The country from which the World Bank once borrowed
Before Nigeria became a permanent customer at the windows of the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund and other international creditors, there was a time when these institutions came to Nigeria for money. On 17 December 1974, at the height of the oil boom, the Executive Directors of the World Bank formally authorised the institution to borrow US$240 million from the Federal Republic of Nigeria. This was not folklore, propaganda or an exaggerated tale invented to comfort a broken nation. It appears in the World Bank’s own record of significant decisions as Resolution 74-138. Nigeria also joined Iran, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Oman, Venezuela and the Netherlands as one of the creditor countries that provided resources for the IMF’s special oil-financing facilities established to assist nations suffering balance-of-payments difficulties after the global oil-price shock. In other words, Nigeria was not merely receiving development assistance; it was supplying part of the capital with which international financial institutions supported other countries. Nigeria had accumulated sufficient petroleum earnings and foreign reserves to purchase US$240 million in World Bank bonds, place additional funds in short-term international financial instruments, increase its subscription to the African Development Bank and lend part of its surplus to the global financial system.
The scale becomes almost painful when translated into today’s terms. Adjusted only for United States inflation, US$240 million in 1974 would represent well over US$1 billion today. But its true significance was greater than its modern inflation-adjusted value. Nigeria’s population was then roughly one-quarter of what it is today, its public obligations were smaller, and the country had only recently emerged from a devastating civil war. Yet it possessed enough financial strength to become a sovereign lender to the World Bank while still financing highways, universities, refineries, airports, housing estates, steel projects and an enormous national development programme at home. The World Bank itself described the 1973–74 oil boom as the financial foundation that enabled Nigeria to embark upon a massive development plan centred on infrastructure, education and economic expansion.
Let that historical reversal sink in. The World Bank that Nigeria now approaches for loans, reform programmes and budgetary support once borrowed directly from Nigeria. The IMF whose endorsements, reviews and economic prescriptions now dominate Nigerian public debate once included Nigeria among the oil-producing countries supplying resources for its emergency lending facilities. Nigeria was once a source of international liquidity. Today, it struggles to finance its budgets without domestic borrowing, multilateral loans, Eurobonds, crude-backed facilities and other external obligations. The tragedy is therefore not simply that Nigeria became indebted. Nations borrow, and responsible borrowing can finance development. The tragedy is that a country which once had the means to save, invest and lend internationally consumed much of its historic advantage without building the productive economy, electricity system, industrial capacity, transportation network and human-development institutions that should have outlived the oil boom.
There was once a Nigeria whose currency commanded respect.
There was once a Nigeria whose universities attracted brilliant scholars from across Africa and beyond.
There was once a Nigeria whose national airline flew the flag proudly across international skies; whose railways moved people and agricultural produce; whose ports supported growing commerce; and whose factories produced textiles, tyres, vehicles, paper, glass, beverages, shoes and household goods.
There was once a Nigeria that did not approach every international institution with a begging bowl.
A Nigeria that could speak firmly on African and global affairs because it possessed the financial power to support its words.
That Nigeria was not a fairy tale.
It existed.
A nation that once lent its voice, money and strength to the world now borrows to survive
There was once a Nigeria whose currency commanded respect.
There was once a Nigeria whose universities attracted brilliant scholars from across Africa and beyond.
There was once a Nigeria whose national airline flew the flag proudly across international skies; whose railways moved people and agricultural produce; whose ports supported growing commerce; whose factories produced textiles, tyres, vehicles, paper, glass, beverages, shoes and household goods.
There was once a Nigeria that did not approach every international institution with a begging bowl.
A Nigeria that could speak firmly on African and global affairs because it possessed the financial power to support its words.
A Nigeria that helped liberation movements in Southern Africa, supported newly independent African countries and confronted colonial and apartheid governments with a confidence rooted in national strength.
That Nigeria was not a fairy tale.
It existed.
And for millions of Nigerians who remember it, the tragedy is not simply that the country became poorer. The deeper tragedy is that Nigeria received enough wealth to transform itself permanently, but allowed much of that historic opportunity to be consumed, mismanaged, stolen or abandoned.
The oil boom that changed everything
Nigeria emerged from the Civil War in January 1970 wounded but hopeful. Oil production had begun expanding rapidly, and the global energy crisis of 1973–74 caused international crude prices to rise dramatically.
