When a river is dammed, its waters do not forget the path to the sea. They wait, they swell, they rage against the banks, and when at last the gates are lifted, they rush forth with vengeance. Such has been the fate of Rivers State, Nigeria’s oil-bearing jewel, now released from the grip of emergency rule. In a nation already weighed down by inflation, food insecurity, and spiralling insecurity, Rivers became a symbol of how fragile Nigeria’s democracy can be.
The crisis in Rivers was never just about governance, it was about power. It was about who held the oars, who steered the canoe, and who decide where the river should meet the sea. The lifting of the emergency order may restore political legitimacy, but does it restore dignity to the fisherman whose nets return empty, and water poisoned by oil spills? Does it restore faith to the mother who waits at the hospital desk while doctors plead for basic supplies?
Rivers are not just geography; it is a metaphor. It is a reminder that wealth without wisdom is a curse, and abundance without justice is a wound. The people of Port Harcourt know this all too well. They watch oil tankers roll past their streets, carrying millions in revenue, while they themselves barter tomatoes at inflated prices in crowded markets. One moment, the people queued for fuel at filling stations, grumbling about scarcity and subsidy removal.
Next, they find themselves governed not by the officials that they elected, but by the shadow of emergency powers. By restoring Governor Fubara and the House of Assembly, President Tinubu has given Nigeria a chance to breathe. But what does this say about the resilience of our institutions? If a governor can be swept aside by decree, and the legislature can be suspended like a school boy punished for unruly conduct, what shield remains for the common man’s vote?
Throughout the six months of suspended governance, the people endured and continued with their lives, trading in Mile One Market, fishing in Bonny, commuting on battered buses from Eleme to Port Harcourt, waiting for the quarrel of the mighty to end. Their patience is a lesson and a warning. A people cannot endure forever. The lifting of the emergency rule is not an ending; it is an intermission. The play will continue, the actors will return to the stage, but the audience has grown weary of repetition.
Rivers in power is more than a headline. It is a parable of Nigeria itself: rich yet restless, gifted yet squandered, always at war with its own abundance. The state has been handed back to its elected governor, but governance itself must be handed back to the people. Will Governor Fubara and his legislature learn from the turbulence, or will they return to paddling in opposite directions, capsizing the canoe once more?
Will the President's intervention be remembered as a moment of statesmanship, or just another episode in the endless soap opera of Nigerian politics?
In the end, the river has only two choices: to flow clean or to flow muddied. And as every fisherman knows, a river that carries too much silt can drown its own fish.
William Z. Bozimo
Veteran Journalist | Columnist | National Memory keeper
No comments:
Post a Comment