By Lamara Garba

Every year, on the first of May, the world pauses to honour labour. It is a day known globally as International Workers’ Day, a symbolic tribute to the dignity of work and the sacrifices of workers across generations. In theory, it is a day of solidarity, a chorus of voices declaring that the worker is not invisible. In practice, however, the Nigerian reality tells a different story, one that is deeply troubling and hard to justify.

In Nigeria, May Day has become less of a celebration and more of a contradiction.

What does it mean to celebrate labour in a country where workers remain unpaid after thirty days of honest commitment? What dignity is being honoured when civil servants who sustain the machinery of governance mark the day with empty wallets and uncertain futures? The drums may beat and the banners may rise, but beneath the surface lies a quiet suffering that refuses to be ignored.

There is something deeply troubling about this situation. The worker who gives time, energy, and often health to the service of the state is reduced to a spectator in his own struggle. The day that should amplify his voice instead buries it under speeches and routine displays of solidarity.

Nigeria formally aligned itself with the global labour movement when it joined the International Labour Organization on May 1, 1981. It was a moment that promised fairness, justice, and improved working conditions. Many years later, it is fair to ask what has truly changed for the Nigerian worker.

The gap between promise and reality has only grown wider.

Today, a litre of fuel sells at nearly ₦1,400. The cost of living continues to rise beyond the reach of ordinary citizens. In contrast, the minimum wage remains ₦70,000. This amount cannot sustain a family for even a week. It reflects a painful disconnect between policy decisions and the everyday reality of workers.

To put it simply, Nigerian workers are not only underpaid, they are undervalued.

This raises a serious question. What is the value of labour in a society that does not reward it? When effort is not matched with fair compensation, the sense of justice begins to fade. Workers become discouraged, not just with their employers, but with the system as a whole.

Then come the rallies.

Labour leaders step forward to address workers who have not been paid. They speak about unity, resilience, and hope. Yet hope becomes difficult to accept when it is not supported by action. Solidarity loses meaning when it does not lead to real change.

The labour movement is built on a simple idea that an injury to one is an injury to all. It calls for collective concern and shared responsibility. In Nigeria, however, this idea often remains only in words.

How can workers celebrate May Day without receiving their April salaries? How can there be celebration when basic obligations have not been met? This situation is not just an administrative failure. It is a moral failure.

Silence in such moments becomes part of the problem.

The real concern is not only that workers are suffering, but that their suffering is being treated as normal. The celebrations continue as if unpaid salaries are a minor issue instead of a serious violation of workers’ rights. This acceptance weakens the collective conscience and makes change more difficult.

There is also a quiet sadness in this reality. Nigerian workers continue to wake early, face daily challenges, and carry out their duties despite the hardship. Their perseverance is admirable, but it should not be mistaken for acceptance. Endurance does not replace justice.

If May Day is to have meaning, it must return to its true purpose. It should be a day of reflection and truth, not routine celebration. It should be a moment to confront reality rather than ignore it.

Perhaps the most honest way to observe this day in Nigeria is through accountability. Celebration should come only when there is something to celebrate.

At present, many workers have little reason to do so.

The responsibility lies with workers, labour leaders, policymakers, and society as a whole. The meaning of May Day must be reclaimed. It should be a day that challenges injustice and demands change.

Until Nigerian workers are paid fairly, treated with respect, and truly valued, May Day will remain a day of remembrance rather than progress. It will continue to remind us of how much still needs to be done.

Comrade Garba, a veteran journalist, was a former Chairman of the Correspondents’ Chapel of the Nigeria Union of Journalists in Kano State

By Valentine Obienyem

Peter Obi’s political journey in Nigeria has, in many ways, come to resemble a quiet but persistent carrying of a cross – marked by endurance, conviction, and a deep commitment to principle in the face of resistance. From his emergence on the national stage to his current role as a leading voice in public discourse, he stands as the personification of a stoic political faith, proving that the cost of integrity is high, but the price of its absence is the slow decay of the soul of a nation.

That burden did not begin on the national stage, the Champion’s League; it can be traced to the local league, his tenure as governor of Anambra State, where Peter Obi first defined the principles that now shape his political identity. In a system often marked by political brigandage, he distinguished himself through fiscal discipline, transparency, adherence to due process, and a refusal to personalise public resources. He made education and healthcare priorities, returned schools to missionary authorities to improve standards, maintained a lean cost of governance, and still delivered significant infrastructure. Remarkably, he left office with substantial funds in the state treasury – a rare act of prudence in an age of prodigality.

