Ochechinyelu • Eziakpaka

3 December 1938 – 8 October 2006

Twenty years have passed, yet the memory remains remarkably fresh.

Twenty years after her passing, Maria Ukamaka Ifeoma Ojukwu (née Aghaji) remains deeply etched in the hearts of those who knew, loved and depended on her.

She was a woman of faith, courage, discipline, enterprise and uncommon family devotion. She was a mother, wife, sister, grandmother, homemaker and businesswoman whose life was shaped by duty and service to her family and community.

She died on Sunday, October 8, 2006, and was laid to rest in the family compound at Umudim, Nnewi.

Today, two decades later, her family remembers not merely the woman they lost, but the remarkable life she lived.

The daughter of teachers

Maria was born on December 3, 1938, the first of nine children of James and Matilda Aghaji—six girls and three boys.

Her siblings were Rose, Veronica, Emmanuel, Josephine, Bernadette, Martin, Aloysius and Chinweokwu.

Her parents were teachers and devout Catholics who raised their children in a home where dignity, integrity, morality, discipline and self-respect were regarded as non-negotiable values.

Because her father was a teacher who was frequently transferred, Maria attended schools in different places as the family moved from one posting to another. On occasions, her father was actually her teacher.

She grew up exceptionally close to her parents and was particularly attached to her mother, with whom she shared a relationship that was described as being almost that of younger sister and elder sister.

From an early age, she developed the characteristic that would define much of her life: she was an action woman.

She was deeply attached to her siblings and was prepared to sacrifice for them. That love was reciprocated by her brothers and sisters throughout her life.

She later received nursing training at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital, Ihiala, and subsequently undertook administrative and secretarial courses abroad.

In the early and mid-1960s, she worked at the African Continental Bank in Lagos, but as her family grew, her principal occupation became that of wife and mother, supplemented by several small business ventures.

A marriage into the Ojukwu family

In 1957, at a young age, Maria married Dr Joseph Okwuabudike Ojukwu, a medical doctor and eldest son of Sir Louis Philip Odumegwu Ojukwu and Ogbenyeanu Janet Malize, daughter of Chief Edward, the Warrant Chief of Ukpor.

The marriage took place at St Michael’s Catholic Church, Umudim, Nnewi, with Bishop John Cross Anyogu officiating.

For the young Maria, the marriage represented a transition from the modest, disciplined world of a teachers’ family into one of Nigeria’s prominent and wealthy families.

It was not always an easy transition.

Yet she met the challenges of her new environment with determination.

She became fiercely protective of her husband and children and was never afraid to stand her ground.

Her children remember a mother who was determined that family relationships should be maintained, even where differences existed.

During visits to the East in the 1960s, she would insist that the young family visit her husband’s relatives—including those who were not particularly favourably disposed towards them.

Her father-in-law, Sir Odumegwu Ojukwu, developed a particularly strong affection for her.

He admired what he described as her initiative, loyalty and character, and considered her free of the traits he despised—avarice, dishonesty, jealousy, ingratitude and waywardness.

He supported her, encouraged her and even acquired shares in her name.

When she gained admission to further her studies while the family was abroad, Sir Odumegwu wrote to her, counselling that with three children under the age of five, the benefits of further studies or employment could be outweighed by the consequences of being away from the children.

His death in 1966 was a devastating blow to the family.

Motherhood as a calling

Maria was first and foremost a mother.

She and Joseph were blessed with children, and she devoted herself to their upbringing with remarkable energy.

She was the family’s disciplinarian.

Dr Joseph, occupied largely with his medical practice and patients, often played the role of the final court of appeal.

When he believed Maria had made her point, he would intervene with the familiar:

“Maria, ozugozie.”

Maria, it is enough.

But discipline never diminished affection.

Her children understood that punishment was usually connected to responsibility and consequences.

She supervised their schoolwork, arranged lessons and constantly checked their progress.

She encouraged them to work hard and repeatedly reminded them never to disgrace themselves or the family.

The children were also raised to be practical and responsible.

They washed and ironed their clothes and those of their parents, washed dishes and performed household chores whether or not there was domestic help.

Before they were allowed to drive, they were expected to learn how to wash a car, change a tyre and check the oil, engine and battery.

The boys spent time with mechanics and became familiar with Coal Camp and the business of sourcing spare parts.

