Tinubu Sparks Outrage as N39Bn Abuja Centre Bears His Name

Tinubu Sparks Outrage as N39Bn Abuja Centre Bears His Name
Tinubu stood at the heart of the spotlight as Nigeria’s capital unveiled a newly renovated international landmark—reborn with his name. But behind the bright lights and red ribbons, shadows of controversy grew louder, fueled by one number—₦39 billion.
The newly refurbished Abuja International Conference Centre now bears the name of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Officials announced this change at a grand opening ceremony filled with high-ranking guests, including Senate President Godswill Akpabio and FCT Minister Nyesom Wike. But not all Nigerians welcomed the fanfare. Many, already weighed down by rising inflation and unemployment, questioned whether the glitz justified the cost.
“This conference centre was built in 1991 under the military government,” Wike said, his voice echoing through the main hall. “Since that time, nothing has happened to this International Conference Centre.”
He painted a vivid picture of the building’s long neglect. According to him, Tinubu’s leadership gave the project the push it needed. “Last year, July or August, you came here to inaugurate the ECOWAS Parliament. It was an embarrassment. You said, ‘how can we have this?’ That shows leadership.”
Wike said Tinubu did not just complain—he acted. “You said, ‘Next time I come here, I want to see a different centre.’ Within eight months, Mr President, this is what we have. I agree that without your leadership, it wouldn’t have been possible.”
He continued, “You’re not the only President who has come here. Many others came, but no one did what you did. Today, this is the Bola Ahmed Tinubu International Conference Centre. It can match any international centre.”
As applause filled the room, critics outside the hall voiced another story—one of financial pain and priorities gone wrong.
The renovation, Wike confirmed, cost Nigeria ₦39 billion. The announcement immediately stirred backlash on social media, talk shows, and within homes of struggling citizens. The country’s economy has been fragile. Food prices keep rising. Basic goods are harder to afford. Fuel hikes have left transport expensive. For many, ₦39 billion felt like too much to polish a building, even a grand one.
Yet, Wike remained firm in his defence. He said the decision to name the centre after Tinubu wasn’t just about architecture—it was about restoring pride.
“I am pleased with what is happening. Julius Berger has promised to complete it. The total cost is N39 billion, not N39 million,” he clarified.
He said the company had most materials on-site, adding that 70 to 80 percent of the work was already complete at the time of the event. “They have assured us they will finish and hand it over by May,” Wike stated with confidence.
But Nigerians were not reassured by numbers alone.
On the streets of Abuja and across the country, voices rose with concern. A teacher in Kaduna said, “My school still uses broken desks. My salary hasn’t increased in years. But we have N39 billion for a hall?”
An unemployed graduate in Lagos asked, “Is this what leadership looks like? A name on a wall, while we queue for jobs?”
Their anger was not about the building’s name. It was about timing. Many felt the government should focus first on healing the economy before spending big on a building—no matter how iconic it might be.
Wike, however, argued that national image matters too. “For everyone’s satisfaction, coming from a country like this, we cannot discuss having a befitting conference centre. What is the essence of Nigeria, the largest nation? Are we merely large in name?”
He said the world expected standards from Nigeria. “We travel globally and observe standards; why should our own be different?”
This wasn’t just about a hall, he insisted. It was about how Nigeria wanted to be seen—by its people and the world.
Some citizens understood the vision but still felt left behind. A mother in Makurdi shared her struggle. “I sell food to feed my three children. Every day gets harder. What will this centre do for me? Will Tinubu’s name feed my family?”
Wike’s statements tried to explain the project as one of national pride. But for those hungry, jobless, or displaced, pride doesn’t fill stomachs. Many are asking for solutions, not symbols.
Inside the conference centre, now gleaming with fresh finishes and modern design, speeches flowed. Outside, frustration built up like clouds before rain. For a country trying to stand taller on the global stage, the gap between ceremony and citizen felt wider than ever.
Still, Tinubu’s allies saw the project as a strong legacy move. They say it proves that leadership can bring change. “This place was dying,” a government aide said. “Now it is alive again, just like the country will be under Tinubu.”
But rebuilding a centre is not the same as rebuilding trust. Many Nigerians now wait to see what real benefits this renovation will bring. Will it create jobs? Will it host global events that improve tourism? Will local businesses grow around it?
These questions remain unanswered.
As Tinubu’s name settles into stone at the entrance of the conference centre, the people outside wonder when their own names—and their needs—will be remembered too.
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