Across Africa’s halls of power, there exists a recurring—and often heartbreaking—phenomenon. It’s not a tale of spirits or curses, but of something equally haunting: the way ordinary men and women can be transformed by the intoxicating allure of office. Once humble colleagues, warm friends, or approachable professionals often vanish behind what might be called the “ministerial mask.” Their voices grow distant, their availability evaporates, and their character—at least as it was known—becomes unrecognizable.
Former Deputy Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, Kingsley Moghalu, recently captured this phenomenon with remarkable candor. He recalled the story of a close friend who attended his 50th birthday as a private citizen—a man who was approachable, witty, and grounded. Shortly afterward, this friend was appointed a minister. What followed, Moghalu notes, was immediate and chilling:
“I tried to reach him by phone on a professional matter but he did not pick my call. He did not respond to messages I sent. I was disappointed, but I also heard similar complaints from other mutual friends and acquaintances. Few could ‘recognize’ our friend’s character and conduct anymore.”
The Allure and the Illusion
This is more than a story of missed calls. It is a cautionary tale about the intoxicating—and temporary—nature of power. For many, political office is treated less as a sacred duty to serve, and more as a fortress that separates the officeholder from the ordinary world. Long-standing relationships, mutual respect, and common courtesy often fall victim to the siren call of status.
Yet history and human nature remind us that power is rarely permanent. Moghalu’s friend eventually found himself on the losing side of an election. What was once perceived invincible—the ministerial title, the motorcades, the ceremonial airs—crumbled. Reports suggest he now faces legal challenges abroad, including extradition and immigration proceedings. The very man whose silence once frustrated friends now confronts the consequences of choices made under the spell of office.
| Phase | Behavior | Reality |
|---|---|---|
| Before Power | Approachable, friendly, “one of us.” | Building social and professional capital. |
| In Power | Silent phones, arrogance, unrecognizable demeanor. | Living in a bubble of perceived permanence. |
| After Power | Legal battles, isolation, seeking refuge. | Facing the stark consequences of vanity and hubris. |
Lessons for the Aspiring and the Incumbent
For those holding or seeking public office, this story is a sobering warning. Titles are temporary; influence is borrowed; and the respect of friends, colleagues, and peers is invaluable and easily lost. Character, not office, is enduring.
As Moghalu summarized the saga with timeless wisdom:
“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”
When your friends cannot recognize you while you wear the ministerial mask, do not be surprised if they cannot hear your calls for help when the mask comes off. Political power may elevate you for a moment, but it cannot buy back lost trust, burned bridges, or a reputation compromised by arrogance.
Ultimately, the lesson is clear: serve with humility, lead with integrity, and remember that the office is a loan from the people—not a crown to conceal your soul.
ANTHONY EMEKA NWOSU