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Titanic’s crash and anger of Olokun, the Sea goddess | By Festus Adedayo

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The world is in a mourning mood. After a fruitless five-day search for a missing deep-sea submersible vessel with five passengers on board, its wreckage was eventually found last Thursday. The five occupants on board were killed in the process. The search had been spearheaded by a robotic diving vehicle deployed from a Canadian ship. The five were on a voyage to see the century-old wreckage of the famous Titanic by the time this catastrophic implosion occurred.

The robotic vehicle had found the debris of the submersible Titan on the seabed, “some 1,600 feet (488 meters) from the bow of the Titanic,” reported Reuters. Named the Titan and operated by OceanGate Expeditions, a U.S.-based company, its passengers included the company’s founder and chief executive officer, Stockton Rush who also doubled as pilot of the Titan; British billionaire and explorer, Hamish Harding; Pakistani-born businessman, Shahzada Dawood and his 19-year-old son, Suleman, as well as French oceanographer and famous Titanic expert, Paul-Henri Nargeolet. They had gone on the adventurous undersea expedition at the cost of $250,000 to each of the passengers.

The original British passenger liner named the Titanic, which its moulders claimed was unsinkable, had sunk on April 15, 1912, 111 years ago. It had collided with an iceberg. After several unsuccessful years of efforts to discover the wreckage, 73 years after, in 1985, a joint French-American expedition eventually found it out. Salvage operations to recover items in the Titanic which is said to lie in the ocean at a depth of about 12,500 feet on the coast of Newfoundland, have resulted in thousands of items found and now conserved by being put on public display. The bodies of the passengers could however not be recovered. A total of 2,208 passengers had sailed in the early morning of that day, on its maiden voyage from Southampton, England to New York City. Out of them, 1,503 died.

The crash of the deep-sea submersible vessel has provoked some interests and comments. One of such was a piece entitled The Titan disaster shows the effect of human hubris in the deep sea written by Karen Attiah, a columnist with The Washington Post. In it, she drew an inference of a probable anger of the Yoruba goddess of the ocean, Olokun as cause of the disaster. This connect was further reinforced when renowned Hollywood director and Titanic researcher, James Cameron, told the BBC in an interview that there was a definite link between the tragic crash of the two Titans as well as similarities in the crashes’ circumstances. Cameron, a submersible designer, had directed the Oscar-winning blockbuster Titanic. He had said: “I’m struck by the similarity of the Titanic disaster itself, where the captain was repeatedly warned about ice ahead of his ship, and yet, he steamed up full speed into an ice field on a moonless night. And many people died as a result and for us very similar tragedy where warnings went unheeded to take place at the same exact site.”

Samuel Johnson, the iconic Yoruba historian, in telling the story of the dreaded Bashorun Gaa of the Old Oyo Empire, unknowingly explained the Atlantic economy of centuries ago among the Yoruba. In his narration, Johnson drew a link between the river goddess, Olokun and ancient Yoruba cowries, the only legal tender of transaction that began in the 16th century. As Prime Minister of Old Oyo from 1754–1774 circa, Gaa, according to Johnson, once requested his babalawo to make charms that would enable him acquire “plenty of cowries.” He had complained to them that, in spite of his enormous powers and wealth, he had little cowries to flaunt as symbol of his political power. In reality, this was a manifestation of the competition Gaa faced from other power wielders in the empire, that they might use their financial capacity to undermine his political base. Gaa’s cash crisis was also said to have been worsened by his incorrigible children, who, like the biblical sons of Eli – Hophni and Phinehas – lorded “it all over the country (Old Oyo provinces) (and which) deprived him of the revenues which might have come to him.”

