This iconic photograph brings together three of Nigeria’s most influential nationalist leaders—Nnamdi Azikiwe, Sir Ahmadu Bello, and Obafemi Awolowo—men whose political vision and leadership shaped the country’s path to independence and the fragile years of early nationhood. Captured during the constitutional negotiations of the late 1950s that paved the way for independence in 1960, the image embodies the delicate alliance of regional leaders who worked—sometimes in competition, often in uneasy partnership—to define Nigeria’s federal destiny.
Nnamdi Azikiwe: The “Father of Nigerian Nationalism”
On the left stands Rt. Hon. Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe (1904–1996), affectionately called “Zik of Africa.” A journalist turned statesman and pan-Africanist, Azikiwe used the press as a weapon against colonial rule and helped awaken nationalist consciousness across West Africa.
He co-founded the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC) in 1944 and became Nigeria’s first indigenous Governor-General (1960–1963) before assuming office as the country’s first President (1963–1966) when Nigeria became a republic.
Azikiwe’s vision of a united, democratic Nigeria and his belief in non-violent, constitutional methods made him a bridge-builder among Nigeria’s many ethnic and regional groups. His writings and political strategy earned him the title “Father of Nigerian Nationalism,” inspiring future generations of African leaders.
Sir Ahmadu Bello: The Premier of the North
At the center is Sir Ahmadu Bello (1910–1966), Sardauna of Sokoto and the first—and only—Premier of Northern Nigeria. A descendant of the Sokoto Caliphate’s founder, Usman dan Fodio, Bello co-founded the Northern People’s Congress (NPC) and became the most powerful political figure in the North.
During the independence negotiations, Bello deliberately chose to remain Premier of the Northern Region, elevating his protégé Abubakar Tafawa Balewa to become Nigeria’s first Prime Minister. This decision demonstrated his commitment to strengthening the North’s political base while allowing for a national government that reflected Nigeria’s federal character.
Bello championed education, regional development, and political modernization, ensuring that Northern Nigeria entered independence with a stronger institutional footing. His assassination during Nigeria’s first military coup in January 1966 cut short a towering career, but his influence on northern politics remains profound.
Obafemi Awolowo: Visionary of the West
On the right stands Chief Obafemi Awolowo (1909–1987), Premier of the Western Region and founder of the Action Group (AG). Awolowo introduced free primary education and comprehensive health-care initiatives, making Western Nigeria the first in Africa to achieve near-universal primary schooling.
A trained lawyer, economist and political strategist, Awolowo was a strong advocate of federalism as the best system to manage Nigeria’s diversity. After independence, he served as Leader of the Opposition in the federal parliament, providing an articulate counterweight to the ruling coalition and shaping national debate on economic planning and social welfare.
Awolowo’s progressive policies and intellectual rigor earned him enduring respect as one of Nigeria’s foremost thinkers and reformers.
A Shared Legacy of Nation-Building
Though they represented different regions and parties—the NCNC in the East, the NPC in the North, and the Action Group in the West—Azikiwe, Bello and Awolowo were united in their determination to end British colonial rule and lay the foundation of a federal Nigeria.
Their collaboration and rivalry defined the years leading up to 1 October 1960, when Nigeria achieved independence. Yet their regional power bases and competing visions for the young nation also foreshadowed the political tensions that would later test Nigeria’s unity.
This historic photograph captures more than three men; it captures a pivotal moment when the dream of a united, independent Nigeria rested on the shoulders of leaders whose legacies continue to shape the nation’s political landscape.
Sources
James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (University of California Press, 1958).
This statement may sound funny, provocative, or even offensive, but it raises an important question about priorities in marriage and religion.
A pastor is a spiritual leader, but he is not supposed to replace a woman’s husband. If a married woman consistently values her pastor’s opinions above her husband’s, obeys her pastor while dismissing her husband, or shows greater loyalty and admiration toward her pastor than toward her spouse, then something may be seriously wrong with the balance in that marriage.
