By Ozumi Abdul
Is Governor Ahmed Usman Ododo’s humility becoming excessive, or does his description of Government Oweizide Ekpemupolo, popularly known as Tompolo, as his “mentor and leader” raise questions about the governor’s perception of his own office?
Or better still, is this a case of humility taken too far?
At the inauguration of the Kogi State chapter of the PBAT Door-to-Door Movement in Lokoja on October 12, 2026, Governor Ododo reportedly described Tompolo as his “mentor and leader”. The remark has generated questions about the nature of the relationship between the two men and why a sitting governor would publicly place a figure with Tompolo’s controversial past in such a position of personal authority.
At first glance, the governor’s words could be dismissed as a simple expression of respect for an older man. In Nigerian society, age commands respect, and political relationships often extend beyond formal titles and official positions. A younger person can call an older person a leader without surrendering his own authority.
But the governor did not reportedly stop at acknowledging Tompolo as a leader. The description of him as a mentor introduces another dimension, one that invites a more searching question: what exactly has Tompolo mentored Governor Ododo in?
Is it political strategy, leadership, security management or the business of governance? Has the former Niger Delta militant offered the Kogi governor lessons that could help him address the insecurity confronting his state? Or was the description simply an expression of personal admiration that has now attracted more attention than the governor anticipated?
These questions are worth asking, not because Tompolo is undeserving of respect, but because public office comes with responsibilities and expectations that make certain expressions of deference politically significant.
Tompolo was born on April 12, 1971, while Ododo was born on January 1, 1978. At 55 and 48 respectively in October 2026, the two men are separated by approximately six years and nine months, or roughly seven years.
Their age difference makes it understandable if Ododo regards Tompolo as an elder or even a leader in a personal or political context. However, the difference is not so wide that it automatically explains the depth of the deference conveyed by the word “mentor”.
More importantly, age is only one measure of seniority. Experience, character, public service, institutional responsibility and contributions to society also matter.
Tompolo’s influence grew out of a history of agitation and armed conflict in the Niger Delta, a region whose communities have long complained about environmental degradation, resource control and the distribution of oil wealth. He became associated with the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND) and the armed struggle that disrupted oil production and threatened critical petroleum infrastructure.
His history cannot be understood outside the grievances of the Niger Delta. Yet neither can the violence and economic consequences associated with militancy be ignored.
A profile published by several Nigerian newspapers trace Tompolo’s involvement in Niger Delta activism and his subsequent prominence in the region. His story is one of transformation from an influential militant figure to a businessman and political actor.
Tompolo’s age may justify ordinary courtesy. His influence may explain why politicians seek his support. But neither automatically explains why a sitting governor would publicly describe him as both his leader and mentor.
One of the most remarkable aspects of Tompolo’s story is his transition from a figure associated with attacks on oil infrastructure to the owner of a company contracted to protect that same infrastructure.
Tantita Security Services Nigeria Limited, the company associated with Tompolo, specialises in security services for the oil and gas industry, including the surveillance and protection of critical petroleum assets.
The company secured a pipeline surveillance contract from the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL), placing it at the centre of Nigeria’s efforts to curb crude oil theft, pipeline vandalism and other losses in the petroleum sector.
According to an April 6, 2025, report by Punch, the renewal of Tantita’s contract was valued at approximately $144 million. The contract has also generated disputes among competing interests in the Niger Delta over access to lucrative oil infrastructure protection arrangements.
The paradox is difficult to ignore. A man once wanted by the authorities in connection with the Niger Delta conflict subsequently became a major contractor responsible for protecting the very kind of infrastructure that had been targeted during the period of militancy.
This transformation raises important questions about Nigeria’s approach to conflict resolution. Can former combatants become useful partners in maintaining peace? Can local knowledge and influence help secure strategic infrastructure? And what safeguards ensure that public contracts are transparent, effective and accountable?
There are arguments on both sides. Engaging influential figures who understand difficult terrain can help the government secure infrastructure and reduce criminal activity. At the same time, the public deserves transparency about contract awards, performance, value for money and the distribution of economic benefits.
The fact that a former militant has become a security contractor does not, by itself, establish wrongdoing. Equally, the commercial success of a security company does not automatically make its owner a model for every aspect of leadership.
Tompolo’s business achievements and political influence are therefore relevant to understanding his relationship with public officials, but they do not settle the question of why Ododo considers him a mentor.
Over the years, Tompolo has also emerged as an influential figure in Nigeria’s political landscape, with reported links to the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) and access to powerful political actors. His influence in the Niger Delta gives him a strategic position in discussions about oil production, security and political mobilisation.