Anyway, these medicine men then gave the Prime Minister ose dudu, a medicinal soap, with which he was to take his bath. They thumped their chests as they asserted that, before sunset, humongous wealth would flood his palace. Unconfirmed reports claimed that the babalawo had secured the soap from the bowel of the Atlantic, specifically from the hands of Olokun. After the bath with the soap, a mysterious fire suddenly engulfed the Gaa compound which burnt virtually all his belongings to the hilt. However, due to the awe and dread of the Prime Minister’s powers, virtually all sectors of the Empire, from the capital to all the innumerable provinces, upon hearing of this destruction, rose in his support. Gaa’s venomous powers were such that, he could incinerate provinces that failed to contribute to the rebuilding of his lost assets and compound. Not only did they rebuild the compound, but the gifts Gaa also received in cash and materials were overwhelming. Ultimately, the Prime Minister emerged, like the mythical Phoenix, from the ashes of the disaster richer than he once was. Astounded by the link between his Olokun-given wealth and the disaster, Gaa had asked his babalawo for an explanation. According to Johnson, he had asked, “Is this the way you promised to get me cowries?” and their reply was, “Yes … by what other means could you have amassed such an abundance in so short a time?”

In a journal article written for the Boston University African Studies Centre by Akinwumi Ogundiran, entitled Of small things remembered: Beads, cowries and cultural translations of the Atlantic experience (The International Journal of African Historical Studies, Vol. 35, No. 2/3 (2002), pp. 427-457) the author told the story of how Benin oral traditional history also speaks to the intervention of the Olokun in the prosperity recorded during the reign of Oba Eresoyen. He ruled from 1735 to 1737. By the way, Olokun, in Yoruba-Edo belief, was not only revered as the deity of the ocean, she was also known as goddess of wealth. Eresoyen’s cowry boom was said to have occurred when he made a peace pact with the Olokun. Palace remembrancers speak of how Oba Eresoyen initially engaged in an unending tiff with Olokun by using his spiritual powers to close tributaries in his kingdom which denied Olokun access to her waters. A palm wine tapper then mediated between Eresoyen and the Olokun which resulted in the restoration of water to the goddess. In appreciation, Olokun made a pact with Eresoyen that she would requite his restoration of access to her waters with massive wealth. She then heaped mounds of cowries, which were within her territorial grip, in the sky for Eresoyen which his palace courtiers shouldered into the palace in massive quantity.

I gave the two anecdotes above to highlight, not only the fertile beliefs, imaginations and rumours that thrived centuries ago, especially in the Atlantic commerce of the time, but also the dominant perception of the powers of the Atlantic Ocean called Okun and the lord of the ocean.
Attiah had delved into what she called “the Yoruba religious tradition” where “divine spirits known as Orishas (sic) rule over various cosmic forces and elements of nature. There is Shango (sic) the king orisha of thunder and fire; Yemaya (sic) the orisha of the ocean; and Oshun (sic) who rules rivers and lakes” and what she called “a lesser-known orisha, Olokun, who is androgynous and rules the deepest parts of the ocean where light does not penetrate.” Attiah further wrote that “the Olokun is an extremely fearsome and vengeful orisha, upset with humans for not showing proper reverence… (and) chained to the bottom of the ocean so as to restrain (her) from destroying humanity. The pressure of the deep ocean represents the origins of life and threatens gruesome, instant death for humans. It is for all these reasons Olokun is rarely challenged or disturbed, even by the other orishas.” She concluded in this piece that the submersible’s disaster is a reminder to the world that in spite of humanity’s inventions, it cannot dominate the deep, deep sea.

How true is Attiah’s linkage of Olokun to the submersible’s disaster and how dissimilar or similar is this tragedy from centuries-old mythic perception of traditional Africa? This debate about the existence of gods, goddesses and attempts to spiritize disasters like the Titanic of 1912 and last week’s have provoked philosophical debates about the existence of spirits and metaphysical objects. Are spirits real? Are there evil spirits? Is the physical the only real thing? If it isn’t, what then makes Attiah’s explanation for the crash of the Titanic unreal, mythic and fabulous, while we concentrate on what we are only able to cognize?

While the particular configuration of the Olokun is unknown, the Yemoja, another goddess of the river or water deity, is widely iterated in Yoruba folklores. Many claimed to have encountered this fish goddess who also, like the Olokun, resides in the heart of the waters. Indeed, the Yemoja, taken from Yeye Omo Eja – mother of fishes – has devotees who honour her as a source of life, fertility and abundance and built temples for her. Some people even claimed to have encountered her in the depths of rivers with dual features of a fish, complete with fins but with human shoulders and head. She is carved out as the Mother with weeping breasts and venerated for her kindness. Yemoja is also the Queen Mother who lives in the depth of the water – the Ayaba ti ngbe ibu omi. Yemoja shares her maternity renown with three other water goddesses, Osun, Oba and Oya water deities.

