By joshua KOGI GOVERNMENT: LAST TEN YEARS UNDER MY SPECTACLES (PART ONE)
By Pastor Stanley Ajileye
Shortly before I travelled out of Kogi State for a conference, I published my opinion article titled “Their New Game Plan: The Real Battle Is Beyond Karimi.”
While I was away, I deliberately ignored every attempt to drag me into unnecessary arguments. My sincere appreciation goes to the many friends who sent messages in support of the article. Kindly forgive my inability to respond individually.
As a child, my Sunday School teachers taught me a timeless lesson: “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.” I chose not to be detracted into political matters, from my spiritual engagement.
In the same spirit, I have now chosen to give facts their rightful place and leave insults to those who manufacture them in industrial quantities.
Expectedly, some government attack dogs were promptly unleashed. Curiously, they attacked not only my opinion but also my personality. That did not surprise me. When facts become stubborn, insults often become the preferred language of those who have run out of arguments.
Those who know me already know one thing: I do not wrestle with pigs. Both of us will get dirty, but only one of us enjoys the mud.
One enthusiastic errand boy described my article as “mere propaganda.” I laughed.
In politics, everyone accuses the other side of propaganda. The only difference is that one side uses a teaspoon while the other arrives with a trailer load.
So, since they have opened the propaganda market, permit me to display my own goods, except that mine will come packaged with questions, records, history and, where necessary, a little humour.
This response will come in ten parts. Welcome to Part One.
Interestingly, after all the noise, only one issue seemed to trouble them.
They claimed I ignored graduates employed into the newly established state universities when I stated that no meaningful graduate employment had taken place in the state’s public service over the last decade.
Fair enough.
So let us settle this the old-fashioned way, with figures instead of shouting.
How many graduate civil servants were on the state’s payroll before 2015?
How many are there today, excluding political appointees?
Let the government publish the figures. Numbers do not belong to any political party.
What many people conveniently forget is that during the early years of the previous administration, hundreds of qualified civil servants lost their jobs. If the universities later employed only a fraction of those numbers, can anyone honestly celebrate that as employment growth?
If a man loses four tyres and later buys one, should we organise a thanksgiving service because he now has a tyre again?
Let us leave that for now.
Today, I wish to examine infrastructure or perhaps I should say the disappearing infrastructure of Kogi State over the last ten years.
There is an old saying that a good father leaves houses for his children.
In Kogi, many citizens now wonder whether government has instead become a real estate broker.
Unless something dramatic changes, some people joke that one day we may wake up to discover that the Government House itself (Lugard House) has been listed with interested buyers invited to inspect the property between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.
That may sound humorous, but many citizens genuinely worry about what they perceive as the continuous monetisation of public assets.
Over the years, several prominent government properties have reportedly changed hands.
The state’s flagship hotel, built during the administration of the late Prince Abubakar Audu, was sold through a process that critics have continued to question.
The Commissioners’ Quarters also went the same way.
There are also widespread public rumours regarding the status of the State Assembly Quarters. If those reports are inaccurate, nothing stops the government from clarifying the position officially.
Similarly, many citizens have expressed concern over the fate of the state’s liaison properties in Kaduna and Lagos, which for decades represented Kogi’s presence outside the state.
Whether one agrees or disagrees with these decisions, one fact remains: many legacy public assets that previous administrations handed over are no longer under public ownership.
Some members of the public even speculate that several of these assets eventually found their way into the hands of related interests operating under different corporate names. That allegation deserves transparency rather than abuse. The easiest way to silence rumours is through facts. The government should come out openly on the status of these legacy structures.
Perhaps even more important than what was sold is the question:
What was built?
Governments are remembered not merely for the assets they dispose of but for the monuments they leave behind.
For much of the first eight years under the previous administration, many citizens struggle to identify signature public infrastructure that transformed the physical landscape of Kogi State.
The Revenue House is often cited.
Indeed, it is an impressive structure.
But citizens also ask an uncomfortable question: What is the purpose of building a magnificent tax office if taxpayers cannot equally point to magnificent public services financed by those taxes?
A beautiful cash collection centre is commendable.
A beautiful road to drive home on is even better.
Even the Ganaja Overhead Bridge, frequently celebrated as a major achievement, has remained the subject of public controversy regarding its funding.
Distinguished Senator Dino Melaye publicly maintained that payment for the project had already been made during the administration of Governor Idris Wada and released documents to support that claim.
If that assertion is incorrect, government records should settle the matter once and for all.
History should never be written with megaphones.
It should be written with documents.
This is only Part One.
In the next part, we shall continue our journey through ten years of governance, armed not with insults, but with questions, records, memory, and, of course, enough humour to keep the journey interesting.
After all, laughter may not solve every political problem, but it certainly makes listening to the truth much easier.