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.”
The police command later said their officials did not deliberately shoot at the governor, adding that they were responding to information that some hoodlums were on their way to loot the damaged Assembly building.
All this was happening amid reports that about 27 of the 32-member state legislature were about to serve the governor impeachment notice. Why? “What offence have I committed?” Governor Fubara has asked. No one has answered the questions but it is clear that the house Mr. Wike built is in crisis. Everyone is confused. Each time he spoke on the crisis, Mr. Wike only repeated what he told his successor on Inauguration Day, which is that every politician likes to stay relevant and does not want their structures tampered with. But the question remains: has Fubara tampered with his predecessor’s structure, and what exactly was tampered with?
There was more to come. In November, the 27 lawmakers with impeachment on their minds dumped the PDP for the APC. As a consequence, the few lawmakers who stuck with the governor promptly declared their seats vacant, citing constitutional provisions, and called on the electoral body INEC to schedule new elections to fill their positions.
As the crisis raged Governor Fubara rolled in the bulldozers to pull down the entire Parliament building complex, explaining that after the explosions and fires, the experts reckoned that the whole place was no longer safe. Not everyone agreed. Some said the governor pulled down the building to deny the 27 impeachment lawmakers a place to sit and carry out their plan. Mr. Fubara came under fire for throwing away the baby with the bathwater, considering the huge financial loss in property destroyed and the huger cost of rebuilding the complex.
Still, everyone knows that behind the crisis is the appetite of Mr. Big Stuff who determines who makes it into the governor’s cabinet, including his chief of staff, and would rather bring down the roof than allow a contrary view from his godson. This does not seem to sit well with Mr. Fubara.
The crisis has grown beyond a mere godfather-godson disagreement, or the conflict of a few lawmakers loyal to the governor versus their 27 runaway colleagues. It has shaken up the entire state, with many residents appealing for peace. It has also roused up the significant Ijaw component of the state, one of whom is the embattled governor. They have thrown their weight behind their kinsman, warning that he must not be removed from office.
President Tinubu, called in to help resolve the crisis, has decades of experience in godfather politics. Since the end of his two-term tenure as governor of Lagos State in 2007, the shape and form of governance in the state has been determined by him. But there are concerns over his fairness in the Rivers crisis. Mr. Wike nearly shouted himself hoarse campaigning for Mr. Tinubu, and has been duly rewarded with a sweet ministerial appointment. Recently, at the office of President Tinubu’s chief of staff, he re-enacted his Port Harcourt dance steps, this time scaling it up to the twists and turns of the legendary Michael Jackson. Taking a few quick, measured steps forward, he picked up his famous hat from a table, balanced it delicately on his head and went into serious gyrations as he recreated the president’s ‘On your mandate we shall stand’ campaign chant. It is hard to say who was entertained.
President Tinubu’s peace effort was captured in a prepared document which was reportedly signed by the feuding Ikwerre ex-governor and his Ijaw successor. In the document he demanded that all court cases and impeachment proceedings be stopped, that factional Speaker Martin Amaewhule and his 26 defectors loyal to Wike be reabsorbed in the House with full benefits, that Mr. Amaewhule be recognised as Speaker of the Assembly, that Mr. Fubara hands off all funds disbursement to the legislature, that the defectors remain in the APC, that the governor re-present the State budget earlier passed by the four or five lawmakers left after the defection, and, among others, that the Assembly members can sit anywhere they please.
It’s a resounding victory for Mr. Big Stuff and a crushing blow to the governor. While still remaining in the PDP, Mr. Wike now has significant control of APC lawmakers in Mr. Fubara’s government. Chief Edwin Kiagbodo Clark, a foremost Ijaw leader in neighbouring Delta State, has dismissed the President’s peace document, calling it unconstitutional and anti-Fubara. Mr. Fubara himself says tamely that there is no price too big to pay for peace. But what peace will he have with the 27 defectors, who wanted him impeached, breathing down his neck? What’s the guarantee that they will not strike again? But even in this queer victory, Mr. Big Stuff knows that the house he built to feed his whims and caprices is truly in tatters.
- Ikeje, a national affairs commentator, can be reached on X @ogochukwu_ikeje