When Walls Eat While People Starve….

When Walls Eat While People Starve… The N17 Billion Naira Library of the Legendary Maradona

Jerry Adesewo

Once upon a time, in the thriving democracy of Nigeria, a monumental feat was achieved. The country, renowned for its bustling markets, resilient citizens, and astonishing poverty rate, witnessed a grand event that attracted the cream of its political class. Former military president, General Ibrahim Babangida, affectionately called IBB, unveiled his book and plans for a presidential library to the applause of dignitaries, power brokers, and well-fed elites. But the real miracle was not the library itself—it was the astounding 16 billion naira raised in a heartbeat to bring the project to life.

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As the nation watched, many were left with mouths agape—not from chewing the non-existent three-square meals but from sheer disbelief. Here was a country where inflation gnawed at wallets, where fuel prices had taken a free ride to the heavens, and where the average citizen contemplates whether to eat or to commute. Yet, amidst all this, 17 billion Naira was whisked away to build walls of books, echoing halls, and air-conditioned history while the real history-makers—the people—wallowed in hardship.

Of Walls and Monuments

The irony is glaring. The political class has become adept at building walls, monuments, and structures while ignoring the dire need to build people, lives, and futures. Babangida’s presidential library is not the first of its kind. Before him, former President Olusegun Obasanjo also gifted the nation a presidential library, another architectural marvel surrounded by economic ruins.

These monumental structures are not just buildings; they are grand testaments to the misplaced priorities of a leadership that thrives on optics rather than outcomes. They are like beautifully decorated tombs—shiny and appealing on the outside but hollow and lifeless within. They house books and legacies, yet the living legacy—the citizens—are left unsheltered, uneducated, and unfed.

A Library of What, Exactly?

One might ask, what exactly will fill the shelves of this new library? Would it be the volumes of “How to Perfect a Military Coup 101” or perhaps “A Beginner’s Guide to Devaluation: The Naira Experience”? Maybe it will feature a comprehensive section on “Structural Adjustment Programmes and Other Ways to Adjust the Poor Out of Existence.”  Or better still “How to Annul Election.”

The truth is, libraries are great. Knowledge is power. But when the pursuit of such monumental projects overshadows the immediate need to uplift the citizens, it becomes a gross misplacement of priorities. For every brick laid in that presidential library, how many schools remained without roofs? For every book purchased, how many children remained without textbooks? For every chandelier hung, how many hospitals remained without light?

The Political Carnival

The who’s who of Nigerian politics graced the event. It was a carnival of agbadas and designer suits, a fellowship of those who have led, are leading, or wish to lead. They came with their fat wallets and even fatter ambitions. Over seventeen billion naira was raised—not for social housing, not for education, not for healthcare—but for a library. The same library that, when completed, might not even allow the struggling masses through its doors.

One could only imagine the conversations at that event:

– *Ah, Your Excellency, you built a library too?”

– “Yes, of course! It’s the new trend. You know, the Americans do it.”

– “Yes, yes. The Obasanjo Library has been quite profitable. I’m thinking of building mine too.”

In a country where nearly half the population lives below the poverty line, where food inflation bites harder than mosquitoes, and where insecurity has become a national anthem, the ruling class found it appropriate to prioritise bricks over bread.

Building Walls Instead of People

History has shown us that nations are built not by structures but by people. Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew did not build monuments to his name; he built human capital. Rwanda’s Paul Kagame did not construct grandiose libraries; he invested in education and technology. The result? These nations thrive, not because of the beauty of their buildings but because of the strength of their people.

In contrast, Nigerian leaders have perfected the art of “edifice leadership.” They believe that legacies are cemented in structures rather than in the lives of the people they serve. They build ultra-modern worship centres while worshippers cannot afford transportation to attend services. They construct world-class hospitals only to travel abroad for medical check-ups. They establish libraries while public schools operate under trees.

If only our leaders could see that the greatest library, they could ever build is a library of empowered minds. The greatest monument is a generation that can read, write, and innovate. The most enduring legacy is a society where the gap between the rich and the poor is not a yawning chasm but a narrow path.

A Final Word: Reading the Room 

In all of this, one cannot help but wonder—do our leaders truly read the room? Or perhaps they only read the plaques on library walls instead of the faces of hungry Nigerians? As they sat through speeches, applauding the grand vision of a presidential library, did they pause to consider the vision of a child who dreams of school but lacks the means to get there?

The N17.5 billion raised for this library could have built schools, equipped hospitals, fed the hungry, and provided scholarships. It could have built people, not just walls. But alas, in a nation where “leaders” seek to preserve their stories, the stories of the masses remain unwritten, lost in the shadows of grand libraries where only the privileged dare to tread.

History will record this. And when it does, may it not be just another dusty book on a library shelf, but a resounding call for true leadership—one that builds people rather than walls, one that invests in human capital rather than in personal legacies. For until then, our libraries may stand tall, but our nation will continue to crouch under the weight of unfulfilled potential.