—Anikulapo’s prophetic roar against Nigeria’s political betrayal
Introduction: The Anthem of Resistance
When the late Afrobeat maestro Fela Anikulapo Kuti coined the term “Vagabonds in Power (VIP),” he wasn’t just making a catchy lyrical statement—he was diagnosing a chronic disease eating away at the soul of the Nigerian state. With piercing wit, militant rhythm, and unfiltered candor, Fela’s music laid bare the deceit, decay, and dysfunction of Nigeria’s political leadership. Decades later, his indictment still echoes with haunting accuracy.
As Nigeria marks over six decades of independence, the question persists: has anything fundamentally changed in the corridors of power? Or have the ‘VIPs’ merely recycled their tactics—cloaked now in democracy, but fuelled by the same greed, corruption, and betrayal that Fela so vehemently denounced?
Fela’s Sonic Indictment
When Fela unleashed “VIP” in 1984, it wasn’t just music—it was an audacious political manifesto. He thundered:
“You be thief? I no be thief?”
— a scathing retort to a ruling class cloaked in false virtue but steeped in corruption and hypocrisy. As can be seen, six decades after independence, his lament remains eerily accurate—Nigeria’s failed promises still mirror those in Fela’s lyrics.
Section I: Fela’s Afrobeat as Political Commentary—Pulse of Protest
Fela Kuti’s music transcended entertainment. With songs like Authority Stealing, Coffin for Head of State, and Beasts of No Nation, Fela turned his bandstand into a battleground. He was a musical rebel, taking on dictators, military juntas, and sham democrats. “VIP—Vagabonds in Power,” he bellowed in 1984, aiming his righteous anger at the Nigerian elite who looted the commonwealth while the masses wallowed in poverty.
His Kalakuta Republic was not just a commune—it was a statement. A defiant, autonomous symbol of freedom and rebellion against Nigeria’s ruling elite. He knew that music, as the voice of the people, had the power to shake thrones.
Onstage at Kalakuta Republic, he called out generals and presidents alike, ending many concerts in riots or arrests.
Arrested over 200 times—his longest imprisonment was 20 months in 1984—he paid a heavy price to hold the powerful accountable.
Section II: From Independence to Impotence – A Timeline of Betrayal — Nigeria 1960 to Today
Since gaining independence in 1960, Nigeria has stumbled from promise to peril. Fela’s critiques were rooted in observation, not pessimism. The politicians who inherited the colonial mantle failed to transform its legacy; instead, they perfected it—weaponising tribalism, enriching themselves, and mortgaging the future.
Nigeria’s tale since independence is one of dashed hopes and chronic misrule:
1960–1966 First Republic: Democratic promise died under election rigging and ethnic violence—over 200 lives lost ahead of the 1966 coup.
1966–1979 Military Era: Generals promised discipline but delivered cronyism. Gowon’s oil boom fertilised graft; his 12 governors were later indicted.
1979–1983 Second Republic: Shagari’s NPN was mired in vote-rigging, electoral violence, and grand theft—leading to Buhari’s 1983 coup.
1985–1993 Babangida Era: “Structural Adjustment” came with a $12 billion oil scandal; he funnelled an estimated $12 billion from state coffers.
1993–1998 Abacha’s Tyranny: Known as one of the most corrupt dictators—he stole between $2–5 billion, fuelled human rights abuses, and killed critics.
1999–Present (Fourth Republic): Civilian rule returned but corruption thrived. Obasanjo created the EFCC (2003); by 2005, it investigated 31 governors.
Buhari’s recent years saw anti-corruption gains but also scandals; 2025 EFCC recovered $500 million with 4,000 convictions—but Nigeria still ranks 140/180 in corruption perception.
Tinubu’s regime has left many wondering what direction, exactly, the government is headed. The cry of hunger, pain and suffering is rife, and the people are agitating by the day. Many are crying foul, saying this isn’t the succour they had hoped for.
Vignette A: June 12, 1993 – The Day Democracy Died
On June 12, 1993, Nigeria conducted its freest, fairest election—MKO Abiola won with 58% of the vote.
Yet, on June 23, military ruler Babangida annulled the result, reportedly motivated by “bad belle”—today often referred to as sour jealousy.
The fallout was immediate: protests swept the nation, civil society was crushed, several activists were killed, and eventually, Sani Abacha seized control.
Even in 2025, Babangida finally admitted Abiola had legitimately won and expressed regret, but for many, it was too little, too late.
Vignette B: Niger Delta – The Curse of Black Gold
Despite pumping over 2 million barrels of oil daily, Niger Delta communities remain entrenched in poverty. Rogue refining (bunkering) and pipeline theft stem from desperation, fuelled by polluted waterways and destroyed ecosystems—546 million gallons of oil have been spilled over half a century.
