I knew it. I absolutely knew it.
By Lanre Alfred
When I wrote “The Man Who Carried a City”, the biography of Governor Babajide Olusola Sanwo-Olu in celebration of his 60th birthday, the calls started pouring in almost immediately. Some were polite, most were not. Politicians, corporate bigwigs, even career sycophants with no skin in the game, everyone suddenly found their voice. They wanted to know what I was thinking, why I would risk such public affection on a man supposedly estranged from his political godfather, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. One very senior political jobber even called me in the middle of the night to ask, genuinely perplexed: “Don’t you read the mood of the room anymore?”
But I had read the room. Very well, in fact. And I understood the subtext most of them were ignoring: this wasn’t a Shakespearean tragedy, it was a temporary chill between two men whose bond ran far deeper than the average political alliance.
So, when news broke this weekend that President Tinubu had publicly and unequivocally declared all was forgiven, that “it’s all over now,” I didn’t feel vindicated, I felt quietly satisfied. The reunion wasn’t just inevitable, it was always written in the politics and the personal history they share.
Let’s be honest. Anyone who truly understands Lagos politics knows that Tinubu and Sanwo-Olu have always had the kind of dynamic that defies linear political analysis. Tinubu, the legendary political architect of modern Lagos, and Sanwo-Olu, the quiet but brilliant technocrat who rose from obscurity to become one of the most effective governors the state has seen. Their journey together has always been more familial than transactional.
Yes, there were whispers. Yes, there was the moment at the Lagos-Calabar Highway commissioning when the President appeared to bypass Sanwo-Olu without a handshake. Yes, there were events in Lagos where the state’s chief executive was conspicuously absent. But even then, I was certain that this was a momentary frost, not a full-blown winter.
Because I have watched Sanwo-Olu too closely to be fooled. I have studied the man, not just as a subject of biography, but as a specimen of Lagosian grit and governance. And more importantly, I have observed Tinubu long enough to understand that he is not one to allow emotion get in the way of strategic reconciliation. This is a man who forgives like a general—pragmatically, and with foresight.
So, when the GAC, the Lagos State Governor’s Advisory Council, met with Tinubu in Ikoyi this weekend to plead on behalf of Sanwo-Olu, I imagine the President wasn’t hearing new arguments. He was merely being given the right opportunity to do what he had probably already decided: forgive and move forward.
And forgive he did—with the kind of magnanimity that only Tinubu can deliver. “It’s all over now. All is forgiven.” No hedging. No ambiguity.
In response, Sanwo-Olu and members of the GAC prostrated before him. A symbolic gesture, yes, but one heavy with Lagos political tradition. It was the public performance of something I suspect had already occurred in private.
What will the purveyors of discord say now? What will the profiteers of division do? Those who had peddled stories of irreparable rift, who tried to offer their loyalties like unsolicited dowries to either side, where will they pitch their tents now?
Shame to bad people. The hatchet has been buried. And thank God it has.
And let me say this without an ounce of apology: Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu absolutely deserved “The Man Who Carried a City”. That book was not a political stunt. It was a tribute to vision, courage, and performance. Regardless of anyone’s personal interpretation of the temperature between him and Tinubu, Sanwo-Olu’s achievements are self-evident.
This is a man who steered Lagos through one of its most volatile moments, COVID-19. While other governors floundered, Sanwo-Olu became the face of calm leadership. He was visible, he was firm, and above all, he was compassionate. Lagos didn’t just survive the pandemic; it adapted, evolved, and even expanded under his watch.
Under his administration, Lagos saw historic infrastructural expansions—from the Blue and Red rail lines to the digitization of the judiciary and education sectors. Have you seen the revamped Yaba? The new Lekki? The Eco-Friendly Terminal in Oshodi? These are not minor projects. These are legacies.
More than that, Sanwo-Olu’s Lagos is a city that’s trying to remember its human side. Investments in primary healthcare, access to education, inclusive housing projects—he’s managed to combine a megacity vision with grassroots accessibility.
And let’s not forget his firm but measured handling of the post-#EndSARS chaos. That moment could have consumed lesser men. But Sanwo-Olu did not retreat from his responsibilities. He took the hits—some fair, many unfair—and kept his eyes on governance. That is the measure of a man who truly carries a city.
So, when people told me that I had made a mistake by gifting the governor a biography at 60, I simply told them: you don’t bury light just because the skies are cloudy. I stood by my decision, knowing that the temporary misalignment between mentor and mentee would soon be corrected. And here we are today.
Let us now talk about the politics of perception. Many people fail to understand that silence in politics is often louder than noise. Neither Tinubu nor Sanwo-Olu ever publicly denounced each other. At worst, there were cryptic gestures—an overlooked handshake here, a missing name there. But no harsh words. No scorched-earth interviews. That restraint, that discipline, is what kept the bridge intact, even as stormy waters flowed underneath.
What we witnessed this weekend was not just a personal reconciliation, it was the affirmation of a shared vision. Lagos is too important to Nigeria, and both men know it. Their collaboration isn’t just political theatre—it is a functional necessity for Nigeria’s economic and political stability.
I am personally happy, immensely so, that this reunion has finally happened. The politics of division may be entertaining for some, but for those of us who care about leadership and legacy, reconciliation is always the better headline.
As we look forward, I am confident that the renewed camaraderie between Tinubu and Sanwo-Olu will yield even more progress for Lagos. There is now room for deeper alignment, more ambitious governance, and fewer distractions from naysayers and political opportunists.
To those who sneered at me for writing “The Man Who Carried a City”, I say: you read the moment, but I read the men. And I’ll always place my bet on conviction over convenience.
Babajide Sanwo-Olu remains one of the most accomplished governors Lagos has seen in recent memory, and I am proud to have documented part of his journey. Now that he has re-secured the blessing of his godfather and mentor, there’s no telling how much more Lagos stands to gain.
Indeed, you may carry a city, but the real task is to never let it fall. Sanwo-Olu hasn’t let Lagos fall. He has lifted it—steadily, patiently, and with quiet dignity.
And now, with President Tinubu’s forgiveness and renewed camaraderie, he’s about to lift it even higher.
Let the cynics eat their hearts out. Lagos moves forward.