Today’s caption is prayerful. It is a prayer for me. It is a prayer for you. And it is a prayer for all of us – Nigerians. May Nigeria does not happen to us. What does this prayerful caption stand for?
A few days ago, precisely on Friday, May 30, 2025, “a flood of fury”, as many captured it, occurred in the Mokwa Local Government of Niger State, leaving nothing less than 150 people dead, with thousands displaced, and millions of Naira in properties going down the drain.
It was Nigeria that happened to these latest victims, because it was not happening for the first time in that area of the country. It occurred before in Niger State, ditto other flood-prone areas across Nigeria. Warnings were equally issued in the beginning of the year on the pending disaster of rain, storm and flood, by Government Agencies responsible for monitoring the weather.
What did the Nigerian Authority do to avoid the Mokwa “flood of fury”? Nothing at all. Nigeria was waiting to happen to that community and the victims – and it actually came to pass. It – Nigeria happened to them!
Just recently, there was a sad but confirmed report, of Nigerian students, at secondary school level, writing their English language examination at the dark hours of the night. There was no electricity provided, but instead, telephone torchlights “came to the rescue of these unfortunate young Nigerians”. It was Nigeria that happened to them!
And the Nigerian Examination Body in charge of that disaster, came out absurdly, with an unacceptable reason for allowing that to happen. At other centres of this show of shame, the roof of the school block where the examination in the olden days of the photographer Darkroom, caved in upon the students. Thank God, no casualty of life loss was reported. It is Nigeria that happened to them!
The Premium Times quoted the Amnesty International last week as saying that “over 10,000 people have been killed across Nigeria in Tinubu’s first two years as presidency”. For all those numbers, it is Nigeria that happened to them!
If you know and understand the number of people that Nigerian governments throw into the marketplace of multidimensional poverty on daily basis, The Guru urges that weep not – nor gnash your teeth not, please. It is Nigeria that is happening to them!
Nor must you be dismayed when you see Nigerians in court, being sentenced to life imprisonment, or sometimes, being sentence to death, for stealing phones, chickens, or even two tubas of yam. It is Nigeria that is happening to these unfortunate ones!
Neither must you be celebrating when other Nigerians, with proven facts of looting – or put more succinctly, STEALING billions of Nigerian Naira, are being awarded the highest Honour of the land, or being sponsored to places of leadership in the Nigerian Executive Arm of Government, in the Nigerian National Assembly [both at the Senate and the Honourable House of Representative] , or even sometimes becoming Executive Governor of a State. It is Nigeria that is happening!
Today, on the journey of this exercise, captioned under a prayer point: of Nigeria not happening to us, The Guru has gone a little poetic. And in so doing, he has brought out a Nigerian that gave all he had to Nigeria. Yet, Nigeria happened to him – albeit Nigeria killed him!
Enjoy the poem of how Nigeria can happen to us below, please.
He Ran for His Country, But It Was His Country That Gunned Him Down. Not in War, Not in Terror but in Envy.
The tragic story of Otenkwa Dele Ndubuisi Udoh – a boy of two tribes, a dreamer of two worlds, and a victim of a jealous gun.
He was born in Umuahia, Abia State, on May 24, 1957. A Yoruba Igbo boy, two proud heritages burning in his veins, but one soul, fast, driven, gifted. From a young age, Otenkwa Dele Ndubuisi Udoh didn’t walk, he sprinted. His feet were blessed, and so was his future.
In the 1970s, he crossed the ocean to chase a dream – in America, in the very land of freedom.
There, at the University of Missouri, he blazed through the tracks like a storm. He became a collegiate champion, loved, respected, admired. He was the pride of the Missouri Tigers, and one of the most promising 400m runners the world had seen. In 1978, he helped set a world record in the Sprint Medley Relay at the Baylor International in Texas.
In 1980, he represented Nigeria at the Moscow Olympics, running alongside legends like Sunday Uti and Hope Ezeigbo. So, he came home. To serve. To run again. To make his country proud.
BUT WHAT DO YOU CALL A LAND WHERE JEALOUSY WEARS A UNIFORM?
On July 15, 1981, Dele Udoh, aged just 24, was back in Lagos, preparing for the Continental Championships. That night they plan to eat Dinner at the National Institute for Sports Camp in Surulere was over. Nothing left. So, they decided to quickly head down to Ojuelegba, just a short ride, to grab a late meal. Hunger shouldn’t kill a champion.
It wasn’t hunger that killed Dele Udoh.
A police officer flagged them down. Dele, polite and respectful, tried to explain.
He told the officer, “In the US where I just returned from, police officers don’t point guns at innocent people like this.” A simple statement. But truth, in Nigeria, offends the unsecured.
The officer, now consumed with rage and envy, replied with venom. “So, you think you can go to America and return to insult me? You will not go back to that your good country alive.“
And with that, the officer pulled the trigger.
Just like that, Dele Udoh, the boy who chose Nigeria over America, was shot dead by the same country he came home to represent. A bullet silenced his future. A jealous man in uniform murdered a national treasure.
Back at the camp, chaos broke out. Green Eagles teammates – Felix Owolabi and Moses Kpakor, were among the first to hear the news. They couldn’t believe it. No protests. No riots. Just a quiet shot, and a loud death.
A group of Ojuelegba “alaye boys” who had admired Dele from afar were the ones who ran to the camp to break the news. These street boys respected him. But the police officer, sworn to protect, did not.
As Nigeria mourned in silence, thousands of miles away in Missouri, a coach cried. Godwin Obasogie, Dele’s friend and teammate, had to break the news to Coach Teel. It was too much. Teel said, “Dele was one of our most beloved. A man of warmth, wisdom, and speed.” And now he was gone.
But there was more pain waiting.
Back in St. Louis, Dele’s teenage wife, Angela Udoh, was pregnant, and widowed. The Nigerian government, under Shehu Usman Aliyu Shagari, flew her to Ozu Abam for the burial. There, tradition demanded that she sleep in the same room as her husband’s corpse before he was buried. And she did. Not because she was forced, but because she loved him that much.
She left behind a daughter, Angelle Burrus, born fatherless. She never knew her father. For 37 years, she lived without knowing the full story, until a Nigerian journalist, Taiwo Abiodun, tracked her down in 2018. Her father died before she could speak his name.
Justice never came for Dele Udoh.
The police officer who murdered Dele?
He walked free.
Protected by a system that eats its brightest.
He ran for his country.
And his country shot him in return.
Not in war.
Not in error.
But in envy.
He was 24.
He was hungry.
He was polite.
He was Nigerian.
And that was enough to get him killed.
Let history never forget the name: Otenkwa Ndubuisi Dele Udoh.
Godwin Etakibuebu; a Veteran Journalist, wrote from Lagos.
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