Tinubu’s Education Promises and the Politics of Deception: When Presidential Stories Collide With Public Reality

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From the celebrated Chicago taxi-driver story to billions of naira in education announcements, Nigerians deserve more than inspiring speeches. They deserve verifiable facts, measurable results and a president who can be held accountable for his words. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu's latest message on education is carefully constructed around a compelling personal story. He tells Nigerians that when he first arrived in the United States as a young man, he drove a taxi to finance his education. He says he postponed starting school for several months to save money, worked different jobs in Chicago and struggled to pay his tuition and accommodation. The story is designed to establish a connection between the President's personal experiences and the economic struggles of Nigerian students. It presents him as someone who understands the sacrifices required to obtain an education because he supposedly experienced those sacrifices himself. But there is a fundamental probl...

Omotola Jalade and the Dangerous Advice of Celebrities: When “Marriage Is Not That Serious” Becomes Bad Wisdom

There is a difference between being honest about marriage and being careless about what your honesty teaches other people.

Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde is entitled to say that there are days when she does not feel in love with her husband. She is entitled to notice an attractive man and think he looks “fantabulous.” She is entitled to describe the private philosophy that has kept her marriage together for nearly three decades.


But once that private philosophy is presented publicly—especially by one of Nigeria's most recognisable celebrities—it becomes something else.

It becomes advice.

And that is where Nigerians, particularly young people, should stop clapping simply because something came out of the mouth of a famous person and actually interrogate what is being said.

Omotola recently described marriage in deliberately casual terms, saying her husband knows she does not love him all the time and that there are days she sees attractive men and wonders why she chose her husband. Reports of her comments also reproduced her broader philosophy that she and her husband do not “carry” marriage on their heads as though it were sacred and that their marriage is “not that serious.”

That may sound liberating.

It may even sound sophisticated.

But it is also remarkably easy to misunderstand.

And that is the problem.

Omotola is not an idiot. But some of this advice is intellectually lazy.

Calling Omotola Jalade “stupid” would actually weaken the argument.

The woman has survived more than three decades in one of Nigeria's most brutal entertainment industries. She built a career, raised four children, maintained a marriage, produced films, pursued business interests and became an international public figure.

She was named to Time magazine's 2013 list of the 100 most influential people in the world and received Nigeria's national honour of Member of the Order of the Federal Republic in 2014. She has also been involved in humanitarian and advocacy work.

So the interesting question isn't whether Omotola is intelligent.

The interesting question is:

Why should intelligence, fame and personal experience automatically make somebody's relationship philosophy good advice for millions of young people?

They shouldn't.

And celebrity culture has trained Nigerians to confuse those two things.

A successful actor speaks about marriage.

A musician speaks about investment.

A footballer speaks about education.

A billionaire speaks about poverty.

A pastor speaks about economics.

An influencer speaks about politics.

And because the person is famous, people quietly upgrade an opinion into wisdom.

That is dangerous.

“I don't love him all the time” is not the controversial part

There is actually a perfectly reasonable idea buried inside Omotola's statement.

People change.

Emotions fluctuate.

Marriage is not a permanent honeymoon.

There will be days when spouses are angry with one another. There will be periods of emotional distance. There will be disagreements, exhaustion, frustration and even moments when one wonders whether marrying this person was the right decision.

That is not revolutionary.

Omotola herself has previously explained the same idea in more constructive language.

In a 2021 interview with Chude Jideonwo, she said she and her husband understood that they were human beings, were open with each other and discussed their problems. She described them as partners in life.

In 2025, she again explained that there were times she was not “head over heels” in love but continued to honour her husband because of her religious commitment. She also said friendship becomes important when romantic feelings fluctuate.

That is a much more useful lesson.

Love is not merely a feeling.

Commitment matters.

Friendship matters.

Respect matters.

Communication matters.

Shared values matter.

Self-control matters.

The problem begins when the punchline becomes more memorable than the principle.

Young people are far more likely to remember:

“Marriage is not that serious.”

than the complicated explanation surrounding it.

And that is where celebrity advice becomes dangerous.

Marriage may not always feel sacred. But the consequences are extremely serious.

This is where Omotola's language deserves scrutiny.

A marriage may be entered voluntarily and should certainly not become a prison.

But marriage itself involves serious obligations.

Children may be involved.

Property may be involved.

Inheritance may be involved.

Healthcare decisions may be involved.

Financial responsibilities may be involved.

Extended families may be involved.

Emotional security may be involved.

A person's future may be intertwined with another person's decisions for decades.

So saying “don't take marriage too seriously” without carefully explaining what that means is potentially terrible advice.

Perhaps Omotola means:

Don't become so obsessed with the institution that you forget your humanity.

Fair enough.

But a 22-year-old listening to a celebrity may hear:

Marriage is basically casual. Don't worry too much about commitment.

