Editorial.
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- Buhari “Jubril From Sudan” Story Finally Explained: The British PM, Eric Joyce Angle Exposed
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In the age of viral misinformation, few stories have shaken Nigeria’s political landscape as deeply as the claim that President Muhammadu Buhari had died and was replaced by a body double named “Jubril” from Sudan.
While the rumor has often been dismissed as laughable, it reveals serious lessons about trust, transparency, and how conspiracy theories feed on the anxieties of a nation.
In January 2017, President Buhari left Nigeria for London to receive medical treatment. This was not the first time he had travelled abroad for health reasons, but this particular trip was unusually long, he spent more than three months out of the country, from May to August.
During that time, the government provided only sparse and vague updates about his health. Nigerians were left to speculate: Was he critically ill? Was he even alive?
The vacuum of information was fertile ground for rumor. And then, in May 2017, a tweet detonated like a bomb.
The Tweet That Started It All
On May 19, 2017, Eric Joyce, a former British Member of Parliament, tweeted and said “Very sad to learn of the death of President Buhari of Nigeria. Thoughts with his family.”
Coming from a British politician, the statement carried weight. Even though no official confirmation followed, the seed was planted. Within hours, Nigerian newspapers, blogs, and social media platforms were flooded with speculation: Had Buhari died in London? Was the presidency hiding the truth?
When Buhari finally returned to Nigeria in August, he appeared visibly thinner and frail. For some, this was enough proof that something was amiss.
In September 2017, Nnamdi Kanu—the leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB)—took the rumor to another level. In a YouTube video that quickly went viral, he claimed that the man in Aso Rock was not Buhari but a Sudanese impostor named “Jubril.”
According to Kanu, powerful cabals in Nigeria’s political elite had recruited Jubril to impersonate Buhari and keep control of the country. He insisted that if the government was telling the truth, it would sue Eric Joyce for defamation.
The claim was absurd – but it had everything a conspiracy needs to thrive – An element of secrecy a long medical absence, suspicious foreign location the UK and Nigeria’s former coloniser, visibly changed appearance and weight loss, a long history of political distrust in among Nigerian entities
Soon, “Jubril from Sudan” was trending across WhatsApp groups, Facebook pages, and street gossip.
The rumor became so pervasive that Buhari himself had to address it publicly. On December 2, 2018, during a climate conference in Poland, he told reporters: that: “It’s the real me, I assure you. I will soon celebrate my 76th birthday and I will still go strong.”
He joked that people had even asked Vice President Osinbajo to confirm he wasn’t a clone. Yet, even this denial failed to convince everyone. To believers, the statement was just part of the cover-up.
From the outside, it may seem absurd that millions could even consider such a story. But experts point out that conspiracy theories flourish when four ingredients combine:
1.A lack of credible information – The government’s refusal to disclose Buhari’s exact illness left a vacuum.
2.Political rivalries – Groups like IPOB saw an opportunity to undermine the federal government.
3.Historical trauma – Nigerians vividly remember 2010, when President Yar’Adua died in secret and the country nearly plunged into crisis.
4.Digital amplification – Social media enabled the rumor to spread instantly without verification.
In this sense, the “Jubril” story wasn’t just about gullibility. It was a reflection of a society where trust is fragile and history has taught citizens to be suspicious.
The Buhari clone saga shows how conspiracy theories can shape public debate, deepen divisions, and weaken faith in institutions.
While there was never any credible evidence that Buhari was replaced, the claim became a powerful narrative because it gave people a way to voice frustration with a distant and opaque political system.
“Jubril from Sudan” will be remembered as one of the most bizarre political rumors in Nigeria’s history. But it’s more than an odd footnote. It’s a cautionary tale about what happens when leaders fail to communicate transparently, and when ordinary citizens feel shut out of the truth.
In an era where social media can make any story go viral in minutes, clarity and openness are more important than ever.
