Opinion
APC digging its own grave in Edo – Azu Ishiekwene
APC digging its own grave in Edo – Azu Ishiekwene
Nigeria’s politicians have perfected the art of burying themselves with one foot sticking out. And it appears that the All Progressives Congress (APC) will, once again, stage this rite of self-destruction in the forthcoming governorship election in Edo State.
The party’s primaries on Saturday was such a shambles, it has now been forced to conduct it again, with no guarantee of a sensible outcome for an exercise involving perhaps less than 500,000 members (parties routinely inflate their roll). If Governor Godwin Obaseki’s ruling People’s Democratic Party (PDP), had paid to put a spell on APC, the outcome would not have been more potentially devastating.
Yet, this is a governor whose bet to install a successor from his own party is not necessarily based on his own record, but on the gift of an opposition in disarray.
After the turbulent last four years at Osadebey House between Obaseki and his deputy, Philip Shaibu, it looked all but certain that the divided house of PDP would collapse when elections hold again in September.
And this was not wishful thinking. Not only has the common political front that paved the way for Obaseki’s ascension to power in his first term eroded; in his second term, he has been fighting both internal and external political enemies, severely limiting his attention and performance.
If his first term was uneventful, it was precisely because that was when the seed of the state’s future political crisis was sown. Even though his benefactor, former Governor Adams Oshiomhole, had installed him in office in the hope of replicating the Tinubu-Fashola model in Lagos, Obaseki had other plans.
The new “tuke-tuke”
Once he was ensconced in office, he made a point of telling the remnant of the Oshiomhole crowd still hanging around the corridors of power, that power had changed hands. No longer, he reportedly said, were the days of “tuke-tuke” politics, a carryover from the era of Tony Anenih, which former Edo State Commissioner for Information and presidential aide, Louis Odion, once described in Louis-pedia as a political variant that empowered touts and prioritised rent for politicians for doing little or no work.
Obaseki, the blue-eyed Lagos Boy and financial consultant, advertised as the answer to Edo State’s private sector woes, should know. He was a core member of Oshiomhole’s cabinet, now determined to carve his own path.
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When after taking power, however, he began to cut off the supply line to the trough, starving the APC’s political structure in the state of nutrition, the battle line with Oshiomhole was drawn. The former governor who had also become the Chairman of the APC at the time, used his position to block Obaseki from getting the party’s ticket for a second term.
Obaseki of course milked public sympathy and later decamped to the PDP where he contested and won re-election. As a result of his defection, he governed with a hostile, hobbled parliament. Fourteen – and later 10 – out of the 24 members of the State House of Assembly were in the opposition and they operated mostly from a hideout provided in Abuja by Oshiomhole.
Significantly damaged in legitimacy, there was very little Obaseki could do. He has spent a greater part of the last four years watching his back for a deputy who, were he in the opposition, could not have plunged more daggers in the government’s back.
Residents have borne the brunt. Not only has Obaseki replaced the old cult of “tuke-tuke” with the new cult of “yes-men,” reports from the state also indicate that there are few paved roads and other social infrastructure such as water, hospitals, and schools, especially in areas outside the capital, Benin City.
The more you look…
Not unlike a good number of the states, the doubling of the state’s internally generated revenue from N1.8billion monthly in 2016 has barely been felt in rural areas where homes are still without water and school buildings are still largely without roofs and students without teachers.
Although Edo is currently ranked above its peers in the South-South poverty league with 1.4m (out of the state’s 3.9m population) living in multidimensional poverty, a government determined to make its mark could have done far more to lift the people.
Obaseki has done well in cultivating an elite in smart suits, while keeping up a façade of performance, especially with high-profile media events like Edo Best, Alaghodaro Summit, and the renovation of the Secretariat. But as surely as the ball of pounded yam never fails to press into the straying fish crumb in the soup, these projects have been criticised, particularly by the opposition, as the government’s conduit pipes.
Edo could not have been riper for the taking than in its present state, but Oshiomhole’s ambition may well be the wrecking ball. In my forecast entitled, “What you might expect in 2024,” published last December 28, I said, “The biggest danger to APC’s victory is Oshiomhole…except the APC finds an overwhelmingly appealing candidate, the party could be in for a surprise.”
The result of the party’s “inconclusive” primaries on Saturday, showed that the surprise came early. From reports, Oshiomhole, APC’s certified nemesis in Edo, managed to suborn forces in the Presidency to hand over the party’s flag to Dennis Idahosa – a candidate that Oshiomhole’s government had once described as “untrustworthy,” the most flattering of the government’s description at that time.