The financial consequences were astonishing.
Historical research cited by the World Bank shows that Nigeria’s government revenue grew from approximately ₦631 million in 1970 to about ₦5.5 billion by 1975, an increase of more than 770 per cent in only five years.
Nigeria’s monthly crude oil export earnings reportedly climbed from roughly US$160 million in September 1973 to about US$770 million by May 1974. In barely eight months, monthly oil earnings had multiplied almost fivefold.
The IMF has estimated that the two great oil price shocks of 1973–74 and 1979–80 contributed to an oil windfall worth approximately US$300 billion for Nigeria between 1970 and 2001. Much of that money arrived during periods when the Nigerian population was far smaller than it is today.
Petroleum rapidly displaced agriculture as the commanding source of foreign exchange and government revenue. By the end of the 1970s, oil reportedly accounted for about three quarters of projected government revenue, while Nigeria’s economic fate became increasingly tied to international crude prices.
Nigeria was not merely earning money.
Nigeria was drowning in money.
The country entered an era when its leaders believed that finance was no longer the central problem. The famous declaration attributed to General Yakubu Gowon, that Nigeria’s problem was not money but how to spend it, captured the psychology of the period, whether or not every version of the quotation is historically exact.
The treasury appeared inexhaustible.
The future appeared guaranteed.
And that illusion became one of the greatest disasters in Nigerian history.
When the naira carried dignity
The naira introduced in 1973 was a powerful currency.
For portions of the 1970s and early 1980s, one naira was officially worth more than one United States dollar. Exchange rate systems were more tightly controlled then, so direct comparisons with today must be made cautiously. Nevertheless, the contrast remains psychologically devastating.
A Nigerian could travel abroad without feeling that his national currency was an object of ridicule.
A salary earned in naira had meaningful international purchasing power.
Imported machinery, spare parts, books and industrial equipment were relatively affordable to businesses and public institutions with access to foreign exchange.
Today, the naira has lost almost all of that external value. The movement from a currency stronger than the dollar in nominal official terms to one exchanging at well above one thousand naira to the dollar is among the most visible symbols of Nigeria’s economic deterioration.
This collapse did not happen in one day.
It was the cumulative product of oil dependence, fiscal indiscipline, import dependency, repeated devaluations, corruption, weak productivity, capital flight, policy inconsistency, debt accumulation and the failure to build an export driven industrial economy.
A country building for tomorrow
The oil boom financed some of the largest public development ambitions in Nigeria’s history.
Successive governments expanded federal highways, airports, universities, housing estates, public corporations, power installations, refineries, steel projects and industrial complexes.
The Third National Development Plan, covering 1975–1980, was conceived on a massive scale because the government believed oil revenue could finance a rapid transformation of the economy. World Bank records from the period described the 1973–74 oil boom as the foundation for an enormous development programme.
Nigeria invested in the Ajaokuta Steel Complex, the Delta Steel Company, rolling mills and associated industrial facilities. The vision was to build a domestic industrial base capable of producing steel for bridges, railways, automobiles, machinery, construction and national defence.
New universities were created and existing ones expanded.
Teaching hospitals were developed.
Public housing projects appeared in major cities.
Federal roads connected regions that had previously been separated by difficult terrain and poor transportation.
Oil refineries were constructed to process Nigerian crude domestically.
The Nigerian National Oil Corporation, later integrated into the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation, reflected the country’s intention to exercise greater control over its petroleum resources.
Nigeria Airways carried the national flag abroad.
Nigeria Shipping Line represented the country on the oceans.
The Nigerian Railway Corporation remained a significant instrument for moving passengers and freight.
The country maintained major textile centres in Kaduna, Kano and Lagos. It produced tyres in factories associated with international manufacturers. Assembly plants produced vehicles. Paper mills, fertiliser plants, breweries, ceramics factories and food-processing industries provided employment.
Not all these institutions were efficient. Some were already burdened by bureaucracy, patronage and poor management. But they represented something that has gradually disappeared from Nigerian governance: the ambition to build a functioning national economy.
When public education created presidents, professors and professionals
The universities of Ibadan, Lagos, Ife, Nigeria Nsukka, Ahmadu Bello and Benin became symbols of intellectual promise.
