By Abdul Mahmud
There are times when acts of kindness break through the noise. They come quietly. Without ceremony. They do not seek applause.
They simply do what is right. What is just. What is human. What is compassionate. Mr. Peter Obi and the Obidients’ movement have done this again and again. Sometimes, in small ways. Often, in ways that echo through the hearts of many. His recent intervention in the release of young Alabi Quadri was one of such moments. A boy in prison.
A moment when the nation paused and watched compassion rise above politics. Above the noise. Above the tired games of tribe and tongue. For once, the lines that divide our citizens gave way. Ethnicity fell silent. Something greater spoke. Not power. Not politics. Just kindness, pure and unforced.
There’s more than enough evidence to prove the point. But one story is enough. Alabi Quadri was imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. His case was brought to national attention by a young woman who calls herself simply, “Hausa girl.”
Her name is Hassana Nurudeen. Take your flowers, sister. A lawyer stood up for Alabi. His name is Inibehe Effiong. He is Ibibio. Salute, brother. Then came Peter Obi. He called. He visited. He is Igbo. And the Obidients? Nigerians from every tongue and ethnic nation. They raised ten million Naira – in hours. For a boy they had never met. This is what it means to be a people. This is the chord that binds us.
Alabi Quadri, who I dubbed elsewhere as the “Baba oyoyo boy” is not a politician. He holds no office. He is not wealthy. But he is one among many ordinary citizens. A young boy, like millions across our country, caught in the web of hardship and abandonment. His case was heartbreaking. His freedom uncertain.
But then, Peter Obi and the Obidients’ movement stepped in. They didn’t just intervene. They went further.
In fact, Obi promised education. He gave assurance. He gave hope. Not just to Alabi Quadri, but to his family. To the many citizens who feel forgotten.
This is what leadership looks like. Not in slogans.
Not in camera flashes. But in silent, dignified acts of mercy. It is easy to speak about change. It is much harder to live it. The Obidients, that growing movement of everyday citizens who believe in a new kind of leadership, have followed his example. They, too, have become vessels of compassion. They share. They give. They organise. They help. Together, they are turning compassion into action. A new kind of politics is being established. One that is not about strongmen or godfathers. One that is not defined by sacral thrones, altars of gods of men and titles. But by shared humanity.
Across our country, Obi has continued to make donations. Quietly. Consistently. From communities to nursing schools. From hospitals to local projects. He shows up where it matters most. Where others have forgotten. Where media crews don’t go. Where there is no campaign in sight. These are not grand gestures. They are not PR stunts. They are sincere attempts to rebuild what has been broken.
To remind us that governance is not about power. It is about the citizens. In many ways, Peter Obi and the Obidients’ movement appear to have imbibed Nelson Mandela’s enduring message to the Healing and Reconciliation Service held in Johannesburg on 6th December, 2000: “We are together in this. Our human compassion binds us the one to the other – not in pity or patronisingly, but as human beings who have learnt how to turn our common suffering into hope for the future.” This quote says it all. It holds up the truth that many do often forget. That compassion is not charity.
It is not condescension. It is recognition. Of pain. Of struggle. Of the fact that we all, in one way or another, are trying to survive. And if we can do so together, if we can lift one another as we rise, then perhaps there is still hope for our battered country.
There’s no better way of celebrating Easter than this. Easter, after all, is a season of love. Of sacrifice. Of compassion wrought on the cross by our Lord Jesus Christ. For Alabi Quadri and his family, this year’s Easter carries a deeper meaning. It is no longer just a ritual. It is a resurrection.
A second chance. A reminder that grace still lives among ordinary citizens. To lift a single life, to protect a single soul, to offer a future to a child is the miracle ordinary citizens need. Not the miracles in dubious prayer grounds. Not miracles behind microphones, ring lights and cameras. But the simple, humble miracle of showing up. The gestures of Obi and the Obidients’ movement do not solve our country’s problems.
They do not reform our institutions. They do not erase the years of failure and neglect. But they point the way to how citizens must begin to take their country back. One act at a time. One boy at a time. One school. One town. One village. One hamlet. One nation.
For far too long, our country’s politics has been a theatre of cruelty. Of detachment.
Of men and women in power who feel no obligation to feel. To care. To be human. But something is shifting. Slowly. Painfully. But surely.
The Obidients’ movement is the proof of that. Made up of young citizens. Of mothers. Of artisans. Of professionals. Of students. They all believe that compassion is strength. Not weakness. It is a movement not just of protests or ballots, but of rebuilding. Of giving. Of showing that another Nigeria is possible. That is why what Peter Obi and the Obidients’ movement did for Alabi Quadri matters. That is why Obi’s ongoing donations to nursing schools matter. They are not acts of indulgence. They are acts of defiance hurled against a system that teaches leaders to hoard and forget.
They are acts of remembrance. Compassion is not Lamba. It is simply saying, “We see you, brother.” “You matter, sister.” “You are not alone, fellow compatriots.” And in that moment, everything changes. A heart opens. Another life begins again with the freshness of the morning’s first light.
I have often expressed the fact that the future of our country does not lie in strong men. It lies in kind men. Good women. In communities that know that the suffering of one is the suffering of all. Peter Obi’s politics reminds us of that. So does the Obidients’ movement. They remind us that politics does not have to be cruel. It does not have to be cold. It can be warm. Soft. Fierce in its belief in the dignity of all.
As we mark this Easter, let us carry that spirit with us. Let us be kind. Let us be generous. Let us be compassionate, not out of pity, but out of solidarity. Let us remember the message of the cross. That love is the highest calling. That sacrifice is the noblest virtue. That grace can still find us in the darkest places. Let us be Easter to someone this season. Let us be hope. For a child. For a neighbour. For our country.
Happy Easter,compatriots.