But suspects have their moments of redemption. Except that in this case reports on the conduct of the primaries on Saturday showed that even the redeemer seemed so far gone in his waywardness, he suborned not only Abuja, but also one of the most notorious political conductors to supervise the primaries.
A crime scene
The result, of course, was parallel primaries. One with the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) officers present – as it should be – that produced Monday Okpebholo; and the other, which invariably produced Idahosa, became a crime scene.
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The outcome was neither organised, even from the point of a common heist, which it was; nor was it politically strategic. Idahosa, the beneficiary of that crime scene, is from Edo South, where Obaseki, who is backing Asue Ighodalo, a candidate from Edo Central, could significantly undermine APC’s votes. A third candidate, Anamero Dekeri, even emerged from the woodwork, to claim victory!
It’s true that whether a political party holds its primaries in the motor park or at a brothel, it is not the business of non-party members. The point, unfortunately, is that we have seen that in the end, voters pay for the travesty, corruption and incompetence in the parties.
APC should have learnt that lesson in Zamfara four years ago when a court ruling invalidated the entire state election over shambolic party primaries, never mind a recent Supreme Court ruling that has further muddied the waters.
At elections, voters often have uninspiring choices – Tweedle-dee and Tweedledum – inflicted on them by party primaries that were anything but primaries. The crimes committed by politicians behind closed doors soon become public bastards, often leading to voter apathy, bitter wranglings or needless court disputes. It’s incredible that parties that can’t even manage their own affairs want a chance on the bigger stage.
PDP may laugh – and indeed it should, as it appears that the APC has already handed it the shovel to finish off the burial rites. But with Obaseki’s deputy, Shaibu, threatening to bring down the roof, it would be interesting to see how the PDP and the Labour Party, which is also having its own troubles, organise their own primaries.
If Nigeria’s elections – party, local council, state or federal – has taught anything, it is that as surely as a stumble precedes a fall, shambolic primaries lay the foundation for turbulent electoral outcomes and unstable governments.
Once again, Edo is proving that the story is not about to change.
… Azubuike Ishiekwene is the Senior Vice Chairman and Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP Newspaper Group. NNL.
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Opinion
Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi
Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi
Tunde Odesola
(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, June 12, 2026)
Cool fire emits from the potted plant in the backyard at night; it is the glowworm. A yawn, roll on the back, with four powerful paws playfully punching the air; it is the lion, king of the jungle. Water gently hits the shore, sings a splash-splosh song, and rolls back silently into the night; it is the ocean. Formally called Aurea, an eagle, America’s symbol of strength, freedom and resilience, soars up above the 88,000 heads gathered at the Jordan-Hare Stadium in Auburn, Alabama, gliding in and out of sight repeatedly, to the wild ecstacy of the crowd, before finally perching right on the kick-off spot in the centre-circle. Fireworks disappeared into the sky. The four natural elements – fire, land, air and water – are complete. They combine in equal proportions to forge the extraordinary spectacle fans are about to witness as they scream for the football messiah, the magic, the Messi.
About a month ago, when I learned that the god of soccer was leading Argentina to Auburn University for a friendly against Iceland national team on Tuesday, June 9, 2026, I knew none of the four elements could stop me from watching the match. I had long looked forward to an opportunity to pay yet another glowing tribute to the little man who climbed to football’s Olympus without exhibiting the arrogance of gods. Messi, the king who lives in his people, not among his people – like Nigerian leaders who live in abundance among the poor.
So, I got tickets for my soccer-loving children and me. How many are they? Ssshhhh! The Yoruba say: “Aí kọmọ fún ọlọ́mọ.” It’s a taboo to mention the number of one’s children publicly. Hahaha! Maybe that’s why population control is a big issue in Africa. So, I took two days off work. The 756-kilometre journey to and from Auburn is approximately eight hours. When citizens are happy, they gladly obey the laws of the land. Messi fans from far and near stopped at nothing to behold their king.
Messi earned the hero-worship of his fans, who saw him over the years dedicate his entire being to football, from age four when he joined his first local club, Albanderado Grandoli, in his hometown of Rosario, where his father was the coach. Commitment, consistency and dedication earn trust, love and loyalty. Nigeria teaches the opposite lesson daily.
