A Chance Encounter in a Barbershop
It began in the most ordinary of places a salon in Abuja. Clippers humming, young people talking, frustration simmering beneath the jokes.
“The Maraba–Abuja road is a nightmare,” one of them said, and the others nodded in agreement. I listened quietly, thinking to myself how our roads often tell our stories of neglect, patience, and hope.
Leaving that barbershop, I made a simple decision. I would ask questions. I would find out what was being done.
That evening, I sent a WhatsApp message to the Minister of Works, Engr. Dave Umahi. I wanted to know if that road, which clearly meant so much to so many, was even on the Ministry’s radar.
A Call that Changed the Tone
When you have a sensible person in office, you can tell from the first interaction.
Within minutes, my phone rang. Umahi himself. Courteous, apologetic on his way out of Abuja but promising to reschedule. The tone was calm, professional, and sincere. That call, brief as it was, carried a quiet lesson in leadership and humility.
A few days later came his invitation:
“Why don’t you come and see the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Road? You’ve spoken passionately about the Sokoto–Badagry Highway, but come and see this one yourself. Bring three friends people of capacity and value, even if they’re critics. As long as they love this country.”
That’s how confident leaders talk.
Gathering the Team
So, I called three people whose perspectives I value deeply.
Dr. Yemi Kolapo, veteran journalist and publisher of The Point and Growth Trackers Communications.
Olufemi Awoyemi, founder of Proshare, a leading thinker in finance and governance.
Oluseye Kehinde, publisher of City People, a storyteller who has mastered the art of turning facts into feeling.
They all agreed a rare alignment of schedules and purpose.
When we met Umahi, our collective first impression was the same: wow.
He exudes quiet confidence, people skills honed by sincerity. He believes that the way he relates to people should reflect his principal to win friends for the administration, not alienate them. In a bureaucracy too often marked by arrogance, that is refreshing.
The Lagos–Calabar Vision
Then we hit the road.
The Lagos–Calabar Coastal Road is more than a project. It’s a declaration that Nigeria, when determined, can match vision with execution.
Standing there, surrounded by engineers from Hitech and officials from the Ministry of Works, you could feel the ambition in the air the hum of machines, the clang of steel, the pulse of progress.
The scope is staggering. A superhighway linking Lagos, Ogun, Ondo, Edo, Delta, Cross River, and Bayelsa, complete with rail lines, economic corridors, and an infrastructure ecosystem that could redefine coastal commerce.
To call it a “road” is almost unfair. With its reinforced concrete and structural depth, it is a bridge solid, enduring, the kind that makes you think, so we can actually do this.
The speed of work is remarkable. Teams operate from multiple fronts, a choreography of precision and willpower.
Building Consensus Around Development
For once, I dared to believe this was not another ceremonial groundbreaking but a genuine turning point.
And as we travelled, one truth echoed through every kilometre:
We must build consensus around development.
Because nation-building cannot rest on government alone. It demands shared vision of citizens, critics, technocrats, and patriots all pulling in one direction.
Development thrives where ego gives way to empathy, and politics yields to purpose.
The Road Ahead
After seven days of travel, observation, and reflection, one conviction remains:
Nigeria is ready. We will build it and surely, they will come.
So, to my fellow citizens, I say: hold your breath a little longer. The new Nigeria we dream of the one they say is possible is already being built.
Brick by brick.
Road by road.
Dream by dream.
Wait for what I found in Edo. Abia. Enugu
Each location only deepened my resolve that Nigeria has turned the corner, now we must stay the course.
The Alternative.
