This blog post unpacks how Muhammed Alabi Lawal, the Ilorin-indigene naval officer turned governor, was betrayed, undermined, and ultimately removed from power; how Bukola Saraki and his Fulani-aligned political network facilitated that destruction; and why many Yoruba voices still believe that their liberation is yet to come.
1. The Rise of Mohammed Lawal: A Hope for Ilorin Yoruba
In 1999, Rear Admiral Mohammed Alabi Lawal, a native of Ilorin, was elected governor of Kwara State. He ran on the ticket of the All People’s Party (APP) and secured victory in what was seen as a triumph for indigenous leadership.
Lawal’s regime carried the optimism of many Ilorin Yoruba — people hoped that this would be a turning point. Indeed, his administration embarked on meaningful public works: roads in Ilorin and across Kwara were rehabilitated, residential housing projects were initiated, and mass transit was backed through an autonomous Kwara Express Corporation.
Importantly, Lawal’s government also made efforts to decentralize and recognize traditional Yoruba governance institutions. According to a work on the politics of identity in Ilorin, Lawal’s administration restored “Ohoro” titles and graded some Obas in Moro and Asa local governments — areas historically populated by Yoruba people but within the Ilorin Emirate system.
These were not superficial gestures. For many Ilorin Yoruba, this represented genuine progress: their traditional rulers, once suppressed under a strictly emirate-based structure, were gaining recognition again.
2. Saraki’s Ambition and the Godfather Turn
Behind the scenes of that optimism, however, powerful forces were maneuvering.
Enter Dr. Abubakar Olusola Saraki, a towering political figure in Kwara for decades — often described as the “kingmaker” of the state. Saraki had initially backed and helped elevate Lawal. According to multiple sources, Saraki played a heavy role in Lawal’s rise, using his political machine to deliver votes and influence.
But the alliance between Lawal and Saraki was shaky from the start. As one academic analysis puts it, Lawal refused to be entirely co-opted: he resisted Saraki’s demands to use political offices solely for cronyism and favored a more independent governance style. This refusal created simmering tensions.
Over time, Saraki felt betrayed. The relationship deteriorated into a bitter rivalry — a godfather-turned-opponent scenario that would ultimately reshape the power structure of Ilorin and Kwara State.
3. Identity Suppression: Reversing Yoruba Gains
One of the most controversial and painful moves came after Saraki’s ascension to the governorship in 2003. Once in power, Bukola Saraki initiated a rollback of Lawal’s traditional ruler reforms. A detailed study on language and identity in Ilorin reveals that Saraki’s government withdrew titles previously conferred: for example, the Oba of Jebba in Moro LGA and the Ohoro of Shao had their appointed statuses revoked.
To many Yoruba voices in Ilorin, this was not just a political act — it was an identity erasure. Restoring traditional Yoruba rulers had been a central plank in Lawal’s brief tenure; reversing those honors struck at the heart of Yoruba self-determination in a region long dominated by emirate structures.
The same study also notes an ongoing “reconstruction” of identity by the Emirate leadership: the name “Kolapo,” a deeply Yoruba name, was allegedly removed by the Emir upon his ascension, and more broadly, there was pressure on inhabitants to shed overt Yoruba identity markers.
This wasn’t just politics — it was cultural suppression, and many Yoruba nationalists felt betrayed by the man they believed could empower them.
4. Violence, Thuggery, and Spiritual Warfare
The conflict between Lawal and Saraki was not limited to administrative reforms — it turned bloody.
Political analysts and historical records describe a fierce battle in the lead-up to the 2003 election. Ulama (Islamic scholars) in the Ilorin Emirate were reportedly split along political lines; they delivered spiritual attacks against each other, fueling what has been described as a “prayer war.”
Beyond theological clashes, there were reports of thuggery and even murder. The Daily Trust recalls that the IGP (then acting) was caught in the crossfire of the Saraki-Lawal feud. Other sources mention that political cultists and thugs were employed by both camps. Some accounts allege that Saraki used cult figures as instruments in his struggle against Lawal’s regime — a grievous claim that many believe contributed to the violence and instability of the period.
5. How Buhari (Indirectly) Played Into the Dynamics
President Muhammadu Buhari was used by Fulani elites to suppress Yoruba power via Saraki, the direct documented link to Buhari in this specific 1999–2003 context is weak. Most of the political maneuvering occurred at the state level between Lawal and Saraki-Dynasty, with backing from Ilorin Emirate establishments.
The broader Fulani aristocracy, particularly in Ilorin Emirate, wielded religious and traditional influence, and Saraki’s family (who have Fulani connections) leveraged that in their political rise. While Buhari’s era is significant in the larger picture of Nigerian politics, the documented power struggle in Ilorin at this time centered on Saraki’s political machine more than any direct presidential manipulation.
