So many affronts have been inflicted on my home state, Rivers, this year, the three worst outrages being the suspension of Governor Sim Fubara, the imposition of a completely unnecessary state of emergency on March 18 and the indefensible appointment this week of a non-indigene (Dr Ekpai Odey) to the chairmanship of RSIEC, our allegedly independent electoral commission.
Other states – Benue for example – that have recently been through much worse turmoil have not been subjected to martial law.
Meanwhile, Rivers is the only state whose electoral commission is not headed by a son or daughter of the soil, despite there being literally hundreds of Rivers natives who are qualified for the RSIEC job.
So why have the perpetrators of these insulting injustices – President Tinubu and his favourite sidekick, FCT Minister Nyesom Wike – singled Rivers State out for such humiliations?
Well, their excuses for dumping a state of emergency on us are so ridiculous and feeble that I cannot be bothered to repeat them.
Their rationale for picking Ekpai Odey sounds a bit more credible. One of Tinubu/Wike’s supporters told me yesterday that he and his masters honestly believe that in such a highly factionalised state, the best way to minimise conflict and guarantee political objectivity is to put a “neutral” outsider in charge of electoral matters.
This smooth story would ring true if Tinubu/Wike were exemplary democrats and altruists who always have the people’s best interests at heart.
But we also know that they don’t give a damn about ethical niceties and are sure that the end always justifies the means. And there is no way they’d have selected Ekpai Odey if he were a rigid moralist who can’t be swayed by money or pressure.
Having said this, there are quite a few Riverians who are willing to pledge loyalty to anyone in the corridors of power, so one can only conclude that Ekpai Odey’s appointment is more about bringing us down a peg or 20 – psychological warfare! – than about Tinubu/Wike’s desire to recruit someone who will do their bidding.
If you can easily find a Riverian who will do whatever he or she is told to do, why choose a Cross Riverian who will do whatever he or she is told to do? You might as well go for a local collaborator!
Clearly, the intention is to strip us of our dignity and self-esteem, to bring a once-proud state to its knees and make it look small.
But you know what? I actually blame Rivers People for this mess.
Why? Because we are so pathetically and tragically passive!
Rivers is the capital of the Niger Delta, a significant source of the nation’s wealth and full of highly educated individuals who used to possess pride. And yet, most of us (including Sim Fubara) are behaving like terrified slaves who are resigned to tyranny and ready to tolerate any rubbish that is thrown in our faces.
Tinubu/Wike will not dare treat us like this if enough of us will say NO!!! This brilliant poem perfectly expresses my pain and anger:
When a stranger sits on our throne
By Ebony Nwuke-Ibe
A stranger…
A stranger sits upon the throne of our fathers
forced down our throats like bitter herbs, and we… we clap.
Clap, not out of pride, but fear, submission, blindness.
And I ask, what curse has come upon a people so mighty, so proud, so deeply rooted in strength?
This is not politics. This is desecration.
This is a house rat grinning at a bush rat saying, “Come, eat. There is food here.”
But it is not their food.
It is our food.
Food bought with our sweat, our pain, our legacy now stolen, served cold by outsiders.
Look around you. This is Rivers State!
The land where the creeks whisper our stories,
Where the Atlantic kisses our shores in reverence,
Where palm trees stand like ancestral sentinels, and
The mangroves sway in rhythm with the heartbeats of our people.
We are the cradle of oil.
We light up Nigeria, yet sit in darkness.
We feed the nation, yet go hungry.
Our land is soaked in wealth and history.
We are not strangers to struggle, but neither are we strangers to victory.
Politically, we were giants.
When Rivers spoke, Abuja trembled.
Our votes were kingmakers.
Our sons became ministers, governors, party leaders, national influencers.
We have hosted the fiercest of political battles and won with dignity.
Presidents came knocking for our support because we mattered.
We were the roaring lion of the South-South. The stabilizing force.
Even the opposition respected us, even the ruling party feared us.
But now?
We are reduced to whispers behind closed doors.
Our leaders are handpicked by strange fingers.
Our house is occupied not by our will but by federal force.
We have gone from throne-bearers to errand boys,
From deciders to decorators.
From lion to lamb.
We have stripped naked before the world.
Our treasury, our dignity, our wounds, laid bare.
We gave them the map to our vulnerabilities, and now they plunder freely.
Our markets once vibrant, alive with the chants of women and the cries of traders are silent.
Ghost towns.
Our youths walk about with empty eyes.
Our mothers boil water, not food.
Even those who raised their hands in applause for this injustice now gnaw at the bones of poverty.
And yet, we sing of “a land where no man is oppressed.”
But we are gagged.
We are chained.
We are bleeding quietly.
Where are the voices of the The Etches? The Kalabaris? The Ndokis? The Ogonis? The Ibanis? The Okrikans? The Ikwerres…
Where are the sons and daughters who once stood like trees planted by rivers of courage?
What happened to our voice?
What happened to our pride?
We used to walk into a room and the ground would know royalty had entered.
Our beads spoke before our mouths.
Our name alone commanded respect.
Now?
Our pride lies trampled.
Our dignity auctioned.
Our voice? gone, trembling in fear.
And for what?
Political favours? A handshake from Abuja? A few coins thrown from the federal table?
This is not just betrayal.
This is a knife in the back… twisted slowly… by those who share our name.
We are not weak.
We are not forgotten.
But we are at war with ourselves.
Let it be known; posterity does not forget.
History does not pardon.
Rivers will remember those who clapped when she was raped.
Rivers will name and shame those who smiled when she was stripped naked.
Let your conscience testify.
Let your spirit weep.
For one day, when our children ask what we did when Rivers bled, what will you say?
END
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