Ilorin, The City Of Cowards
By Abubakar S. Ajetunmobi
I'm bewildered with the eerie silence that followed the brazen electoral malfeasance that marred the recent local government elections in Kwara State. The scale of the manipulation, the audacity with which it was executed, and the emptiness of the promises that surrounded it should have been enough to spark outrage from every corner of Ilorin. But instead, there was a deafening silence, a collective submission that left me bewildered.
Ilorin is a city with a rich history of resistance and courage. From the days of colonial rule, when voices rose against foreign domination, to the more recent political upheavals, we have always prided ourselves on our ability to speak up, to stand firm. Yet today, with over two million people in this city, how is it that only one man — Ajia — dared to denounce the daylight robbery that took place during the election? Where are the voices of our community leaders, the religious leaders who preach justice, the political leaders who claim to represent the will of the people?
It is one thing to be disenfranchised; it is another entirely to allow that disenfranchisement to pass unchallenged. By our silence, we have not only allowed ourselves to be robbed, but we have also given our tacit approval for it to continue. It is an ugly reality that the more we permit oppression to thrive, the more emboldened those who perpetrate it become. In the face of this injustice, silence is no longer neutrality — it is complicity.
Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq, emboldened by this complicity, continues to treat the state like his personal fiefdom. His administration has become a caricature of democratic governance, where elections are mere formalities, and the people's will is an afterthought. His actions during the local government elections were nothing short of a blatant assault on the democratic process, yet the people of Ilorin — the so-called cultural and intellectual capital of Kwara — have largely chosen to look away. Why?
What kind of fear grips us that we are so willing to let our state be raped, our voices silenced, and our rights trampled upon? Is it fear of losing favor, fear of being ostracized, or simply the loss of belief that our voices can make a difference? Whatever it is, it has turned us into a city that is unwilling to stand up to a bully. And make no mistake about it — AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq is a political bully. He thrives on the passivity of the masses, on the reluctance of the people to rise up against his excesses.
But what happens when a people, for so long, refuse to defend themselves? What happens when they allow injustice to become the norm? History tells us that a society that fails to challenge tyranny soon becomes a society that is shaped by it. We are fast approaching that point in Kwara, where the state is being molded into the image of one man's unchecked ambition. We are being conditioned to accept that elections can be stolen with impunity, that power is not something we can hold our leaders accountable for, and that silence is an acceptable response to oppression.
We cannot afford to let this moment pass without consequence. The recent election was not just a political event; it was a test of our resolve as a people. And if our response is to stay silent, then we are failing that test. We are betraying not just ourselves, but future generations who will look back at this time and wonder why, when faced with the greatest test of our democracy, we chose to remain quiet.
Ilorin must reclaim its voice. It must rise from this state of inertia and find the courage to stand up to those who seek to undermine our collective rights. And when we do, we will realize that the power to shape our future does not lie in the hands of any one man or administration, but in the collective will of a people who refuse to be cowed.
For now, Yinka Ajia stands as a lone voice in the wilderness. But his courage is a beacon, and if we are wise, we will follow his lead. If we don't, we might as well resign ourselves to becoming a city not just of cowards, but of the conquered.
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