Building on this reputation widespread Among Nigerians, he stepped onto the national stage in 2019 as the running mate to Alhaji Atiku Abubakar. Very soon, in 2023, Obi returned to the race under the platform of the Labour Party. At the time, the party had limited national visibility, yet his candidacy transformed it into a formidable movement and a symbol of hope for many Nigerians. If not for “Mahmoodian” glitches, Nigerians – even Mr President – know that he won that election. Till today, he remains, in the hearts of Nigerians, the celebrated tribune of the people, whose momentum shook the very foundations of the old order.

Since then, Obi has remained consistent in his advocacy for national progress. He has continued to speak against poor governance, economic mismanagement, and policy failures that have come to define much of the current national experience. Beyond criticism, he has been offering, through public discourse, a series of pragmatic remedies for the nation’s challenges. He has repeatedly called attention to the rising cost of governance, urging leaders that a government which feasts while its people fast is a house built upon sand. This is why, for example, on the issue of fuel subsidy removal, he acknowledged the need for reform but faulted the manner of its execution.

He has also drawn attention to the weakening of the naira and biting economic instability, advocating a shift from consumption-driven policies to production-led growth, particularly in agriculture and manufacturing. This informs his insistence that, under good governance, the wide fields of the North would be developed for agriculture capable of generating more revenue for the country than oil presently does.

In the area of security, Obi has consistently emphasised the need for intelligence-driven and proactive strategies that address root causes rather than relying on reactive measures. He has also stressed the centrality of education and human capital development, arguing that no nation can progress sustainably without investing in its people.

Through these interventions, he may be said to carry a burden that extends beyond himself – a “cross” not merely personal, but reflective of a wider public yearning. It is the weight of persistently speaking truth to power in an environment where such candour is often unwelcome. Whether one agrees with him or not, his discipline and consistent call for accountability have ensured that he remains a central figure in Nigeria’s political conversation envied by many. This perception has, in some instances, translated into pressure – both overt and subtle – on individuals and institutions associated with him.

For example, the burning of Next Mall, once regarded as number one in Abuja, remains unresolved. In a similar vein, businesses perceived to be linked to Obi have faced varying degrees of intimidation or economic pressure. Such a climate raises concerns about fairness, where enterprises are judged based on perceived political alignment.

Beyond the economic sphere, efforts have also been made to weaken platforms associated with him, often through internal disruption and strategic interference. Why was it that after he left the Labour Party, the problems in the party were instantly resolved? If tomorrow he leaves the ADC, its Abuja-made afflictions will be cured instantly. More worrisome is the attempt by a reckless fringe on his life in Edo State. We only heard of some arrests, and nothing more till this day.

This atmosphere is perhaps most evident in the academic space. Invitations extended to Obi by several universities have been withdrawn or cancelled through Abuja phone calls. One notable instance involved the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, where he was billed to deliver a memorial lecture in honour of Prof. Frank Ndili, but the event was later cancelled under controversial circumstances. I had privileged information from the organisers about the “hand of Esau.” We have witnessed occasions where his support for Government institutions were rejected on orders from above.  Similar situations have occurred across other institutions, creating a pattern that raises questions about academic independence.

The most recent example is his engagement at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife that was cancelled. His traducers appear concerned that his message, often centred on practical and measurable alternatives, resonates too strongly with audiences, challenging established narratives of leadership and governance. At times, there is even an exaggerated fear that his presence might overshadow other figures and give him unimaginable political leverage.

Ironically, while such constraints appear at home, Obi continues to find receptive audiences abroad. In the past two years, he has delivered lectures at globally respected institutions such as the University of Oxford, the University of Cambridge, Harvard University, Yale University, Princeton University, and the University of Chicago, among others. These institutions exemplify environments where open dialogue, critical thinking, and intellectual exchange are encouraged – values that should equally define Nigerian universities.

Many Governor in other to satisfy Abuja has placed embargo on his visits to their states in clear violation of free movement within Nigeria. The last time he attempted to visit a displaced persons’ camp in Benue State, the governor stopped him from doing so, adding yet another layer to the growing list of contested engagements.

In the end, Peter Obi’s journey reflects a larger story about Nigeria itself – a struggle between entrenched systems and the growing demand for accountability. Whether or not his path leads to political victory, the questions he raises cannot be ignored.

He is not driven by personal need or comfort; rather, the challenges he faces stem from his character, competence, and commitment to national renewal – qualities that often unsettle those invested in the status quo. In the final analysis, the cross he bears is not merely his own, but that of over 200 million Nigerians who feel underserved and yearn for a more just and effective system of governance.

 Obienyem sent this piece from Awka