For Maria, raising children was not simply about providing food and education. It was about preparing them for life.

The woman who could cook a feast in thirty minutes

Those who knew Maria remember her as an exceptional cook.

She could prepare a meal with remarkable speed and without drama.

She would sometimes joke:

“Good soup, na money make am.”

Yet the family remembers that the quality of her cooking often exceeded what the modest expenditure would suggest.

The children’s upbringing around food was equally disciplined.

They were expected to finish what was served to them, whether they liked it or not.

On days when meat was available, two small pieces were regarded as the normal allocation.

Anyone demanding more might hear the teasing question:

“Igolu ogo bee agu?”

Are you in-laws with the tiger or lion family?

Before the Nigerian Civil War, the family’s menu could include snails, crab, lobster, duck, lamb, pork, nchi, okporoko, fresh fish and ukwa, while garri, pounded yam and later semolina served as staples.

Turkey and goat were largely reserved for Christmas and Easter.

At other times, it could simply be beans and sardine.

The lesson was as important as the food: appreciate what you have.

War, hardship and courage

The Civil War tested Maria in ways few people could imagine.

The family moved from Lagos to the East in late 1966, stayed briefly in Onitsha and moved to Enugu in early 1967.

When Enugu fell to Federal forces later that year, the family moved to Nnewi and subsequently to Umuahia.

Maria was only 29, pregnant and caring for four children.

Yet she drove a small two-door Vauxhall Viva with her children to Umuahia.

In 1968, during the height of the war, her son Nnanna was born at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Umuahia.

The war also brought profound personal losses to her own family.

Her 20-year-old younger brother, Emmanuel, went to the war front and never returned.

Another brother, Aloysius, who was only 15, lost an eye at the front.

Martin, the remaining middle brother, was fortunate to return.

For Maria, the war was not simply a historical event. It was hunger, fear, death, separation and uncertainty experienced at close quarters.

And yet, even amid scarcity, she remained generous.

She shared scarce salt and relief materials with people who needed them and visited and donated to refugee camps, including the camp at Akokwa, as well as the prison at Ekwulobia.

She gave even when she had little.

A bond with Njideka Ojukwu

During the war, Maria developed a particularly close relationship with Njideka Ojukwu, the wife of her husband’s brother, Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu.

The two women were married to brothers from the same prominent family and found themselves living through extraordinary circumstances.

While one brother was deeply involved in the war effort and affairs of State and the other was occupied with medicine and the constant stream of wounded patients, the two women provided each other with companionship and emotional support.

They attended some functions together and helped each other navigate the psychological burden of the war.

On one occasion in Umuahia, Njideka came to pick Maria up to attend the funeral of the Biafran Air Force Chief, Colonel Chude-Sokei, whose death had been particularly painful.

The family also remembers that contrary to some assumptions, Maria, her husband and children visited the State House only three times throughout the war—once in Enugu and twice in Umuahia.

One of the children’s most vivid memories was the day their uncle, the Biafran Commander-in-Chief, visited their father at Umudike, Umuahia.

He arrived alone, driving a convertible sports Mercedes-Benz, dressed casually in slacks and a short-sleeved shirt.

There was no obvious motorcade.

It was only after the children welcomed him with their excited:

“Uncle Emeka has come! Uncle, welcome!”

that they noticed that the farm behind the building was filled with security and military personnel.

It was one of those childhood memories that remained vivid decades later.

Rebuilding after the war

The end of the war in 1970 brought another chapter.

The family lived in a one-and-a-half-bedroom flat in GRA, Enugu.

Her husband, employed at the Specialist Hospital, did not believe in private medical practice.

Maria, however, believed in enterprise.

She needed to supplement the family income.

She therefore acquired a second-hand Morris Minor and put it into taxi service.

It was not an easy business.

Drivers sometimes kept part of the daily proceeds for themselves, while maintenance and mechanical problems consumed time and money.

She eventually sold the Morris Minor and bought a second-hand Volkswagen Danfo.

Later came a Toyota Corolla taxi and two Peugeot 504 station wagons for long-distance transport.

At one point, a 12-year-old son was occasionally sent to work as a conductor on the Danfo so that he could see for himself what the day’s actual returns were.

Maria also secured distributorships for Nigercem cement and Golden Guinea Beer.

These ventures helped sustain the family during a difficult post-war period.

Her entrepreneurial spirit was unmistakable.

