Fubara’s Return and the Unsettled Future of Power

By Nwafor Oji Awala

September 18 is now firmly set as the date Governor Siminalayi Fubara returns to his seat of power in Rivers State after a six-month suspension. But his comeback is not merely an administrative resumption, it is the opening of another act in a political drama that has kept Rivers at the center of national attention.

The All Progressives Congress (APC) has wasted no time asserting itself in the state. The party swept 20 out of 23 local government areas in the just-concluded elections, a contest many observers insist was boycotted by Fubara and his loyalists. With control of the grassroots in their hands, APC leaders such as Chief Tony Okocha have already set the tone: the party is willing to work with the governor but will not hesitate to oppose him whenever necessary.

But beneath the surface lies a deeper tension, one that raises fundamental questions about the future of Rivers politics and about Fubara himself.

Has Fubara been truly humbled into submission by the fierce battles that defined his early months in power? When the crisis broke, he reacted with remarkable speed and audacity: launching defenses against an impeachment threat, surrounding himself with sworn rivals of his predecessor Nyesom Wike, and hastily declaring the seats of Assembly members loyal to Wike vacant. These actions painted him as a fighter unwilling to bend. Now, as he prepares to return under a political climate dominated by the APC, can he really allow himself to be guided, even restrained, through the delicate path of governance?

Then comes another troubling issue: is there still a clear defining line between the APC and PDP in Rivers State today? With shifting alliances and betrayals cutting across party lines, the ideological separation between the two dominant parties appears thinner than ever. Politics in Rivers has become less about platforms and more about survival, loyalty, and shifting centers of power.

And what of Fubara’s men? The lieutenants who stood by him in the political battlefield when the storms raged; figures like Ehie Edison, Oko Jumbo, and former governor Peter Odili. Will Fubara now leave them out in the cold, or will they remain part of his inner circle as he navigates his way through the rough waters ahead? Leadership, after all, often demands sacrifice, and the choices he makes may redefine both his legacy and his political durability.

The broader question, however, is whether Fubara’s reinstatement marks the beginning of a new political theater in Rivers State, one that could reshape the structure of power leading into the 2027 elections. Will this return solidify his place as a leader who emerged from the crucible of crisis stronger, or will it expose him as a governor boxed into compromises by forces larger than himself?

For now, Rivers State waits. The curtain is about to rise again, and the stage is set for another dramatic act in a story that refuses to lose its grip on Nigeria’s political imagination.

Nwafor Oji Awala 

(c) Prime Heritage Magazine