By Dr Festus Goziem Okubor
Writing from Asaba.
There are political gatherings, and there are political carnivals. What happened yesterday at Ward 9, Ute-Okpu, during the gubernatorial primaries of our great party, the APC, was not merely a political event. It was a full-blown village festival with political seasoning, prophetic revelations, stand-up comedy, and enough noise to wake ancestors from permanent retirement.
As early as 8am, human beings were pouring into the venue like rice during Christmas sharing. In our language, translated loosely into pidgin English, “person no remain for house, people no remain for yard.” Even goats and chickens appeared politically conscious.
The atmosphere was electric. Everybody was smiling like people who had seen the answer sheet before the examination. Songs rented the air. Women danced. Men shouted. Children ran about as if free WiFi had suddenly descended upon Ute-Okpu.
And the object of all this adoration?
The Governor of Delta State, Rt. Hon. Elder Sheriff Oborevwori , whom the people of Ute-Okpu have now officially renamed: “Ukodo of the Whole World.”
At this point, I must confess that even me, your humble writer, began to suspect that this man may not be an ordinary human being again.
Since he was the sole candidate, because apparently his performance has frightened every possible challenger into spiritual retreat, the competition shifted from voting to praise-singing. Everyone wanted to outdo the other in glorifying Sheriff.
One energetic man shouted:
“Sheriff no be Governor again. Na working miracle with native certificate!”
Another responded immediately:
“If development was a person, na Sheriff!”
Before we could recover, an elderly woman, probably about 90 years old but speaking with the confidence of somebody who personally attended the Berlin Conference, stood up dramatically and announced:
“I saw Zik of Africa hand over the key of River Niger to Sheriff!”
Silence fell.
Even the loudspeakers became humble.
People looked at themselves in confusion.
“Which Zik?” somebody whispered.
“The original Zik!” she thundered. “Nigeria first President! He gave Sheriff authority over River Niger!”
At this point, some people adjusted their sitting positions.
The old woman was not done.
She warned everybody sternly:
“Nobody should oppose him. If Sheriff vex, he fit open River Niger make water pursue all of una enter Onitsha!”
My brothers and sisters, fear gripped the atmosphere briefly.
One young boy, no more than 22 years old, seized the microphone with the confidence of a man who had eaten three wraps of akpu without water and declared:
“Ukodo na MY Sheriff! Every other Sheriff na Taiwan!”
Pandemonium!
People rolled on chairs laughing.
An 80-year-old retired soldier, whose voice still sounded like military decree, immediately added:
“Anybody wey oppose MY Sheriff, automatically become YOUR Sheriff!”
That statement nearly collapsed the meeting.
What followed afterwards cannot fully be captured by human language.
“Your Sheriff” instantly became a political insult.
People began identifying politicians one after another:
“Na YOUR Sheriff be that!”
“Carry your Sheriff go house!”
“Abeg remove that your Sheriff from my front!”
Even innocent bystanders were not spared.
One man merely asked for bottled water and three people shouted simultaneously:
“See YOUR Sheriff!”
The poor man almost denied his own surname.
Then the real football match started.
Senator Ned Nwoko became “Your Sheriff.”
Ha!
The things villagers said about him cannot pass NBC regulation.
Senator Ovie Omo-Agege was the next victim. At this point, laughter had become a public health issue.
One elderly man concluded philosophically:
“Politics no hard. Just avoid becoming another person’s Sheriff.”
Honestly, these villagers are dangerously informed. Never underestimate people who eat bushmeat and discuss national politics under mango trees.
But then came the evening twist.
When the National Headquarters of the APC eventually released the names of candidates who emerged from the senatorial primaries nationwide, and the names of Ned Nwoko and Omo-Agege were conspicuously absent, everybody remembered the prophecy of the old woman.
Immediately somebody screamed from the back:
“Ukodo don open River Niger! Water don begin carry people!”
At this point, even those who were neutral started laughing suspiciously.
Another man added:
“Na why you no dey fight person wey collect key from Zik!”
And just like that, the slogan of the day was sealed permanently in political folklore:
“My Sheriff is bigger than your own!”
Congratulations, Ukodo.
