By Femi Ogunshola
I recently watched two videos featuring former Senate President, Bukola Saraki.
In one, the PDP governorship candidate, Engr. Kale Kawu, appeared to be carrying Saraki’s mobile phones rather than allowing a personal assistant to do so.
In the other, Saraki sat comfortably on a chair while Kawu sat on the floor, evoking the image of the traditional dogari.
Whether symbolic or merely incidental, these images serve as a stark reminder of what the return of godfather politics could look like.
If a governorship candidate is already acting like a personal assistant before assuming office, one must ask: who would truly govern Kwara if power changes hands?
The story of Akeem Ayedun, a former member of the House of Representatives who represented the Ekiti/Isin/Irepodun/Oke-Ero Federal Constituency, further illustrates the Saraki’s enduring culture of political godfatherism.
During his tenure, Ayedun organised an empowerment programme in which motorcycles, grinding machines, and other items were distributed to constituents without following the traditional political procedures associated with the Saraki political structure.
His alleged offence was that he carried out the programme without obtaining Saraki’s approval.
Thugs reportedly invaded the venue of the empowerment programme and carted away some of the items.
According to accounts at the time, Saraki was displeased with the initiative and allegedly ensured that Ayedun did not return to the House of Representatives for daring to empower his constituents without first seeking the political leader’s permission.
For years, stories circulated that aspiring politicians were required to swear an oath of allegiance to Bukola Saraki before they could thrive politically in Kwara.
Many dismissed those stories as mere rumours.
I had my own encounter.
In 2018, President Muhammadu Buhari nominated me to serve as a board member of the Nigerian Investment Promotion Commission (NIPC), I was even inaugurated, thanks to the support of a patriotic Northerner who recognised my contributions to the Buhari-Osinbajo project and facilitated the appointment.
However, another highly unscrupulous and disingenuous man, who happened to share my name, attempted to claim the appointment despite not being a member of the APC and already occupying another government position.
During the controversy, I was introduced to the late Ashaolu of Odo-Owa, a close ally of Saraki and former spokesperson of his political structure.
I was informed that before anyone could help resolve the issue, I would first have to swear an oath of allegiance to Senator Bukola Saraki.
I walked away.
No one should demand loyalty as payment for a favour they neither initiated nor earned.
There was also the case of Mr. Taju Abioye, a former House of Representatives aspirant for the Offa/Oyun/Ifelodun Federal Constituency. He was nominated by President Buhari for appointment as Director-General of the National Oil Spill Detection and Response Agency (NOSDRA).
According to accounts, his appointment was frustrated because he refused to pledge allegiance to Saraki.
There was also the controversy surrounding the proposed Police College initiated under the then Inspector-General of Police, Mohammed Abubakar.
Former Governor Abdulfatah Ahmed had sited the institution in Share, his hometown, where it would have become a landmark project for the local government.
However, Saraki was reportedly uncomfortable with the decision, leading to the project’s relocation to Ilorin, despite the state capital already hosting numerous federal and state institutions.
The reality under Saraki’s political leadership, as widely perceived by many, was that meaningful political advancement was nearly impossible without submitting to his control.
Elected members of the National Assembly were often viewed as unable to act independently or effectively serve their constituents without first obtaining his approval.
Today, whatever criticisms may exist of the current administration, that particular reality appears to be different.
Members of the National and State Assemblies now undertake constituency projects, organise empowerment programmes, and facilitate opportunities for their constituents without the widespread perception that they require the governor’s approval before carrying out their constitutional responsibilities.
It is equally true that Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq did not become governor solely because of his personal popularity or political strength.
His victory was made possible by the collective determination of Kwarans to end decades of political domination through the historic O To Ge movement.
That is why his decision to single-handedly determine the APC’s candidates for the 2027 general elections, without meaningful consultation with many of those who sacrificed their time, resources, and energy to dismantle the old political order, is difficult to defend.
It represents, in my view, a breach of trust and a departure from the spirit of shared sacrifice that defined the O To Ge struggle.
Yet, despite these concerns, I have neither seen nor heard credible allegations that Governor AbdulRazaq prevents elected legislators from performing their constitutional duties or serving their constituents.
Neither has he been known for promoting a master-servant style of leadership. He has largely allowed others to carry out their responsibilities without undue interference.
The frustration within the APC over the alleged imposition of candidates from top to bottom is understandable.
Many party faithful feel betrayed and alienated. But anger, however justified, should not cloud political judgment.
There is a danger in allowing disappointment with today’s leadership to erase the lessons of yesterday.
The same road that once gave us flat tyres, potholes, breakdowns, and accidents should not suddenly become attractive simply because we are dissatisfied with the present driver.
As 2027 approaches, Kwarans must ask themselves a difficult but necessary question: Are we correcting today’s mistakes by returning to yesterday’s failures?
Politics rarely presents perfect choices. More often, it presents competing imperfections.
When faced with two imperfect options, wisdom lies not in choosing the familiar mistake, but in choosing the path that offers the greater hope for a freer, more accountable, and more democratic future.