That influence may explain why politicians court him. It does not necessarily explain why a governor should describe him in such personal terms.
This is perhaps the most important question arising from the governor’s statement.
The word “mentor” ordinarily suggests a relationship in which one person provides guidance, knowledge, experience or professional development to another. It implies that the person being mentored has something substantial to learn from the mentor.
If Ododo considers Tompolo his mentor, Nigerians are entitled to ask what lessons he has drawn from their relationship.
Has Tompolo mentored him in political mobilisation, conflict resolution, community engagement or the management of security challenges? Has he offered insights into negotiating with local actors, gathering intelligence or building trust in communities where government authority is weak?
These would be legitimate areas of knowledge exchange, provided the lessons promote lawful conduct, accountable leadership and the protection of citizens.
But Kogi State has its own security challenges. Communities across parts of the state have faced threats from kidnapping, armed attacks and other criminal activities. The governor’s responsibility is to protect residents, strengthen law enforcement and ensure that the state remains safe for economic and social activities.
If Tompolo has valuable security experience, has that experience translated into practical assistance for Kogi State? Has the governor adopted any identifiable strategies from him that have improved intelligence gathering, protected vulnerable communities or strengthened cooperation between security agencies and local residents?
These are questions, not allegations. There is no basis to conclude from the reported remark alone that Tompolo has taught Ododo anything about militancy or that the governor has received security lessons from him.
The concern is that the public has been offered the title of mentor without an explanation of the mentorship itself.
For a private individual, such an omission would hardly matter. For a governor, it invites scrutiny because his relationships can carry implications for public policy, security decisions and the exercise of power.
Humility is a virtue in leadership. A governor who listens to ordinary people, respects elders, acknowledges the contributions of others and avoids arrogance should be commended.
Nigeria has no shortage of public officials who mistake their positions for personal superiority. A leader who remains approachable can build trust and encourage cooperation across political, ethnic and social boundaries.
But humility must not be confused with the abandonment of institutional dignity.
A governor is not merely a politician who has won an election. He is the chief executive of a state, elected to exercise authority under the Constitution and accountable to the people whose mandate he holds.
That distinction matters when a governor publicly describes another individual as his leader.
There is nothing inherently wrong with a governor having political mentors, personal advisers or respected elders. Indeed, no one enters public office with all the knowledge necessary to govern effectively. Even experienced leaders depend on counsel and learn from people whose backgrounds differ from theirs.
The difficulty arises when the language used appears to blur the distinction between personal loyalty and public responsibility.
If Ododo had simply described Tompolo as an influential figure, a respected elder or a political ally, the remark might have attracted less attention. Describing him as “my leader” and “my mentor”, however, creates an impression of a relationship that deserves clarification.
Without further explanation from Ododo, it would be unfair to conclude that the statement demonstrates weakness or low self-esteem. Such psychological judgments cannot reasonably be made from one public remark.
Nevertheless, the language raises a legitimate question about political judgment. A governor should understand that his words carry weight beyond the immediate audience. What he says about another person can influence public perceptions of his independence, priorities and understanding of his office.
The issue, therefore, is not whether Ododo should be humble. It is whether his expression of humility was proportionate to the occasion and mindful of the office he occupies.
There is a difference between respecting a man and elevating him above the office one has been elected to hold.
Perhaps the bigger concern is whether Governor Ododo fully appreciates the institutional authority attached to his position when he makes such public declarations.
Under Section 176 of the Nigerian Constitution, each state has a governor, who is the chief executive of that state. Section 192 provides for the appointment of commissioners, while Section 193 addresses the governor’s executive functions and the assignment of responsibilities to the deputy governor and commissioners.
The governor’s authority is not personal property. It is an institutional mandate derived from the Constitution and the electoral process. Ododo should please know and respect this.
Ododo may genuinely admire Tompolo. He may believe that Tompolo’s experience, political influence or knowledge of security challenges makes him a valuable source of advice. He may also have used the words “my leader” as a conventional expression of respect.
But the governor’s position makes the choice of words significant. Ododo is not speaking merely as a private citizen. He is speaking as the elected governor of Kogi State, with constitutional responsibilities to millions of residents.
The real test of Ododo’s leadership is not whether he stands upright or kneels when greeting someone. Neither is it whether he calls an older or more influential person a mentor.
Ododo is entitled to his mentors. Kogi State, however, is entitled to a governor who understands that while he may learn from many people, the responsibility to lead the state ultimately belongs to him.
— Ozumi Abdul writes from Abuja.