Those are not the same message.

Words matter.

And Omotola's own history proves that marriage is complicated

This is where her past becomes important.

Omotola married Captain Matthew Ekeinde young.

According to a 2013 profile, she met him at 16 when he was 26. He proposed when she was 18, and her mother initially believed she was too young. They eventually married, holding two wedding ceremonies, including one aboard a flight between Lagos and Benin.

That marriage has now lasted decades.

Which means Omotola's experience actually provides a fascinating lesson that is much deeper than “marriage isn't serious.”

She entered marriage before she had accumulated the life experience that today's young Nigerians are often encouraged to acquire before making such a decision.

She grew into adulthood inside the marriage.

She developed a major career while married.

She raised children while building that career.

She experienced public scrutiny while married.

And she had to navigate controversies that could easily have destroyed a less stable relationship.

That is not evidence that marriage is unserious.

It is almost the opposite.

It demonstrates that marriage requires extraordinary seriousness precisely because human beings are complicated.

Remember “The Prostitute” controversy?

Omotola's own career provides another example.

In 2015, she discussed the controversy surrounding the movie The Prostitute, explaining that material shot after she had left the production was presented in a way that made it appear she had participated in the controversial scenes.

She said the controversy actually shook her marriage and that she only became comfortable after her husband assured her that he was not bothered.

Think about that for a moment.

A movie controversy.

A public reputation.

A husband's perception.

A marriage.

A woman's career.

All collided.

Suddenly marriage wasn't “not that serious.”

It mattered enormously.

Because when your spouse's trust, reputation and public image are affected, the supposedly unserious institution suddenly has very serious consequences.

There were rumours. Her husband had to navigate them too.

Omotola's marriage has also been subjected to the kind of celebrity rumours that follow famous people.

In a 2010 interview, her husband spoke openly about rumours concerning their relationship and said that although such reports initially worried him, he eventually learned to investigate before believing them. He described his trust in his wife as complete.

That is actually a valuable lesson for young couples.

Trust is not the absence of temptation or rumours.

Trust is what two people deliberately build so that rumours do not automatically destroy them.

Again, that sounds much more serious than “our marriage is not that serious.”

Even Omotola's own advice contradicts the simplistic version of her statement

This is perhaps the most interesting part.

Omotola has simultaneously offered some very serious advice about marriage.

She has argued that people should marry someone who understands them rather than merely marrying a fan.

She has stressed friendship.

She has spoken about financial independence.

She has argued that couples should communicate.

She has urged people to protect their private lives.

She has discussed faith and commitment.

She has even said women without income should think carefully about marriage because financial dependence can turn marriage into what she described as “slavery.”

Those are not unserious ideas.

In fact, they are considerably more useful than the viral soundbite.

Which raises the question:

Why package complicated relationship wisdom in language that can easily be interpreted as “marriage doesn't matter”?

Perhaps she was joking.

Perhaps she was being deliberately provocative.

Perhaps she was simply explaining how she and Matthew personally operate.

But young Nigerians should not automatically convert a celebrity's personal coping mechanism into a universal formula.

Omotola has also demonstrated that public statements can go badly wrong

This is not the first time one of Omotola's public interventions has generated controversy.

During the #EndSARS protests in October 2020, she attracted intense criticism after posting a comment about the reported deaths at Lekki Toll Gate.

The comment was widely interpreted as questioning the reality or significance of deaths during the incident. She subsequently apologised and clarified that she did not intend to deny that people had died.

Years later, in 2026, she said the #EndSARS period had been extraordinarily intense for her, including death threats against her children, and that the experience caused her to rethink how she engaged in activism.

That episode is instructive.

A person can have good intentions and still communicate something badly.

A person can be experienced and still make a poor public statement.

A person can later clarify what they meant.

And therefore, celebrity status should never replace critical thinking.

There was also the “hellish Nigeria” controversy

During the Buhari administration, Omotola publicly criticised the state of the country, describing Nigeria under Buhari as “hellish” and complaining about insecurity, killings and economic hardship. Her comments attracted significant attention at the time.

One does not have to agree or disagree with that political assessment to make the larger point.

Omotola has never been merely an actress.

She has repeatedly entered public debates about society, politics, activism, women's issues and relationships.

That means Nigerians are perfectly entitled to examine her statements critically.

Not because she is a woman.

Not because she is an actress.

Not because she is famous.

But because public advice deserves public scrutiny.

Fame is not a qualification for wisdom

This is the bigger problem.

Nigeria has developed a dangerous celebrity-worship culture.

A person becomes famous and suddenly their opinion is treated as an authority on subjects outside their expertise.

A celebrity's marriage becomes a marriage manual.

A celebrity's business becomes a financial textbook.

A celebrity's political preference becomes political analysis.

A celebrity's religious belief becomes theology.