Janet Langlois, of the Folklore Institute, Indiana University, citing ethnographer Ellis A. B, retold the Yemoja story that had often been told as folklore in Yorubaland. Ellis had narrated the legend in his 1894-written The Yoruba-speaking Peop1e of the Slave Coast of West Africa. It goes thus: “Oduduwa, the Earth, given birth to by Obatala, who was the Heavens, also gave birth to a son and daughter. The son was named Aganju and he represented dry and barren land. He then married the daughter, Yemoja, who was life-giving water. They both jointly had a son named Orungan, who was the sky between heaven and earth. One sad day when Aganju was far from home, Orungan ravished his mother, Yemoja. She sprang from him and ran quickly, blindly away. He pursued her and was overtaking her and about to touch her when she slipped and fell, striking her head against a stone. The impact sent jets of water gushing up from her huge breasts. These waters joined to form a sweet lagoon. Her huge belly burst open and many Orisas sprang from her.”

Among the Yoruba, water has a powerful force. Waters are sacred sites with presiding spirits which act as intercessors with the ultimate divine. This provides the reason for the worship of the Yemoja in Osun as the river goddess of fertility. She is referred to as the Ajeje, a mother who has herbs in the river with which she takes care of her children and gives them longevity. Devotees say they revere the waters of Osun just as Christianity reveres rivers in its baptism phenomenon and River Jordan in particular for its spirituality. In Africa, many groups don’t go to the rivers on certain days, believing that those were the days the water spirits come out.

From their manifestations, Olokun and Yemoja are different. The differences are in their temperaments and habitation. While Olokun resides in the Atlantic, Yemoja lives in rivers. Yemoja is benign while Olokun, though is mythically perceived as the god of wealth, could also be a jealous woman who can be deadly. In spite of scientific explanations of the Bermuda Triangle, otherwise known as the Devil’s Triangle, traditionalists believe the calamities wrecked by it in the mid-20th century were caused by the Olokun who, in her anger, and in mysterious circumstances, brought about the disappearances of some aircraft and ships. Some meteorological studies have however referred to Olokun and the Bermuda as an urban legend, ascribing the calamities to “diffraction heat patterns (which) give rise to corresponding weather and ocean patterns which, to a large extent, account for the mysteries already noted in the Bermuda region.” The Bermuda is located in the western part of the North Atlantic Ocean.

So, could Attiah have been right about the anger of the Olokun as cause of the crash of the two Titanics? Should we be bothered and seek extra-scientific answers to these tragedies so as to guard against them in the future? Attiah buttressed her claim with allusions to what she called the social value of certain perilous journeys. On the social media, many have wondered why such potentially perilous elite fancy should detain the rest of humanity. The world had literally been frozen due to the deaths of these voyagers while thousands of immigrants have perished in the Mediterranean without as much as a whimper from the same world. These were, in the words of Attiah, “migrants who are arguably much braver but have far fewer resources… demonized and left to die, despite the fact that all they want is the opportunity to work, to contribute value, to live.” In the same vein, the west has literally shut its ears from cries of reparations for sunken slave ships which Attiah calls “the true symbols of Europe’s ability to enslave people and exploit nature in faraway lands.”

Brandon Presser, an Op-ed writer with the Post, had joined in affirming the reckless audacity of man in going behind its province to seek to dominate the aquatic province of fishes. “Water is our birthright but also a force of great destruction, holding a record of everything it claims. To visit the depths of the ocean is not an act of arrogance, then, but something quite the opposite: an acknowledgment of our obsolescence. It’s fitting that the desire to blindly careen toward the ocean floor goes hand in hand with our curious obsession with the Titanic. The felled ship, once touted as the world’s greatest, has remained a parable for nature’s power over the mightiest efforts of humankind to assert its dominance over the planet,” he had written.

While the world is shedding tears about the recent Titanic disaster, Attiah has given us thoughts to ponder on. Why is the world obsessed with technological dominance like the Titanic, which “allow(ed) Europe to explore and pillage other countries, wipe out entire peoples and enrich itself by exploiting the Earth’s resources”? The Titanic, she said, “might be a reminder that the deep ocean is the only resource-rich realm on Earth with the power to keep White men from exploiting it.” Is Olokun then that power?

