Fame, power, and wealth—these are the greatest shields of a man. With them, his flaws become footnotes, his transgressions are romanticized, and his past is easily forgiven. Tuface Idibia, a living legend in the world of music, embodies this truth. His conquests with women are spoken of not with scorn but with admiration. To them, he is not the same man he was yesterday; he is reborn, refreshed, untainted.
Natasha knows this well. She does not see Tubaba, the man with a history, but a new dawn, a fresh love. The poor man cannot relate to this luxury—his past, no matter how mild, follows him like a stubborn shadow. Tuface is different. He can start again and again, shedding old skin, renewing love like an ever-peeling onion. After Natasha, there will be an Enenu, a Chidera, and countless others. Love is beautiful, but for some, it is also endless—a continuous, evolving experience.
Yet, in all this, one truth remains: a queen is a queen. Annie Idibia, the woman who stood the test of time, deserves more than to be sidelined by the tides of love’s renewal. Polygamy, once a stabilizer in African society, has now become an object of Western disdain. And in this rigid imposition of monogamy, we have witnessed more broken homes, more fractured unions. Should a man not be free to choose? Should love not be built on understanding rather than societal expectations?
But power is a strange thing—it not only forgives but emboldens. Just as wealth and fame give Tuface the freedom to redefine love on his terms, authority has given birth to rebellion in unexpected places. The lecturer at a university in Awka learned this the hard way. In a world where moral authority is crumbling, where respect is now negotiable, he found himself at the mercy of a young female student—her hands gripping him, her fury stripping him of the dignity his title once commanded.
It is not just a singular incident; it is a manifestation of a new reality. A society that once condemned immorality now romanticizes it. When internet fraudsters first emerged, they were seen as misguided youths. Now, they are feared figures—merchants of crime, architects of destruction. When we tolerated small acts of rebellion, we paved the way for the great breakdown of order.
What connects Tuface, Natasha, and the Awka girl? They are reflections of shifting norms, of power wielded in different forms. Tuface, with the privilege of fame, redefines loyalty on his own terms. Natasha, entranced by wealth, embraces the illusion of a new beginning. And the Awka girl, emboldened by a culture that dismantles authority, dictates new rules of engagement.
For the Nnamdi Azikiwe University student, beyond allowing time to heal the wounds of her indecorous act, it is imperative that the right measures be put in place—not just for her redemption but as a deterrent to others who may be tempted to follow the same path. In a society where respect for authority and decorum is eroding, such an incident cannot be dismissed as mere youthful exuberance or momentary loss of temper. The student must face the full wrath of the law, ensuring that her actions bear the consequences they warrant.
Universities are not just centers for academic pursuit; they are institutions designed to shape character, instill discipline, and prepare individuals for the responsibilities that lie beyond the campus gates. A student may graduate with distinctions in various subjects, but if they lack the fundamental virtues of respect, restraint, and self-discipline, their education is incomplete—ill-conceived, even. Knowledge without character is a dangerous thing, a ticking time bomb that, when unleashed into society, creates individuals who believe they can act with impunity.
Thus, if a university tolerates such misconduct without appropriate disciplinary measures, it sets a precedent that could spiral into further chaos. Today, it is a student assaulting a lecturer; tomorrow, it could be an uprising against the very structures that uphold learning and order. The duty of an institution of higher learning is not only to educate but to civilize, to shape individuals into responsible members of society. And where one is deficient in character, the institution must ensure correction, not through leniency, but through decisive action that reinforces the values upon which it stands.
Let this be a moment of reflection—not just for the erring student but for all stakeholders in the education system. Discipline is not an act of cruelty; it is an act of preservation, ensuring that the sanctity of learning remains intact for future generations.
We live in an era where the old order is crumbling, where tradition struggles against modernity, where power—whether in love, wealth, or rebellion—dictates what is acceptable. And as we navigate this reality, we must ask ourselves: Are we moving forward, or have we simply lost our way?
Endlessly, frankly, and sadly musing.
