Michael Adeboboye

The Federal Government of Nigeria is running a ₦49.7 trillion budget. On the streets, Nigerians are running another one. It is not in the appropriation bill. It has no line item in FAAC. It is funded by tithes, offerings, zakat, sadaqah, and volunteer time. It is administered from altars, minbars, and church food banks. Economists call it civil society. Religious people call it faith. Food inflation hit 20.31% in July 2026. Rice, garri, onions, and transport have pushed millions to the edge. Government palliatives are slow. But on Sunday, the offering basket is going to welfare. On Friday, the zakat committee is buying bags of rice. On Wednesday, a bishop is paying hospital bills. “Our problems in the country are self-inflicted,” says Cardinal John Onaiyekan in February 2026. “When the nation is bleeding, you cannot expect a polite meeting with the Head of State.” “Religious differences shouldn't divide us,” says Sheikh Abdullahi Bala Lau in August 2026. “Muslims and Christians have equal stakes in Nigeria.” From Abuja to Ekiti, from Ota to Kano, churches, mosques, and African Indigenous Churches have become the last safety net. This is our cover story “Budget of Faith” in 2026 and how religion is feeding the nation while the state tries to find its balance. Michael Adeboboye, CAJ International Magazine Editor-in-Chief writes.

When President Joseph Nyuma Boakai stood before the nation in mid-2026, Liberia was reeling. In the span of five weeks, security forces had intercepted two of the largest cocaine shipments in the country’s history: 238 kilograms hidden in seasoning-cube cargo at Roberts International Airport in June, and nearly four metric tons worth an estimated $300 million in Duazon in July. The scale of the seizures forced the government into crisis mode. Boakai’s response was swift and public. He told Liberians there would be “no selective justice, political protection, sacred cows.” Within days, his administration dismissed and suspended more than a dozen officials. The list included senior figures at Roberts International Airport, a police commissioner overseeing criminal investigations and Interpol liaison work, and a deputy director at the National Security Agency. Two police officers were also fired over allegations they used government vehicles to move narcotics across Bomi Highway. In a move that signaled the dragnet would reach the highest levels, authorities arrested and charged former Vice President Jewel Howard-Taylor with unlicensed importation, solicitation, and conspiracy. The administration insisted the case was “strictly a matter of law enforcement” and not political retaliation. But 132 days later, the promise of equal accountability is being tested in the court of public opinion. On talk radio in Monrovia, in newspaper columns, and across social media, one question keeps resurfacing: is justice being applied to everyone, or only to some? The answer depends on where you look. What is verified is clear. The drug busts happened. The dismissals happened. The arrest and prosecution of a former vice president happened. What is disputed is the process that follows. The president’s own household has not escaped scrutiny. In late July, a viral video sought to link Boakai’s son, Joseph Boakai Jr., to an alleged cartel. He denied the claims and invited investigators to present evidence. Government officials have also rejected any link between the president’s son and the seizures. Yet there has been no arrest, no charge, and no independent report clearing him. For critics, “denial is not investigation,” and the absence of visible due process fuels the perception of a double standard. Civil society has been the loudest voice pushing for more. The Women NGOs Secretariat of Liberia, WONGOSOL, praised the dismissals but warned that “administrative removals alone will not upend the criminal networks threatening Liberia’s security.” Executive Director Esther S. Davis Yango said the firings must be the beginning, not the end, and called for full prosecutions. As of August 2026, charge sheets and court dockets for most of the dismissed airport, NSA, and LNP officials have not been made public. The same credibility gap extends to legacy cases. In his first cabinet meeting of 2026, Boakai ordered investigations into “mysterious deaths, including the missing boys and the deaths of auditors.” Six months on, there have been few updates and no indictments. Supporters say Boakai has done more than any recent government to confront drug trafficking and hold powerful people to account. Critics say personnel changes are being confused with justice, and that without transparent prosecutions and independent oversight, the “no sacred cows” pledge remains a slogan, not a reality. As Liberia enters the next 90 days, the administration faces a choice: release the evidence of equal justice in courtrooms, or continue to make it in press conferences.

Obada Oko began as an Owu farm settlement and grew into an industrial gateway in Ewekoro, home to Lafarge, Dangote and thriving businesses like Ololade Mr. Money Hotel and King Ola Frozen Foods. Yet at its heart, the complex junction leading to the dam and "new city area" has become a trap. During rain it turns to mud, during dry season to potholes — cutting off trade, trapping residents, and stalling the community’s growth.

A column by CAJ International Magazine Editor in Chief, Michael Adeboboye where he expresses opinion on diverse issues across continents

For six years, Bong County sat closer to the center of power than it ever had before. A daughter of Gbarnga served as Vice President of Liberia. A son of the county held the Deputy Speakership. In that rare alignment, the heartland was no longer asking to be remembered, it was being consulted. Roads were paved, classrooms opened, hospitals were equipped, and young people saw their names on government payrolls. It was a period when political arrangement translated into tangible projects across Gbarnga, Fuamah, Salala and beyond. Yet as the country turned toward a new administration, former Vice President Jewel Howard-Taylor is asking a harder question: did Bong protect that moment, or did partisan politics trade it away?

President Joseph Boakai sold Liberians a “Rescue Mission” anchored on education and health. On Friday, his administration announced a nationwide expansion of the Presidential Scholarship Program to public high schools, TVETs, universities and community colleges in all 15 counties. The pitch is familiar: merit, opportunity, and a lighter burden for families. But the announcement lands as the rescue promise frays elsewhere. At JFK Hospital, maternal fees have climbed past $200 and full deposits are now demanded before surgery. Health workers protest unpaid adjustments. Drug shelves sit empty. With only $200,000 budgeted annually and no new funding named, critics ask how the same money will now stretch across twice as many schools and students. For many Liberians, the scholarship sounds good on paper. The hospital bill at the door tells a different story

President Joseph Boakai came to power promising a "Rescue Mission" for Liberia, with healthcare at the heart of it. Two years on, that promise is colliding with a painful reality. At JFK Hospital, maternal fees have jumped and full deposits are now demanded before surgery. Health workers protest unpaid adjustments while medicines vanish from shelves. A $124 million US health deal meant to give Liberia control is instead raising fears of less funding and weaker oversight. From market women to doctors and civil society, the criticism is growing. For many Liberians, the rescue they voted for now feels like another bill they cannot afford to pay.

Rovingman column

From hand-written horror stories at 16 to 170 published titles, 40+ awards, and exhibitions across the world, Tamikio L. Dooley’s journey is one of reinvention. She is author, publisher, artist, humanitarian, and peace ambassador — and proof that creativity can grow from the most personal places into global impact. In this encounter with Michael Adeboboye, Editor-in-Chief of CAJ International Magazine, she unveils the roots behind the renaissance: the family lessons that never came, the self-taught discipline that carried her, and the decision to turn pain into purpose. Dooley opens up about writing her memoir Unsilenced and reliving trauma to show strength, about building her own magazines and platforms when she saw gaps in global publishing, and about using words as tools for peace in a divided world. She speaks on art, education, heritage, and the responsibility of creators to lead with dignity rather than chase money first. Now honored as CAJ International Magazine’s cover interview in this edition, Dooley shares what it means to represent resilience to African readers and young creators everywhere. Her message is simple: start with creativity, learn from those ahead of you, carry your cross with knowledge, and never go back to what broke you.