A celebrity's personal experience becomes sociology.

It doesn't work that way.

Omotola has one marriage.

She has her particular personality.

Her particular husband.

Her particular economic circumstances.

Her particular religious beliefs.

Her particular family structure.

Her particular history.

That experience is valuable.

But it is not universal.

A 21-year-old university graduate with no income, no savings, no emotional maturity and no understanding of relationships should not hear “marriage isn't that serious” from a celebrity and conclude that commitment is optional.

That person could pay for that misunderstanding for the next 20 years.

Young Nigerians should learn the principle, not copy the personality

If Omotola's message is interpreted charitably, the useful lesson is:

Don't expect to feel romantic fireworks every single day of a long marriage.

Correct.

But the second lesson should be:

That doesn't mean commitment is meaningless.

Marriage requires emotional maturity precisely because attraction doesn't disappear when you sign a certificate.

You will still see beautiful people.

Your spouse will still see beautiful people.

People will still flirt.

People will still disagree.

Temptations will still exist.

Your partner will sometimes irritate you.

You will sometimes irritate your partner.

Your feelings will fluctuate.

Life will happen.

The adult response is not:

“Marriage isn't serious.”

The adult response is:

“My feelings are human, but my decisions have consequences.”

That is a much better lesson.

And there is another dangerous misunderstanding

Young Nigerians should not confuse attraction with permission.

Seeing an attractive person is not betrayal.

Finding someone handsome or beautiful is not betrayal.

Marriage does not make human beings blind.

The question is what you do with the attraction.

That is where character enters.

You can notice somebody is attractive and move on.

You can admire somebody's appearance without pursuing them.

You can acknowledge temptation without surrendering to it.

That is not hypocrisy.

That is self-control.

And self-control is one of the least glamorous concepts in today's attention economy.

It doesn't trend.

It doesn't generate viral clips.

It doesn't make entertaining podcast content.

But it is one of the things that keeps families intact.

Omotola's greatest lesson may actually be the opposite of her viral quote

Look at the evidence of her life rather than the soundbite.

A young woman married a man she met as a teenager.

They built a family.

She developed a major entertainment career.

She became an internationally recognised Nigerian celebrity.

Her marriage survived professional controversies.

It survived public rumours.

It survived the pressures of fame.

It survived the extraordinary demands of raising children while maintaining a public career.

Three decades later, they are still married.

Whatever anyone thinks about Omotola's philosophy, that is a serious achievement.

And it makes the simplistic interpretation of her latest remarks even less convincing.

Her actual life says:

Marriage requires work.

Her viral language says:

Don't take it too seriously.

The intelligent interpretation is probably somewhere between those two sentences.

Unfortunately, social media will usually remember the shorter one.

Nigerians should stop outsourcing their brains to celebrities

This is the real issue.

Don't listen to Omotola because she is Omotola.

Don't reject Omotola because she is Omotola either.

Listen to the argument.

Test the argument.

Ask whether it makes sense.

Ask what happens if millions of young people follow it literally.

Ask whether the speaker's personal circumstances are comparable to yours.

Ask what the omitted consequences are.

That is how adults consume public commentary.

Omotola has earned the right to tell her story.

She has not earned the right to have Nigerians switch off their brains when she tells it.

And neither has any other celebrity.

The lesson young Nigerians should actually take

If you are young and listening to Omotola talk about marriage, don't copy the headline.

Study the underlying reality.

Don't marry simply because you are lonely.

Don't marry because Instagram makes everybody else look coupled.

Don't marry somebody because they are attractive.

Don't marry somebody because they are famous.

Don't marry because your family is pressuring you.

Don't marry because you think marriage will solve your financial problems.

Don't marry because somebody makes you feel butterflies for three months.

Know the person.

Know yourself.

Build your financial capacity.

Understand responsibility.

Learn conflict resolution.

Understand fidelity.

Understand sexuality.

Understand money.

Understand parenting.

Understand the law.

Understand what commitment actually means.

And then make your decision.

Because marriage may be many things.

It can be funny.

It can be exhausting.

It can be romantic.

It can be frustrating.

It can be beautiful.

It can be boring.

It can be deeply spiritual.

It can sometimes make you look at the person beside you and wonder what on earth you were thinking.

But “not always romantic” is not the same thing as “not serious.”

That distinction matters.

Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde's decades-long marriage actually demonstrates that.

So don't call her stupid simply because she made a provocative statement.

Do something more useful.

Challenge the statement.

Celebrities are allowed to be wrong.

They are allowed to joke.

They are allowed to contradict themselves.

They are allowed to have unusual philosophies.

And Nigerians are allowed to say:

“That may work for you. But I'm not building my life on it.”

That is not disrespect.

That is adulthood.

And perhaps that is the lesson young Nigerians need most—not to stop listening to Omotola, but to stop listening to anybody without thinking.

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