’s present condition: while corpses float in floodwaters in Niger State and mass graves are being dug in Benue for over 200 massacre victims, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu was seen under the warm sun of Saint Lucia, receiving military honours, smiling, and shaking hands in diplomatic grandeur. The optics couldn’t have been worse.
President Tinubu’s recent diplomatic tour to Saint Lucia and other Caribbean nations has ignited a fiery debate across Nigeria.
On the one hand, supporters argue that diplomacy and international visibility are part of a president’s duty. On the flip side, a swelling number of Nigerians believe the trip was not only poorly timed but symbolically offensive.
Peter Obi, former governor of Anambra State and Labour Party’s 2023 presidential Candidate, expressed the outrage of many when he labeled the trip “ill-timed and insensitive.” His tweet was raw and unfiltered: “Nigerians are hungrier, and most people do not know where their next meal will come from… the President is going for leisure when he couldn’t visit Niger State where over 200 lives were lost.”
For citizens watching from flood-ravaged Mokwa or from mass burial sites in Guma and Agatu LGAs of Benue State, this was more than just political commentary, it was a piercing truth. Tinubu’s absence in moments of despair is feeding a perception that leadership is now detached from the people it was elected to serve.
The human toll in Niger State is devastating. Days after severe flooding swept through communities, villagers were still retrieving bloated bodies from streets and streams. The stench of dead bodies filled the air. Entire families were wiped out. Yet, there was no sign of federal solidarity. No condolence visit. No coordinated response. Just business as usual in Abuja.
In Benue, where scores were murdered in the dead of night by suspected herdsmen, the pain is still fresh. Survivors are crammed into IDP camps, traumatized and angry. They recall how long it took for the President to show up and how even that visit felt more like a political ceremony than a genuine expression of empathy.
While one of the Arise TV analysts, Dr. Reuben Abati, defended the Saint Lucia trip as strategic cultural diplomacy, his justifications; historical ties, diaspora connection, and soft power, sounded hollow to Nigerians buried in grief. Sir Daniel Alexander’s Saint Lucian roots, UNESCO politics, and cultural diplomacy may matter to elites, but they offer no comfort to a mother clutching the corpses of her three drowned children in Mokwa.
Even if there’s merit in international relations, timing is everything. Nigerians are not against diplomacy. They are against indifference. And right now, what they feel from their president is not leadership, but distance.
The pain is not just emotional, it is symbolic. When disasters strike, people don’t just need aid, they need presence. They need to know their pain is felt and acknowledged at the highest level. Tinubu’s decision to prioritize a Caribbean handshake over a heartfelt hug in Mokwa speaks louder than any press statement.
Critics argue that the president is quick to travel, but slow to comfort. They remember how fast he hit the campaign trail before the elections, crisscrossing the country with promises. Yet, in the aftermath of the Benue killings and the Niger State flood, the nation waited, and waited, for a visit, a speech, anything.
It took public outrage; social media protests, press condemnation, and voices like Peter Obi’s, to jolt the presidency into responding.
But, the response felt reactive, not proactive. It left Nigerians wondering: if we have to scream for our president to care, are we really a priority?
Some defenders of the trip, including Abati, argue that diplomacy cannot stop because of domestic crises. They point out that Nigeria stands to gain from cultural exchanges, UNESCO partnerships, and trade agreements. But diplomacy should not come at the cost of compassion.
Leadership is not only about policy—it’s about presence. It is about being with the people in their darkest hour. It is about laying a wreath, holding a widow’s hand, seeing the broken roads, and hearing firsthand the sobs of the bereaved. That is what binds a nation together.
Another discusssant on the Arise television panel captured this sentiment powerfully. He asked pointedly: “When it’s politics, the president will visit Niger to campaign.
But it’s disaster, he vanishes?” That question lingers in the minds of millions of Nigerians who feel that their pain is not worthy of presidential attention.
This is not limited to Niger and Benue. Across Nigeria. In particular, Borno, Zamfara, Plateau, Kaduna, Katsina—massacres, kidnappings, and floods have become routine. From boarding school abductions to farmers butchered in their fields, the death toll keeps rising while presidential visits remain rare.
The lack of consistent engagement is breeding a trust deficit. Nigerians are no longer just angry, they are disillusioned. They are tired of platitudes. Tired of leadership that seems allergic to proximity. Tired of watching their president on red carpets abroad while their neighborhoods are soaked in blood and tears.
The Caribbean visit, noble in diplomatic intent, became a symbol of abandonment. The timing was tone-deaf. The optics, disastrous. And the reaction, predictable. For a Country already on edge, what Nigerians saw was not a president reconnecting with diaspora brethren, but a leader out of touch with reality.
This isn’t about Saint Lucia. It’s about symbolism. A handshake with a foreign parliament when your own people are dying in silence feels like betrayal. When the people you serve feel more seen by opposition figures than their elected president, governance begins to lose its soul.
If President Tinubu is to reconnect with the Nigerian people, he must reorient his priorities. Presence must become policy. Compassion must guide protocol. Diplomacy must begin at home. In the end, it is not the number of international summits attended that defines leadership, it is the number of hearts healed.
Leadership demands more than titles and travels. It demands humanity. In Mokwa, in Makurdi, in the valleys of grief, Nigerians aren’t asking for much. They’re just asking for their president to show up and act proactively.
Leave a Reply