February 9, 2026

Good morning from Accra,

February 1: Nigeria's Defence Minister reveals coup plotters planned to shoot him. February 5: Nigeria's Revenue Service admits it can't verify billions in road projects it funded. February 7: Ghana announces free primary healthcare rolling out in April. February 6: Kenya's drought spreads to Kajiado—cattle worth 60,000 shillings now sell for 5,000.

Today's edition: when your army chief narrowly avoided assassination and your tax agency can't track its own spending, when one country promises free healthcare while another loses livestock at catastrophic rates, and when institutions admit they lack the capacity to do their own jobs.

Let's get into it.

On Sunday, February 1, General Christopher Musa—Nigeria's Defence Minister and former Chief of Defence Staff—revealed on Channels Television's Sunday Politics that he was among the targets of the foiled October 2025 coup plot. "I was also a target, I am sure you know," Musa said. "I was supposed to be arrested, and if I refused, I was supposed to be shot." The disclosure came days after the Nigerian military announced that 16 officers arrested in October would face trial for plotting to overthrow President Bola Tinubu's government.

The plot was extensive. According to security sources, the conspirators planned to assassinate President Tinubu, Vice President Kashim Shettima, Senate President Godswill Akpabio, Speaker of the House Tajudeen Abbas, and senior military leaders including General Musa. The operation would have been bloody. "This was a blueprint for mass elimination and the total paralysis of Nigeria's leadership structure," a senior security source told PRNigeria. The plotters relied on informants within the Presidential Villa to monitor movements of officials slated for elimination. "They were waiting for a day when all of them would be in the country," an official said. "Wherever they were, they would be assassinated."

General Musa dismissed the plotters as "a bunch of very unserious individuals," noting that executing a coup in modern Nigeria is "impossible." He emphasized that Nigeria's democratic institutions, citizens, and armed forces would resist any attempt to overthrow civilian rule. The suspected ringleader was Brigadier General Sadiq, service number N/10321, who allegedly became disgruntled after being passed over for promotion. Musa said Sad

iq "didn't meet the marks to be promoted" and subsequently recruited other officers with grievances.

Here's what makes this revelation jarring: the same week Nigeria's Defence Minister disclosed he narrowly avoided assassination, Nigeria's Revenue Service admitted it lacks the capacity to verify billions in road infrastructure projects it funded through tax credits.

On Wednesday, February 5, Zacch Adedeji—Executive Chairman of the Nigeria Revenue Service—announced that the government has discontinued the Road Infrastructure Development and Refurbishment Investment Tax Credit Scheme. Under this programme, major corporations like Dangote, BUA, MTN, and NNPC funded federal road construction and offset the costs against their tax liabilities. The scheme was launched in 2019 to address Nigeria's catastrophic infrastructure deficit. The World Bank estimated it would take Nigeria 300 years to close the gap.

Adedeji's explanation for discontinuing the scheme was stunning in its honesty: "We lack competence, as the Nigerian Revenue Service, because we don't know how the road is done." He elaborated during a joint media session with ThisDay and Arise News: "When my people asked me, I said look at how huge this file is. Iloti-Epe to Ogunnaike Road, 10 kilometres. Is this what I should sign? How will I confirm? What capacity within Nigeria Revenue Service will confirm that the road has been done? It's true I have people there, but they are tax controllers, they are not engineers."

Translation: Nigeria's revenue agency approved billions in tax credits for road construction projects it had no ability to verify actually happened. The agency responsible for assessing, collecting, and accounting for government revenue was also functioning as an infrastructure approver—despite having zero engineering capacity. "I don't have engineers to confirm whether the road is done," Adedeji said. "The fact that they call it tax does not make it a tax work."

The scope of the now-discontinued scheme was massive. NNPC alone funded over 21 federal road projects covering more than 1,800 kilometers, with a total cost exceeding N621 billion. Dangote Group handled projects including the 53.7 km side lanes for Lekki Deep Seaport and the 105km Obelle-Ilaro-Papalanto-Shagamu Road. BUA Group constructed the Bode-Saadu-Lafiagi Road, Eyinkorin Road and Bridge, and Okura Road. MTN rehabilitated the Enugu-Onitsha Expressway. NLNG funded the Bodo-Bonny Road and Bridge in Rivers State. Access Bank, Mainstream Energy Solutions, Transcorp Group, and GZI Industries covered key roads in Lagos, Niger, Kebbi, Abia, and other states.

The Revenue Service signed off on all of it—without engineers, without site inspections, without verification mechanisms. "There is no way I will have capacity to actually ascertain what I'm doing," Adedeji admitted.

