Favour Ofili did something extraordinary.
She didn’t just run; she redefined speed, broke records, and etched her name in the annals of global athletics. In a sport where milliseconds matter, Ofili’s feet blazed through history with grace and defiance, reminding the world that Nigeria stillbirths brilliance—even when her institutions do everything to bury it.
Earlier this month, Ofili shattered the world record in the women’s 300m indoor race, clocking a staggering 35.99 seconds. The moment should have launched fireworks across every Nigerian city. It should have sparked praise-laden editorials and presidential commendations.
But in a country too often numb to excellence—especially when it comes from young, talented women—the moment passed with little more than a ripple in official circles.
And that silence, like Ofili’s triumph, tells its own story.
Excellence in Spite of Nigeria
Ofili’s triumph is not just an athletic milestone—it’s a defiant act of survival. This is the same Favour Ofili who, not too long ago, was denied the opportunity to represent her country due to opaque politics and the usual “technicalities” at the Nigerian sports ministry.
It is a story as old as Nigeria itself: a brilliant young athlete gets entangled in bureaucratic indecision, institutional incompetence, or outright neglect, and is forced to either abandon her dreams or carry them into exile.
That Favour persisted, trained, and excelled is not because of Nigeria—but in spite of it.
This is a country where athletes often have to wash their own gear between events due to a lack of support. Where officials book flights at the last minute—or not at all. Where athletes find out they’ve been dropped from major tournaments on social media.
Where favoritism, tribalism, and underhanded deals dictate who gets to wear the green-white-green.
It is a cruel irony that the same nation which wraps itself in flag-waving patriotism during Olympic season can’t seem to provide detergent for its athletes’ kits.
A Legacy of Greatness, A Pattern of Neglect
Ofili now joins the ranks of legendary Nigerian women like Mary Onyali, whose blistering speed in the 90s inspired a generation. Like Blessing Okagbare, whose immense talent was poorly managed. Like Tobi Amusan, who broke the world record in the 100m hurdles and still had to defend her integrity more than the country defended her excellence.
These are women who did not just represent Nigeria—they elevated her. They competed with grace while their country often gave them nothing but hurdles—both literal and institutional.
What is especially painful is that these stories are not isolated—they form a pattern. A damning pattern that reveals a sports administration riddled with mismanagement, corruption, favoritism, and a stunning lack of long-term vision. Promising athletes are either ignored or sabotaged. Funding vanishes. Plans are made, scrapped, and recycled. Talent is either forced to emigrate or waste away.
And the reason?
A toxic blend of incompetence, tribalism, and indifference—a cocktail as lethal to national progress as any external threat.
When Institutions Kill Dreams
Nigeria’s sports institutions, like many other government sectors, operate with the deadly inertia of mediocrity. Merit is rarely rewarded. Loyalty to political godfathers often trumps performance. Promising athletes from the “wrong” state or ethnic group are sidelined in favor of less qualified but “better connected” individuals. This isn’t just mismanagement—it’s sabotage.
In a nation of over 200 million people, brimming with athletic potential, why must our best and brightest always have to leave home to thrive? Why must our talents always become someone else’s success story—America’s, the U.K.’s, Qatar’s?
If Favour Ofili had waited for Nigeria, she’d still be waiting. That should haunt us.
The Way Forward: Leadership or Letdown?
Favour’s story should be more than a highlight reel—it should be a national reckoning. Her achievement must spark urgent reforms in how Nigeria identifies, trains, funds, and manages its sporting talents.
We need a National Athletes Protection Charter, one that guarantees basic rights—transport, training kits, medical insurance, and legal representation for all athletes, especially women.
We need decentralized sports development programs, free from federal bottlenecks, where local governments can scout and invest in raw talent at the grassroots level.
We need transparency in selection processes—no more whispered lists and shady politics. And we must de-ethnicize our institutions, creating systems that reward performance, not pedigree.
Most importantly, we need our leaders—ministers, commissioners, federation presidents—to show up. Not just for photo-ops, but in policy, budget, and accountability. If you cannot build systems that support national treasures like Favour Ofili, then please step aside for those who can.
Salute To The Queen
To Favour: you are more than a record-breaker. You are a mirror held up to a country still struggling to believe in itself. You remind us of what we could be, if only we stopped sabotaging our own.
You remind young Nigerian girls that they are not crazy for dreaming. That their names too can echo in stadiums thousands of miles away—even when their homeland forgets to cheer.
And to the Nigerian state: the world is watching. Another generation of talent is watching. You’ve failed too many times already. This time, at least, don’t fail to learn.
Helen Akinkumi writes from Akure,Nigeria.
