There are few things more educational than Nigerian politics. You may attend Harvard, Oxford, or the Nigerian Law School, but none will teach constitutional flexibility quite like the APC governorship primaries in Rivers State.
For years, Nigerians were told that the APC had reached a gentleman’s agreement: all sitting governors would receive automatic tickets for re-election. No stress. No primaries. No quarrels. Just a smooth conveyor belt straight into the ballot paper.
It sounded civilised.
Almost Scandinavian.
Then Rivers happened.
Suddenly, Nigerians discovered that “automatic ticket” in APC politics works exactly like Nigerian internet subscriptions: terms and conditions apply, connection may disappear without notice, and customer care will never explain what happened.
Governor Sim Fubara was initially cleared by the APC to contest. He was reportedly welcomed into the party structure with open arms, smiling photographs, and enough political assurances to make a Swiss diplomat blush.
Everything suggested he was safe.
Then Nyesom Wike cleared his throat.
Immediately, the automatic ticket developed mechanical faults.
Party elders began speaking in tongues about “consensus,” “stability,” “internal arrangements,” and “party unity” Nigerian political phrases which roughly translate to: the original plan has expired.
What followed was perhaps the greatest political miracle since the multiplication of loaves and fishes.
Kingsley Chinda, at the time still widely known to Nigerians as the PDP Minority Leader in the House of Representatives suddenly emerged as APC governorship candidate.
A man so recently PDP that his political passport may still contain umbrella stamps was now APC’s preferred son.
This was fascinating.
Because Nigerians had earlier been told that Fubara’s position inside APC was complicated due to his recent arrival from PDP.
Apparently, however, there are recent defectors… and there are premium recent defectors.
In fairness to APC, the party has now pioneered quantum political mechanics. A politician can apparently belong to PDP and APC simultaneously depending on who is counting delegates.
Schrödinger’s Politician.
Both opposition and ruling party until the primary result is announced.
The real comedy was not Chinda’s emergence. Nigerian politicians change parties more frequently than Premier League managers change formations. The real comedy was the sudden discovery that APC rules are apparently made from elastic rubber.
When Fubara was involved:
- party membership mattered;
- internal democracy mattered;
- old APC loyalists mattered.
When Chinda emerged:
- waivers appeared;
- objections disappeared;
- and everybody suddenly rediscovered the spirit of accommodation.
Even more remarkable was the speed.
Nigerian immigration officials do not process passports this quickly.
One minute Chinda was PDP Minority Leader. The next minute he was practically carrying APC membership card number 0001.
At this point, APC should simply abolish formal defections entirely and introduce political roaming services.
“Text JOIN to 2027 to migrate instantly between parties.”
The deeper lesson from Rivers is that Nigerian political parties are no longer ideological institutions. They are event centres.
People arrive. People leave. Chairs are rearranged. Somebody sprays money. Somebody gets offended. Eventually, one powerful man controls the microphone.
In Rivers, that man remains Wike.
This entire episode also delivered a brutal political lesson to Hope Uzodimma.
The Imo governor appeared to believe he was playing political chess in Rivers by aligning with Fubara against Wike. Unfortunately for him, while he was battling rumours of a palace coup inside the Progressive Governors’ Forum, Wike was busy conducting political urban renewal in Rivers.
By the time Uzodimma extinguished the Abuja fire, the Rivers building had already been allocated to a new tenant.
The irony is painful.
Uzodimma is still technically PGF Chairman.
But Wike now looks like the man who issues operational licences inside Rivers APC.
And perhaps that is the true meaning of power in Nigerian politics: not holding office, but deciding who gets automatic tickets and who suddenly discovers there was never any agreement in the first place.
In the end, APC’s “automatic ticket” doctrine remains alive and well.
It is simply automatic only for candidates approved by the final authority.
And in Rivers State, Nigerians now know exactly who that authority is.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 