In the unfolding story of Nigeria’s fragile democracy, no narrative is more urgent than that of Igalaland, once a citadel of influence, now a house divided against itself. The ruins are not merely political; they are moral, cultural, and spiritual. It is written in Isaiah 61:4, “And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.” This scripture is no abstract prophecy—it is a timely summons for the Igala nation to rediscover its divine mandate and rise again as a beacon of light in Kogi State and beyond.
The disunity of recent decades has reduced a people of stature into spectators at the theatre of power. It is unimaginable that a nation once described by historians as “the stabilizing force of the Middle Belt” should now groan under the weight of marginalization and internal betrayal. The Igala are not a mere tribe in Nigeria’s mosaic; they are a force and a faith movement, carriers of a covenant identity that must not be squandered. As the Psalmist declared, “If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (Psalm 11:3). The answer is simple: rebuild .
History reminds us of the prophet-leader Nehemiah, who, when he heard of the broken walls of Jerusalem, sat down, wept, and mourned for days (Nehemiah 1:4). He prayed, fasted, and rose with courage to lead the people in repairing the ancient ruins of their holy city. Nehemiah’s tears were not signs of weakness but the birth pangs of restoration. Today, Igalaland needs its Nehemiahs—leaders, reformers, visionaries, and intercessors who will weep over its ruins and then rise to repair them.
The responsibility for this rebuilding rests not in empty slogans but in the shoulders of Igala stakeholders, Ukomu Igala, the Igala Cultural and Development Association (ICDA), the revered Attah Igala, and the Igala diaspora whose hearts still beat for home. These are not ceremonial institutions; they are custodians of a trust. To them, heaven asks: will you allow the cracks of envy and division to widen, or will you stand as Nehemiah stood, repairing the walls with one hand while holding a sword in the other (Nehemiah 4:17)?
What is needed is nothing less than a collective renaissance. The cream de la creame of Igala intelligentsia, entrepreneurs, politicians, and clergy must come together to invest in the future of Igalaland. Investments here must not only be in material infrastructure—roads, schools, hospitals—but also in moral infrastructure: truth, accountability, and sacrificial leadership. The Igala says “A child does not grow strong by mere wishes; only by the weight of responsibility.” The Igala destiny demands such responsibility now.
The Attah Igala must be more than a traditional symbol; he must embody the prophetic role of unifier, healer, and voice of conscience. Diaspora sons and daughters—scholars, financiers, and professionals across continents—must reject the comfort of distance and join in re-erecting the fallen pillars of their homeland. As John F. Kennedy once admonished, “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” For the Igala, the question is clear: what shall you do for Igalaland?
The ruins are ancient, but the promise is eternal. The blood of ancestors who built empires on the Niger and defended the honour of their land still cries out for continuity. The faith of fathers who stood by covenant still speaks today. This is not the hour for lamentation; it is the hour for resurrection. It is written, “The glory of this latter house shall be greater than of the former” (Haggai 2:9). If the Igala people will humble themselves, seek unity, and invest their strength into the common destiny, the story of decline shall be rewritten into a song of triumph.
The time to rebuild is now. Let the ruins of Igalaland no longer be monuments of regret, but testimonies of revival. To support this movement, send a DM.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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