She was not content simply to complain about financial difficulties. She looked for ways to solve them.

A woman of faith

Underlying Maria’s life was an unwavering Catholic faith.

Morning Mass and Benediction were part of her routine.

She was proud of her association with the St Anthony’s Society, popularly known as Anto Padua.

She was also an active foundation member of Mater Medic and Mediatrix and belonged to several Umudim and Nnewi women’s associations.

Her faith was not merely ceremonial.

It was reflected in the way she raised her children, treated people and responded to hardship.

Her titles, Ochechinyelu and Eziakpaka, reflected the respect she earned within her community.

The “action woman”

Maria’s family remembers her as a woman who acted.

She was not easily intimidated.

On one occasion, she was dispossessed of the family Mercedes-Benz 200 by armed hoodlums near the expressway in Enugu.

Rather than simply surrendering the vehicle, she immediately flagged down a taxi, paid the driver and instructed him to pursue the fleeing criminals.

Rattled by the pursuit, the hoodlums eventually abandoned the Mercedes by the roadside and fled into the bush.

It was an incident that perfectly captured the character of Maria Ojukwu:

fearless, decisive and resourceful.

Grandmotherhood brought another joy

If motherhood occupied a central place in her life, grandmotherhood brought her another dimension of happiness.

She absolutely adored her grandchildren.

The woman who had spent decades disciplining her own children became a deeply affectionate grandmother.

Her family grew to include grandchildren, great-grandchildren and an extended network of relatives, friends and well-wishers.

The values she had received from James and Matilda Aghaji were passed to another generation.

Twenty years later

Maria Ukamaka Ifeoma Ojukwu died on October 8, 2006.

She was 67.

Twenty years have passed.

The world has changed.

The children she raised have grown into accomplished adults. Her grandchildren have grown. Great-grandchildren have arrived.

But certain things have not changed.

The lessons remain.

The memories remain.

The laughter remains.

The discipline remains.

The stories remain.

And above all, the love remains.

Her children remember a mother who could be firm but loving; disciplined but generous; deeply traditional yet enterprising; fiercely protective yet devoted to family reconciliation.

They remember a woman who could cook a feast in thirty minutes, run a taxi business, sell cement and beer, supervise schoolwork, attend Mass, raise children, care for relatives and still find time to help someone who had less than she did.

They remember the woman who insisted that her children visit their relatives.

They remember the mother who would say, in effect, do not disgrace yourself or your family.

They remember her courage during the Civil War.

They remember her generosity when food and relief materials were scarce.

They remember her love for her husband.

They remember her devotion to her grandchildren.

And they remember the woman who lived by action rather than words.

A legacy that refuses to die

A person’s life is ultimately measured not only by the years spent on earth but by what remains after those years have passed.

Maria’s legacy lives in her children:

Barrister Margaret-Mary Ogonna Nwagbo;
Dr Patrick Ike Ojukwu;
Dr John Chukwudi Ojukwu;
Dr Mary-Ann Ukonwa Ijeomah;
Engr. Nnanna Louis Philip Ojukwu; and
Miriam-Mary Chizoba Ojukwu.

It lives in her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

It lives in her sisters, brother, nieces, nephews, cousins, in-laws, friends and the many people whose lives she touched.

It lives in the values she taught.

It lives in the family she built.

And it lives in the stories that continue to be told about her.

Twenty years after her departure, Maria Ukamaka Ifeoma Ojukwu remains loved, remembered and irreplaceable.

Her family does not remember her merely because she died.

They remember her because she lived—and lived meaningfully.

Forever missed.

Forever loved.

Forever irreplaceable.

Maria Ukamaka Ifeoma Ojukwu (née Aghaji)
“Ochechinyelu” • “Eziakpaka”
3 December 1938 – 8 October 2006

May her gentle soul continue to rest in perfect peace. Amen.

By Tony Edike

There are journeys Nigerians make every day without giving much thought to the danger involved.

We enter a car, fasten—or sometimes do not fasten—our seat belts, tell the driver where we are going and assume that we will arrive safely.

But increasingly, driving on Nigerian roads feels like an exercise in uncertainty.

The reckless overtaking.

The speeding.

The sudden lane changes.

The driver overtaking on a blind bend.

The motorist beating a red light.

The commercial bus forcing its way into traffic.

The driver using a mobile phone while driving.