Why This Matters:

When your army chief narrowly avoided assassination and your tax agency can't track billions in spending, "robust growth" is fantasy. These aren't separate failures—they're symptoms of the same institutional collapse. Nigeria's military can't prevent senior officers from plotting to kill the president and overthrow the government. Nigeria's revenue service can't verify whether the roads it approved billions in tax credits for were actually built.

General Musa's revelation about the coup plot exposed how fragile Nigeria's civilian rule actually is. The plotters weren't fringe radicals—they included a brigadier general, multiple colonels and lieutenant colonels, and personnel from the Infantry Corps with operational command. They planned mass assassinations of Nigeria's entire political and military leadership. When mid-to-senior officers with combat experience plot to overthrow the state, it's not a conspiracy theory—it's a structural crisis.

But Adedeji's admission about the tax credit scheme reveals an equally fundamental problem: Nigeria's institutions don't have capacity to perform their basic functions. The Revenue Service is legally mandated to assess, collect, and account for taxes. Approving infrastructure spending falls outside that mandate. Yet the scheme ran for years, approved billions in tax credits, and nobody asked whether the agency had engineers to verify the work was done. The answer was no. The scheme ran anyway.

This is governance by improvisation. When Nigeria lacks funds to build roads, it creates a tax credit scheme. When the scheme runs for years without verification capacity, it continues anyway. When the new chairman asks how to confirm roads were actually built, the answer is: we can't. So the scheme gets discontinued—not because it was poorly designed or corruptly implemented, but because the agency administering it admits it never had the capacity to verify anything.

The coup plot and the tax credit scheme expose the same institutional void. Nigeria's military can identify and arrest coup plotters, but only after they've planned mass assassinations and recruited across ranks. Nigeria's Revenue Service can approve billions in infrastructure spending, but only if nobody asks whether the infrastructure exists. Both institutions are performing functions they lack capacity to execute, and both are failing in ways that threaten Nigeria's stability.

General Musa says executing a coup in modern Nigeria is "impossible." But 16 officers tried anyway, and they got far enough to plan specific assassinations, recruit informants inside the Presidential Villa, and coordinate operations across Abuja, Lagos, and Kaduna. That's not impossible—that's operational until it was stopped. And it was only stopped because an unnamed officer with direct knowledge feared being implicated and alerted authorities. If that officer had stayed silent, Nigeria's political and military leadership might have been eliminated simultaneously.

Adedeji says the Revenue Service will now require road projects to "go through proper appropriation process" via the National Assembly. But Nigeria's budget process is notoriously opaque, prone to padding, and subject to the same institutional weaknesses that allowed a tax credit scheme to run for years without verification. Shifting responsibility from the Revenue Service to the legislature doesn't fix the underlying problem: Nigeria's state lacks capacity to execute basic governance functions and admits it openly.

For Founders:

Nigeria's stability assumptions just broke—if military officers can plot coups and tax agencies can't verify billions in spending, your political risk isn't priced. When you're building businesses in Nigeria, your foundational assumptions include: civilian rule will continue, contracts will be enforced, government agencies can perform their mandated functions, and infrastructure spending translates to actual infrastructure.

All four assumptions cracked this week. The coup plot reveals that civilian rule is contested within the military itself. The tax credit admission reveals that government agencies are performing functions they lack capacity to execute. And the combination reveals that Nigeria's institutional failures aren't temporary inefficiencies—they're permanent features that governments acknowledge but don't fix.

For founders, the question isn't whether Nigeria is stable today (it is). The question is what produces stability when institutions can't govern. The answer: improvisation, luck, and individuals making heroic efforts to prevent collapse. General Musa survived because an officer chose to report the plot. The tax credit scheme survived because nobody asked whether the Revenue Service could verify roads. Nigeria's stability depends on luck more than institutions.

If you're deploying capital in Nigeria, understand that your downside scenarios need to include coup risk and verification risk. Not because coups are imminent or because all government contracts are fraudulent, but because Nigeria's own institutions admit they lack capacity to prevent coups or verify contracts. When your Defence Minister says he was marked for assassination and your Revenue Service chairman says he can't confirm whether roads were built, you're not operating in a stable institutional environment—you're operating in an environment where stability is maintained despite institutions, not because of them.

The officers will face military tribunals. The tax credit scheme will be replaced by budget appropriations. But unless Nigeria addresses the conditions that produce coup plots and verification failures—institutional incapacity, corruption, impunity—the next crisis won't need plotters or tax credits. It'll just happen.

