Third time lucky? Nigeria and the dilemma of African politics Nigeria will hold elections in 2007 with its President, Olusegun Obasanjo, likely to be mired in controversy over suggestions that he may want to adjust the constitutional polity in order to legitimate his re-election. The Nigerian presidential model works in the same way as the American system, by which presidents' tenure is limited to two terms only.

However, there is a growing consensus among opposition politicians that Obasanjo will seek to extend his presidency in order to secure his legacy. He can point to some impressive achievements on which to build. The Obasanjo presidency has, for example, brought 60% debt relief to the nation - but against this is the fatigue factor: much of the electorate would like to see someone else given a chance to take this reform on.

Furthermore, many in the country believe that Obasanjo has not achieved as much as he claims; there are still manifold problems with the infrastructure of Nigeria as a nation. The cost of living has increased since Obasanjo came to power, education for children on a national level is barely recognisable and there is still abject poverty in many parts of the country. The G8 summits of last year promised much to Africa but, in reality, it was not enough - and whatever the President feels he has achieved, Nigeria has a very long way to go before it can be considered stable.

Home-grown non-governmental organisations need to be cultivated; at present, some do exist, but they have no fundamental strategy. These include support groups such the Northern People's Congress and the Women Development Organisation - though well-intentioned, these bodies have little real power, and even those that do have a modicum of influence tend to misuse this to serve their own purposes.

Nigeria gained independence in 1960, and the future looked bright. Seen as the jewel in Africa's crown, Nigeria was prominent in business, politics and education, and had much to offer the continent and the world beyond. The good work of high-profile Nigerians such as President Abubakar Balewa and the journalist Namdi Azikewe enhanced the country's reputation - but this outlook was transformed by the coup d'etat of 1966, which introduced a military government. The stage was set for the next 40 years, during which the country veered repeatedly from military rule to civilian rule; the spectres of Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi, Muhammed Murtala, Olusegun Obasanjo and Shehu Shagari and Sani Abacha, a particularly brutal ruler, still dominate Nigerian memory.

When Obasanjo came to power in February 1976, the country was in military hands; but the new President vowed to reinstate civilian rule. By doing so, he accrued a great deal of political capital, which may now be running out. Many fear that Obasanjo believes he has a divine right to power, adding to the suspicion that he may be preparing to act outside constitutional law to extend his tenure.

So what is the alternative? What options do the electorate have? It is not yet a foregone conclusion that Obasanjo will alter the constitution to offer himself up for re-election; but just the idea that he might resonates powerfully across a continent in which, too often, those in power do not do enough to alleviate the suffering of those on whose behalf they rule.

Poor leadersip alone cannot be blamed for the current malaise in Nigeria, and in Africa as a whole; the first world has played its part, not least by requesting that African countries liberalise their markets as a precondition of receiving aid. Malawi, Ghana, Uganda and Nigeria are among the countries that have had to subscribe to such a deal. As a result, there has been an influx of imports - such as fruit and manufacturing goods - from the West; and on price, African producers simply cannot compete with their Western counterparts. Many are unable to sell their crops, and as such cannot bring home a liveable income. Meanwhile, the shadow of Aids continues to lengthen over the continent. According to Christian Aid, the total amount of debt owed by sub-Saharan Africa is $272 billion. That same amount of money could enable every child in Africa to be immunised and sent to school.

When I was in Abuja, the capital of Nigeria, recently, I saw a lot of potential. Business is growing, and the city's infrastructure is on a par with that of New York or London. Aso Rock, where the National Assembly congregates, is palatial, and I saw and talked to many entrepreneurs who are trying to make something of themselves. But it is difficult for them to get ahead: Nigeria's financial machinery is inefficient, and the Niara is almost worthless.

Neither is the situation in Abuja representative of the country as a whole. In my father's village, the road structure is broken to pieces; and people are so poor that they barely have enough food to eat. While I was there, I witnessed the death of two six month old babies to pneumonia. If they had been immunised, they would still be alive today.

If Nigeria is given the opportunity to regenerate its economy, free from the paradoxical restrictions of free trade, its people have a fighting chance of making their own money and securing their own futures. Without this self-sufficiency, too many Nigerians risk their lives in coming over to the West illegally to see if they can find work to look after their families. Strong leadership is needed - and while President Obasanjo may feel that he is the man to provide it, a growing proportion of his electorate does not.