The young man who bought a car yesterday and is driving it today as though years of experience came with the vehicle.

The question that should concern every Nigerian is simple:

How many people on our roads have actually demonstrated that they are competent to drive?

That question becomes even more important when we consider that the Federal Road Safety Corps recorded 10,446 road traffic crashes and 5,289 deaths in Nigeria in 2025.

Compared with 2024, the total number of crashes increased by 9.2 per cent, from 9,570 to 10,446. The number of people injured also increased by 7.2 per cent, from 31,154 to 33,400. Fatal crashes rose from 2,532 to 2,608, even though the overall number of deaths fell slightly from 5,421 to 5,289. (Nan News)

These are not merely statistics.

Behind every number is a person.

A father.

A mother.

A child.

A breadwinner.

A student.

A passenger.

A pedestrian.

A motorcyclist.

Somebody who left home expecting to return.

When a licence becomes a piece of plastic

Nigeria’s official driver-licensing system does require training.

The FRSC’s current driver’s licence portal states that a first-time applicant must be at least 18 years old and must have completed driving school. The application process also involves a driving test through the relevant Vehicle Inspection Office process. (Nigeria Driver’s Licence)

The FRSC’s Driving School Standardization Programme is even more specific.

A certified driving school is expected to have roadworthy dual-control training vehicles, licensed instructors, a classroom, Highway Code materials, traffic-law materials, first-aid facilities, a fire extinguisher and a driving range, among other requirements.

FRSC’s operating procedure states that certified schools are expected to train students for at least 26 sessions of a minimum of one hour each, with training sessions recorded on the FRSC system. (FRSC)

So the problem is not that Nigeria has no rules.

The problem is whether the rules are being followed rigorously enough.

A law that exists on paper but is poorly implemented cannot adequately protect the public.

A driving-school certificate should mean that somebody actually learned to drive.

A driving test should mean that somebody actually demonstrated competence.

And a driver’s licence should mean something more than the possession of a plastic card.

The young man who bought a car today

There is a growing phenomenon that deserves serious attention.

A young Nigerian saves money or makes money through unconventional means, obtains a car—or receives one from his parents—and suddenly becomes a driver.

Sometimes the person has never received formal driving instruction.

Sometimes a friend gives a few lessons.

Sometimes the person learns by watching someone else drive.

Then, almost immediately, the vehicle enters one of Nigeria’s busiest roads including the highways.

That is dangerous.

A car is not a bicycle.

It is a machine capable of weighing more than a tonne and travelling at speeds at which a mistake can become fatal within seconds.

The ability to start an engine, move a vehicle forward and turn a steering wheel does not constitute driving competence.

Driving requires judgment.

It requires hazard perception.

It requires understanding right of way.

It requires knowing when not to overtake.

It requires knowing how to react when another driver makes a mistake.

It requires understanding braking distances.

It requires lane discipline.

It requires the ability to remain calm when confronted with unexpected situations.

And, perhaps most importantly, it requires experience.

The embarrassment of the learner’s sign

There is another attitude we must confront.

Some new drivers are reluctant to identify themselves as learners.

They consider displaying a learner’s sign on their vehicles embarrassing.

There is an unfortunate social perception that says:

“If I have bought a car, why should people know that I am still learning?”

But learning is not shameful.

In fact, identifying a learner should be seen as an act of responsibility.

Other motorists need to know that the person behind the wheel may still be developing confidence and road experience.

Britain takes this principle seriously.

Learners in Great Britain must display L plates at the front and rear of the vehicle, and failure to display the required plate can attract penalty points. (GOV.UK)

Nigeria should consider a similarly serious approach to learner identification.

If a person is still learning, let the road know.

There is nothing shameful about saying:

“I am learning. Please give me room.”

Britain does not treat driving as automatic

There is an important lesson Nigeria can draw from the British system.

In Great Britain, becoming a driver involves several stages.

A learner obtains a provisional licence and learns under the prescribed conditions.

The driver must then pass a theory test before taking the practical driving test. The theory examination includes knowledge and hazard-perception components. (GOV.UK)

The practical test then determines whether the applicant can actually drive safely.

This distinction is important.

Knowing the Highway Code is one thing.

Applying it while controlling a moving vehicle in real traffic is another.

Nigeria should strengthen that distinction.

A person should not merely be able to answer questions about road signs.

