Who Owns the Rhythm As The Drum of Power Cracks in Rivers State

By Nwafor Oji Awala

Rivers State is once again a theatre where power drums too loudly for peace to sleep. The air is heavy with talks of pacts, threats of revelations, and the clang of constitutional swords drawn from their scabbards. When agreements are made in candlelit rooms and later denied in daylight, who bears the burden of truth: the tongue that threatens to speak, or the ears that must listen?

Gov Fubara 

The year 2025 ended with sparks as the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike, stood before stakeholders in Eleme and unsheathed a promise: if Governor Siminalayi Fubara would not speak of a pact allegedly witnessed by President Bola Tinubu, he would. What is this agreement that trembles like a trapped bird between disclosure and denial? Why must Rivers people hear it as a threat rather than a confession?

At that same gathering, allegiances were pledged like libations poured on old altars. Senator Olaka Nwogu declared fidelity to Wike and accused the governor of developmental drought in Eleme. Others echoed praises of Wike’s past roads and bridges, presenting a commemorative plaque as though stone and metal could seal political loyalty. But can yesterday’s asphalt pave tomorrow’s legitimacy? Can gratitude to a former helmsman override the mandate of a sitting captain?

Martin Amaewhule

Even more troubling is the chorus that followed: claims that Governor Fubara agreed not to seek a second term in 2027 as the price of peace. If such a vow was truly made, was it sworn to the Constitution or to men? And if the Constitution is the supreme scripture, can any mortal covenant lawfully bind a governor’s political future? Or are we to believe that Rivers’ democracy now runs on private undertakings rather than public consent?

Yet, while one camp sharpens knives, another raises banners. At the New Year banquet, Governor Fubara paraded an unlikely alliance: Secondus, Omehia, Opara, Sekibo, old PDP warhorses now pledging support for President Tinubu. Was this a shield raised against accusations of anti-presidential alignment, or a calculated message to those plotting his political burial? When the governor spoke of “barking” and quoted Caesar, was it confidence born of strategy or defiance daring fate?

Olaka Nwogu 

Then came the thunderclap. Impeachment. The House of Assembly has lit the fuse, reading allegations of gross misconduct like charges read at a public square. Speaker Martins Amaewhule roared that lawmakers had become “toothless bulldogs,” better to resign than watch the Constitution bleed. His words conjure a haunting image: an Assembly muzzled, pacing in circles, while power prowls unchecked. But is this truly a duel between a governor and the Constitution, as claimed? Or is the Constitution being wielded as a spear in a war of succession and supremacy?

Constitutions are not drums to be beaten only when convenient. Sections 120, 121, 122, and 188 of the 1999 Constitution are not metaphors; they are mandates. Public funds must follow legislative paths. Judicial pronouncements are not rain songs to be ignored after the clouds pass. If breaches persist after settlements and Supreme Court judgments, consequences are not optional: they are inevitable. But inevitability demands purity of process. Is this impeachment a surgical correction, or a political axe disguised as law?

Rivers people watch as APC governors reportedly rally behind Fubara’s second-term ambition, even as APC-aligned lawmakers push him toward the cliff. What irony! What theatre! When allies of yesterday become executioners of today, and opponents become protectors, who then speaks for ideology? Who speaks for governance? Who speaks for the people?

Organised labour praises Christmas bonuses; lawmakers decry extra-budgetary spending. One side sings of welfare, the other of law. Can both be true? Can generosity coexist with illegality? And if so, which sin weighs heavier on the scale of democratic survival?

Rivers State now stands like a mangrove battered by opposing tides: one tide of loyalty to a political godfather, another of allegiance to constitutional order, and a third of raw ambition racing toward 2027. If the roots give way, it is the people who will drown.

So I ask, again and again: Is this crisis about accountability, or about control? About law, or about legacy? About Rivers, or about who inherits the throne when the drumbeat of power changes tempo?

History is watching. The Constitution is watching. And the people, long-suffering, resilient, and wary, are watching too. In this storm, only one compass must guide us: the law. For when politics borrows the garments of the Constitution, it must wear them clean or be stripped naked before Rivers State 

©️ Nwafor Oji Awala 

Eleme, Rivers State