Nigerian public universities attracted respected international academics. Laboratories functioned. Libraries acquired current books and journals. Student accommodation, subsidised meals and campus transportation made higher education accessible to families that were not wealthy.
A child from an ordinary household could attend a government school, proceed to a respected university and emerge as a doctor, engineer, teacher, lawyer, scientist or administrator without placing an entire extended family in lifelong debt.
Education was not perfect. Access remained limited, regional inequalities persisted and the system served a much smaller population. But the direction of travel was hopeful.
Today, lecturers strike over unpaid entitlements and inadequate funding. Laboratories decay. Students study without electricity. Families sell property to send their children to institutions abroad, sometimes in countries that once looked to Nigeria for leadership.
Nigeria did not merely lose buildings.
It lost standards.
It lost institutional memory.
It lost the belief that public institutions could be excellent.
The country that stood up for Africa
Nigeria’s economic strength gave it diplomatic authority.
It offered material, diplomatic and political support to liberation struggles against colonial rule and apartheid in Southern Africa. Nigerian governments backed causes associated with Angola, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Namibia and South Africa.
Nigeria became recognised as a frontline state despite its geographical distance from Southern Africa because it treated African liberation as a national responsibility.
The country supported international sanctions against apartheid South Africa, contributed financially to anti-colonial causes and used its influence within the Organisation of African Unity, the Commonwealth and the United Nations.
This was the age in which Nigeria could act, not merely issue statements.
Its diplomacy carried the weight of oil, population, military capability and financial influence.
The country helped establish the Economic Community of West African States in 1975. It projected itself as the natural centre of gravity in West Africa and the wider Black world.
FESTAC ’77, whatever its extravagance, demonstrated the scale of Nigeria’s cultural confidence. Black artists, intellectuals, performers and political figures came from across Africa and the diaspora to Lagos. Nigeria presented itself as the spiritual and cultural capital of the Black world.
It was grand.
It was excessive.
But it revealed how Nigeria saw itself: not as a struggling state waiting for charity, but as a civilisation announcing its arrival.
Then came the waste
The painful truth is that the seeds of Nigeria’s decline were planted during the very years people now remember with nostalgia.
Oil revenue created the illusion that agriculture no longer mattered.
Before crude oil took over, Nigeria had been a major exporter of cocoa, groundnuts, palm produce, rubber and other agricultural commodities. Regional economies had grown around productive activities.
The groundnut pyramids of Kano symbolised northern agricultural commerce.
Cocoa financed major development in Western Nigeria.
Palm produce supported the economy of Eastern Nigeria.
Rubber and timber contributed to the Mid Western economy.
As oil money flooded the federation, attention shifted from production to allocation.
Political power increasingly became a struggle over who controlled the central treasury.
The states and regions gradually became less focused on creating wealth and more dependent on monthly revenue from the centre.
Agriculture was neglected.
Rural infrastructure deteriorated.
Food imports expanded.
The naira’s strength made imports attractive and domestic production less competitive. The IMF estimated that Nigeria’s real exchange rate appreciated by about 55 per cent between 1974 and 1980, a classic symptom of the economic distortion commonly described as “Dutch disease.”
Factories found it easier to import machinery and components, but the country failed to develop enough domestic technological capacity to maintain them.
Government expenditure exploded.
Public-sector wages rose sharply following the Udoji awards.
Contracts multiplied.
Imports surged.
Corruption expanded alongside state spending.
The notorious “cement armada” became an enduring symbol of reckless planning. Nigeria ordered such enormous quantities of cement that ships reportedly clogged the approaches to Lagos, generating congestion, demurrage charges and public scandal.
The problem was not that Nigeria attempted development.
The problem was that development spending was frequently rushed, inflated, badly coordinated and contaminated by patronage.
The country had money, but lacked the institutional discipline to protect it.
Oil wealth without oil wisdom
The greatest error was the assumption that high oil prices would last forever.
Instead of saving a substantial portion of the windfall, Nigeria expanded recurrent expenditure and committed itself to enormous projects whose long term financing depended on continuous oil prosperity.
Then the global market changed.
Oil demand weakened in the early 1980s. Prices deteriorated, interest rates rose internationally and Nigeria’s revenue collapsed. The IMF described the 1982 shock as a “double whammy” of falling oil prices and rising global interest rates.
