“Mock My English, But My Kids Are Citizens”: MC Oluomo Fires Back at Critics in Viral Response

Nigerian transport union leader and political figure, Musiliu Akinsanya, popularly known as MC Oluomo, has fired back at his critics in a bold and unapologetic statement that has taken social media by storm. The Lagos-based Chairman of the National Union of Road Transport Workers (NURTW) made headlines again, not for his usual political influence or his role in transportation matters, but for fiercely defending himself against those who have continuously mocked his spoken English.

In a now-viral video and subsequent posts circulating across Instagram, X (formerly Twitter), and Facebook, MC Oluomo didn't mince words. With his signature confidence and street-born flair, he challenged the essence of formal education and what people actually achieve with it. “Those of you that are educated, what have you done with your education?” he asked, his voice laced with pride and defiance. “I used my money to take care of my children. Now they are US and UK citizens. Bring your kids to compete with mine.”

The response came after yet another round of online ridicule, where clips of MC Oluomo’s public speeches and interviews—often delivered in a mix of Yoruba, Pidgin English, and broken English—made the rounds as memes and comic relief. But this time, the controversial figure was not having it. Rather than apologize or retreat from the spotlight, MC Oluomo leaned into the criticism and flipped the narrative, positioning himself as a man whose success speaks louder than grammar.

Online, reactions have been swift and divided. While many were quick to dismiss his comments as deflective and anti-intellectual, others praised his response as a powerful testament to the Nigerian hustle spirit—where education, though valuable, is not always the only pathway to success.

“Let’s be honest,” tweeted @TheRealRacheal. “MC Oluomo might not be a professor, but he’s put his kids in places many 'intellectuals' dream of. Say what you want, but that’s a win.”

Others, however, weren’t so generous. “He’s glorifying ignorance,” wrote @its_Emmanuel_. “Education isn’t just about speaking English; it’s about opening your mind, understanding systems, and making informed decisions. What example is this setting for young Nigerians?”

Yet, Oluomo’s point resonates deeply in a country where, for many, the educational system is broken and economic opportunities are limited regardless of academic achievement. Nigeria's unemployment rate remains high, with countless graduates unable to find suitable jobs years after earning their degrees. In contrast, figures like MC Oluomo—who rose from humble beginnings with little formal education—have built wealth, power, and influence through alternative routes. Whether through politics, union leadership, or sheer street smarts, they’ve managed to climb the social ladder.

“I didn’t go to Harvard, but I sent my children there,” Oluomo boasted in his statement. Though the claim has not been independently verified, the underlying message was clear: his children, now reportedly citizens of the United States and the United Kingdom, represent what he sees as the real fruit of success—not fluent English or academic accolades, but global mobility and opportunity.

In a society still grappling with post-colonial standards of intelligence, where fluency in English is often mistakenly equated with brilliance or value, Oluomo’s clapback has sparked a larger conversation about elitism and class in Nigeria. His critics often highlight his grammatical blunders, not just for laughs, but to question his competence. But his defenders argue that he is a product of his environment, and he has played the cards he was dealt with commendable strategy.

“MC Oluomo is not your typical politician,” said Lagos-based journalist and political commentator Dare Alabi. “He doesn’t speak like one. He doesn’t behave like one. But he understands grassroots politics, and he understands power. You don’t have to like him, but you can’t deny his impact.”

Still, the debate continues to rage. Some Nigerians view Oluomo’s rhetoric as dangerous anti-education propaganda, particularly in a nation where the youth desperately need encouragement to pursue academic excellence. Teachers, parents, and even some public figures have warned that praising wealth over knowledge sends the wrong message.

But others say the mockery that provoked Oluomo in the first place is part of Nigeria’s obsession with appearance and performance over substance. For every English-speaking politician with polished diction, there are many with little to show in terms of impact. Oluomo’s defenders argue that he is, in fact, more authentic and effective than many of his more articulate counterparts.

In the days following his statement, the internet has remained abuzz. Memes, think-pieces, and TikTok skits have flooded timelines. The phrase “Bring your kids to compete with mine” has already begun trending as a meme and a rallying cry for supporters who believe success should be measured in legacy, not language.

Meanwhile, critics continue to push back, insisting that literacy and leadership must go hand in hand in any serious society. “This is not about accent or vocabulary,” said Dr. Nnenna Okoro, a lecturer at the University of Lagos. “It’s about capacity. Communication matters. Vision matters. Leaders should aspire to more than just personal gain.”

Whether MC Oluomo’s statement will mark a turning point in how Nigerians define success, or whether it will simply fade into another cycle of online outrage and laughter, remains to be seen. But for now, one thing is certain: love him or hate him, MC Oluomo knows how to command attention—and spark a national conversation.

As Nigerians continue to debate the role of education, the weight of English fluency, and the meaning of true success, Oluomo’s words hang in the air, challenging the status quo. “You can laugh at my English,” he said. “But let’s see whose children are doing better.”

In a country where dreams are often stifled by broken systems, MC Oluomo’s controversial declaration is both a provocation and a paradox—one that forces Nigerians to ask: what really matters in the pursuit of success?