Friendship, when flipped, can produce the most toxic reality of time. Who would have imagined that El-Rufai and Ribadu would find themselves in this choking doldrum? Once inseparable friends—jolly buddies—with inspiring plans for the future, now stand on opposite ends of a widening gulf. Two men who once shared laughter and long visions are today perceived as rivals, each seemingly plotting for a tomorrow that may not accommodate the other.
The fallout is not necessarily born of personal misunderstanding, but of ambition—the relentless pursuit of tomorrow. Each desires for himself what the other desires. Same generation. Same growth trajectory. Now dangerously torn apart. Both, perhaps, nursing the quiet dream of occupying Nigeria’s highest office someday.
History is replete with such tragic turns. We witnessed it in the story of the late Mamman Vatsa and General Ibrahim Babangida—childhood friends from the same soil, who joined the army and rose side by side. But somewhere along the ascent, ego crept in. Suspicion followed. Envy manifested. What began as a shared dream ended as a tragic cautionary tale—two friends who once saw the future together, consumed by the very ambition that once united them.
In more recent times, the beautiful Siamese story of Yahaya Bello and Edward Onoja nosedived into a bitter, sorrowful pit. Two allies who found refuge in shared ideologies drifted apart—not merely from personal squabbles, but from the silent, corrosive pull of political ambition. What was once seamless became strained; what was once loyal became distant.
El-Rufai and Ribadu, upon close scrutiny, may not even be at open loggerheads. Yet the tension—real or perceived—is not far removed from the beckoning political realities of tomorrow. Two individuals with sane, pulsating expectations. Two destinies rising in parallel lines that may someday demand intersection. Caught in the intricate web of time.
And therein lies the tragedy of power.
For power does not merely test friendship—it tempts it, stretches it, and sometimes strangles it. It whispers comparisons. It magnifies differences. It turns shared dreams into competing claims. What once was “our vision” quietly becomes “my turn.”
True friendship is never loud; it is built in quiet loyalty, in shared hunger, in trust forged before the spotlight. But when ambition grows faster than affection, and destiny begins to look like a scarce commodity, even the strongest bonds can fracture.
The saddest thing is not that friends disagree. It is that they forget the roads they walked together before the crossroads appeared.
History will always remember who became president, who held office, who wielded influence. But only the heart remembers the laughter before the titles, the loyalty before the rivalry, the brotherhood before the battle.
And sometimes, in the silent chambers of reflection, long after power has shifted and applause has faded, what hurts the most is not losing an election, nor losing influence—
—but losing a friend. May our friendship never be tested…
Sorely musing
