Ogun East political marginalisation concerns grow as fears mount over losing ranking influence ahead of the 2027 elections
There comes a time in the life of a people when silence becomes dangerous; when indifference becomes betrayal; when watching events unfold quietly becomes an unforgivable act against generations yet unborn.
That moment may have arrived for Ijebuland and indeed the entirety of Ogun East Senatorial District.
In Yoruba cosmology, there is a haunting expression –“Ikú bọlá jẹ́”– death that comes to consume honour, dignity, prestige and relevance.
Today, many in Ogun East fear that what looms before them politically is not merely exclusion, but a slow, calculated erosion of political influence; an Ikúbọlájẹ! of historic proportions.
The question before the people is simple: Can Ogun East afford to lose a Ranking Senator in 2027?
This is not about sentiment.
It is not about vanity. It is about political arithmetic, influence, federal presence, and equitable development.
The reality of Nigeria’s legislative politics is harsh but undeniable: ranking matters.
Seniority matters.
Committee leadership matters. Institutional influence matters.
The rules of the National Assembly are not governed by emotions or sympathy; they are governed by hierarchy, legislative standing, networks, and accumulated influence.
A Ranking Senator does not merely occupy a seat in Abuja; he occupies strategic tables where national priorities are negotiated, projects are influenced, interventions are secured, and development opportunities are shaped.
This is beyond the powers of even the President to arbitrarily guarantee. No presidential goodwill can permanently replace institutional leverage.
In Nigeria’s political reality, regions that command ranking legislators often enjoy stronger access to critical infrastructure, federal appointments, interventions, and policy attention.
As Ogun State gradually moves toward the political future of 2027, an uncomfortable imbalance appears to be emerging.
Ogun West, many argue, is already politically secured, with the strong possibility of gubernatorial leadership under Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola (Yayi) emerging in power.
Ogun Central, on the other hand, would also enjoy the advantage of a Ranking Senator with institutional visibility and legislative influence irrespective of whoever eventually emerges between incumbent Senator Shuaib Afolabi Salisu and formal governor, Sen. IbikunleAmosun.
But what then becomes of Ogun East?
Should Ijebuland and Ogun East willingly surrender the strategic advantage of returning a Ranking Senator to the National Assembly?
Would that not amount to voluntarily weakening their bargaining power at the federal level?
Would that not create an uneven political structure in which two senatorial districts possess significant institutional leverage while one is left to hope for goodwill?
And in politics, goodwill without power is often a costly illusion.
What is fair is fair.
Equity demands that no senatorial district should be politically diminished for the comfort or ambition of others.
Ogun East deserves not pity, not tokenism, but fair political representation capable of competing at the highest levels of legislative influence.
Many elders and political observers quietly worry that denying Ogun East the opportunity to return a Ranking Senator may unintentionally place the district at a developmental disadvantage for years to come.
Whether roads, institutions, educational projects, healthcare interventions, or federal presence, representation matters; and ranking often amplifies representation.
This is why many now ask difficult questions.
If the late and revered Awujale of Ijebuland, His Imperial Majesty, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, had been alive, would the present fears of political marginalisation have gained this much momentum?
Few monarchs in modern Nigerian history commanded such moral authority, courage, and political gravitas.
The Awujale was never known to watch quietly when the dignity, pride, or collective interest of Ijebuland appeared threatened. His voice carried weight beyond palace walls.
His influence travelled beyond partisan lines.
His absence today leaves many wondering whether Ijebuland is entering a vulnerable political season, one where decisions affecting its future may increasingly be taken without sufficient resistance.
Naturally, questions have also emerged around the continued delay in the emergence of a new Awujale.
While there may be institutional and bureaucratic excuses for the delay, public anxiety continues to grow, with some asking whether the timing may inadvertently weaken Ijebuland’s collective political voice at a critical historical moment.
These are uncomfortable questions, yes. But difficult moments demand difficult conversations.
For the people of Ogun East, 2027 may not simply be another election cycle.
It may become a referendum on relevance.
A referendum on influence.
A referendum on whether Ijebuland chooses strategic political preservation or gradual political weakening.
History is often cruel to people who surrender power and later hope to negotiate from weakness.
The time to think is now.
The time to speak is now.
The time to insist on fairness is now.
For if honour is lost in silence, posterity may remember this moment with only one painful expression:
Ikúbọlájẹ!