So, is Olokun angry that man is going beyond their earthly borders? Or, in the words of Attiah, “are (there indeed) some realms on Earth that are meant to be mysteries — not to be mastered”? Is humanity suffering from what the Yoruba call agbere, arrogant audacity? Or, is this absolute nonsense, in the words of Austrian philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein, who saw anything metaphysical like the link being drawn between the Titanic and an angry sea goddess, as such?

 

Dr. Adedayo writes from Ibadan

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Re: Adekambi vs Alli: Dr. Olanrewaju’s Descent To Soliloquizing | Sola Abegunde

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I have read Dr. Sulaimon Olanrewaju’s piece titled ” Adekambi vs Alli: Between Substance And Sensationalism” and it offers me a lot of entertainment.

Dr. Sulaimon Olanrewaju is a seasoned Journalist no doubt. Very brilliant mind, but, he needs a lecture on politics and governance.

No matter how educated or professional you could be, if you lack basic knowledge about raw politics and governance at different tiers of Government, you are bound to struggle like a fish out of the water each time you attempt to defend certain positions.

Very obviously, Dr. Olanrewaju doesn’t know how a Local Government should operate on a normal situation, even, before the Judgment of the Supreme Court obtained by president Bola Ahmed Tinubu.

I will refer Dr. Olanrewaju to a document titled ” Financial Memorandum for Local Governments”.

That document speaks to how funds belonging to the Local Governments could be legally spent.

It will also provide accurate information about the roles and powers of the Local Government Chairmen, Head of Local Government Administration, the Finance and General Purposes Committee, F&GPC, how approvals for funds, projects and how contracts are signed at the Local Government level.

Had it been that Dr. Olanrewaju had proper information, I am sure that he wouldn’t have advertised his ignorance the way he did, in the argument about Financial autonomy for Local Governments which Senator Sarafadeen Abiodun Alli is promising.

He would also have known that his Principal, Governor Seyi Makinde had been engaged in criminal activities in the manner he had been withdrawing and spending resources belonging to the 33 Local Governments illegally since 2019.

Perhaps I need to repeat this for emphasis sake. There is no Law that empowers a state Governor to withdraw money belonging to the Local Governments for the execution of projects on behalf of the Local Governments.

The fact that the monthly allocations for the 33 Local Governments would have to drop on a joint account does not confer any authority on a state Governor to illegally withdraw and spend same.

It is the responsibility of the F&GPC for each of the Local Governments to identify projects it wants to execute, approve funds for same and if the funds are beyond the approving limits of the F&GPC, it will seek approval from the Governor through the office of the Commissioner for Local Governments.

If the project would be executed as a contract, it is the sole responsibility of the HLGA to sign the contract agreement.

That is what Senator Sarafadeen Abiodun Alli is saying. That he would not make illegal withdrawals from the Local Governments funds. That he will allow the F&GPC for the 33 Local Governments to function without hinderance. That he will allow the Career officers to do their duties assigned to them by Law.

If Governor Seyi Makinde doesn’t believe in the existence of the Local Governments and he is not hiding this fact and Sarafa Alli is saying, I believe in a functional and free Local Government, where is the sensationalism in that?

Truth hurts. Dr. Olanrewaju can not, through his essay, which I consider an afterthought, rewrite the fact that, his Principal publicly declared that he doesn’t believe in the existence of the Local Governments, not to talk of allowing them to function freely.

I am surprised that Dr. Olanrewaju is of the opinion that Senator Sarafadeen Abiodun Alli is not saying what he would do differently.

I know that the Special Adviser on Media to Governor Seyi Makinde is not deaf. Neither is he blind or dumb. He is only being hypocritical.

How else does the Allied People’s Movement, APM and its Gubernatorial candidate want the All Progressives Congress, APC Gubernatorial candidate to say what he is going to do differently?

On this issue of Financial autonomy for Local Governments, Sarafadeen Alli is saying, contrary to the illegalities of the past seven years plus, he will not concern himself with the responsibilities that are ordinarily that of the Local Governments.

