By joshua Karimi Wrestles the Bracelet from Kogi West Kingmakers, Emerges APC Grandmaster
Karimi
By Alao Adamadamosi Sunday, arpa
In the spiritual and political calculus of Kogi West, the elders teach that a sacred bracelet rests on the native doctor’s wrist—Ọjẹ́ kì í bọ́ lọ́wọ́ olóṣà. It does not fall off. No ordinary man dares to touch it. But if a man approaches that priest and forcibly removes it, that man becomes the Supreme Grandmaster—ọ̀kú bàbá ńlá ni ẹni tí ó bọ́. Over the weekend, Senator Sunday Steve Karimi did exactly that. He walked into the temple of Kogi West APC’s party machinery, reached for the senatorial ticket that the kingmakers wore so confidently, and pulled it from their grasp.
What was meant to be a routine coronation of a consensus candidate—brokered by Governor Usman Ododo at the Government House—quickly curdled into a war of wills. The party’s native doctors, the architects of zoning and backroom deals, had placed the Ọjẹ́—the ticket—on the wrist of Hon. Samuel Bamidele Aro. They forged results, substituted returns, and believed their grip was absolute. After all, who dares remove the bracelet from the priest’s hand?
But Karimi dared. He did not flee the trap; he confronted the trapper. Armed with evidence of forgery—signed documents, witness testimonies, and the damning exposure of a returning officer’s signature that had been faked—he took his battle to the APC Primary Election Appeal Committee. He approached the priest directly and demanded the bracelet.
And then, against every expectation of the party’s grand schemers, the bracelet came off. Bí ó bá bọ́—it was removed. The national leadership of the APC, affirming Karimi’s authentic victory, did not just hand him a ticket. They acknowledged that he had done what no one else could: he had stared down the Olóṣà and walked away wearing the regalia.
By that act, Karimi did not merely win a primary. He earned a new title. Ọ̀kú bàbá ńlá ni ẹni tí ó bọ́—the one who removes the bracelet becomes the Supreme Grandmaster. The very men who conspired to deny him now must look at his wrist and recognise that he possesses what they could not keep.
Complicating the primary was the emotive ember of zoning. The Okun Frontline Leaders had cautioned delegates to prioritise competence over rotation, arguing that Yagba Federal Constituency had produced three senators without zoning. Other stakeholders, including former Senator Smart Adeyemi, insisted zoning was the only path to unity. But in the end, all debates fell silent before Karimi’s audacity. When a man removes the bracelet from the priest’s wrist, the priest’s arguments no longer matter. The bracelet speaks for itself.
The political standoff finally deflated when President Bola Tinubu intervened, throwing his weight behind Karimi. But the president’s blessing was not the source of Karimi’s power—it was the seal on a conquest already won. The true source was his willingness to approach the priest, to challenge the forgery, to refuse to accept that the bracelet was irremovable. No endorsement from above can make a man Ọ̀kú Bàbá ńlá; only the audacity to seize what the priest thought he owned.
Speaking after his emergence, Karimi struck the gracious tone of a grandmaster who can afford mercy. He thanked Governor Ododo, former Governor Yahaya Bello, and the party leadership, describing his victory as “a great honour.” His stakeholders’ forum has appealed to aggrieved members to close ranks, declaring “there is no victor and no vanquished.” That is the language of a man who has already proven his supremacy—he does not need to gloat over the priests he disarmed.
Looking ahead to 2027, Karimi returns to the electorate not as an incumbent seeking renewal, but as a living proverb. He is the man who walked into the inner sanctum, reached for the sacred bracelet, and pulled it free. His opponents in the general election will face not just a politician with constituency projects, but a figure who has demonstrated, before the eyes of Kogi West, that he can take power from those who thought they held it forever.
In the marketplaces and village squares of Kogi West, the elders now tell the proverb with a new reference. When they say “Ọjẹ́ kì í bọ́ lọ́wọ́ olóṣà”, the people will answer: “But Karimi removed it.” And when they say “Ọ̀kú bàbá ńlá ni ẹni tí ó bọ́”, they will point to the senator who dared to approach, dared to challenge, and dared to win.