Patchwork To Protests: Why Abia Needs Voices, Not Just Criticism

Once upon a time, in a village in Abia North, lived a farmer named Uka. Uka was a man, known for his hearty laugh and his passion for planting the tastiest yams in all the land. But Uka had a problem – a big, dripping problem. His roof, made of woven palm leaves, had grown old and tired. With each rainy season, sprang new leaks, turning his humble home into a puddle palace.

At first, the leaks were just tiny trickles, like shy whispers on a quiet evening. Uka would patch them up with bits of dried banana leaves, humming a cheerful tune as he worked. But the whispers grew bolder, turning into drumming raindrops that pounded on the roof and splashed onto his sleeping mat. Still, Uka assured himself, “It’s nothing a few more patches can’t fix.”

Days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. The leaks turned into waterfalls, cascading down the walls and soaking everything in their path. Uka’s cassava baskets sprouted mouldy whiskers, his yams began to weep, and his once cosy bed became a soggy swamp. Yet, Uka, ever the optimist, would simply hop from puddle to puddle, muttering, “Tomorrow, I’ll fix it for sure.”

One morning, Uka woke up to find himself ankle-deep in a watery world. The roof, finally succumbing to its watery assault, had collapsed in a soggy heap. His precious belongings floated around him like lost boats in a flood. Standing in the middle of this watery mess, Uka finally saw the folly of his ways. He had waited and waited, patching and patching, until the problem had become a disaster.

Uka, humbled and wiser, learned his lesson. He gathered his tools and, with the help of his strong and kind neighbour, Ezenwa, built a new roof, sturdier than the last. Ezenwa, with his calloused hands and infectious laughter, patched, hammered, and sweated alongside Uka. Finally, a proud smile lit up Uka’s face as he surveyed their handiwork. The rains came again, but this time, the water danced playfully on the strong roof, with a gentle rhythm instead of a destructive drumbeat.

Uka, now snug and dry, found himself irritated by the sound. “This incessant drumming,” he grumbled, “it’s enough to drive a man mad!” He paced around his puddle-free home; his face creased with annoyance. “I miss the quiet days,” he muttered, forgetting the soggy floor, the mouldy yams, the constant drip-drip-drip that haunted his nights.

Ezenwa, overhearing his grumbling, chuckled. “Uka, Uka,” he said, shaking his head, “the roof kept the water out, but it brought in a new sound. Remember when you danced in the puddles? Now you dance to the rain’s rhythm.”

Uka fell silent, the memory of his watery woes washing over him. He realized that while he had patched the leaks, he hadn’t patched his perspective. He had forgotten the lessons of the puddle, the importance of appreciating the shelter he now enjoyed.

This story of Uka draws a stronger parallel to John Okiyi’s situation. Just as Uka quickly forgot the hardships of the leaky roof and complained about the sound of the new one, Okiyi might overlook the problems of the past under PDP rule and focus solely on the perceived issues of the present. It emphasizes the importance of acknowledging past challenges and appreciating the progress made, even if it comes with some inconveniences.

While I respect Okiyi’s right to express his concerns now, it’s important to acknowledge that he remained silent during the PDP’s maladministration in Abia. It’s fair to ask why Okiyi, who is now so vocal about alleged infractions, didn’t raise similar concerns while serving as Commissioner under the PDP. By staying silent while the PDP was in power, Okiyi has lost some credibility in his current criticisms. It’s like someone complaining about a noisy roof after they’ve spent years ignoring the drips.

Chinedum Orji’s tenure as Speaker of the Abia State House of Assembly was marred by accusations of financial misconduct. A 2021 report by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), alleged that Orji was part of moves to divert a staggering N551 billion from “Abia Funds”. The report detailed specific instances of suspicious transactions and irregularities that raised serious concerns about Orji’s financial stewardship.

