Power in Kogi is no longer moving like a river. It is being piped through narrow political tunnels, controlled by a few hands, guarded by loyalty, and distributed like family inheritance. What began under former governor Yahaya Bello now appears to be hardening under Governor Ahmed Ododo: the deliberate cultivation of political loyalists whose greatest qualification is obedience to the throne rather than independence of thought. In Kogi East, many voters now fear they are watching democracy become a puppet theatre where strings matter more than substance.
The strategy is neither loud nor accidental. It is patient. Calculated. Bello built a system where political survival depends on proximity to power, not performance before the people. Ododo, widely seen as Bello’s political successor, inherited not just a government but a machinery. In that machinery, ambitious politicians are not encouraged to rise with their own voice. They are taught to kneel first. The result is a generation of political actors shaped less like statesmen and more like carefully carved chess pieces moved across ethnic and regional fault lines.
Kogi East has become central to this experiment. The district carries electoral weight, historical influence, and emotional symbolism in the state’s balance of power. Yet many emerging figures from the region appear trapped inside a political greenhouse where growth is artificial and controlled. Their roots do not spread into the people. They spread upward toward patrons. Like bonsai trees trimmed for decoration, they are kept visible but never allowed full height. This may produce temporary stability for those in power, but it weakens democratic culture over time. A republic cannot thrive when leadership is manufactured in private rooms and unveiled to the public as destiny.
Nigeria has seen this pattern before. Political godfatherism often begins with the language of mentorship before mutating into ownership. Leaders create successors who protect old interests, preserve old networks, and silence future rebellion. The danger is not merely electoral. It is institutional. When loyalty becomes the currency of advancement, competence begins to starve. Public offices become reward centres for allegiance instead of engines of governance. Citizens then become spectators in a contest already decided behind closed curtains.
Kogi still has time to resist this drift. Democracies decay slowly before they collapse suddenly. The people of Kogi East must decide whether they want representatives with independent conviction or polished extensions of existing power. Every political era eventually ends, but the culture it leaves behind can poison generations. A state cannot keep recycling shadows and expect sunlight. At some point, voters must demand leaders who can stand without a godfather’s hand beneath their feet.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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