Maybe it’s time we hired people who actually know how to do homework.
How Nigeria turned a stumble into a crisis while Turkey made it disappear—and why that tells you everything about strategic communicationsSo, President Tinubu fell in Turkey.
Again.And if you’re reading this thinking “wait, again?”—congratulations, you’ve identified the problem.
Because this is the THIRD time. Kaduna 2021. Abuja June 2024. Ankara January 2026.
Three falls. Three viral moments. Three opportunities for Nigeria’s communications machinery to demonstrate that we’ve learned something—anything—about crisis management.
Spoiler: We haven’t.
The Turkey Incident: A Tale of Two Narratives
Here’s what actually happened on January 27, 2026:
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, 73, stumbled during a ceremonial welcome parade in Ankara, Turkey. He was walking alongside Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. He missed his footing. He fell. Aides helped him up. The ceremony continued.
The entire incident lasted seconds.
Now here’s where it gets interesting—and instructive.
What Turkey did:
The official video from the Turkish Presidency’s X account showed the fall briefly, then immediately cut to an aerial shot. By the time the camera returned to ground level 45 seconds later, both presidents were standing together, composed, continuing the programme.
Clean. Professional. Strategic.
The visual narrative Turkey created was: “Brief moment, immediately resolved, dignified recovery, moving forward.”
What Nigeria did:
Nothing. For hours.
The video went viral globally. Nigerian social media exploded. International media picked it up. BBC, Reuters, Yahoo News, Guardian, Daily Trust, Vanguard, Premium Times—everyone ran the story.
And Nigeria’s official response?
Silence.
Until Sunday Dare, Special Adviser on Social Media, finally tweeted—in ALL CAPS, because apparently shouting makes things more reassuring:
“PRESIDENT TINUBU IN GREAT SHAPE AS STATE VISIT PROCEEDS SMOOTHLY.”
Then Bayo Onanuga, Presidential Spokesman, offered this gem: Tinubu “stepped on a metal object on the floor, which made him lose his balance.”
A metal object.
On the floor.
At a Turkish state ceremony.
Because apparently, Turkey—a country that has hosted hundreds of state visits—just leaves random metal objects lying around where world leaders walk.
This, my friends, is what happens when you let people who don’t understand strategic communications handle strategic communications.
The Pattern We’re Refusing to See
This is the THIRD fall.
March 31, 2021 - Kaduna:
Then-APC National Leader Tinubu fell at the 11th Annual Arewa House Lecture at Arewa House Banquet Hall in Kaduna. He was walking behind the high table, flanked by participants and security, when he tripped. The video went viral with over 19,000 views on Twitter within hours. He recovered, stayed, and delivered his speech.
June 12, 2024 - Abuja:
President Tinubu fell while boarding a vehicle at Eagle Square during Democracy Day celebrations. Viral again. Response? Tinubu himself joked about it that evening: “I was all over social media after falling.”
At least he acknowledged it. That’s something.
January 27, 2026 - Ankara:
Third fall. Still viral. Response? “Metal object on the floor.”
What Strategic Communications Would Have Looked Like
I’ve spent more than two decades managing communications in environments where mistakes are public and immediate. So, let me show you what Nigeria SHOULD have done:
BEFORE THE TRIP:
Crisis Protocol Preparation
Every foreign trip involving a 73-year-old president navigating unfamiliar ceremonial spaces should have pre-approved response protocols for:
Medical incidents
Protocol missteps
Physical stumbles or falls
Any situation that could go viral
This isn’t pessimism. This is planning.
Turkey planned for this. Their camera operators knew exactly when to cut away. That’s not accident. That’s protocol.
DURING THE INCIDENT:
Immediate Visual Control
Nigerian camera crews (if we had any positioned strategically) should have coordinated with Turkish counterparts to ensure our official footage showed the same narrative Turkey was creating: brief moment, immediate recovery, presidential dignity maintained.
Instead, we let everyone else’s cameras tell the story.
WITHIN 15 MINUTES:
Proactive Statement
Not ALL CAPS reassurance. Not “metal object” excuses. Just:
“President Tinubu briefly lost his footing during the ceremonial welcome in Ankara. He immediately recovered and continued with the full programme of bilateral meetings. The visit is proceeding as scheduled, focused on strengthening Nigeria-Turkey economic and security cooperation.”
