By Tunde Odesola
Tigrine is the name of a rocky downhill village located in a cheerless valley. Tigrine is ruled by King Tiger aka Oba Ika, who sits resplendent on the ancient throne of Wiked Kingdom. Though the aborigines of Tigrine village are humans, they call themselves tigers because they disembowel without swords, using ‘a pa ni ma yoda’ technique. They also tear off the skin without blades, circumcising without razors. Tigrine village brims with prey, victims and spoils.
One afternoon, the sun burned down on Tigrine village so fiercely that the fish in the river sweated. The air was thick. Breathing became difficult. And in that suffocating, heavy hour, the king felt an urge; he craved the sight of fresh, bright blood, gushing in the sunlight, from the head.
So, he summoned his strongest slave, a man whose chest is sculpted like Olumo Rock. “D-o-n-g-a-r-i!” the king called out. The slave tumbled into the courtyard like a falling palm tree. “Yes, my lord,” Dongari mumbles, lying flat, his chin on the floor.
“My spirit is down, Dongari. I need you to cheer me up. I want to watch you somersault from the courtyard to the farm, to and fro, nonstop. That should cheer me up. Call out the drummers,” the king ordered. “Somersault nonstop!”
Dongari looked up; the sun blazed without mercy. He looked down; the rocky ground frowned. Between the sun and the earth, he saw the fangs of death.
“Kabiyesi, ”Dongari said, shivering, careful not to run his mouth into a bigger trouble, “the sun is fierce, and the ground is hard. My lord, the village babalawo said it would rain later today; please, let the rains fall and soften the earth, then I will somersault nonstop for you. Kabiyes, a thud on this hard ground will eclipse my name on earth. A fall will open a grave and entomb me.”
The king of Wikedland did not hear the plea for caution. He heard defiance. “How dare you!?” Oba Ika fumed, “I command, you disobey!? I order a slave to somersault, and you open your filthy mouth to say the ground is hard? Do I care if you somersault and crack open your skull? Do I care if you die? Do I!? Do I!?”
In that peak of bestiality, the rocky earth was not the hardest matter in Tigrine village, nor was the sun the hottest element; it was heartlessness and abuse of power. Thus, my self-invented myth of Tigrine village finds expression in the proverb, “Wọ́n ní kí ẹrú ó tàkìtì, ó ní ilẹ̀ le, ṣé àtayè ni wọ́n kó ta ni, àbí à ta rọ̀run?” Translation: A slave was told to embark on fatal somersaults, but he said the ground is hard. Tell me, who wants him to survive the somersaults?”
Life and living in Tigrine village typifies existence in Nigeria amid the ongoing war against terror. To King Tiger of Wikedland, the life of the best worker does not matter; he must work and work until he drops dead, provided the ego of Ass-o-Rock continues to be massaged. King Tiger represents Nigeria’s somersaulting leadership since the days of President Goodluck Jonathan, when 276 schoolgirls were kidnapped in Chibok, Borno State, to the days of the worst President Nigeria ever had, Muhammadu Buhari, when hundreds of schoolchildren were taken into captivity, to the days of incumbent President Bola Tinubu, when terror bullets are increasingly flying southwards from the north.
The aborigines of Tigrine, who proudly refer to themselves as tigers, are Nigeria’s ‘jẹgúdújẹrá’, chop-and-quench political class. This class has class; they slice through public treasuries without using a knife.
Dongari, the slave, represents the hapless citizenry, among whom are Nigerian soldiers on the battlefield fighting terror, facing death without fear and firearms, losing limbs and lives, yet condemned to silence or court-martialed. Like Dongari, Nigerian soldiers in trenches battling insurgents are a demotivated and dehumanised warfront species continually grumbling against shoddy treatment, measly remuneration packages, inadequate arms and ammunition, outworn armament, and low morale when their attention should be on the terror war.
Though they are smouldering inside far-flung trenches in the desert north, fighting terror, the internet takes to them news of budgetary allocations, wages, severance allowances, constituency projects and emoluments of elected political office holders, while soldiers live in penury.
A Nigerian soldier, Rotimi Olamilekan aka Soka Boi, who fought at the forefront of the terror war in Maiduguri, first ruffled some feathers in February 2016 when he made startling revelations about the disturbing situation at the warfront of terror. Talk and be damned. Olamilekan, a lance corporal, has been dismissed for what military authorities described as persistent acts of indiscipline, including violations of the Armed Forces Social Media Policy, and unauthorised media appearances.
Olamilekan, who went through hell in the hands of military authorities before he was eventually dismissed, said he was receiving a salary of N51,000 before it was increased last year February (2025) to N111,000. He said the Army also pays grumbling allowance of N20,000. Speaking on a podcast, Olamilekan, popularly referred to as Soja Boi, said, “The suffer no bi small o. Apart from the salary, nothing else dey enter. Dem no dey give uniform. We dey buy our own uniform ourselves. The uniform na N55,000. Na you go buy uniform, na you go buy boots.”