Marriage requires communication, mutual respect, trust, and understanding. A pastor can provide spiritual guidance, but that guidance should not become a reason for a husband and wife to lose respect for each other.
At the same time, husbands should not expect their wives to obey them blindly. Both husband and wife should seek God’s wisdom, communicate openly, and make decisions with love and respect.
So perhaps the real question is not whether such a woman should become the pastor’s “second wife,” but why has the pastor become more important in her marriage than her own husband?
Put God first. Respect your spouse. And never allow a spiritual leader to become a substitute for your marriage partner.
This is a question worth asking—not to insult African traditions or dismiss anyone’s beliefs, but to encourage honest reflection.
Across Africa, it is common to hear people explain repeated family problems as a “generational curse.” When poverty, broken relationships, addiction, failure, sickness, family conflict or misfortune appears to repeat from one generation to another, some people immediately conclude that an ancestor, spiritual force or past wrongdoing is responsible.
But is every repeated family problem truly a curse?
If a child grows up in poverty, has limited access to quality education, receives little financial support and then struggles as an adult, is that necessarily a spiritual curse—or could it be the result of circumstances that have been passed from one generation to another?
If children grow up watching violence, substance abuse, unhealthy relationships or constant conflict, they may unknowingly repeat those patterns. That does not necessarily mean they are cursed. Sometimes behaviour is inherited through environment, not through supernatural forces.
And Africa is certainly not the only place where people believe in supernatural explanations for suffering or misfortune. Different societies around the world have their own concepts of inherited wrongdoing, family misfortune, ancestral consequences, fate and spiritual punishment.
So perhaps the more important question is not:
“Who cursed my family?”
But:
“What pattern has been passed down to me, and what can I do to stop passing it to the next generation?”
We should be careful not to use the idea of a curse to discourage people from taking action. A family facing poverty may need education, opportunity and financial planning. A family experiencing repeated conflict may need healthier communication. A person struggling with addiction may need professional support and a strong recovery environment. Communities facing injustice may need better institutions, accountability and opportunity.
Faith and spirituality are deeply meaningful to many people, and everyone has the right to hold their beliefs. But faith should not prevent us from examining the practical causes of our problems.
We cannot change the past, but we can change what we pass forward.
Instead of teaching our children that they are victims of an unavoidable family curse, let us also teach them knowledge, discipline, emotional strength, financial responsibility, education, healthy relationships and the courage to break destructive patterns.
Maybe the greatest “curse” is not something mysterious placed upon a family.
Maybe sometimes it is simply a problem that nobody stopped long enough to understand and change.
And the greatest inheritance we can give the next generation is not fear of a curse—but the knowledge and courage to build a better future.
There is nothing wrong with speaking English fluently. In fact, being able to communicate confidently in different languages is a valuable skill. But we should ask ourselves a deeper question: while learning to speak the language of another culture, are we slowly losing the language that connects us to our own roots?
Your mother tongue is more than just words. It carries the stories of your ancestors, the wisdom of your grandparents, the jokes that only your people understand, the traditional greetings, the names, the songs, the history and the identity of your community.
Imagine being able to speak perfect English, but struggling to have a simple conversation with your own grandmother because you do not understand the language she grew up speaking. Imagine your children knowing foreign languages but being unable to understand the language of their own heritage.
That should make us pause.
Speaking English does not make you more intelligent, and speaking your indigenous language does not make you less educated. One is a communication skill; the other can be a connection to your heritage. We should not have to choose between being educated and preserving our identity.
Learn English. Speak it confidently. Learn French, Dutch, Spanish or any other language that opens doors for you.
But don’t let the pursuit of foreign languages close the door to your own.
Teach your children your language. Speak it at home. Ask your parents and grandparents to teach you the words you never learned. If you have forgotten it, it is never too late to start again.
Because when a language disappears from a family, something precious disappears with it.
Be proud of your education. Be proud of your ability to speak English. But also be proud of where you come from.
Your language is not something to be ashamed of. It is a part of your story. Preserve it before the next generation only knows it as something their ancestors once spoke.