The person should demonstrate that he or she can safely operate a vehicle around pedestrians, motorcycles, buses, trucks, traffic lights, intersections and other motorists.

America has another lesson: don’t rush beginners

The United States offers another interesting model.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration describes Graduated Driver Licensing, or GDL, as a three-stage system:

Learner’s permit → Intermediate licence → Full licence.

During the learner stage, driving is supervised.

During the intermediate stage, the new driver is allowed greater independence but may face restrictions on high-risk situations such as night driving and carrying young passengers.

Only later does the driver receive an unrestricted licence. (NHTSA)

The reasoning is straightforward.

A new driver needs experience.

But experience should be acquired progressively.

The NHTSA says the strongest GDL programmes are associated with substantial reductions in crashes among young drivers. It cites research associating the most restrictive programmes with a 38 per cent reduction in fatal crashes and a 40 per cent reduction in injury crashes among 16-year-old drivers. (NHTSA)

Nigeria may not need to reproduce the American system exactly.

But the principle is highly relevant:

Do not give inexperienced drivers unrestricted exposure to every dangerous driving situation immediately.

Nigeria needs a “graduated driver” system

Nigeria should seriously consider introducing a stronger graduated licensing arrangement for new and young drivers.

For example:

Stage One: Learner

The applicant would:

● obtain a learner permit;

● pass a theory examination;

● complete mandatory practical training;

● display a learner identification sign;

● drive only under prescribed supervision;

● complete a minimum number of verified training hours.

Stage Two: Provisional Driver

After passing the practical test, the driver would receive a provisional licence.

During this period, there could be restrictions appropriate to novice drivers, particularly around high-risk behaviours.

Stage Three: Full Licence

After completing the required period without serious traffic violations, the driver would graduate to a full licence.

Such a system would introduce an important principle:

A driving licence should be earned progressively, not simply obtained.

But who is teaching the drivers?

This is another question that deserves national attention.

Who owns some of Nigeria’s driving schools?

Who teaches there?

What qualifications do the instructors possess?

How often are the schools inspected?

Are training hours genuinely completed?

Are students actually taught road safety or merely given certificates?

These questions matter because FRSC itself recognises the need for standardisation.

Its Driving School Standardization Programme says schools are assessed on their facilities and trainers and that certification can be suspended or withdrawn when minimum standards are compromised. (DSSP)

That means enforcement should be visible.

Nigeria should maintain and regularly publish an updated national register of approved driving schools and licensed instructors.

A prospective student should be able to enter a website, type the name of a driving school and immediately know:

● whether the school is accredited;

● when its accreditation expires;

● whether its instructors are certified;

● how many vehicles it has;

● whether the vehicles are roadworthy;

● whether the school has been sanctioned.

Transparency would help drive bad operators out of the industry.

The examiner must be independent

There is another reform worth serious consideration.

The person who teaches a candidate should not be the person whose word alone determines that the candidate is ready for an unrestricted licence.

Nigeria needs a strong, independent and standardised practical examination.

The test should assess actual competence, including:

● vehicle control;

● reversing;

● parking;

● lane discipline;

● turning;

● signalling;

● mirror use;

● speed management;

● safe overtaking;

● traffic-light compliance;

● pedestrian awareness;

● hazard perception;

● emergency braking;

● interaction with motorcycles and commercial vehicles.

And the examination should be digitally recorded.

Why?

Because once the examination is recorded, an applicant can challenge an unfair result and authorities can investigate suspicious patterns.

If one examiner passes virtually everyone, that should trigger an audit.

If another examiner fails almost everyone, that should also trigger an audit.

Technology can make the licensing system more transparent.

The problem is not only drivers

We must also resist the temptation to blame every road crash entirely on motorists.

Road safety is a system.

The driver matters.

The vehicle matters.

The road matters.

Traffic enforcement matters.

Emergency medical services matter.

Urban planning matters.

Road signs and markings matter.

Public transport regulation matters.

A competent driver can still encounter a mechanically defective truck.

A careful motorist can still meet a dangerously designed intersection.

A pedestrian can still be exposed to a road without adequate crossing facilities.

And a crash victim’s chances of survival can depend on how quickly emergency medical assistance arrives.

Consequently, Nigeria needs a comprehensive road-safety strategy rather than periodic enforcement campaigns.