On Education, he has declared that he will ensure that we go back to the 30 Pupils per classroom policy of the former Governor, Senator Rasidi Adewolu Ladoja, now, H. I . M, Oba Senator Rasidi Adewolu Ladoja.

He said he will revive the Broadcasting Corporations of Oyo state, BCOS which is gasping for breath under Governor Seyi Makinde.

He was emphatic about the fact that he would set up a Committee to review the crisis created at the Circular Road by Governor Seyi Makinde within 72 hours when he is elected as the Governor of Oyo state.

He said he would review the sales and handing over of our Farm Settlements to Estate Developers amongst other promises.

On these issues, what are the clear positions taken by Adekambi?

If Dr. Olanrewaju wants us to believe his cock and bull stories about the performance of the 33 Local Governments under Seyi Makinde, I challenge him to ask his Principal to publish the statement of income and expenditures for the 33 Local Governments in the past seven years plus.

He should give us a breakdown of the total figure of the monthly allocations received on behalf of the 33 Local Governments, the breakdown of salaries and allowances paid, the number of projects executed, identities of the contractors who handled projects, the contract agreements, total figure of the Internally Generated Revenues, IGR received by the Local Governments and the VAT.

In the absence of these vital information, which I am certain they will never dare to make public, I want to humbly suggest that Dr. Olanrewaju should go and update his knowledge about how certain things are done.

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Ladoja @82: When the ladder becomes too tall and Makinde’s sin of ingratitude | By Ayinla Joseph

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The Yoruba say, when a man forgets the ladder that took him to the top of the iroko tree, the fall that awaits him will be narrated as a proverb.

On Thursday, Ibadan stood still for its king. Oba Rashidi Adewolu Ladoja clocked 82. Not 82 years of mere age, but 82 years of bruises, battles, betrayals and benediction. A former Senator. A former Governor. An elder statesman who, like Oduduwa, returned as king. The following day, Friday, Oba Ladoja also clocked one year on the throne of his forefathers.

Ibadan celebrated him. Nigeria celebrated him. The Presidency sent greetings. Former governors knelt. Serving governors bowed. The Alaafin of Oyo paid tribute. The Soun of Ogbomoso poured libation of words. Even the Aseyin, far in Iseyin, bought a full page in a national daily to say: our father lives.

But in Agodi Government House, there was silence. Cold, deliberate, imperial silence.

Governor Seyi Makinde did not felicitate his king. No advert. No statement. No courtesy of any sort extended. Nothing. His protégé, Bimbo Adekanmbi, toed the same line of contempt. For 48 hours, Ibadan people waited for a word that never came, until shame forced a whisper.

We must ask: what manner of politics is this?

In 2019, it was this same Ladoja who held Makinde’s hand when Makinde had no hand to hold. It was Ladoja who coordinated the coalition, who gathered the angry, the broken and the hopeful, and stitched them into a garment called victory for a man who had never won anything before. Without Ladoja, there would have been no Omituntun in 2019. And the man knows it.

Philosophers call it the Paradox of Power. Machiavelli warned about it in “The Prince”: that power acquired through the mercy of others must be sustained by gratitude, otherwise it consumes itself. Plato called such rulers philosopher-kings who failed philosophy. Men who know how to win power but not how to carry it.

History is littered with them.

Emperor Nero of Rome who burnt the city that made him emperor. King Rehoboam in the Bible who told the elders who made him king: “My little finger shall be thicker than my father’s waist.” Emperor Commodus who thought Rome was his father’s farm and turned the palace into a circus until the circus swallowed him.

Seyi Makinde governs like them — as an emperor, not as an Omoluabi. A man who believes loyalty must flow upwards to him, but must never flow downwards from him. He rides on the shoulders of giants and then complains that the giants are too tall.

Today it is Ladoja he snubs. Yesterday it was the Alaafin. The day before, the Soun. Tomorrow, which Oba will taste his disdain? He has transferred his personal hatred for the Olubadan stool into a war against all royal stools in Oyo State. That is not politics. That is poison.

And what shall we say of Bimbo Adekanmbi, his political son, who has learnt this ignoble art of ingratitude so perfectly? The Yoruba say, “the child who says his mother will not sleep, he too will not sleep.” To watch a man seeking to be governor practise contempt for the throne he seeks to govern is a disaster foretold.

