Friends, Edolites, countrymen, lend me your ears! I come to bury the news, not to praise it. But the news in Edo is so spicy these days, it’s practically burying itself in a pot of pepper soup.
If you’ve been following the political pantomime in our dear state—and let’s be honest, you can’t look away—you’ll know the main stage is occupied by two titans: Comrade Adams Oshiomhole and Godwin Obaseki. Their fallout has more seasons than your favourite Netflix show, and the plot twists are even more unbelievable.
Let’s set the scene.
Our hero, or antagonist (depending on which channel you’re watching), is Comrade Adams himself. Once a firebrand union man who could paralyse the economy with a single speech, he’s now a man on a mission. And what is that mission, you ask? It seems his life’s purpose has been whittled down to a single, burning goal: to prove that his former protégé, Godwin Obaseki, breathes air.
The latest episode? Comrade Adams has called for the arrest of Obaseki. The crime? He has a feeling—a deep, spiritual, utterly human-and-reasonably-unsuspicious belief—that Obaseki must have privatised the Museum of West African Art (MOWAA). Did he see a receipt? Was there a “Sold” sign? No, no. That’s the beauty of it. He just believes. The force is strong with this one.
This is where the plot gets juicy with irony. Remember when Comrade Adams, the man who once rallied for the common man without “two pence to rub together,” suddenly became the founder of a whole university? Edo State University, Uzairue, sprang up. A magnificent institution! But the ownership structure? Let’s just call it… creatively opaque. The rumour mill, which works overtime in Benin, suggests the Comrade might have more than a passing academic interest in it. But that’s a subplot for another day!
Now, you’d think that after his championed candidate, Monday Okpebholo, wrestled back the governorship, our Comrade would be satisfied. He won! The game was over! But alas, no. It seems the victory of his candidate, whom critics call… let’s say ‘spectacularly underwhelming’ for the sake of this family blog, hasn’t quenched his thirst.
It’s like he told his successor, “Okay, you’re in the big chair. Now, your only job is to systematically dismantle every single thing Obaseki ever touched. I don’t care if it was a good road or a functioning school. Tear it down! I’ll be in the stands with a megaphone, demanding you go faster!”
So, here we are. A man who became rich beyond his wildest dreams after entering government is pointing at a man who was rich before he entered government and yelling, “Thief!” The political successor is busy using a bulldozer for legacy-razing instead of building anything new. And all the while, the real star of the show—Edo State—is sitting in the corner, slowly facepalming.
It’s a magnificent mess. It’s a tragic comedy. It’s the political circus that keeps on giving, and frankly, the only thing it’s making better is our supply of gossip.
All this nonsense, and for what? It certainly makes Edo State the worse for it. But man, does it make for a good blog post.
The curtain hasn’t closed on this show. Stay tuned for the next episode, folks.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 