In the crucible of history, nations are often tested not by the sweetness of their victories but by the bitterness of their losses. Today, in the confluence state of Nigeria, the Igala people find themselves at such an inflection point. Once the custodians of Kogi’s political throne and the proud stewards of a heritage stretching across centuries, they now confront an unsettling diminishment. Yet within this seeming eclipse lies a summons older than time itself: “When one falls, a thousand rise.”
This maxim, drawn from the deep well of Igala wisdom, is not mere rhetoric. It is a creed of survival, a covenant of renewal, a reminder that destiny cannot be buried by the failures of individuals. Power may shift, thrones may totter, but a people anchored in spirit and culture can never truly perish.
The Igala fall from political primacy has been precipitous, marked by disunity, betrayals, and the corrosive grip of selfish ambition. The custodians of yesterday’s glory, entrusted with ancestral mandate, too often bartered it for ephemeral gains. The tragedy is not solely political; it is moral and spiritual—a deviation from the sacred trust between leader and people, between the living and their ancestors. As Bahamian statesman-preacher Myles Munroe declared: “The greatest tragedy in life is not death, but life without purpose.” The Igala predicament is precisely that: power stripped of purpose.
Yet decline, however severe, does not write the final chapter. From the ruins of Jerusalem rose prophets. From the ashes of the Ashanti wars emerged a revived Ghanaian consciousness. From the wounds of the Sioux, Native America rekindled its spiritual pride. In like manner, the Igala can transform their scars into the very ink with which a new destiny is inscribed.
Charles Spurgeon, the English revivalist, once warned: “A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” Lies have indeed traveled fast in Igalaland: lies of irrelevance, of inferiority, of irrevocable decline. But the truth—that the Igala are a resilient people, woven into Nigeria’s cultural and political fabric—is only now fastening its shoes, preparing for the marathon of renewal.
Restoration, however, requires more than romantic recollection. It demands a recalibration of leadership. Servanthood must replace self-aggrandizement; vision must eclipse vanity. Juanita Bynum, the American preacher, observed: “God is not raising up superstars, He is raising up servants.” The Igala do not need new idols; they need servant-leaders who will embody integrity, wisdom, and unity, shepherding their people with courage rather than exploitation.
The Igala spirit is not confined to palatial halls or political offices. It breathes in the fishermen casting nets along the Niger, in the farmers tilling Ankpa’s fertile soils, in the masquerades that dance through Idah’s ancient festivals, and in the whispered prayers of mothers who refuse to surrender their children to despair. When one leader falters, a thousand ordinary men and women must rise—in classrooms, in pulpits, in mosques, in marketplaces, and at the ballot box—to reclaim the soul of their nation.
History affirms that civilizations endure not merely by the power of their armies but by the vitality of their culture and the strength of their faith. The Igala, once famed for their expansive kingdom and their formidable monarchs, must now revisit the wellsprings of ancestral wisdom. Unity of clans, reverence for heritage, and fidelity to communal destiny are the ingredients for their renaissance.
Thus, the fall of one must be transmuted into the rising of a thousand—not in sheer numbers, but in vision, in moral stamina, and in collective leadership. The Igala must move beyond lamentation to construction, beyond nostalgia to innovation, beyond political loss to spiritual awakening. Only then will they ascend once more, not merely as holders of transient office, but as custodians of destiny, as stewards of a people’s eternal covenant with God and history.
The clarion call, therefore, is unmistakable: let no Igala misinterpret the fall of one as the twilight of all. Rather, let it be embraced as the trumpet blast of renewal. For when one falls, a thousand must rise—not in disarray, but in unison; not in bitterness, but in resolve. This is the path to restoring Igala power, spirit, and leadership—an ascension that will echo far beyond Kogi, into the very heart of Nigeria’s destiny.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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