Gade-Babye Renaissance

NYESON WIKE BOAST: FUBARA'S FATE IS SEALED

When a man beats his chest too loudly in the village square, elders begin to check what he is trying to hide. Power, in African wisdom, is like palm wine: sweet at first, but it intoxicates the tongue of the careless. The loud bravado and unguarded threats attributed to Minister Wike are not the posture of a statesman, but the restlessness of a man who has forgotten that even the tallest iroko answers to the storm.

It is deeply ironic to hear sermons about betrayal from a man whose political journey is littered with broken ladders and abandoned benefactors. In our tradition, the man who cuts down the tree that gave him shade should not complain when the sun scorches him. Betrayal is not defined by who refuses to bow forever, but by who believes loyalty must be eternal while power lasts.

In Africa, no one seals another man’s destiny with words alone. Fate is not decided at a rally, nor by threats thrown like spears into the air. A governor is not removed by incantations of arrogance or the boasting of political muscle, but by the clear path of law and the consent of the people. Even the hunter knows that shouting in the forest does not catch the antelope.

When a public servant begins to speak as though institutions are toys and outcomes are already written by his hand, elders know danger is near, not for the threatened, but for the speaker himself. For when power forgets restraint, it invites disgrace. The river that overflows its banks soon destroys its own source.

Let it be said plainly: those who cry loudest about betrayal are often the most familiar with its language. And history, like the patient village historian, never forgets who broke trust first. In the end, power belongs to the people, not to pride. And no man, no matter how feared, is bigger than time, truth, and the law.
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