By: Denis Inakefe
My support for Muhammadu Buhari was never about personal gain. It was not a calculated political move or a chase for appointments and contracts. It was rooted in conviction, an inner sense of duty, independence, and the courage to walk a lonely road, even when that road was lined with thorns.
When I chose to support Buhari, especially during his second bid for the presidency, it felt like being a lone voice in the wilderness. In my immediate environment, particularly within southern Nigeria, mentioning Buhari or aligning with the All Progressives Congress (APC) was treated like blasphemy. To many, it was not just a political stance, it was betrayal.
I was called names—Fulani slave, mumu, even cow. I was insulted both online and offline. I lost memberships in groups I once valued, faced mockery at professional gatherings, and was unfollowed, unfriended, and even blocked by people I considered close—some of whom couldn’t separate political belief from personal identity. Imagine being blocked on Instagram, where I barely posted anything political, simply for who I supported.
But in the fire of rejection, I found something purer—resilience. I gained new friends and allies, from the North, the Southwest, and within my own region—people who valued loyalty, dialogue, and the essence of democracy: the right to choose. I lost relationships, but I gained opportunities. I lost social acceptance, but I found purpose.
To be a Buharist, especially from the South, was to embrace delayed gratification. It required patience, consistency, wisdom, and strength. It demanded a deeper understanding of national politics beyond sentiment or tribal interest. Yes, Buhari had his flaws—like every human and every leader—but I believed in the ideal he represented: integrity, discipline, and a relentless commitment to nation-building, even in the face of opposition.
Now, the irony is almost laughable. Many of those who once swore never to associate with the “Fulani party” now boldly wave brooms and cow symbols, proudly embracing the very political structure they once demonized. This, to me, is a quiet yet significant victory—not for Buhari alone, but for those of us who stayed true to our convictions.
From the northern heartland where the movement gained strength, to the southern grassroots now buzzing with APC enthusiasm, a political evolution has taken place. What began as a hard sell in regions like mine has become mainstream. We stood firm. We stayed the course. And today, our choices have aged well.
As I reflect on the life and legacy of Muhammadu Buhari following his passing, I do so not just as a supporter, but as someone who invested emotion, faith, and reputation into what he stood for. He was not perfect—no leader is—but he was principled, and I honor that.
He came. He saw. He conquered—first as a soldier, then as a democrat. In both phases, he gave his best. He governed with a sense of order, continued projects he inherited, and, in his own quiet way, laid foundations others now build upon.
Now that he has returned to his Maker, I find peace knowing I was not just a fan in fair weather. I was there through the storm, the criticism, the mockery. And I have no regrets.
Rest in peace, General Muhammadu Buhari.
Soldier. Leader. Compatriot.
Your journey was not in vain.
You may be gone, but your legacy lives on.
And so does the conviction of those of us who believed.
I am a proud Buharist.
Denis Inakefe – #MediaChiefPriest
#BuharisBurial #BuhariLegacy #RestInPeace #Buhari