On February 7, Ghana's Minister of Health, Kwabena Mintah Akandoh, announced that the government will roll out a nationwide Free Primary Healthcare Policy by early April 2026. The policy aims to remove cost barriers and improve access to preventive care, especially for underserved communities. Currently, only 56% of Ghana's population is enrolled in the National Health Insurance Scheme, leaving millions without affordable healthcare access.

"What the government is developing now is to ensure that at least primary healthcare is free across the country," Akandoh said. "This will allow us to strengthen preventive care so we can detect diseases early and manage them properly." The initiative is part of Ghana's journey toward Universal Health Coverage, with plans to retool healthcare facilities nationwide.

The same week Ghana announced free healthcare, Kenya's drought crisis intensified. On February 6, Reuters reported from Kajiado County—bordering Nairobi—where Maasai herder Maria Katanga, 24, has lost more than 100 cattle and 300 goats to drought since August. The dozens of carcasses scattered around her family compound testify to the grinding impact on pastoralist communities who rely on livestock for survival.

"A cow that was being sold for 60,000 or 70,000 Kenyan shillings before the drought is being sold for 5,000 shillings," Emmanuel Loshipae, Katanga's 19-year-old stepson, told Reuters. The family has been forced into distress sales to pay for animal feed in the absence of grazing land. Local administrator Lemaiyan Samuel Kureko said herders are moving further afield, even crossing the border into Tanzania, in search of pasture and water. "There have been droughts before in the region but this one is the worst," he said.

Kenya's drought is spreading beyond traditionally arid regions. Kajiado County, which borders Nairobi and has not historically been deeply affected by drought, is now experiencing catastrophic livestock losses. The Kenya Meteorological Department's forecast for the March-May monsoon predicts Kajiado will receive near-average to below-average rainfall—insufficient to offset existing deficits. Last month, the National Drought Management Authority distributed cash aid to over 130,000 households in historically arid counties—mainly in the north—but relief measures did not extend to Kajiado.

"No people have died yet, but the livestock are gone and the sun is getting hotter every day," Kureko said. "We have been weakened to such a level that we can only pray for God's help."

According to Kenya's National Drought Management Authority, 10 counties are experiencing drought conditions. Nine counties—Wajir, Garissa, Kilifi, Marsabit, Kitui, Kwale, Kajiado, Isiolo, and Tana River—are in the "alert" phase. Mandera is in the critical "alarm" phase. Thirteen other counties in the Arid and Semi-Arid Lands region, though currently categorized as "normal," are increasingly showing signs of drought stress. The World Health Organization warned that over 2 million people across Kenya face worsening food insecurity following one of the driest October-December 2025 rainy seasons on record.

Why This Matters:

Ghana is investing in free healthcare. Kenya's livestock economy is collapsing. Both reveal how African governments prioritize scarce resources when crises compete for attention. Ghana—despite its own economic struggles, 28% currency depreciation year-over-year, and IMF debt—chose to allocate resources toward preventive healthcare. Kenya—facing drought, livestock losses, and 2 million food-insecure citizens—distributed cash aid to northern counties but excluded Kajiado, where the drought is now catastrophic.

The contrast isn't moral—it's operational. Ghana's free healthcare promise is politically popular and administratively achievable: remove cost barriers at primary care facilities and absorb the expense through national budget allocations. Kenya's drought response requires infrastructure Kenya doesn't have: water systems, emergency feed supplies, livestock insurance, climate-resilient agriculture. Cash aid helps short-term, but it doesn't replace lost cattle or regenerate pasture.

Ghana's healthcare policy could fail. Free primary care means surging demand at facilities already understaffed and under-resourced. If Ghana can't hire doctors, stock medicines, or maintain equipment, free healthcare becomes free access to dysfunctional facilities. But at least the policy addresses a problem government can control: cost barriers.

Kenya's drought is beyond government control. The rains didn't come. Pasture dried up. Cattle died. No amount of cash aid regenerates grazing land or restores livestock herds that took generations to build. Herders selling cattle for 5,000 shillings that were worth 60,000 aren't experiencing market volatility—they're experiencing wealth destruction. A cow isn't just an asset—it's generational capital, bride price, social status, food security. When 100 cattle die, you don't lose current income—you lose your children's inheritance.

For Founders:

When one country invests in healthcare and another loses its livestock economy to drought, your expansion strategy can't assume these markets move in parallel. Ghana's free healthcare policy creates opportunity: demand for diagnostic tools, telemedicine platforms, pharmaceutical supply chains, and healthcare financing. Kenya's drought creates risk: collapsing purchasing power in pastoral regions, supply chain disruptions as herders cross borders seeking pasture, and livestock-dependent sectors facing permanent contraction.

