In Igala land, the once-vibrant drumbeat of political authority now ripples faintly in the corridors of silence. Our kings no longer sit in the council of thrones; instead, they whisper among shadows while strangers seize the stage. The tragedy is not just in betrayal, but in retreat. A people who once led must now wrestle with the question: if no one sees you, do you still count?
Modern politics has evolved beyond the domain of silent wisdom. In today’s Nigeria, presence equals power. If you are not seen, you are not considered. If you are not heard, you are presumed absent. Influence is now a performance, and performance requires appearance. Yet many of our brightest minds in Igala land remain hidden—either by design or fear—ceding public space to charlatans with loud mouths but empty visions.
Chief Edward Onoja once remarked and yet a victim, “It’s no longer about who is smartest, but who is most visible.” That truth stings, yet it must be embraced. The mistake of Igala’s political class has not only been internal division but a dangerous obsession with invisibility. We groom men in silence, release them in haste, and expect miracles in elections. This formula is outdated—and destructive.
History favours those who show up. From the palaces of ancient Attahs to the rallies of democratic contenders, visibility has always been a pillar of influence. The difference now is the speed of attention. Social media, television, radio—all demand a presence. Our thinkers, traditional elites, and aspiring leaders must learn this rhythm or be outplayed. Power now resides in who controls the narrative, not just who holds the title.
Even the ancestors understood this. Igala proverbs warn us that “a yam that stays underground rots alone.” To reclaim relevance, we must bring our brightest minds to the forefront—not just at election time, but every day. Speak boldly, write consistently, lead visibly. Because silence in the era of noise is not humility—it is erasure.
Our political redemption will not come through mystery, but mastery of public presence. The sons and daughters of Igala must now take up media, ideas, movements, and platforms with urgency. Visibility, when fused with integrity and strategic action, becomes a torch that pierces the fog of marginalization. This is not a call for noise, but for deliberate, continuous presence—online, offline, everywhere.
Let the bell of reawakening ring across Idah to Ankpa, Ejule to Abejukolo. Let Igala rise—not with whispers, but with voices that command attention, ideas that shape direction, and faces that inspire trust. If we must return to power, then we must return to the public square. For in this new political dispensation, to be invisible is to be irrelevant.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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