OPEC records show that the wider oil market suffered a profound contraction during the first half of the 1980s, culminating in the market crash of 1986. OPEC petroleum revenues dropped sharply and producing countries entered severe economic instability.
Nigeria suddenly discovered that much of its prosperity had rested on one commodity whose price it did not control.
Imports could no longer be sustained.
Foreign exchange shortages intensified.
Factories struggled to obtain raw materials and spare parts.
Government debts accumulated.
Projects were abandoned.
Salaries lost value.
The middle class began its long decline.
By 1986, the Structural Adjustment Programme introduced currency devaluation, trade liberalisation and other reforms. Some adjustment was unavoidable because the previous economic model had become unsustainable. But the social consequences were brutal.
The naira weakened.
Inflation rose.
Living standards deteriorated.
Public institutions became increasingly starved of resources.
The age of national confidence gave way to an age of austerity.
From producing nation to sharing nation
Nigeria’s tragedy is not simply that oil prices later fell. Other countries also faced commodity shocks.
The greater failure is that Nigeria did not use its oil windfall to construct an economy capable of thriving without oil.
Countries such as the United Arab Emirates invested heavily in infrastructure, aviation, logistics, real estate, tourism and sovereign wealth.
Norway established strong institutions for saving and investing petroleum earnings for future generations.
Several Asian countries with fewer natural resources invested in education, manufacturing, technology and exports.
Nigeria largely built a political economy centred on sharing oil revenue.
Government became the largest dispenser of opportunity.
Contracts replaced production.
Connections replaced competence.
Imports replaced factories.
Monthly allocation replaced internally generated productivity.
Political office increasingly became a route to private enrichment rather than temporary public service.
Oil blocks, import licences, government contracts, foreign-exchange allocations and public appointments created a privileged class whose wealth was often disconnected from productive enterprise.
Nigeria produced billionaires without producing enough globally competitive industries.
It created rich individuals while impoverishing public institutions.
The disappearance of national assets
One by one, the symbols of Nigerian ambition began to weaken or disappear.
Nigeria Airways collapsed.
The Nigerian National Shipping Line vanished.
The railway system decayed before later attempts at partial revival.
Textile factories closed.
Vehicle-assembly plants operated far below capacity or ceased production.
Tyre factories disappeared.
Paper mills became monuments to abandoned industrialisation.
Steel projects consumed enormous resources without delivering their full promise.
Government-owned refineries deteriorated, leaving one of the world’s major oil-producing countries dependent for decades on imported petroleum products.
Power generation remained grossly inadequate for the population and economy.
Nigeria exported crude oil and imported refined fuel.
It exported raw materials and imported manufactured goods.
It exported talented doctors, nurses, engineers and academics, then spent scarce foreign exchange seeking medical treatment and expertise abroad.
This is not merely economic underdevelopment.
It is a reversal of national purpose.
The arithmetic of decline
Nigeria’s population has grown enormously since the 1970s, which means today’s economy must support far more people. Any honest comparison must acknowledge this.
But population growth alone cannot explain the collapse of services, the disappearance of industries or the failure to maintain critical infrastructure.
The World Bank’s historical data show that Nigeria has experienced repeated cycles of rapid growth and severe contraction, demonstrating the enduring vulnerability created by dependence on oil.
The country that once believed money was not its problem now carries a public-debt burden measured in well over one hundred trillion naira. Nigeria’s Debt Management Office listed the official public debt position as of 31 December 2025, while IMF discussions in 2026 referred to a total public debt figure of approximately US$117 billion and projected a debt-to-GDP ratio in the thirty-per-cent range.
Debt itself is not automatically evidence of failure. Responsible governments borrow to build productive assets.
The real question is what Nigerians can see for the debt.
Where are the uninterrupted rail networks?
Where are the dependable power stations?
Where are the functioning public refineries?
Where are the world class public hospitals?
Where are the industrial cities?
Where are the safe highways?
Where are the modern schools?
Where are the millions of productive jobs?
Where is the social security?
Where is the national transformation that should correspond with decades of oil earnings and borrowing?
The burden of debt becomes morally indefensible when citizens inherit the repayments but cannot identify the assets.
Poverty in the house of abundance
Nigeria remains one of Africa’s most resource endowed countries, yet poverty has become normalised.