If you're building consumer-facing businesses, understand that Ghana's healthcare investment signals government prioritizing citizens' immediate needs. Kenya's drought response—cash aid to some counties, nothing to Kajiado—signals government triage: help the regions with worst historical precedent, leave emerging crisis zones to pray for rain.

The drought spreading to Kajiado is particularly significant. This is not a remote arid region—it borders Nairobi. When drought devastates livestock economies within view of the capital, climate risk isn't a future scenario—it's current operations. For any business depending on stable agricultural output, predictable supply chains, or livestock-based livelihoods in Kenya, your addressable market just contracted permanently.

Ghana's free healthcare might fail. Kenya's livestock might not recover. But the divergence is clear: one country is building toward universal healthcare despite economic crisis. The other is watching pastoralist communities collapse despite being East Africa's economic anchor. Your business strategy needs to account for both realities.

Nigeria's Defence Minister narrowly avoided assassination by coup plotters who planned to kill the president, vice president, and entire legislative leadership. The same week, Nigeria's Revenue Service admitted it approved billions in tax credits for roads it had no capacity to verify were actually built. Ghana promises free primary healthcare in April. Kenya's drought killed cattle worth billions while government aid excluded the county where livestock losses are worst.

The pattern: institutions admitting they can't perform basic functions while announcing new initiatives they also can't execute. Nigeria can't prevent coup plots or verify infrastructure spending—but promises roads will now go through "proper appropriation." Ghana can't maintain current healthcare facilities—but promises free primary care in two months. Kenya can't stop droughts or save livestock—but distributes cash aid to counties based on historical precedent while new crisis zones collapse.

This is governance as performance art. Nigeria's coup plot wasn't thwarted by institutional strength—it was stopped because one officer chose to report it. If he'd stayed silent, Nigeria's political leadership might have been eliminated. That's not stability—that's luck. Nigeria's tax credit scheme wasn't discontinued because of corruption audits or parliamentary oversight—it was stopped because a new chairman asked "how do I verify these roads?" and got the answer "we can't." That's not reform—that's someone finally admitting what everyone knew.

Ghana's free healthcare promise might work. It also might collapse under demand surges at facilities that already can't hire staff or stock medicines. The announcement generates political capital now. The implementation crisis happens later. Kenya's drought aid distribution followed bureaucratic logic: help the counties with historical drought precedent. Kajiado wasn't historically arid, so it didn't qualify—until drought killed 100 cattle per family anyway.

For founders trying to build in these environments, the lesson is consistent: when governments can't prevent coups, can't verify spending, and can't stop droughts, your business models can't depend on institutions keeping promises. Nigeria's Revenue Service admitted it lacks engineers to verify roads. That's not a temporary capacity gap—that's permanent state dysfunction that only gets acknowledged when new leadership asks basic questions.

General Musa says modern Nigeria makes coups "impossible." But 16 officers plotted anyway, recruited informants inside the Presidential Villa, and planned mass assassinations before being stopped. Adedeji says road projects will now require parliamentary approval. But Nigeria's budget process is as opaque and corrupt as the tax credit scheme was. Ghana says free healthcare rolls out in April. But Ghana's hospitals are already overwhelmed and understaffed.

The uncomfortable truth: African governments announce initiatives they can't execute because announcement generates political benefits while failure generates excuses. Nigeria's coup plot failed, so the government takes credit for foiling it—even though it was only discovered because someone reported it. Ghana announces free healthcare, generating praise for ambition—if it fails, blame will fall on implementation, not promise. Kenya distributes drought aid to some counties, demonstrating responsiveness—if Kajiado collapses, it's climate change's fault, not government's.

When your army chief narrowly avoided assassination, your tax agency can't verify billions in spending, your free healthcare promise depends on facilities that don't function, and your drought aid excludes the counties where livestock are dying fastest—you're not governing. You're performing governance while institutions collapse.

The question for founders: are you building businesses that depend on institutions keeping promises they've never kept? Because Nigeria's Defence Minister saying he was marked for assassination, Nigeria's Revenue Service saying it can't verify roads, Ghana saying free healthcare starts in April, and Kenya saying drought aid went to historical crisis zones while new ones collapse—all suggest the same answer.

When institutions admit they can't do their jobs, stability isn't institutional strength. It's luck, improvisation, and individuals making heroic efforts to prevent collapse. That's not a foundation for business. That's a warning.

That's it for today.

If this made you rethink what "institutional capacity" actually means, hit the share button. If it made you uncomfortable, good—it should.

Until next time,

The Daily Masala

The signal through the noise

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