In the lush, rolling hills of Kogi West, a silent crisis is brewing. It is a crisis not of scarcity, but of stagnation. The Okun people, a Yoruba-speaking bloc renowned for their high literacy rates and intellectual contributions to Nigeria, find themselves trapped in a paradox: they are a people blessed with immense human and natural capital, yet they remain politically sidelined and economically ensnared.
For over thirty years, the path to Lugard House—the seat of power in Lokoja—has remained an impassable mountain for any Okun aspirant. As the 2027 gubernatorial cycle looms, the conversation in the streets of Kabba, Bunu, Ijumu, and Yagba is shifting from polite requests for inclusion to a desperate cry for existential survival.
The tragedy of the Okun situation is often attributed to a breakdown in representation. While Okun sons and daughters hold various political appointments, critics argue these roles have become gilded cages.
Many appointees are accused of prioritizing personal survival over communal progress, acting as “yes-men” who validate a status quo that neglects their constituents.
There is a jarring visual metaphor in the region: political elites move in convoys protected by armed guards, while the average Okun farmer is left defenseless against the rising tide of banditry.
“To demand equity is now being treated as a crime,” says one local community leader. “We are told to wait for ‘God’s time,’ but in a jungle, even the faithful must hunt to survive.”
The economic heartbeat of Okunland is agriculture, but that heart is failing. Despite state government efforts, a wave of insecurity has turned fertile farmlands into no-go zones.
Farmers are abandoning ancestral lands due to persistent banditry. Kogi West remains one of the most vulnerable zones to kidnappings.
Some internal voices argue 2027 is “too early,” causing a rift in the collective agenda.
The narrative that “God’s time is the best” is frequently used to temper political ambitions in the region. However, the growing sentiment among the youth and the intelligentsia is that every time is God’s time—provided there is a will to act.
The argument for an Okun Governor is no longer just about ethnic pride; it is framed as a security necessity. Proponents argue that a Governor of Okun extraction would have the visceral, local understanding required to flush out the criminal elements currently strangling the region’s economy.
The ensnarement of the Okun people is not just a result of external marginalization, but also internal fragmentation. The road to Lugard House requires:
Unity of Purpose: Moving past individual interests to form a solid regional bloc.
Courageous Leadership: Appointees who are willing to speak truth to power regarding the “pitiable situation” of their people.
Active Demands for Equity: Rejecting the notion that seeking fairness is a “crime” or “too early.”
The sun is setting on a generation of Okun leaders who watched from the sidelines. As the rain of political realignment begins to fall, the question remains: will Okunland finally make its hay, or will it remain ensnared in the politics of “waiting”?
– Ponle Adeniyi
ponleadeniy457@gmail.com
