Nyesom Wike loves big things, very big things. He’s a talker, and when he talks (which is often) he talks big, his voice cracking out as if through a burst pipe. He is the conquering warrior, the leader who delivers the goods. That much he wants everybody to know. He loves big crowds and big names but make no mistake, he is the biggest name. In his days as governor of Rivers State, Mr. Wike once summoned the state’s traditional rulers to a meeting and promptly ordered them to stand up with their staff of office. They obliged and he rebuked those who did not come with the royal walking stick. They did not know the importance of the staff of office, he told them, threatening to dethrone any of them who turned up again without the official walking aid. As he spoke, one chief was nodding, and Mr. Wike was offended.
“Stop shaking ya head…you, you, stop shaking ya head,” he shouted, pointing at the offender. “You are one of those who are causing problem. They gave you chieftaincy…a young boy…you don’t even know what to do with it. Then when I’m speaking, you are shaking ya head like this (his head going up and down). All fake, fake.” He went on and on.
Mr. Wike also did other things apart from bullying the royalty or anyone who fell out of line. He built many bridges and roads and invited prominent politicians to launch them. A good number of the launchers were serving or ex-governors across the country, some from outside his own Peoples Democratic Party (PDP). In the run-up to the elections of last year, such occasions, transmitted on live television, were a veritable platform for Mr. Wike to exult. He had everything worked out. He turned out before the crowds in his well-tailored caftans topped off with his trademark fedoras and sunshades. When he grabbed the microphone, he praised himself and socked it to his enemies. As he spoke, a live musical group, dubbed the Wike Band, would interrupt him intermittently to heap more praise on the superstar, chanting “Bigi man na bigi man” or “As e pain dem e dey sweet us” and the like. Mr. Wike would break away from the podium as though the spirit of the music had suddenly seized him and launch into an energetic but brief gyration before resuming his task at the microphone. He would name the bridges and roads he built one by one, and tell the crowd and the larger Rivers audience that he had done enough to dictate which direction the people should go in the elections. Everyone got the message.
He also probably did enough to stake a claim for a place in the entertainment industry. Indeed, sitting before their TV sets, many viewers including journalists looked forward to the Wike show, which offered news and some escape from the grind. But Mr. Wike is not your idea of a showman for the sake of the show. He is a cold and calculating schemer with eyes focused on the big picture and the big prize. With barely six months to May 29, 2023, the end of his tenure as governor, he appointed 200,000 advisers, all from his party. First, he explained that they would act as liaison officials between the grassroots people and his office, then added that they were “stomach infrastructure” appointments, another term for job for the boys. Finally, he said the 200,000 appointees plus a few hundreds more aides would help him “finish strong”. The appointments were reckoned to cost the state N42.127 billion in salary by the time he left office. The opposition tore him to pieces, accusing him of beefing up his vote-rigging machinery.
Did he care? In his eight years as governor, Mr. Wike built quite a comfortable political house. The state lawmakers and chairmen of the 23 local governments were all with him. He had a smooth sail but what about life after Government House? Who will look after his interests when he is gone? He needed an agreeable successor, if not a stooge. That’s why it was said that he worked day and night to install Siminalayi Fubara, his former accountant-general, as governor. With Mr. Fubara, as his replacement, Mr. Wike hoped he would go to sleep without worrying about his interests. But at Mr. Fubara’s inauguration late last May, Mr. Wike did not take anything for granted. He summarised his demands as follows and drummed it down Mr. Fubara’s skull: “We will not disturb you from running your administration but we will not allow you to make us cry,” he told him. Do not tamper with anything I put in place.
In that statement lay a clear possibility that he and his people would disturb the governor should anything happen to Mr. Wike’s political machinery.
Godfather politics is alive and well in Nigeria. After eight years as governor, Mr. Wike wants to be a powerful godfather in a very weighty state in the country, dictating who gets what. He wants to call the shots and pave the way for more glory for himself wherever the way leads. Rivers has vast reserves of oil and gas, and is the third largest producer in the country, behind Delta and Bayelsa states. The state is also home to many ethnic groups such as Ikwerre, Ijaw, Ogoni, Ogba, and Ekpeye, among others.
In July Mr. Wike was appointed minister of the Federal Capital Territory, an obvious reward for openly campaigning and working for then presidential candidate Bola Tinubu of the rival All Progressives Congress (APC), against his own party and its flag bearer, Alhaji Atiku Abubakar. So far, things were fine in Rivers, and between godfather and godson. But by October, things exploded, literally. On the night of 29th there were blasts and fires in parts of the state House of Assembly building. On Monday morning Mr. Fubara and a handful of security personnel were on their way to inspect the affected structures when policemen reportedly loyal to Mr. Wike shot tear gas, water cannon and bullets into the governor’s crowd.
“They were shooting directly at me,” Mr. Fubara told reporters shortly after. “I’m not planning anything against anybody. I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”