Nigeria’s convoys menace

FOUR promising students of the Federal University of Technology, Minna, are the latest victims of Nigeria’s reckless convoy culture. A speeding vehicle in the entourage of Niger State Governor Mohammed Bago reportedly collided head-on with the vehicle conveying the students. They died instantly. Another person was also killed.

Their horrific deaths are a grim reminder that convoy recklessness is among the most dangerous manifestations of official arrogance and abuse of power in Nigeria. It must stop.

Four young lives have been extinguished needlessly, their dreams cut short, and their families plunged into unimaginable grief. No words can adequately capture the anguish of their parents. Nor can the loss to society be quantified.

But this is more than a tragic road accident. It is another damning indictment of a political culture in which public officials routinely mistake privilege for entitlement and treat the safety of ordinary Nigerians as expendable. The country can no longer tolerate this madness.

Official convoys were originally intended to provide security for senior public office holders in the discharge of their duties. They have, however, degenerated into grotesque displays of power, intimidation and unrestrained privilege.

Today, governors, political office holders, military chiefs, police commanders and other powerful individuals, including those outside government, appear addicted to sprawling, high-speed convoys that terrorise the very citizens whose taxes pay for the roads they commandeer.

In Nigeria, the length of a convoy has become a crude measure of political importance. The more vehicles, the greater the perceived status. The louder the sirens, the more violently other motorists are expected to disappear from the road. This is the mentality of an elite that regards public infrastructure as its private preserve and fellow citizens as inconveniences.

The resulting road anarchy is all too familiar. Sirens blare from a distance. Outriders and escort vehicles race ahead at breakneck speeds. Motorists panic and scramble for safety. Commercial buses swerve dangerously. Pedestrians run for cover. Those who fail to yield instantly risk harassment, assault or damage to their vehicles.

Worse, security operatives attached to some official convoys routinely assault motorists who do not give way quickly enough. Windscreens and side mirrors are smashed, while innocent citizens are subjected to physical intimidation for daring to exercise their right to use public roads.

One notorious example occurred in 2008, when security aides of then Imo State Governor Ikedi Ohakim dragged a female motorist from her vehicle in Lagos and assaulted her with horsewhips and gun butts after accusing her of failing to give way promptly.

Barely two years later, Ohakim’s security personnel reportedly detained a Catholic priest illegally over another alleged convoy-related incident.

These episodesexposed a disturbing culture of official impunity in which political power is used to humiliate and terrorise ordinary citizens.

Sadly, neither public outrage nor the passage of time has curbed this abuse.

In May 2021, a child was crushed to death near a political rally in Ogbomoso, Oyo State, amid allegations involving Governor Seyi Makinde’s convoy. The governor denied that any vehicle in his entourage was responsible but promised an investigation.

In April 2025, the convoy accompanying Oluremi Tinubu, wife of President Bola Tinubu, attracted intense scrutiny following the death of a seven-year-old girl in Ondo State. The police absolved her of responsibility, saying the child was hit by an unregistered vehicle.

Earlier this year, a high-speed convoy reportedly killed a 26-year-old woman in Port Harcourt, with several vehicles subsequently running over her body without stopping.

The latest deaths in Niger must serve as a national wake-up call. Nigerians should not have to wait for another convoy-related fatality before the authorities confront this menace.

Public officials are servants of the people, not monarchs whose movements confer a licence to endanger human lives. No governor’s appointment is more important than the life of a student. No presidential schedule takes precedence over the life of a trader returning home to her family or a child caught up in the excitement of a neighbourhood gathering.

Yet the conduct of many public office holders suggests otherwise.

Whenever senior officials travel, roads built and maintained with taxpayers’ money effectively cease to belong to the public. Communities are paralysed. School buses are delayed. Patients struggle to reach hospitals. Workers lose productive hours, while commercial activities grind to a halt.

When the President travels, or the Inspector-General of Police moves through certain cities, highways and adjoining streets are frequently locked down as though ordinary Nigerians have forfeited their constitutional right to freedom of movement. Such excessive security arrangements impose enormous inconvenience and economic costs on millions of people who have no business with the official’s itinerary.

This is neither democracy nor good governance. It is the privatisation of public space by an entitled political class.

Public office is a trust, not a licence for intimidation.

Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka drew national attention to this absurdity following his encounter in December 2025 with security personnel attached to the convoy of Seyi Tinubu. Soyinka reportedly remarked that the security deployment could “take over a small neighbouring country.”

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His observation resonated because it captured what Nigerians have long regarded as an outrageous escalation in the security entourages surrounding politically connected individuals. Even those without constitutionally recognised public responsibilities increasingly parade security details and motorcades that would be excessive in many countries.