Oyo people know Omituntun 2.0 for what it is — a poisonous pill coated with sweet advertisement. If 2.0 can openly humiliate an 82-year-old first-class monarch who made him, what will Omituntun 3.0, headed by his anointed, do? It will be the unkindest cut of all. It will be the complete desecration of the Omoluabi ethos that Ibadan and Oyo hold sacred.

Seyi Makinde will be remembered. Not for the roads that crack before commissioning. Not for the parks that lead to nowhere. He will be remembered as the governor who rode on the backs of eminent men and made every one of them regret that they ever lent him their shoulders.

Ladoja at 82 needs no advert from Agodi to be great. The king’s greatness is not conferred by the governor. But the governor’s smallness is exposed by how he treats his king.

Oyo people, shine your eyes. This affliction must not rise a second time.

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Makinde Deserves No Sympathy: He Brought His Present Predicament Upon Himself

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In response to my brother, Shuaib Idris, who wrote the piece titled “Seyi Makinde Deserves Our Sympathy,” I submit that Seyi Makinde does not deserve our sympathy. How do you sympathise with somebody who brought political calamity upon himself?

There is a point in every political journey when a leader must pause, look around and ask himself a difficult question: How did I get here? For Governor Seyi Makinde, that moment has long arrived.

Much has been written and said about the governor’s increasingly combative public interventions, his exchanges with political opponents and his determination to market the candidacy of his preferred successor. Some have interpreted these developments as signs of pressure surrounding him. But sympathy, in this circumstance, may be misplaced.

If Governor Makinde is under pressure today, much of that pressure is self-inflicted. If his administration is now being subjected to increasingly intense scrutiny, he cannot reasonably blame those asking the questions. And if political opponents have become emboldened enough to challenge his record openly, he should perhaps examine the decisions and conduct that have created the circumstances in which those challenges are now flourishing.

The governor’s recent political conduct provides ample illustration.

At the 70th birthday celebration of Bishop Francis Wale Oke, the governor reportedly used his appearance to introduce Bimbo Adekanmbi, the APM governorship candidate whom he supports. Adekanmbi’s emergence as the APM candidate is not in dispute; the party adopted him as its consensus candidate in May.

Two things continue to haunt him: his subpar performance in office and what critics describe as his imposition of Adekanmbi and Open Salawu, new entrants into his team, on his “first eleven.”

The question, therefore, is not whether Governor Makinde has the right to support a candidate. He does. The question is why a governor who repeatedly speaks of his administration’s achievements appears increasingly eager to make the 2027 succession contest a personal project.

A governor nearing the end of his tenure should ordinarily be concerned about preserving the dignity of the office, defending his record with facts and allowing his preferred candidate to present his own credentials. Indeed, Adekanmbi himself has publicly said he would not be a political stooge and that he would take responsibility for his own decisions if elected. That is political rhetoric. However, everything about Adekanmbi, according to his critics, points to the possibility of his being a stooge waiting to be planted to do Makinde’s bidding after the latter leaves office in 2027.

Yet Governor Makinde has increasingly inserted himself into the political conversation surrounding his successor. That creates an unavoidable question: if Adekanmbi is sufficiently qualified and politically prepared to succeed him, why does the governor so frequently feel compelled to fight the successor’s battles himself?

This is where the argument about pressure becomes particularly relevant. Political pressure does not simply descend from heaven. It can be generated by the choices of the politician himself.

Consider the recent exchange with Senator Sharafadeen Alli over the legal profession. Governor Makinde reportedly questioned Alli’s experience as a lawyer, arguing that he had never entered a courtroom. Alli’s campaign organisation subsequently responded by detailing his legal background and professional experience.

There is nothing wrong with political candidates examining one another’s records. That is part of democratic competition. But reducing a lawyer’s professional identity to courtroom appearances is a curious line of attack, particularly when the political argument ought ultimately to be about competence, experience, policy and public record.

A lawyer can practise in several areas of the profession without making litigation the centre of his career. Administrative work, corporate practice, legal consultancy, governance and institutional management are among the possible avenues available to members of the profession.