Okiyi’s current vocal stance against the LP contrasts with his past silence during Ikpeazu’s tenure when similar accusations of misconduct within the PDP Assembly went unaddressed. This selective criticism raises questions about the consistency of his principles and whether his concerns are solely driven by political opposition or a genuine commitment to good governance.

Members of the Abia State House of Assembly have voted to impeach former Speaker, Chinedum Orji in May 2023 on grounds of “gross misconduct and highhandedness. Okiyi, while you readily point fingers at the current administration, your silence during the Abia Assembly crisis, with accusations of impeachment, suspensions, and counter-suspensions, raises concerns. What was your position on these events and why didn’t you speak up then?

Given the turbulent events that unfolded in the Abia State House of Assembly in May 2023, including the purported impeachment of Speaker Orji and the subsequent suspensions of several members, why did you remain silent on this issue? Did you not feel compelled to speak out about the instability and allegations of misconduct within the Assembly?

As Commissioner under Ikpeazu, Okiyi had a unique platform to advocate for financial reforms and address the systemic issues behind the salary delays. Did he utilize this opportunity, or did he remain silent on this critical matter? One of the most significant criticisms of Ikpeazu’s administration was the frequent delays and non-payment of salaries and pensions to civil servants and retirees. This issue caused widespread hardship and discontent among public sector workers, leading to protests and strikes.

The delays were not isolated incidents but a recurring problem throughout Ikpeazu’s tenure. This created a climate of uncertainty and instability for public sector workers, hindering their ability to plan for the future and meet their basic needs. One wonders if Okiyi had spoken up and pushed for solutions during Ikpeazu’s time, could the current financial challenges and hardship faced by public sector workers have been mitigated?

While you raise concerns about the current administration’s financial management, your silence on Abia’s critical infrastructure needs under Governor Ikpeazu seems curious. Can you explain your approach to addressing these issues during your time within the PDP and how your priorities on infrastructure development have evolved?

Abia State under Ikpeazu was plagued by poor infrastructure, including dilapidated roads, inadequate healthcare facilities, and unreliable electricity supply. Critics argued that the government failed to invest in critical infrastructure projects, hindering economic growth and development. Despite the widespread criticism and public outcry, there was a noticeable lack of vocal opposition from within the then-governing party, including from individuals like Chief Okiyi Kalu.

But remember, Chief, during your time under “ogbasara unu” Ikpeazu, you were quieter than a mime at a library. Where was all this firebrand criticism then? Did your voice suddenly sprout wings after the LP took over? Maybe you should dust off that old “flyover ogbasara unu” quote and give it a good polish. It might come in handy next time you feel the urge to lecture the current governor. After all, even a half-finished flyover is better than no flyover at all, right?

Perhaps the true test of progress lies not in the volume of criticism but in the collective will to listen, learn, and build. Abia’s journey is far from over, and whether voices like Okiyi’s become echoes of despair or catalysts for change depends not just on their sharpness, but on the ears that choose to listen and the hands that choose to act.

Otti has just set foot in the political jungle, where the vines of expectation twist and turn, and the monkeys of cynicism screech from every branch. Give him a machete to clear the path, a compass to navigate the rumours, and most importantly, time to build a sturdy bridge across the river of doubt. Abia’s problems didn’t sprout overnight, and neither will their solutions.

The critics are out, sharpening their knives while Otti rolls up his sleeves. They bark about instant miracles, forgetting that Rome wasn’t built in a post. Abia’s woes are deeply rooted, a tangled web of neglect and apathy. Can Otti unravel it in days? No. But can he make a start, inch by determined inch? Absolutely. So, before you drown out the sound of his hammer with your chorus of complaints, give him a chance to sweat, to stumble, to maybe even succeed. After all, Abia’s story isn’t over yet, and Otti might just be the twist the plot needs. Let’s give the sapling a chance to stretch its roots and reach for the sun. We can always sharpen our shears later, but for now, let’s all water the ground and watch, with hope in our hearts, as Abia’s future unfolds.

Micheal Elite Ezeh writes from Umuahia