On Sunday, July 13, 2025, the curtain fell on one of the most consequential lives in Nigeria’s modern history. Muhammadu Buhari, the soldier-turned-statesman who once ruled by decree and later by democratic vote, passed away in a London hospital at the age of 82. His death marks the end of a long and complex chapter in the nation’s story—one that spanned the battlefield, the ballot box, and everything in between.
He was not an ordinary man, and his life was never ordinary.
Born on December 17, 1942, in the ancient town of Daura in northern Nigeria, Muhammadu Buhari came from humble beginnings. His father, Adamu, passed away when he was just four, leaving his mother, Zulaiha, to raise him and his siblings alone. If not for the intervention of Waziri Alhassan, the son of a former Emir of Daura who took the family under his wing, Buhari’s future might have ended in anonymity. But life had other plans.
He began his education in Daura and Maidua, then attended Katsina Middle School and later the Provincial Secondary School in Katsina, where he earned his West African School Certificate in 1961. In those early years, Buhari had aspirations of becoming a medical doctor. But the tide of history swept him in another direction—toward the military.
At just under 20 years old, he was admitted into the Nigerian Military Training College in Kaduna. He would go on to train in the UK, India, and the US, quickly rising through the ranks. By 1963, he was a Second Lieutenant, posted to the 2nd Infantry Battalion in Abeokuta. He was disciplined, loyal, and unshakably focused. Over the next two decades, Buhari’s military journey saw him serve as a battalion commander during the civil war, head key commands, and eventually become a prominent figure in government as Federal Commissioner for Petroleum Resources and Chairman of the newly formed Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC). The Kaduna refinery, pipeline networks, and energy infrastructure he helped oversee still stand as part of his early legacy.
But it was in December 1983 that Buhari entered national consciousness like never before. As the civilian administration of Shehu Shagari stumbled under the weight of economic mismanagement and rampant corruption, Buhari—along with General Tunde Idiagbon and others—led a military coup. At age 41, he became Nigeria’s Head of State.
His leadership style was firm, uncompromising, and unapologetically austere. His “War Against Indiscipline” became a national campaign. Nigerians were asked—sometimes forced—to line up properly, keep the streets clean, arrive at work on time, and embody public morality. There were no half-measures with Buhari. His government detained many former public officials, enforced strict media laws, and issued controversial decrees that granted the state sweeping powers.
It was a time of order, but also fear.
Yet, even amid the crackdown, one thing stood out: Buhari never enriched himself. His lifestyle remained spartan. He held himself to the same rigid code of conduct he demanded of others. Amid the usual self-interest that characterises public office, that alone made him stand out. In the North, especially, this quality became legend. He was Mai Gaskiya—the man of truth. To many, he symbolised integrity in its purest, unpolished form.
When he was ousted from power in a 1985 coup led by General Ibrahim Babangida, Buhari disappeared from public life. For over three years, he lived in detention. After his release in 1988, he chose silence over spectacle. He declined to participate in the Babangida-led transition to democracy, preferring, it seemed, to remain an observer rather than a player.
But history kept calling him back.
In 1994, under the Abacha regime, he was appointed Chairman of the Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF), where he oversaw infrastructural interventions using savings from fuel subsidy reforms. Many still point to the transparency and impact of the PTF under Buhari’s watch as one of the most efficient public programs of that era.
Then, in 2003, he stepped fully into the democratic arena. As presidential candidate of the All Nigeria People’s Party (ANPP), he contested and lost. Undeterred, he ran again in 2007—and again in 2011, this time under his own party, the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC). He lost all three elections, but each time, his influence only grew. While he couldn’t yet claim the nation, he had already conquered the North. His followers were fiercely loyal, drawn not just to his message but to the man himself. They saw in him something rare—honour in public life.
Still, outside his base, doubts lingered. Buhari was often seen as too rigid, too conservative, and too provincial. His past comments, including a controversial speech in Bauchi during the 2011 campaign, made headlines for all the wrong reasons. His perceived ethnic and religious biases, his open support for Sharia in the past, and his alignment with certain Northern positions made him a polarising figure.
That would change in 2015.
Through a historic coalition of opposition parties—the CPC, ACN, ANPP, a breakaway faction of PDP, and other political heavyweights—Buhari emerged as the candidate of the newly formed All Progressives Congress (APC). Rebranded, reshaped, and with southern political backing, Buhari became a broader national symbol. Gone were the days of stiff khaki and accusatory rhetoric; in its place was a man in suits and agbadas, smiling on campaign posters, pledging unity, and promising to fight corruption with renewed purpose.
On March 28, 2015, he achieved what no one had before: he defeated an incumbent president in a Nigerian general election. His acceptance speech, laced with restraint and gratitude, included a line that would go on to define his presidency: “I belong to everybody, and I belong to no one.”
In his first term, he focused on stabilising an economy in freefall, securing regions plagued by insurgency, and building physical infrastructure. Rail lines were revived. Roads were constructed. Agriculture received increased attention. And even though he stopped short of removing the petroleum subsidy outright, he took steps toward reform, balancing political pressure with a desire to protect the poor.
But governance was never easy. His administration faced rising inflation, a weakened naira, growing debt, and deepened poverty. His anti-corruption campaign—once the bedrock of his political brand—was seen by critics as selective. Still, many never questioned his personal integrity.
In 2019, he was re-elected for a second term. By then, Nigeria was different. So was Buhari. He seemed more withdrawn, slower to speak, more cautious in decisions. His critics called it aloofness; his supporters said it was wisdom. Either way, the myth of Buhari—man of discipline, reluctant democrat, incorruptible leader—remained intact in the hearts of many.
When he left office in 2023, he returned to Daura quietly, as always. He didn’t start a political foundation. He didn’t insert himself into national politics. He retired with dignity, watching from afar as the nation continued its ever-evolving journey.
And then, on a quiet Sunday in London, his journey ended.
For all his flaws—and there were many—Muhammadu Buhari remained one of Nigeria’s most significant leaders. He was not a great orator. He didn’t dazzle with charisma. But he held a kind of moral authority that few in public life ever attain. He stood for something. He believed in discipline, in sacrifice, in hard work. He demanded order in a nation often defined by chaos.
To some, he will be remembered as the man who clamped down on freedom in the 1980s. To others, he will forever be the northern patriot who brought simplicity to high office. For many, he was the president who meant well, even if his methods didn’t always land. But no one—friend or foe—could say he didn’t serve.
He served as a soldier, risking his life on the battlefield. He served as a Head of State, trying to rescue a country in crisis. He served as a democratic president, twice elected by the people. And through it all, he remained true to himself—stoic, honest, and often painfully human.
In the end, Buhari’s life is a Nigerian story—full of trials, victories, contradictions, and resilience. He was there when the republic was young, and he remained relevant when the country matured. And now, as Nigeria turns the page, his name will stay inked in the margins of every chapter.
Rest in peace, Mai Gaskiya. You belonged to everybody, and now, you belong to history.
