At the age of fifty-three, having lived through the barracks as a soldier, walked the halls of justice as a lawyer, studied in various universities, traveled across continents, and thrived as a businessman and entrepreneur, I have earned the right to reflect deeply on the Nigerian question — not through the lens of propaganda, but through the experience of life itself. One question that has continually stirred my conscience is: What exactly have the Fulani done to the Igbo to warrant this persistent hostility and mistrust? After decades of observation, honest inquiry, and interaction with countless Fulani men and women across Nigeria and beyond, my answer remains the same — nothing justifiable.
Of all the tribes in Nigeria, I dare to say that the Fulani have shown Ndi Igbo the highest measure of respect and admiration. I have seen Fulani families entrust their livelihoods to Igbo traders, their legal matters to Igbo lawyers, and their children’s education to Igbo teachers. There exists a quiet and unspoken bond between our two peoples, built on mutual industriousness and ambition. Yet, somewhere along the turbulent lines of our national history, this bond was deliberately fractured by those who found profit in division.
When one examines the tragic cycle of distrust between the Fulani and the Igbo, it becomes evident that it is not a product of natural enmity, but of political engineering. Since the unfortunate coup and counter-coup of 1966, a calculated narrative has been fed to both sides — that the other is responsible for the instability of the nation. Those who masterminded that division are not of the Fulani or the Igbo; they are those who have consistently hidden behind regional neutrality, manipulating both tribes while claiming not to belong to either the North or the East. These political merchants and their descendants have gained immense advantage from our disunity, selling fear and hate as commodities in the marketplace of power.
History, however, offers us a different picture — a partnership that once worked. The political relationship between Sir Ahmadu Bello and Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe was founded on mutual respect, vision, and pragmatism. Both leaders understood that Nigeria’s progress depended on a stable North–East axis. Later, during the Second Republic, President Shehu Shagari rekindled that spirit of collaboration, reaching out to the Igbo in a manner that strengthened the federation. These were moments when Fulani leadership saw in the Igbo an ally, not an adversary. Those were times when both tribes, in their complementarity, moved Nigeria forward.
It is therefore painful that today, this relationship is characterized by suspicion rather than solidarity. I have watched, with concern, how some Igbo commentators easily castigate the Fulani as the source of every Nigerian problem, just as some Northern extremists unfairly demonize the Igbo for political ambition. These attitudes are not only untruthful but self-destructive. For, in truth, those who hate Ndi Igbo are often the same who despise the Fulani — not because of ethnicity or religion, but because both tribes embody traits that threaten mediocrity: ambition, courage, and leadership.
The time has come for the Igbo and the Fulani to press the reset button. We must return to the wisdom of collaboration, the spirit of partnership that once defined our forebears. The Fulani, with their political resilience and administrative capacity, and the Igbo, with their entrepreneurial vigor and innovative drive, represent two halves of Nigeria’s survival engine. When these two tribes work together, peace becomes achievable, development becomes realistic, and national integration becomes inevitable.
Our mutual survival now depends on rising above the propaganda of those who profit from our division. Let us not forget that both tribes are, today, victims of the same hate permutations — portrayed as “troublesome,” “ambitious,” or “domineering.” Yet, we are also the same tribes that built Nigeria’s earliest economic networks, educational institutions, and political systems. If the Fulani and Igbo reconcile their differences and embrace a common vision, Nigeria will rise again from its ruins.
As one who has lived, served, studied, and traded among all tribes, I speak not from sentiment but from experience. The time for blame is over. The time for healing is now. The Igbo and Fulani must find the courage to rebuild trust, to invest in dialogue, and to remind ourselves that our destinies are intertwined.
In the end, those who profit from our disunity will resist this reconciliation, but history will vindicate us. For in truth, when the Igbo and Fulani walk hand in hand again, Nigeria will rediscover its lost greatness. It is time to be comrades once more — not as strangers divided by suspicion, but as partners united by purpose.