Militancy erupted (e.g., MEND), with attacks cutting national output by a third. Despite a $1 billion cleanup plan and amnesty programmes, the 13% derivation fund saw trillions of naira disappear—over 13,000 projects have gone unfinished . A 2021 UN review blamed woeful mismanagement by Hyprep; the agency was described as a “total failure”.
Section III: The VIP Culture – A Deep Dive into Rot and Repetition
To be a VIP in Nigeria is not just to hold office—it is to be shielded from consequence. Whether military or civilian, governors or senators, ministers or presidents—the hallmarks remain:
Corruption as Policy: From missing billions in oil revenue to inflated budgets and abandoned projects, public funds are routinely looted.
Insincerity in Governance: Leaders promise electricity, jobs, and infrastructure—yet deliver darkness, unemployment, and potholes.
Insensitivity to the Masses: Fuel hikes, police brutality, poor healthcare, and endless strikes show a leadership elite detached from the people’s pain.
Ineptitude in Crisis: From terrorism to pandemics, floods to famine, the response is often slow, shallow, or shambolic.
Nigeria’s VIPs hold office not to serve, but to enrich themselves:
Massive Theft: Between 1960–2005, officials plundered as much as $20 trillion? (Jostar, 2023); $300–400 billion stolen in oil revenue since independence; Abacha’s inner circle made $2 billion off the people.
Leeching the People: Corruption drains around 40% of oil revenue (~100,000 barrels per day).
Structural Failure: 86.9 million Nigerians—or nearly 50%—live in extreme poverty despite being Africa’s largest oil producer.
Everyday Bribery: One adult per year pays at least one bribe, often amounting to 25% of a month’s income.
Skewed Governance: Public investment prioritises grandiose projects and capital cities (e.g. Abuja’s $25 billion cost), while healthcare, education, and roads crumble.
Fela didn’t mince words: “You be thief! I no be thief?” In this rhetorical grenade, he highlighted not just theft, but the hypocrisy of those who claim to serve but actually plunder.
Section IV: Echoes in the Present – Why Fela Still Matters
Fela’s legacy persists because Nigeria’s problems persist. His music remains a soundtrack for protest—played at #EndSARS demonstrations, student marches, and social media campaigns. Today’s youth are digitally aware but face the same betrayal Fela fought against.
Nigerians see the same old faces, or their political heirs, dominating the scene—sprinkled with new elites equally complicit in systemic decay. Elections change rulers, but rarely systems. Reform is promised, but repression is delivered.
In VIP, Fela derided fake democracy as a “crazy demonstration”—a sharp critique applicable to:
Electoral Abuse: INEC’s flawed elections in 1983 and again in 2025 were called “sham” and worst in years.
State Violence & Insensitivity: Repressive responses to protests like #EndSARS (2017–2020), where Amnesty documented 82 police abuses, shrug off public anguish.
Resource Revolt: Groups like MEND in the Niger Delta demonstrate how long-standing theft and ecological injustice have exploded into rebellion.
Section V: Why Fela Still Matters
Fela’s message transcends music—it’s a blueprint:
Cultural Awakening: His Pan-Africanism champions self-directed development over opportunistic leadership.
Political Conscience: He urged Nigerians to not just vote, but to scrutinise leaders—a principle seen in expanding civic movements and anti-corruption activism.
Resurgence of Resistance: Today’s youth, mobilised by hashtags and streets, echo Fela’s spirit. Yet, the same VIP culture festers because systems remain unchanged.
Conclusion: The Need for a New Rhythm
Fela’s “Vagabonds in Power” was a trumpet call to confront corruption. His was not despair—it was hope embodied as rebellion through rhythm. Nigeria owes its future to truth-tellers, whistleblowers, and citizens committed to accountability.
Fela didn’t speak in metaphors—he named names, called out crimes, and paid with blood and bone. His “Vagabonds in Power” aren’t relics of the past—they are still seated in ministries, parliaments, and boardrooms today.
Nigeria doesn’t need more elections—it needs accountability. It doesn’t need cosmetic reforms—it needs revolution of mindset, structure, and soul.
Until then, Fela’s saxophone of defiance plays on. And it’s not just a song—it’s a siren warning the powerful: the people are waking up.
So, will Nigeria rewrite its narrative? Not with recycled promises from the same corruption-tainted elite. The nation needs leaders unafraid of transparency, citizens unafraid of speaking out—and a rhythm of governance that beats for the many, not the few.
The music may have stopped for Fela, but the beat of his truth goes on. And until Nigeria rewrites its story with justice and sincerity, the saxophone of rebellion will never go silent.
This is Fela’s enduring legacy: a challenge, a demand, and an invitation to dance to a new tune of justice.