Simple. Factual. No excuses. No drama.
Released immediately—not hours later after Nigerian Twitter had already created 47 different conspiracy theories.
WITHIN 1 HOUR:
Visual Evidence
Release our own photos/video showing Tinubu in subsequent meetings, engaged, active, clearly fine.
Turkey did this. Their official channels showed both presidents together immediately after, sending a clear message: nothing to see here, moving on.
Nigeria? We let Turkish media do our job for us.
THROUGHOUT THE DAY:
Focus on Substance
Flood the narrative with the ACTUAL purpose of the visit:
$5 billion bilateral trade target
Defence cooperation agreements
Military training and intelligence sharing
Economic partnerships
You know—the stuff that actually matters.
Instead, all anyone talked about was whether the President could walk without falling.
The “Metal Object” Problem
Let’s talk about Bayo Onanuga’s explanation: “He stepped on a metal object on the floor.”
This is textbook bad crisis communications. Here’s why:
1. It’s unverifiable
Nobody can prove or disprove this. Which means nobody believes it.
2. It shifts blame externally
Suggesting Turkey left hazardous objects on their ceremonial parade ground is... diplomatically awkward.
3. It invites mockery
“Metal object” immediately became a meme. Nigerians are too creative for this kind of vague explanation.
4. It’s unnecessary
A 73-year-old man briefly losing his footing during a long ceremonial walk is not scandalous. It’s physics.
You know what’s worse than a president stumbling? A presidency that can’t just say “he stumbled” without constructing elaborate alternative explanations.
Strategic communications rule: If you need to explain, explain simply. If your explanation raises more questions than it answers, you’ve failed.
What Turkey Understood That We Don’t
Turkey got something fundamentally right: Visual narrative control matters more than verbal explanations.
Watch their official video. The fall happens. The camera immediately cuts away. When it returns, both presidents are fine, standing together, continuing the programme.
The visual message is clear: Brief moment. Already past. Look at what’s happening now.
No lengthy explanations needed. No “metal objects.” Just controlled visual storytelling that shapes perception.
This is strategic communications.
Meanwhile, Nigeria let the story be told by:
Random attendees with phones
International media using Turkish footage
Nigerian social media creating narratives we never countered
By the time we responded, we were chasing a narrative we’d already lost control of.
You can’t win a communication battle you don’t show up for.
The Real Crisis: We Keep Making the Same Mistake
Three falls. Three viral moments. Three communications failures.
At some point, we have to ask: Is anybody learning anything?
Because here’s what pattern recognition tells us:
First fall (March 2021): Surprising. Unexpected. Understandable fumble. But the video still went viral with 19,000+ views within hours. No strategic response.
Second fall (2024): Concerning. Should have had better protocols by now.
Third fall (2026): This is negligence. This is refusing to learn.
After the June 2024 Democracy Day fall, someone—anyone—should have said:
“The President is 73. Ceremonial events involve unfamiliar terrain, steps, vehicles. We need protocols for this. We need camera positioning. We need pre-approved statements. We need response times measured in minutes, not hours.”
Instead, we got “metal object.”
Why This Matters Beyond Presidential Falls?
I’ve written before about how Nigeria’s energy sector loses billion-dollar narratives because we don’t treat strategic communications as infrastructure.
Shell “exits” becomes international crisis instead of indigenization success story.
209 trillion cubic feet of gas sitting undiscovered by investors because nobody’s telling the story.
Qatar gets LNG deals we should get because they understand narrative architecture.
And now, we’re watching the same pattern play out with presidential communications.
Turkey—hosting hundreds of state visits, managing complex diplomatic narratives, protecting their president’s dignity on international stages—treated a brief stumble as a minor production challenge.
They had camera angles. They had cutting points. They had visual control. They had a plan.
Nigeria treated it like an unexpected catastrophe requiring elaborate explanations about rogue metal objects.
One country understands strategic communications. One doesn’t.
Guess which economy is worth $905 billion and which one is struggling?
Narrative competence correlates with institutional competence.
What the President Deserves (And Isn’t Getting)
Let me be clear: President Tinubu deserves better than this.