An embarrassed Nigerian Army dismissed Soja Boi’s experience at the warfront as baseless, insisting that uniforms, arms and protective gear were provided to all personnel through established logistics systems, and that no soldier was deployed to an operational theatre without adequate protection. Speaking through its acting Director of Public Relations, Lieutenant Colonel Appolonia Anaele, the Army acknowledged that some soldiers might choose to supplement their kits, but that such a decision was personal. It, however, stands to reason that if the kits provided to soldiers were sufficient, recourse to personal procurement would not arise.
Also, this is not the first or second time disgruntled soldiers at the warfront would complain about inadequate arms and ammunition, poor equipment, sabotage and ill treatment. But sadly, military authorities who know the grim realities at the warfront cannot confront the Commander-in-Chief to ask for better welfare packages for soldiers; otherwise, ‘may their positions let others take,’ so generals continue to paper the situation, feeding human fodder into tanks instead of ammunition.
Resources are scarce, they say, but their barns brim with bread, milk and honey. Protests mar public schools where soldiers’ children go; their own children spend dollars to acquire education abroad. Soja Boi is a soldier, but he is no zombie. He has eyes, and he can see. He can see there is no physical difference between him and the son of the president, except for parentage. So, he asks himself, “Why should I be sent on an errand that would require me to come back at midnight when the son of the Senate President snores at home?” Then he made a simple appeal to the political class, “Let your children too join the Army and fight in this terror war.”
This was the juncture where he stepped on unseen toes. “Omo ta ni?” Whose child is he? “How dare he?” the political class chorused, backed by the military hegemony. “Does he think Dongari and the prince have a common heritage?” “Go and lock him up on his birthday. Let him sleep in chains for months.”
But Soja Boi will not be silenced by batons or boots. So, he came out with video evidence. “I am not trying to spoil the Nigerian Army’s image or make people look at them as if they are not good. But I am just speaking the facts, and I will be backing them with evidence,” he said. In the video, he challenged the Nigerian Army to make public its payroll, insisting that Nigerian soldiers receive miserable salaries and nonexistent welfare packages, even as he provided evidence of salary payments through bank transactions. The first evidence dated February 2, 2026, showed a credit of N112,061.59 with a narration referencing “NIC-ARMY AC, while the second evidence, dated February 4, 2026, showed a N20,000 credit with a narration reading “RTGS INFLOW FROM CBNi B/ORFL CENTRAL B” and the third evidence, dated November 4, 2025, showed a N45,000 credit with a narration referencing “SKYSTONE FINANCE COMPANY LTD.”
In his various evidence, Olamilekan identified N112,061.59 as his salary, N20,000 as grumbling allowance and the N45,000 as an operational allowance paid only to soldiers deployed to active theatres such as Maiduguri. Explaining that a security allowance of N6,000 also existed, the dismissed soldier revealed that the security allowance was only enjoyed by personnel on an operation. “If you are not in operation, they don’t pay you that one. If you go on an operation, they will pay you,” he said. Soja Boi also said he learned the N20,000 allowance had been increased. “People say they have increased it. I am not sure,” he said.
Olamilekan also maintained his earlier claim that soldiers purchased their own helmets, fragmentation jackets and other protective equipment. “Helmet, you go buy. Fragmentation jacket, you go buy,” he said. Soja Boi called on Nigerians who have relatives and friends in the Army to verify his claims independently. “I know so many people who would want to say these things, but don’t know how to. Call your brother, call your sister, and ask them if I am lying. If they say I am lying, they should bring out their payroll. How much are they paying soldiers?” he said.
Though the Nigerian Army vehemently denied the claims of Soja Boi, it never provided evidence to counter the miserable salary accruable to men and women who murder their own sleep to ensure that the country sleeps. When a warfront soldier’s total monthly take-home pay is N183,061.59, an amount insufficient to buy the nail polish of a senator’s girlfriend, need anyone ask why Nigeria cannot win the war against terrorism?
Efforts are ongoing to shut Soja Boi up and down. Nigerians are watching. Until US President Donald Trump called attention to nonstop killings in northern Nigeria and threatened sanctions, the Nigerian government aired the rhetoric of symmetric and asymmetric wars, wailing that the opposition was fuelling the narrative of the government’s failed campaign against terror.
The storms are gathering. The signs are ominous. There is no more space under the rug. The time to grab the bull by the horns is now. Nigerians are not asking for too much. All they want is for President Tinubu to adequately fund the military, unmask terror sponsors, create employment, provide security, infrastructure and stop the bleeding of the treasury.
These are what you promised, Mr President. Or, are they not? And you have not delivered on any, Your Excellency.
Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com
Facebook: @Tunde Odesola
X: @Tunde_Odesola
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