By Stephen Olorunmonu Idowu
A people embraced for political numbers but sidelined when power and development are shared.
The Okun people of Kogi State are counted as Northerners when elections approach, but quickly become “outsiders” when power is shared. This is not a misunderstanding—it is a pattern. A pattern where identity is stretched for political gain and shrunk for political exclusion.
Geographically, Okunland is in the North. Culturally and historically, it is Yoruba. But in Nigeria’s political arithmetic, identity is not defined by truth—it is defined by convenience.
When the North needs numbers, Okun people are included without hesitation. When positions are to be allocated, the narrative changes. Suddenly, those same people are told they belong elsewhere. The result is a quiet but persistent exclusion—one that denies both representation and opportunity.
This was not always the case.
There was a time when belonging was not negotiated this way. The late Chief Sunday Bolorunduro Awoniyi, known as Sardauna Keremi, served Northern Nigeria at the highest levels without his identity being questioned. He was trusted, included, and respected. That era understood a basic principle that today’s politics often ignores: identity should not be manipulated to suit convenience.
What has replaced that clarity is a system that takes from Okunland but rarely gives back.
In Ilafin, Isanlu, one of the most enduring symbols of federal presence is not a modern project, but wells dug in the 1950s and 60s during the administration of Sir Ahmadu Bello. Decades later, those wells still stand. Not just as infrastructure, but as a quiet reminder of a time when leadership was more inclusive than it is today.
That reality raises an uncomfortable question: what has replaced them?
Kabba tells a similar story. Once a provincial headquarters, it remains stuck in the past while others have moved forward. Development has not kept pace with history, nor with contribution.
And contribution is not lacking.
Okunland has produced generations of educated professionals who have served across Northern institutions—teaching, administering, and sustaining critical systems. Its agricultural strength supports the production of cocoa, coffee, yam, and cassava, while its land holds significant untapped mineral resources.
So the issue is not value. The issue is recognition.
Beyond its contributions, Okunland occupies a strategic position in Nigeria’s national structure. It is a natural bridge between the North and the South West—culturally, geographically, and politically.
But a bridge cannot stand if it is only acknowledged when convenient.
If Okun people are Northerners, then that identity must mean something beyond electoral numbers. It must reflect in representation, infrastructure, and inclusion. Otherwise, what exists is not partnership, but exploitation.
The question is no longer subtle: are the Okun people equal stakeholders, or merely a political convenience?
This is not a call for sympathy. It is a demand for consistency.
A people cannot continue to be counted and discounted at the same time. Identity cannot be expanded for elections and reduced for governance.
Okunland is not asking for special treatment—only fairness.
It is time to decide, clearly and honestly: are we truly part of the North, or only useful when it is time to count heads?
– Stephen Olorunmonu Idowu is a historian and filmmaker.