The World Bank reported in 2026 that high food prices and poverty remained major concerns and that improvements in macroeconomic stability had not yet produced meaningful improvements in everyday living standards.
A 2026 World Bank outlook estimated that an additional 10 million Nigerians fell into extreme poverty in 2025, raising the proportion living below the Bank’s international poverty threshold of US$3 a day, measured at 2021 purchasing power parity, to approximately 50.9 per cent.
Think about the obscenity of that figure.
In a nation that has earned hundreds of billions of dollars from oil, roughly half the population may be living beneath an international poverty line.
Children sit on classroom floors.
Women die while giving birth because hospitals lack basic equipment.
Pensioners collapse in verification queues.
Graduates roam the streets without work.
Families cannot afford protein.
Workers spend most of their income on transportation.
Businesses buy diesel, provide water, construct access roads and hire private security, performing for themselves the basic functions for which they already pay taxes.
The Nigerian citizen has become his own government.
He generates his electricity.
He pumps his water.
He repairs his road.
He protects his home.
He pays for private education.
He pays for private healthcare.
He still pays taxes.
And government officials travel in convoys past him.
A leadership class that consumed the future
Nigeria’s decline cannot honestly be blamed on only one administration, one political party, one ethnic group or one generation.
The damage accumulated under military and civilian governments.
Some leaders built institutions and infrastructure.
Some attempted reforms.
Some reduced debt.
Some expanded telecommunications, banking, pensions or rail infrastructure.
But taken as a whole, the Nigerian governing class failed the historic test placed before it.
It inherited a country with immense land, oil, gas, minerals, waterways, fertile soil, a strategic location and one of the most energetic populations on earth.
It had no shortage of talent.
It had no shortage of resources.
It had no shortage of opportunity.
What it lacked was sustained, disciplined, patriotic leadership.
Corruption became systemic rather than exceptional.
Government property became nobody’s property.
Maintenance disappeared from public culture.
Projects were announced but not completed.
Completed projects were abandoned.
Policy changed with each administration.
National plans became ceremonial documents.
Revenue was consumed instead of invested.
Public appointments became instruments of patronage.
The political elite travelled abroad for the services they refused to build at home.
Their children attended foreign schools.
Their families used foreign hospitals.
Their savings were kept in foreign currencies.
Their homes were purchased abroad.
Their loyalty followed their money.
We did not become poor because God abandoned us
Nigeria was not cursed by nature.
It was not denied resources.
It was not deprived of human intelligence.
It was not geographically isolated.
It was not condemned to poverty by fate.
Nigeria’s poverty is substantially man made.
It is the product of choices.
The choice to consume rather than invest.
The choice to import rather than manufacture.
The choice to reward loyalty rather than competence.
The choice to build new projects rather than maintain existing ones.
The choice to protect powerful thieves rather than public resources.
The choice to centralise oil revenue while weakening regional productivity.
The choice to treat public service as a marketplace for personal enrichment.
The choice to postpone reform until every crisis became an emergency.
The memories that hurt
Older Nigerians remember when a graduate could find meaningful employment without knowing a senator.
They remember when teachers, civil servants and railway workers could raise families with dignity.
They remember school sports, functioning libraries and government scholarships.
They remember Nigeria Airways aircraft bearing the green-and-white flag.
They remember travelling by train.
They remember factories changing shifts and thousands of workers pouring through industrial gates.
They remember Peugeot cars assembled in Kaduna and Volkswagen vehicles assembled in Lagos.
They remember Bata and Lennards shoes.
They remember Dunlop and Michelin tyres.
They remember Nigerian made textiles.
They remember when public water flowed through pipes.
They remember when streetlights worked.
They remember when hospitals were places of treatment rather than places where patients were handed lists of everything they had to buy.
They remember when the passport of Nigeria represented the promise of a rising African power.
Those memories hurt because they prove that decline was not inevitable.
We once had systems that worked.
We once had institutions with dignity.
We once had a country capable of imagining greatness.
But nostalgia must not become deception
We must not romanticise the 1970s as if every Nigerian lived comfortably.
Poverty existed.
Regional inequality existed.
Military dictatorship existed.
Corruption existed.
Public projects were often wasteful.
Rural communities lacked many services.
The oil boom accelerated urban inequality and weakened agricultural production.