Equally disturbing is the frequency of crashes involving official convoys, with innocent Nigerians and even the security personnel assigned to protect VIPs paying the ultimate price.

In December 2012, then Kogi State Governor Idris Wada fractured a leg when his convoy crashed on the Lokoja-Ajaokuta Highway.

A far greater tragedy followed in November 2013 when one of Wada’s vehicles reportedly attempted a dangerous overtaking manoeuvre on the Lokoja-Abuja Road. It collided head-on with a vehicle conveying Festus Iyayi, a professor and former president of the Academic Staff Union of Universities. Iyayi died instantly. Nigeria lost a distinguished intellectual and social critic to the recklessness of a convoy that should have known better.

Numerous other convoy crashes have since been reported. Governors have been injured, police officers assigned to VIP protection have died, and innocent motorists and passengers have continued to suffer the consequences of a culture that places speed and status above safety.

The irony is that this recklessness is neither an inevitable feature of executive security nor an acceptable international standard. In Europe and the United States, the movements of presidents, prime ministers and other senior officials are governed by disciplined operational procedures, extensive planning and specialised training. Convoy movements are coordinated, drivers are professionally trained, and strict protocols govern their conduct.

The US presidential motorcade may comprise between 20 and more than 50 vehicles, depending on operational requirements. Yet its scale is not a licence for reckless driving. Professional coordination, route planning, disciplined personnel and strict operational standards are central to executive protection.

Across Europe, motorcades are generally more restrained, with many senior leaders travelling with considerably smaller entourages. Former British Prime Minister David Cameron, for instance, reduced his convoy to seven vehicles as part of efforts to demonstrate restraint and cut costs.

Nigeria, regrettably, appears determined to move in the opposite direction.

Governors who struggle to pay salaries maintain convoys that rival those of world leaders. President Bola Tinubu’s motorcade has reportedly exceeded 100 vehicles on some occasions. Even presiding officers of the National Assembly frequently move around with lengthy entourages.

The waste is as indefensible as the recklessness.

These vehicles must be imported, fuelled, insured, serviced and maintained at enormous public expense. Billions of naira that should be deployed to hospitals, schools, rural roads, electricity and other essential services are tied up in luxury SUVs, armoured cars, escort trucks and support vehicles. Nigeria expends scarce foreign exchange enriching foreign automobile manufacturers while pleading a shortage of resources to meet basic domestic needs. The contradiction is staggering.

There is no justification for this extravagance, particularly in a country struggling with crushing poverty, deteriorating infrastructure and competing demands on limited public revenue. The public purse is not a personal convenience fund for political office holders.

This culture must end, and cosmetic appeals for restraint will not suffice. The government must impose enforceable rules and hold offenders accountable.

First, convoy sizes for all public office holders must be drastically reduced and regulated according to clearly defined security requirements. The mere occupation of a political office should not confer an unlimited entitlement to an intimidating fleet of vehicles.

Second, the speed limits applicable to ordinary motorists must apply equally to official convoys, except in genuine emergencies governed by clearly defined protocols. No official’s appointment or engagement should justify reckless driving or the endangerment of other road users.

Third, every convoy driver must undergo specialised training and obtain professional certification. Security personnel must be properly trained in civilian engagement and the lawful exercise of their duties. Body cameras and dashboard cameras should be mandatory to establish accountability whenever abuses or accidents occur.

Any security operative who assaults a civilian, damages private property or abuses official authority must face appropriate disciplinary and criminal sanctions. Redeployment or a quiet administrative reprimand must not become convenient substitutes for justice.

There should be prompt, independent investigations into fatal crashes involving official convoys, with findings made public and culpable individuals prosecuted. Political office holders must not be allowed to shield their drivers or security personnel from the consequences of their actions.

Ultimately, Nigeria must abandon the dangerous equation of leadership with intimidation. True leadership is demonstrated through service, restraint and respect for citizens, not the number of vehicles in a motorcade or the decibels of its sirens.

For the four FUT Minna students, however, these arguments come too late. Their lives have been cut short. They will never fulfil their ambitions, raise families or contribute the talents and knowledge they were acquiring to national development. Their parents will forever bear the pain of a loss that should never have happened.

The least Nigeria owes them is meaningful reform. Their deaths must not become another statistic in the country’s depressing catalogue of preventable tragedies, followed by official condolences and a return to business as usual.

Nigeria should reduce the convoys; rein in the excesses; and the impunity. Above all, it must restore the sanctity of human life on the roads.

No siren is louder than the cry of a bereaved parent. No convoy is more important than a human life.