Not because of politics—I’m not political. Because of professionalism.
A 73-year-old man undertaking demanding international travel, navigating ceremonial protocols, representing 200 million people, deserves a communications team that:
Anticipates predictable scenarios
Has pre-approved response protocols
Controls visual narratives proactively
Responds in minutes, not hours
Doesn’t make up stories about metal objects
This isn’t complicated. This is Communications 101.
But it requires something Nigeria consistently refuses to provide: Letting professionals do professional work.
Where Are the Professionals?
Here’s my uncomfortable observation:
Nigeria has communications professionals. Lots of them. Talented ones. People who understand crisis management, narrative control, stakeholder engagement, international media dynamics.
We’re just not using them where it matters most.
The Presidency’s communications infrastructure appears to be:
Reactive rather than strategic
Unprepared for predictable scenarios
Slow to respond
Prone to making things worse with bad explanations
Meanwhile, Turkey’s communications infrastructure demonstrated:
Proactive visual control
Prepared protocols
Immediate response
Clean, simple narrative management
One country treats communication as strategic infrastructure.
One treats it as an afterthought.
What State and Federal Governments Should Learn
To every governor reading this, every federal ministry, every government agency that thinks communications is “just PR”:
Pay attention.
Because what happened in Turkey is a masterclass in what happens when you:
Don’t have professionals in charge
(Sunday Dare is “Special Adviser on Social Media,” not “Director of Strategic Communications”)
Don’t have crisis protocols
(Three falls, three fumbled responses = no learning)
Don’t understand visual narrative control
(Let Turkey do our job for us)
Don’t prepare for predictable scenarios
(73-year-old on unfamiliar ceremonial terrain is not unpredictable)
Don’t respond fast enough
(Hours-late ALL CAPS tweets don’t stop viral narratives)
This is fixable.
But it requires recognizing that strategic communications is infrastructure, not decoration.
It requires hiring people who’ve actually managed high-stakes communications.
It requires giving them authority, resources, and crisis protocols.
It requires treating communications like what it actually is: The difference between narrative control and narrative chaos.
The Conversation Nigeria Needs To Have
I’ve been building communication strategies across Nigeria’s most complex environments for over two decades. I’ve watched us fumble narrative after narrative that other nations would handle effortlessly.
And I keep asking: When will we take this seriously?
To State Governments: Your communications during crises determines investor confidence, stakeholder trust, and public perception. Are you treating it like strategic infrastructure or an afterthought?
To Federal Agencies: Every international engagement is a communications opportunity. Do you have people who understand visual narrative control? Crisis protocols? Response time requirements?
To Corporate Nigeria: If the Presidency can’t get this right, what makes you think your organization’s communications are adequate? When was your last crisis simulation?
To International Organizations Operating in Nigeria: You need communications professionals who understand both international best practices and Nigerian dynamics. Are you hiring people who’ve actually done this work?
What I’m Actually Saying
Turkey did better housekeeping than the homeland.
And that should embarrass us enough to change something.
Because this isn’t about presidential falls. This is about institutional competence.
This is about whether Nigeria understands that in 2026, narrative control determines:
Economic outcomes
Diplomatic success
Investor confidence
International perception
Political viability
Turkey understands this. Saudi Arabia understands this. UAE understands this. Qatar understands this.
Nigeria keeps pretending communications is something you handle after the crisis instead of before it.
And we keep paying the price.
The Invitation
If you’re in government—state or federal—and you’re reading this thinking “we need someone who understands this,” you’re right.
If you’re in corporate Nigeria watching your international competitors manage narratives better than you, you’re seeing what I see.
If you’re in oil and gas watching other nations tell better stories with worse fundamentals, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Strategic communications isn’t magic. It’s preparation meeting opportunity. It’s protocols meeting scenarios. It’s professionals doing professional work.
The expertise exists. The frameworks exist. The case studies exist.
The question is: Will Nigeria finally decide this matters?
Some countries treat communications as infrastructure.
Some treat it as afterthought.
The difference shows up in moments like Ankara.
And in billion-dollar narratives we keep losing.
And in whether the world takes us seriously.
Turkey did our homework better than we did.
Maybe it’s time we hired people who actually know how to do homework.