Therefore, if I describe Messi as: “The extra drop of sweat on the farmer’s brow. The extra stroke of the sculptor’s chisel. The extra mile walked by the determined soul. Indeed, the little excess of effort poured into the chores of everyday life, crowning the ordinary with the diadem of the extraordinary,” I am not wrong. That is Messi, the leader who worked his way into the hearts of his people. The king who stopped to conquer.
The king is coming to town! The news caught fire. Leo, the son of Messi, is coming to town!! Everywhere is buzzing!!! Everyone waits with bated breath to see “the little man from Rosario, Sante Fe, who pitched up in heaven, climbed into a galaxy of his own, and shook hands with paradise, as he lifted his heart’s dearest desire, the World Cup, four years ago”.
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The journey to Auburn was on a smooth black road. Driving was a pleasure; no potholes, no police tollgates, or army arm-twisting checkpoints, no dirt, no fear of bandits or terrorists or armed robbers. My car ate up kilometres upon kilometres of tar, and suddenly I saw a little object drop from the open truck in front of me. It was a metal that looked like a padlock. The vehicle sped ahead, but its dropping sped towards me. In that arresting moment when all there was to do was to simply look, I heard a thud on my windshield, less than an inch above the wiper on the passenger side. The hit left an impact that looked like a bullet was trying to get in. It was an impact without an opening, like congealed blood covering a stab, leaving some lines of cracks.
The driver in the offending vehicle did not know a thing. It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. My car had no camera. I can’t put it on him, though I saw the metal drop from his vehicle. If he denies the metal, I lose. How do I even begin to look for the metal? What if he owns up and says sorry? I won’t be able to bring myself to have him repair my car. I pondered all these thoughts. I let them slide and came to the conclusion that God was the ultimate protector, no matter what man does. Remember, I told you nothing was going to stop me from watching Messi, even if the whole of my windscreen shattered.
So, I journeyed on. My children did not drive with me. They drove in another car because we took off from different points. We talked intermittently along the way. They asked me for my Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA). I was six minutes ahead of them. Then my fuel signal went up. I veered into the next exit, thinking it led to a town. Behold, it was a link to another highway, with no gas station in sight. Quickly, I traced my way back to the Auburn highway and continued my journey. Shortly, I sighted a filling station. I drove in, relieved to find fuel and a place to take a leak. In less than two minutes, my children pulled up into the gas station as though they were monitoring me. Hugs. Pleasantries. Fuel. We all headed towards the temple to see Messi.
Auburn had never witnessed a mammoth crowd in its existence. It was like a pilgrimage. All the parks were filled. Federal cops, state cops, county cops and Auburn University security officials were on hand. All matted into the crowd in an unintimidating, but friendly way that exuded safety and service. The police matted into the crowd like ushers in a carnival, not bouncers in a concert.
Auburn University brimmed. Car parks were filled up, fans parked along the road in a single file, leaving a portion of the road for police, emergency services, etc. Thousands, including yours truly, parked far away from the stadium and embarked on an inevitable trek on the sidewalk. The last time I had a road walk in Nigeria was for one protest or another. But this walk was for pleasure, not pain. There was joy in the air. Vendors made quick money selling only one jersey, the Number 10 jersey of Messi. There was food, soda and beer for sale.
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Though I am a Jerusalem pilgrim, JP for short, it was Auburn that gave me a glimpse of the massive crowd that followed Jesus Christ when he preached during his 33 years of existence in a mortal body. Curiosity didn’t kill my cat, but being a journalist, I looked out for a squabble, altercation, or fight among the crowd; I found none. Everything seemed choreographed. Perfect. I trekked along with the crowd to Gate 16, where my children were waiting for me.
The game was billed to start by 7:30 pm, but, America being the summit of razzmatazz, there was so much fun lined up before the kick-off, with the crowd yelling and yelling nonstop. From outside the stadium, I thought the game had begun, only to discover that the players had not even filed out when I got into the stadium. America for show!
Soon, each team filed out; Argentina, without their little god. Nicolas Otamendi led Argentina out. The centre referee had a word with both captains, and the match got underway. For those expecting a drubbing, Iceland were third behind France and Ukraine in their World Cup qualifying group. And against the run of play, the first big chance of the game fell to Iceland, whose striker fluffed his lines in the fifth minute.