The larger point, however, is this: when an incumbent administration turns the professional credentials of an opponent into a central campaign issue, it invites its own record to be placed under the microscope. So, why does he need to be sympathised with over what he brought upon himself?

The response from Alli’s camp has shifted attention towards questions about Makinde’s own record as an engineer and governor, particularly the controversy surrounding diesel-powered streetlights and the renovation of the Lekan Salami Stadium. Those are now matters of public political debate, with competing claims about expenditure and performance. How do you sympathise with someone who threw a stone and received a Scud missile?

This is the unavoidable consequence of political combat: once you open the door to scrutiny of another man’s credentials, you should expect yours to be examined with equal intensity. Governor Makinde cannot reasonably demand immunity from the same standard he applies to others.

The same principle applies to his much-advertised “first eleven.” If the governor describes his administration as being driven by a carefully assembled team of exceptional people, the public is entitled to ask what became of that team when the question of succession arose. Why was the search for a successor extended beyond this celebrated first eleven?

A football coach who constantly boasts about his first eleven naturally invites the question of who among that eleven can step forward when the captain leaves the field. If none is selected, his team’s fans will ask why. That is not persecution. It is accountability.

There is another issue the governor should confront: political loyalty. Governor Makinde did not arrive at the Government House in 2019 in isolation. His political journey involved alliances with people and groups who contributed to the coalition that eventually produced his victory. The political history of that period is well known and should not be rewritten simply because former allies and associates are now on different sides of the political divide.

The problem with “use and discard” politics is that yesterday’s ally eventually becomes tomorrow’s witness. People who helped build a political structure do not disappear simply because their usefulness has expired. And when they begin speaking, the politician who once relied on them may find himself answering questions he never anticipated.

That appears to be part of the political atmosphere surrounding Governor Makinde today. His confrontation with traditional institutions is another matter that requires careful reflection. Whatever one’s political affiliation, Yoruba traditional institutions occupy a distinctive place in the cultural architecture of Oyo State. Political disagreement with individual traditional rulers is legitimate; treating the institution itself with disdain is entirely wrong, and it raises questions about Makinde’s Omoluabi values.

A governor may disagree with a monarch’s political preference. He may even believe traditional rulers should remain politically neutral. But the language employed in expressing that disagreement matters.

The office of governor carries enormous constitutional authority, but it also carries a moral obligation to exercise restraint. A governor should not need to be reminded that words spoken from Government House do not remain personal words. They acquire the weight of the office. That is why some of Governor Makinde’s recent public exchanges have generated such controversy.

The irony is that political power is temporary, while institutions and relationships often outlive individual office holders. The governor should know this better than most.

He is approaching the end of his constitutionally permitted tenure in Oyo State. The political question before him is therefore not how to remain governor indefinitely, but what legacy he will leave behind. Will he be remembered primarily for the projects executed under his administration? For the policies introduced? For the institutions strengthened? Or increasingly for the political battles fought during the final phase of his tenure? The last question is what will occupy people’s minds most after Makinde has left office.

The most consequential political mistake an incumbent can make is to interpret every criticism as persecution and every opponent as an enemy. Criticism is not necessarily hatred. Opposition is not necessarily sabotage. Questions about public expenditure are not necessarily attacks on a person. And scrutiny of an administration is not evidence of an organised conspiracy.

A mature government answers questions. A confident administration publishes records. A secure political movement allows its candidate to speak. And a governor who believes his record speaks for itself should have little reason to spend every available political moment speaking for his preferred successor.

That is why sympathy for Governor Makinde is evidently misplaced. The political pressure surrounding him today is not simply something that happened to him. It is also the product of political decisions, alliances, rhetoric and strategies that he and his political associates have consciously pursued.

He chose his successor. He chose his political platform. He chose to engage his opponents. He chose to make their records a subject of public debate. He chose to defend his administration through increasingly political exchanges. Those choices have consequences.

The electorate is now watching. And when the people begin to ask questions, the appropriate response from a governor is not to complain about pressure. It is to provide answers. Oyo people do not owe any politician sympathy for the consequences of his political choices. They owe themselves something far more important: a careful examination of every candidate, every record, every promise and every claim before making their decision in 2027.

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