12/10/2025
Sarcastic Sunday: Tinubu’s Amnesty — But Who Will Pardon The President?
October 12, 2025
By Mohammed Bello Doka
Welcome to Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka, where we study Nigeria’s political gymnastics sarcastically — because doing otherwise will choke us to death.
Another Sunday, another miracle from A*o Rock. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has opened the gates of mercy wide enough to let even the devil stroll through with a presidential handshake. In one sweeping act of compassion, he has granted amnesty to a long list of convicts — from drug traffickers to murderers — because, apparently, Nigeria has become a land where crime not only pays but also gets state-sponsored forgiveness.
Yes, it’s official: repentance is no longer the path to redemption — all you need now is a presidential signature. Some say it’s an act of grace, others call it national comedy. I call it what it truly is — "The Federal Republic of Forgiveness, Unlimited."
Among those pardoned were convicted drug offenders, financial criminals, and even a woman accused of killing her husband. Only in Nigeria can a widow-maker receive state mercy while widows are still waiting for food palliatives. Maybe it’s all part of our gender equality agenda — equal opportunities for everyone, including killers.
And let’s not pretend the irony isn’t loud enough to wake the ancestors. For a president once accused of forfeiting $460,000 to the U.S. authorities in a drug-linked investigation, pardoning drug dealers feels less like compassion and more like a class reunion of the cartel alumni association. The man was never convicted, yes, but the whispers have never faded — especially now that his government is doing everything possible to block the FBI from releasing the files.
Nigeria, oh Nigeria. We are now a country where forgiveness is selective and justice wears designer sunglasses. When a poor man steals a loaf of bread, he becomes an example; when a rich man steals the bakery, he becomes a motivational speaker.
“In Nigeria, sin is not the problem — it’s poverty that makes sin unforgivable.”
They told us it was about decongesting the prisons, but we all know that’s a lie. Our prisons were full of the wrong people anyway — the small thieves, the unlucky youths, the street hustlers who couldn’t afford lawyers. Now, the presidential broom has swept them aside to make room for a new kind of elite: the VIP ex-convicts, freshly laundered and ready for political appointments.
“Our democracy has evolved — from government of the people to government of the pardoned.”
Let’s not forget the economic theatre in which this pardon was staged. Inflation is currently hovering around 24.23%, food inflation sits at 21.79%, and the naira, our beloved national symbol, is now ₦1,600 to a dollar. That means the newly approved ₦70,000 minimum wage amounts to a majestic $43.75 per month — or roughly $1.45 per day.
Congratulations, dear Nigerian worker. You are now officially poorer than the World Bank’s global poverty line of $2.15 per day. Even your suffering has gone international.
“The naira didn’t just fall — it fainted, revived, and fainted again.”
Over 54% of Nigerians now live below the poverty line. In rural areas, it’s 75.5%, while 41.3% of urban dwellers are also broke with dignity. But don’t worry — the government insists that better days are coming. The only problem is, those days are coming by road, and bad roads don’t let progress arrive on time.
And while citizens tighten belts they no longer wear, insecurity tightens the noose. Banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism have become part of our national anthem. Every day, Nigerians are abducted faster than policy promises. Yet, in the middle of it all, the government found time to pardon criminals. Maybe they’re freeing the bandits so they can come back and register for next year’s empowerment programmes.
Meanwhile, the country’s leadership has turned itself into a confederation of excuses. Every scandal is explained away, every failure repackaged as reform. Even the pardon list is now being marketed as a “humanitarian gesture.” Indeed, humanitarianism has never been so criminally inspired.
“Nigeria is the only country where the government commits the crime and the citizens serve the sentence.”
This pardon isn’t about mercy. It’s about messaging. It tells the powerful, ‘We are all in this together’, and tells the powerless, ‘You’re on your own.’ It’s a declaration that in this country, the law bends only for those who can afford the lawyer, the lobbyist, or the label of “reformed offender.”
Let’s talk about numbers again, since our leaders love statistics — especially the kind that don’t feed anyone. The inflation rate of 24% has turned ₦1,000 into loose change. Food prices have tripled, transportation costs doubled, and rent has become a mathematical equation only God can solve. Yet, the government’s solution to rising hardship is to free criminals. Perhaps they’ll soon release hunger itself on parole.
“Nigeria’s economy is so bad that even corruption is now working on a payment plan.”
But wait — we must give credit where it’s due. President Tinubu has achieved what many thought impossible: he has united Nigerians across tribe, religion, and region — not in prosperity, but in collective suffering. Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, and every other tongue now speak one language — “E go better.” Unfortunately, “e never better.”
So what do we call this new national mood? Is it mercy, hypocrisy, or just high-level political theatre? Some say the President is showing compassion. Others say he’s building alliances with his reflection. Whatever it is, it has confirmed one truth: in Nigeria, leadership is not about setting people free; it’s about freeing your friends and forgiving yourself.
And so, as Nigeria continues its journey through the valley of poverty and the shadow of pardon, we the citizens remain the audience to an endless play — laughing through our tears, clapping between power cuts, and praying that one day, mercy will descend on us too.
Because if murderers can be pardoned, if drug dealers can be forgiven, if criminals can be rebranded — then maybe, just maybe, there’s still hope for the ordinary Nigerian struggling to survive on $43 a month.
“Forgiveness is the new oil — the more you sin, the more you earn.”
And so we close another edition of Sarcastic Sunday, where satire is the only medicine left for national madness.
The prisons are open. The thieves are free. The poor are hungrier. The naira is bleeding. Inflation is celebrating. And the President smiles from his golden seat of mercy.
But as Nigeria pardons the guilty and punishes the innocent, one final question echoes louder than all the political noise —
Who will pardon Tinubu?
