Muhammadu Buhari (GCFR): The Weight, The Resolve, The Man.
By
Dr Ibrahim Bello Dauda
We did not just say goodbye to a President today. We said goodbye to a man who carried Nigeria on his back. Muhammadu Buhari. A name etched not just in history books, but in the weary sighs of farmers hoping for rain, in the prayers of mothers waiting for sons at checkpoints, in the silent resolve of a people perpetually tested. His story was Nigeria’s story – complex, arduous, marked by deep valleys and hard-won plateaus.
Think back to 2015. What did he walk into? A nation gasping. Boko Haram’s shadow stretched terrifyingly far, swallowing towns, stealing childhoods – remember Chibok? The air was thick with fear and a corrosive sense that the center wouldn’t hold. The treasury felt hollowed out, trust in the very idea of “nation” was crumbling under the weight of promises unkept. People weren’t just poor; they were weary. Weary of the fight, weary of the graft, weary of being told tomorrow would be better when today felt so relentlessly hard.
And Buhari? He didn’t stride in like a conquering hero. He walked in with that familiar, stooped posture, shoulders already bowed by decades of service, war, prison, and the harsh lessons of losing power. His courage wasn’t loud. It was the quiet, grinding kind. The kind that gets you up before dawn when every bone aches, because the job isn’t done. The courage to look into an abyss – a fractured, bleeding nation – and say, “We begin.”
Look at what he shouldered:
1. Taking Back the Land, Tending the Wounds: When children were stolen and towns fled, he didn’t flinch. Rallying troops, facing down an insurgency that mocked borders – it was brutal, bloody, and heartbreakingly slow. Soldiers fell. Civilians suffered. He knew their names. He visited the IDP camps, looked into haunted eyes, clasped hands roughened by displacement. The victory wasn’t clean or complete – security is a fragile bird – but under his watch, towns were reclaimed. Some of our Chibok daughters came home. The terror that threatened to consume the North-East was pushed back. For families who can now sleep without gunfire as their lullaby, that courage mattered. Deeply.
2. The Lonely Fight: He dared to name the poison: Corruption.He picked up a broom against a tidal wave. Empowering the EFCC, chasing shadows, recovering billions – it made him enemies. Powerful, vicious enemies. He faced lawsuits, slander, the entrenched rot of a system that fought back like a cornered beast. It was messy. It was imperfect. But he stood there, a weathered rock in the current, refusing to let impunity be our national anthem. That stubborn integrity, that refusal to play the old game, even when the cost was high… that came from a place deep within him. A place that believed Nigeria deserved better.
3. Laying Stones for Tomorrow: He built. Not with fanfare, but with the quiet persistence of a man planting trees whose shade he knew he might never sit under. The Second Niger Bridge – a dream deferred for generations – finally rose from the water. Roads long forgotten, arteries clogged with decay – like Lagos-Ibadan, Abuja-Kano – felt the rumble of progress. Railways snaked further, stitching regions back together. He bet on farmers, on soil, trying to break our oil addiction at its root. These weren’t just projects; they were acts of faith in a future Nigeria.
4. Trying to Catch the Falling: He saw the crushing weight of poverty. The NSIP – TraderMoni, MarketMoni, school feeding – it was a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. Imperfect? Yes. But it carried the desperate hope of putting food in a child’s belly, seed capital in a market woman’s hand. He knew what hunger looked like, and he tried, against immense odds, to soften its blow.
But oh, the thorns… How they pierced.
• The Crushing Weight of the Purse: Oil prices crashed. The economy screamed. Recession hit like a hammer. The Naira faltered. Inflation stole meals from tables. He saw it. You could see the pain of it in his eyes, the heavy lines etched deeper. Tough choices – forex policies, diversification – felt like body blows to ordinary people just trying to survive. He bore the anger, the frustration, the cries of “E don do!” He carried that economic pain like a physical weight. It aged him.
• Shadows That Shifted and Grew: Just as one fire was dampened, others flared – banditry strangling the North-West, embers of secession in the South-East, ancient clashes over land turning deadly. The security blanket kept unraveling. Communities lived in fear. He felt their terror, their grief. The burden of being Commander-in-Chief when peace feels like a mirage… it’s a loneliness few can fathom.
• When Vision Met Reality’s Sharp Edge: The currency redesign. Oh, that hurt. A policy aimed at cleansing, at modernity. But for the woman selling tomatoes by the roadside, the farmer with his harvest, the trader whose lifeblood was cash – it was chaos. Suffering. He saw the queues, the desperation. Did he regret the pain? We can’t know. But the resolve to see it through, believing it was necessary medicine, even as the nation winced… that was pure Buhari. Stubborn? Perhaps. But born of conviction.
• The Unrelenting Gaze: Over 200 million eyes watching. Criticizing. Hoping. Demanding miracles. Youthful energy bursting with impatience. Political storms raging. And his own health, a quiet, personal battle fought in the harsh spotlight. He rarely complained. He just… endured. That quiet endurance was his strength, and his burden.
Through the storm, the “man” emerged:
• Simplicity as his Armor: No palaces. No flash. A frugal meal, a simple home, that same cap worn for years. In a land dazzled by glitter, his austerity wasn’t just policy; it waswho he was. It spoke louder than any speech.
• Integrity Unbent: Even critics paused here. He wasn’t for sale. That core of honesty, hard as northern granite, defined him. In a system slick with grease, he remained stubbornly dry.
• Courage Forged in Fire: From the battlefield to Dodan Barracks to Daura and back to Abuja, through prison and exile… his life was a testament to resilience. Facing down insurgents, corrupt kingpins, or the sheer scale of Nigeria’s problems – he met it with that unwavering, silent stare.
• Love Woven Through Duty: He didn’t emote easily. But beneath that taciturn exterior? A fierce, almost paternal love for Nigeria. A belief in its unity, its possibility, that burned steady. He governed not for love of power, but out of a profound, almost old-fashioned sense of duty – a duty paid for in blood, sweat, and tears over a lifetime.
President Buhari didn’t deliver a perfect Nigeria. He knew he couldn’t. He inherited a vessel taking on water in a raging storm. He grabbed the tiller with calloused hands, patched holes others ignored, steered us through squalls that would have sunk lesser wills. He met us fractured and left us… still mending, but perhaps with stronger stitches in places we were torn.
He gave his strength. He gave his years. He gave his unwavering, often lonely, resolve. He carried the weight until his steps grew slow, his frame bowed not just by age, but by the sheer immensity of the task.
So rest now, Baba. Rest from the weight you carried for so long. Rest from the impossible choices, the unrelenting criticism, the nights spent wrestling with a nation’s fate. Your journey was Nigeria’s journey – arduous, imperfect, but marked by a fortitude that will echo long after the final salute.
You were a soldier to the end. Not just for Nigeria, but of Nigeria. Flawed, human, unwavering. Thank you for standing your ground.
Thank you for the quiet courage. Thank you for the weight you bore.
May you find the peace you tirelessly sought for us all.
Amin.