Argentina soon pegged Iceland back and took dominance, resulting in a ninth-minute left volley by Valentín Barco to score the opening goal from just outside the box. Then the song ‘Olé, Olé, Olé,’ rent the air. What is ‘Olè’? ‘Olè’ is a thief in the Yoruba language. In Spanish, however, ‘Olé’ means bravo or encore. La Albiceleste were dominating, and the partisan crowd were enjoying it. Before the half-hour mark, the crowd began to chant, “We want Messi.” Then the camera zoomed in on the small but mighty god on the bench, chatting with teammates. Fans went mad and started chanting “Messi, Messi, Messi”.
Argentina continued their dominance in the second half, but the Icelanders made up for their blunt attack by exhibiting tactical discipline in the midfield and defence. When Coach Scaloni made a couple of changes after the hour mark, the “We want Messi” chant boomed in the stadium. But Scaloni wasn’t going to bring on the GOAT simply because the fans were calling on him to do so. Messi had suffered muscle fatigue in his last match for Inter Miami, his club team in the MLS, and was subbed off.
So, Scaloni was going to introduce his most prized jewel with utmost caution, measuring the minutes and seconds Messi was going to play, because on Messi’s shoulders rests the hope of the Argentinian team to the FIFA World Cup, starting the next day. At the 67th minute, Argentina had a free kick right outside of Iceland’s 18-yard box. The free kick was in an area of the pitch fans worldwide call the ‘Messi area’. The spectators yelled for Messi, who was already warming up. They wanted him to come and do his thing.
But Scaloni was not to be hurried. He brought Messi on in the 70th minute, and the match came alive immediately. The attack became sharp and penetrating. Five minutes after he came on, Messi, crowded outside the centre-circle, gave a defence-splitting pass to Lautaro Martinez, who was brought down by goalkeeper Elías Rafn Ólafsson. Penalty!
Messi placed the ball on the spot, stood back, looked Ólafsson in the eye, and sent the ball through the middle, as the keeper went the wrong way. 2-0. Aside from the “Messi” chants, fans also performed ‘The Wave’ for their soccer idol. To perform this iconic crowd movement, adjacent groups of fans stand, raise their arms, and sit back down in quick succession, creating a visual effect of a rolling wave travelling continuously through the stands.
‘The Wave’ first emerged in North American sports arenas, such as at U.S. baseball and American football games in the late 1970s and 1980s, gaining global popularity during the 1986 World Cup in Mexico.
The fans were not done yet. As if on a cue, they switched on the lights of their phones, jumping and singing and chanting the name of the GOAT.
I’m sure Messi won thousands of converts that day. I mean spectators who were not primarily soccer-loving, but who came in company with soccer-loving fans. My children were formerly Ronaldo fans, but they couldn’t help jumping and yelling for the king when they saw him in his majesty.
In all the merriment, there was no ‘bigmanism’, no VIPs. Asians, blacks, whites, Latinos, Arabs, Jews, etc dissolved into one humanity. There was no siren, no pushing or shoving, everyone was equal. No unemployed youths were stamping their feet on the ground, hands up in the air, in total submission, for a few crispy currencies from the rich.
Everyone knows that if they misbehave, they won’t be sleeping at home later in the night. A young white man in the row in front of me came to the stadium with his two beautiful daughters. He heard my accent as I spoke with my children, and he asked where I was from in Africa. I said Nigeria. He said he had worked in Uganda, Zambia and Ghana, and that he gave birth to his younger daughter in Ghana. I asked him if he enjoyed Africa. He said yes, but that the sun was too much. “It’s like the Texas sun. Too hot!” he said, laughing. He asked me where I was from in Nigeria, and I told him the South-West. “Oh, that’s close to Ghana,” he said, revealing his familiarity with Africa.
People behave themselves in public because parents can call the police on you if you utter profanities in front of their children. Though the stadium was brimming with reckless abandon, the crowd knew the law and the limits of their freedom. You don’t say the ‘f’, ‘n’, and other prohibited words in public because parents and individuals can call the police.
In all of these, I looked at the effect one man could have on his country’s image. I looked at the effect of sport as a unifying tool for global harmony. I’m sure police officers, who witnessed the Messi spectacle in Auburn, would have a place of admiration for Argentina in their hearts and are more likely to treat Argentinians with respect.
Messi, the greatest, yet the humblest. Combining greatness with humility is what sets Messi apart from any sportsperson, dead or alive. He has never publicly uttered a word of pride all his life. This virtue cements his legacy, apart from his unparalleled creativity, vision, and genius. The accomplishments of Messi are the dreams of some of his rivals, like Ronaldo.
Messi, the Ultimate.
Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com
Facebook: @Tunde Odesola
X: @Tunde_Odesola
Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi
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