The same decade that gave Nigeria extraordinary financial power also created the culture of waste and dependence that later crippled it.
Our tears must therefore not be tears for an imaginary paradise.
They must be tears for a lost opportunity.
Nigeria did not fall from perfection.
It fell from possibility.
That is what makes the story unbearable.
The wealth that should have outlived the oil boom
Imagine what even a disciplined portion of Nigeria’s petroleum windfall could have achieved if invested consistently over five decades.
A national electric grid capable of supporting modern industry.
An integrated railway system connecting every major commercial and agricultural centre.
Irrigation networks transforming northern agriculture.
Modern seaports and inland waterways.
Refineries and petrochemical industries.
Globally competitive universities.
Universal primary healthcare.
Sovereign wealth funds protecting future generations.
Mass housing.
Industrial research centres.
Steel, automobile, machine-tool and electronics industries.
A national education system in which a child’s destiny was not determined by the wealth of his parents.
Nigeria had the money to begin all of this.
It had the people.
It had the land.
It had the strategic advantage.
What it did not have was a leadership culture strong enough to resist the temptation of easy money.
A generation robbed twice
Today’s Nigerians have been robbed twice.
First, they were robbed of the wealth itself through corruption, waste, inflated contracts, illegal transfers, abandoned projects and reckless administration.
Second, they were robbed of what that wealth should have produced.
The missing money is not merely a figure in an audit report.
It is the hospital that was never built.
It is the railway that never reached the town.
It is the factory that never opened.
It is the power plant that never generated electricity.
It is the school without books.
It is the child who died from a preventable disease.
It is the graduate who left the country.
It is the pensioner who died waiting for payment.
It is the family pushed into poverty by one medical emergency.
Corruption is not an abstract offence.
Corruption has a body count.
The final question
How did Africa’s great hope become a nation where citizens celebrate the restoration of a few kilometres of road as if government has performed a miracle?
How did a major oil producer become dependent on imported fuel?
How did a country that once aspired to industrial leadership become a dumping ground for imported goods?
How did a currency that once commanded respect become a symbol of national anxiety?
How did a nation that helped others stand on their feet become a permanent borrower?
How did a people surrounded by abundance become accustomed to scarcity?
The answer is not that Nigeria lacked wealth.
The answer is that Nigeria lacked stewardship.
The oil boom gave us money.
But money without discipline became waste.
Money without institutions became corruption.
Money without production became imports.
Money without accountability became private fortunes.
Money without foresight became debt.
And money without patriotism became the instrument through which one generation consumed the inheritance of another.
Nigeria must rise again
The purpose of remembering the 1970s should not be to remain imprisoned by nostalgia.
It should be to recover national ambition.
Nigeria still possesses enormous human and material resources. But oil alone will never save the country. It did not save us when the population was smaller and the windfalls were larger. It will not save us now.
The path forward requires productive federalism, reliable electricity, industrialisation, modern agriculture, technological education, accountable government, stronger institutions, disciplined borrowing and consequences for corruption.
Nigeria must become a country that produces what it consumes and exports what the world needs.
Public office must cease to be the shortest route to unexplained wealth.
Government must learn again to build, maintain and plan beyond one electoral cycle.
The country must measure progress not by the size of budgets announced, but by the quality of life delivered.
We must build a Nigeria where citizens no longer have to tell their children stories about a country that once worked.
Because the most heartbreaking sentence any generation can utter is this:
“There was once a Nigeria…”
There was once a Nigeria with money.
There was once a Nigeria with confidence.
There was once a Nigeria with functioning industries.
There was once a Nigeria that stood tall in the world.
There was once a Nigeria whose future appeared limitless.
That country was not destroyed by a foreign army.
It was weakened from within—budget by budget, contract by contract, theft by theft, abandoned project by abandoned project.
And unless Nigerians demand a new standard of leadership, accountability and production, future generations will inherit more than poverty.
They will inherit the memory of everything their country could have been.
Nigeria did not fail because it was poor.
Nigeria became poor because too many of those entrusted with its wealth treated the nation as an inheritance to be divided rather than a civilisation to be built.
OBLONG MEDIA GLOBAL INTELLIGENCE
History does not merely remind us of where we have been. It exposes what leadership has done with what we were given.
By Duruebube Chimazuru Nnadi-Oforgu
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