Speed is not a small matter

One of the most dangerous behaviours on Nigerian roads is excessive speed.

At high speed, the driver has less time to react and the vehicle requires a greater distance to stop.

The consequences of a collision are also more severe.

Nigeria should therefore expand intelligent speed enforcement.

Speed cameras and red-light cameras can complement human enforcement.

But technology must be transparent.

There must be proper calibration.

There must be reliable evidence.

There must be procedures for challenging erroneous penalties.

And enforcement should be designed primarily around saving lives, not generating revenue.

We need to know where crashes are happening

Nigeria also needs better public crash data.

The 2025 FRSC figures tell us the national picture, but policymakers need much more.

Every serious crash should produce a standardised record showing, where available:

● location;

● time;

● road condition;

● vehicle type;

● driver age;

● licence status;

● training status;

● estimated speed;

● weather;

● road design;

● injuries;

● fatalities;

● vehicle condition;

● suspected impairment;

● emergency response time.

FRSC already operates a Road Safety Observatory and has identified high-risk locations from its crash database.

The country should build on that work.

If a particular junction produces repeated fatal crashes, authorities should not simply erect another sign and move on.

They should ask:

What exactly is wrong with this location?

Is it the road design?

The speed?

Poor visibility?

Pedestrian movement?

Lack of traffic control?

Illegal parking?

Poor lighting?

The answer should determine the intervention.

Road safety should begin in school

We also need to change the culture before young Nigerians become motorists.

Road safety education should become a serious part of secondary-school education.

Young people should understand:

● road signs;

● pedestrian safety;

● seat belts;

● speed;

● distracted driving;

● alcohol and drugs;

● motorcycle safety;

● emergency response;

● responsible vehicle ownership.

By the time a Nigerian buys a first car, road safety should not be a new concept.

And commercial drivers need special attention

The risks associated with commercial buses, tankers and heavy trucks require particular attention.

These vehicles carry more passengers or impose greater physical force in a collision.

Commercial drivers should therefore face rigorous professional requirements, periodic medical assessments, skills testing and stronger sanctions for serious violations.

Companies operating large fleets should also be held accountable for driver working conditions.

Pls

A driver who is pressured to drive excessively long hours without adequate rest can become a danger to himself and other road users.

Road safety therefore extends into transport-company management.

The licence should mean something

Perhaps the most important reform Nigeria can make is cultural.

We must restore the meaning of a driver’s licence.

A licence should be evidence that the holder has demonstrated:

knowledge + practical competence + road awareness + responsibility.

It should not simply be evidence that an application was processed.

Nigeria already has the foundation.

The FRSC’s licensing portal requires first-time applicants to complete driving school. The official framework provides for testing, and FRSC operates a standardisation system for driving schools. (Nigeria Driver’s Licence)

The challenge is to make those requirements real, consistent, transparent and difficult to circumvent.

The way out

Nigeria does not need another slogan telling motorists:

“Drive safely.”

We have heard that for years.

What Nigeria needs is a system that makes competent driving a requirement rather than an aspiration.

A person buying a first car should be encouraged—not embarrassed—to learn properly.

A learner should display the appropriate identification.

A driving school should be genuinely accredited.

An instructor should be properly qualified.

A practical test should be meaningful.

An examiner should be independent.

A vehicle should be roadworthy.

A dangerous driver should face predictable consequences.

A repeat offender should face escalating sanctions.

A dangerous road should be redesigned.

And every serious crash should teach the authorities something that can prevent the next one.

The statistics demand action.

Nigeria recorded 10,446 road crashes in 2025, with 5,289 people killed and 33,400 injured, according to FRSC figures reported by the News Agency of Nigeria. (Nan News)

But behind those numbers is something more profound.

Every road user is somebody’s child.

Somebody’s parent.

Somebody’s spouse.

Somebody’s friend.

Somebody’s employee.

Somebody’s future.

The ultimate question, therefore, is not whether Nigeria can reduce the number of road crashes.

It is whether Nigeria is prepared to change the way it thinks about driving.

Because a driver’s licence should never be merely a document that says:

“This person is legally allowed to drive.”

It should also give the public reasonable confidence that:

“This person has demonstrated that he or she knows how to drive.”

Until that confidence exists, every Nigerian who enters a vehicle is entitled to ask a difficult question:

Who exactly tested the person behind the wheel—and did that test really prove that the person can drive?