The loudest question confronting Igala and people today is not the ripples of past glories but the tremor of an uncertain tomorrow. The immediate and burning issue is whether a fractured people can stitch themselves together before time erases their place on the map of destiny. What was once a political fulcrum now teeters on the edge of irrelevance, like a mighty river reduced to scattered streams.
It is this anguish that birthed the lament of an Igala son who could not find sleep in the small hours of dawn:
“Good morning my dear good brother. My heart bleed to read this. When are we going to unite again? When are we going to return to the good days? When is our land going to settle ourselves? When can we make it to the best as other parts of the state? When can our voice be heard good again? When can greed make us love ourselves again? Many many questions to ask ourselves. Who can make the questions come realistically for us? Thank you Sir. I am unable to sleep oo.” – Od
This is no ordinary lament. It is a dirge and a prophecy, a reminder that when the kola nut cracks unevenly, it is not only the eater that tastes bitterness but the lineage that shares in the shame. Igala proverb says, “He who abandons the road of unity will meet the bush of shame.” Such is the fate that now hovers.
Dr. James A, in a voice both urgent and sobering, offers a path of redemption: “ This is a sympathetic question. The only solution to these questions in Igala land is to embrace unity, love for one another… and embrace Dr. Steven Achema’s policy.” In his assertion lies a deep truth—that power without fraternity is a corpse dressed in borrowed garments.
For the hard fact remains: no one toppled Igala power. It collapsed from within. Like firewood drenched by its own rain, it lost its spark while the Central bloc hammered cohesion and the Western bloc consolidated ambition. The East dispersed into fragments, brilliant like scattered stars yet too distant to form a constellation.
The stakeholders in Igalaland must therefore rise not merely as custodian of titles but as “Omaye mi Ogecha” my true brother/sisters and be the architect of reconciliation. Without a covenant of unity, your throne of eldership risks becoming a drum whose skin is torn: seen, respected, but unplayable. Diaspora sons and daughters must grasp that their wealth abroad is only a shadow if their homeland sinks into decay. And the youth must learn that to be pawns in recycled rivalries is to sell tomorrow for the price of yesterday’s crumbs. As another Igala proverb teaches: “The chick that mocks the hawk forgets that the sky belongs to wings.”
The urgency is unarguable: to rise, Igala must come to itself. Like the prodigal son, the turning point is not in the loss but in the awakening. If the axe destroys the tree, it too lies abandoned in the forest. If the foundation crumbles, both mansion and hut collapse alike.
The hour of decision is approaching. Kogi East must either remain a broken shadow or reforge itself into the granite of stability upon which the state rests. History can wait; destiny will not.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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