By Farooq A. Kperogi
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s state visit to Türkiye this week dramatized two uncomfortable realities: the visible toll of age or ill health on the president and the conspicuous absence of his wife in the intimate sphere of his personal care and public self-presentation.
This was not supposed to be a problematic visit. Tinubu was in Ankara at the invitation of President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan for a formal state visit aimed at deepening bilateral relations between Nigeria and Türkiye. The agenda included high-level talks on trade, defense cooperation, energy, education, media exchange and security collaboration.
Both governments announced the signing of several memoranda of understanding, and Erdoğan publicly expressed interest in expanding trade volume from about $ billion to $5 billion in the medium term. On paper, it was a routine and potentially productive diplomatic engagement.
But diplomacy is not conducted on paper alone. It is also staged, embodied and performed. What dominated public attention was not the content of the agreements but President Tinubu’s comportment. From his infirm gait to his awkward steps, from his visible discombobulation and apparent disorientation to his discomfort throughout the visit, Tinubu looked either unwell or finally overtaken by age.
Video footage of the visit showed him stumbling during a ceremonial walk alongside Erdoğan, requiring visible assistance to steady himself. The presidency moved quickly to downplay the incident, attributing it to an uneven surface or a misstep. Yet even sympathetic viewers could not miss the disquieting fact that Tinubu appeared physically tentative, mentally strained and uneasy in a setting that demanded composure and confidence.
In the last few years, he has aged considerably. Although officially in his early 70s, he increasingly looks like a man in his mid-80s. This is not mockery. It is observation. Age shows differently in different people, and for Tinubu, it has become increasingly conspicuous in public appearances.
As I pointed out on Facebook on January 27, old age is a privilege. It is an honor. It is a favor. I will not mock it because I may or may not get there myself. A part of me genuinely felt sorry for the president. Watching him struggle physically and appear mentally disoriented in a foreign land, dependent on his host to guide his steps, evoked pity rather than scorn.
But sympathy is not the only appropriate response. The patriotic side of me felt deeply embarrassed and profoundly concerned. Nigeria was represented on a global stage by a president who looked like a fish out of water, out of his depth, socially awkward, visibly unpolished, and unprepared for the symbolic weight of his office. He looked intimidated by the role he occupies rather than comfortably inhabiting it.
Old age alone does not explain this. There are elderly leaders who exude grace, composure, and cultivated ease. Age does not automatically strip people of social polish or self-assurance. Some old presidents remain urbane, refined, and commanding because refinement is a product of lived social experience, not youth.
This makes Tinubu’s performance all the more puzzling. He campaigned in 2023 as a “city boy,” a label meant to signal cosmopolitanism, urban sophistication, and familiarity with elite global spaces. “City boyness” suggests elegance of manners, ease in formal settings, and an instinctive grasp of protocol and presentation. In Ankara, Tinubu did not exude any of this. He came across instead as a “village boy.”
In my January 27 Facebook post on the visit, I said he looked like a gauche, farouche village headmaster hopelessly out of his depth, clad in a pitifully oversized and ill-fitting coat. That observation, crude as it may sound, was not merely about clothing. It was about bearing, posture and self-awareness.
This is where his wife, Remi Tinubu, enters the picture.
Wives are, or ought to be, the closest people to a male president. They are his first critics and his most invested supporters. They see him when cameras are off and advisers are silent. While many people around a president are motivated by self-interest and would not care if he appears rustic, disheveled, or unserious, a spouse has a personal stake in how her husband is perceived.
My wife, for instance, is my severest fashion critic. On any day I unconsciously choose a garish, color-uncoordinated, self-impressed sartorial riot for work or important occasions, she never lets me leave the house. That is care. It is relational labor rooted in familiarity and concern.
So, where was Remi Tinubu when her husband stepped out in Ankara looking neglected and ill at ease? Was she in Nigeria? If so, why? No one should be more invested in Tinubu’s public self-presentation than his wife, especially at a moment when age has clearly begun to impair his physical confidence.
Tinubu’s Türkiye fashion disaster is not an isolated incident, unfortunately. It is part of a long pattern. Whenever he wears Western attire, he often looks like an unkempt bumpkin. His clothes are routinely oversized, poorly coordinated, or ill-fitting. This is baffling for a man with immense power, access and resources. With all the money and influence at his disposal, is it impossible to secure custom-fitted suits that complement his frame and age?
I am calling attention to his wife because I see a parallel between Tinubu’s clumsiness and Joe Biden’s latter-day age-induced awkwardness. Biden, too, has struggled publicly with gait, balance and verbal slips as age has taken its toll. But there is a difference. Jill Biden has consistently hovered over her husband with what appears to be hawk-like vigilance.
There is no public evidence that Jill Biden directly curates her husband’s wardrobe or intercepts every sartorial misstep. However, extensive reporting on her role emphasizes her protectiveness and attentiveness as his physical and cognitive vulnerabilities became more pronounced. It is not unreasonable to infer that such vigilance extends to his public presentation, including how he appears before audiences.
If this argument sounds misogynistic or essentialist, then it has been misunderstood. I am not prescribing a universal gender role. I am describing a historically common form of spousal labor that often emerges in long marriages where roles evolve pragmatically rather than ideologically.
Expecting a spouse to help manage appearance is no more oppressive than expecting the other spouse to handle finances, logistics, or health reminders when aptitude or circumstance makes that sensible.
The expectation is relational, contextual and voluntary. It reflects lived realities without sanctifying them as moral imperatives.
But beyond Tinubu’s awkward dressing and public gaucherie, there is a far more troubling issue. The visible decline in his mobility and apparent sentience raises legitimate concerns about his capacity to govern effectively. Leadership requires stamina, alertness and sustained engagement, especially in a country facing severe economic hardship, insecurity and institutional strain.
Compounding these concerns are reports that Tinubu did not immediately return to Nigeria after his Türkiye visit. There has been speculation that he may have detoured to France, feeding a long-running public perception that he resides abroad and visits Nigeria episodically. Nigerians have sarcastically described him as a French resident or even a French ambassador to Nigeria.
While such claims may be exaggerated, they resonate because of a deeper issue. During extended absences, who governs on his behalf? Unlike former President Muhammadu Buhari, who transmitted power formally to his vice president during medical trips abroad during his first term, Tinubu is not known to have done so even once. This lack of transparency fuels anxiety and speculation.
This column is not an invitation to cruelty. It is a call for honesty. Nigerians deserve clarity about the physical and mental readiness of their president. They deserve leadership that inspires confidence rather than discomfort. Tinubu’s Türkiye visit, intended to project strength and partnership, has exposed vulnerabilities that can no longer be ignored.
Age may be inevitable, but how it is managed, supported and presented is a matter of responsibility. And responsibility, in public office, is not optional.
