History is a merciless tutor. It repeats its class notes with the patience of the eternal, but some Nigerian students, particularly her Eastern sons refuse to learn. So the white chalk scribbles of yesterday still stand; a cruel reminder of the opportunities embraced by others, but often squandered at home. There are moments in political history when silence thunders louder than speeches, and when gestures of humility and solidarity become more decisive than votes. The 2023 party primaries offered one of such moments.
Recall that in 1966, the giants of the land then stepped aside, but instead of harmony, obvious suspicion was born. Sir Ahmadu Bello’s blood spilt, and with it, the fragile thread of trust. The North would remember, the South would resent, and the East would never be forgiven, both by their foes and themselves. Therein lies the “unforgiven lesson.” Politics is a craft of both timing and concession, so to refuse to yield a step is often to forfeit the mile. The lesson then is not just political but existential because unity is not a luxury but an engine of survival. Nations are built, not proclaimed. Power is negotiated, not decreed.
Fast forward to democracy’s new dawn, power rotated, voices clamoured, and again the East stood at the crossroads. Brothers quarrelled over shadows, spitting venom at one another while the prize was carried away by those who knew the discipline of alliance. In the APC for example, titans like Godswill Akpabio folded his ambitions into the grand design of Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Also in the PDP, Senator Aminu Tambuwal stepped aside for Atiku Abubakar, shifting the tide with a single, selfless act. These were not acts of weakness but of analysis, maturity, and the understanding that power is never won by multiplication of ambitions, but by their consolidation.
But when it came to the Igbo aspirants, history repeated its most haunting chorus. Each clung to his claim, unwilling to bend, unyielding to persuasion. Brothers, instead of harmonizing their voices into a chorus, sang in competing keys. The result was a familiar tragedy: once again, the door to the presidency slipped past their fingers. It is one thing to be wronged by history; but it is another, more tragic, to wound oneself with familiar errors. When the Igbo man shoots himself in the foot, he reloads the rifle and then blames the world for his wounded limp. The presidency slipped the East again not by fate alone, but by pride’s iron hand.
Unity was asked of them, but instead they gave in to quarrels. Sacrifice was required of them, but they insisted on entitlement. Thus, destiny slipped through like sand in an open palm. It is this same paradox that also shadows the cries for Biafra. A sovereignty movement of such nature should rest on a people’s right to self-determination. Yet the irony is stark: while clamouring for their independence, Biafra’s champions often insist that South-South minorities from the Niger Delta oil belt and all must be folded under their flag. Liberty for self, dependence for others. It is a contradiction so glaring that it undermines the moral argument before it leaves the lips.
How does one scream for “freedom” while holding another’s throat? Hypocrisy reeks stronger than the oil they covet. Brothers of the East forget: the Delta has its scars, its history of neglect, and its rivers that bleed crude yet thirst for justice. Why then should a fisherman in the Gbaramatu clan die for a flag raised in Enugu? The Igbo, with their unrivalled industriousness, their global spread, and their historical scars, should know this better than most. Yet, time and again, they seem to fall into the same snare, splintered at the very threshold of victory.
Dependence that is disguised as liberation is but another conglomerate in new clothes. Northern Nigeria remembers its martyrs. The West recollects its bargains. The Niger Delta recalls its shackles. Only the East seems convinced not to remember anything. Except for the echo of its grudges, replayed like a dirge that dulls ambition. History does not always forgive repetition so if 2023 was a missed moment, then 2027 will surely be the litmus test. The East must ask itself: Will we bend for one another this time, or break once again before the world?
So when giants step aside in 2027, what will the East do? Will they bend, build alliances, and seize history’s fleeting smile? Or will they squabble, rupture, and hand victory once more to those who mastered the art of waiting? Oftentimes, history is unforgiving. It offers no make-up tests and no retakes. If the East continues to wound itself, the Presidency will remain a mirage. Similarly, if Biafra goes on chaining others to its restless dream, then even independence shall elude it. For nations are not built on pride, but on the humility of bending, so that all may rise together.
When giants step aside, but brothers refuse to bend, history writes no footnotes, only obituaries of opportunity.
✍🏽 William Z. Bozimo
Veteran Journalist | Columnist | National Memory Keeper
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