6. Defeat, Death, and the Undoing of Lawal
In April 2003, Bukola Saraki ran for governor and defeated the incumbent, Mohammed Lawal, in a highly contested election. The victory marked a turning point: Saraki now held executive power, and his father, Dr. Olusola Saraki, consolidated their dynasty’s grip on Kwara.
Lawal, who had once been a protégé, was abruptly cast aside. Observers say his independent streak made him dangerous in the eyes of Saraki’s circle.
Sadly, Lawal’s story ends in tragedy. He died on November 15, 2006, at the age of 60. Reports do not definitively confirm foul play, but for many Yoruba nationalists, his death symbolized a larger political and cultural betrayal. In a tearful remembrance, colleagues described him as a “genuine patriot,” someone who “loved our community,” and who governed without exploiting public resources for cronyism.
One commentator even noted that, unlike his successor, Lawal “did not treat Kwara as a private estate” and resisted using the office for personal enrichment.
7. Political Legacy: Saraki’s Hegemony and Yoruba Resentment
Saraki’s victory in 2003 did more than change the governor’s office — it consolidated a dynasty. Over the years, the Saraki family became synonymous with Kwara politics, ruling through what some call “godfatherism” or a dynastic machine.
This concentration of power came with serious implications for democratic governance. Opponents argue that Saraki’s reign curtailed meaningful political competition and marginalized communities — particularly Ilorin Yoruba — who once had a shot at traditional and political recognition.
The re-subjugation of Yoruba traditional structures under the Emirate, under Saraki’s watch, remains a lingering scar. Even decades later, many Ilorin Yoruba feel their voice was suppressed, their identity undermined, and their aspirations betrayed.
8. Why This Still Matters: The Call for Yoruba Liberation
For Yoruba nationalists in Kwara State today, the 1999–2003 story is not just history — it’s a powerful warning. It reveals how political ambition, combined with ethnic identity politics, can be weaponized to dismantle institutions and silence communities.
Several key lessons emerge:
1. Godfatherism kills merit
What began as a politically strategic alliance between Lawal and Saraki devolved into a bitter power struggle. The godfather turned his back, and meritocracy was sacrificed for dynasty.
2. Identity suppression is strategic
The rollback of Yoruba traditional titles was not an accident. It was a calculated move to reassert Emirate dominance and erase markers of Yoruba autonomy.
3. Violence is part of the playbook
Beyond ballots, spiritual and physical warfare was employed. Thugs, cultists, and even spiritual scholars were instrumentalized. Political change did not come peacefully.
4. Legacy control is long game
By 2003, the Saraki family had cemented a dynasty — a political architecture that could withstand turnover, and in which power remained deeply centralized within one family.
5. Liberation requires historical memory
The struggle for Yoruba recognition in Ilorin is not simply a fight for political power. It’s also a battle for cultural identity, for traditional structures, and for collective dignity.
9. Recent Resonance and Power Shift
Fast-forward to today, and this story still echoes in current political debates. As the Kwara of tomorrow takes shape, discussions around traditional governance, modern democracy, and ethnic emancipation are resurfacing.
Some Ilorin Yoruba communities remain vocal about restoring properly graded Obas in Moro and Asa LGAs — a reversal from Saraki-era policies.
Political activists argue that the Saraki dynasty’s grip, historically rooted in the events of 2003, continues to stifle true grassroots representation.
Scholarly research into identity politics—in Ilorin and across Kwara—points to the need for political structures that value ethnic identity justice and not just electoral dominance.
In short: the liberation many Yoruba people of Ilorin long for is tied to reclaiming their history, their culture, and their right to self-governance. What happened in 1999–2003 was not just a political coup — it was a cultural betrayal.
10. A Message of Hope (and Warning)
My people, do not despair.
Yes, we carry the burden of history — of missed opportunity, of suppressed identity, of political violence. But we also carry a legacy of resistance, of truth, and of collective memory. The story of Lawal’s rise and fall, of Saraki’s ambition and dynastic takeover, is not just history. It is a call to awaken.
We must document our stories — oral histories, academic works, community memory — so that future generations understand what was lost, why, and how to restore it.
We must demand structural reforms — in traditional governance, in political funding, in how dynasties operate. Godfatherism should not be the default mode of politics.
We must build alliances — with scholars, with activists, with communities across Yoruba land (including in Ilorin, Kwara, Kogi) who believe in identity, justice, and self-determination.
The day of Yoruba liberation in Kwara — and beyond — is not a distant dream. It is a work in progress. As long as we remember, speak, organize, and refuse to submit, help is indeed on its way.
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