The Surge with Boma Lilian Braide on The Southerner
Monday, January 12, 2026
In the very heart of the Niger Delta lies a state that once pulsed with life, ambition, and promise. A state whose name (The Treasure Base of the Nation) evoked images of bustling ports, thriving industries, and a people whose resilience was as deep as the waters that surround them. Rivers State our garden city, was once a beacon of possibility.
Today, it stands wounded, staggering under the weight of crises both self‑inflicted and externally engineered. The land that once danced to the rhythm of progress now trembles beneath the heavy boots of political warfare, corruption, and suffocating uncertainty.
The streets of Port Harcourt, once alive with the laughter of children and the hum of commerce, now echo with a different sound; the unsettling silence of stalled dreams, the murmurs of fear, and the loud, unending quarrels of political gladiators who have forgotten the people they swore to serve.
The air is thick, not with the scent of opportunity, but with the choking fumes of chaos. And every day, Rivers State gasps for breath.
My heart aches for this land. This soil that raised me. This place, whose rivers shaped my childhood and whose culture shaped my identity. I have watched Rivers State grow, stumble, rise, and fall. But never have I seen it this broken, this directionless, this exhausted. For two long years, the news cycle has been a relentless parade of conflict and stagnation.
No development headlines. No inspiring stories. No breakthroughs. Just a state trapped in a political chokehold, unable to inhale even a moment of peace.
And so I ask, with a heaviness that words can barely carry: What happened to our beloved Rivers State? When will it finally breathe again?
A state held hostage by godfatherism
The ongoing feud between Governor Siminalayi Fubara (GSSRS) and his predecessor, Barrister Ezenwo Nyesom Wike (CON), is not just a political disagreement. It is a symptom of a deeper, more malignant disease; the entrenched culture of godfatherism that has plagued Rivers State for decades. This is not new. This is not surprising. But it is devastating.
In Rivers politics, loyalty is currency, and independence is rebellion. Godfatherism is the hydra‑headed monster that has devoured our progress, swallowed our institutions, and crippled our democracy.
It is a system where power is traded like a commodity, where allegiance is demanded, not earned, and where the people, the real owners of the mandate are reduced to spectators in a theatre of absurdity.
The Fubara–Wike saga is simply the latest chapter in a long, painful book. A book written with the ink of betrayal, ambition, and the unending hunger for control.
History repeating itself, again and again
We have walked this path before. We have seen this movie too many times. And each time, the ending is the same: Rivers State loses.
It began with Governor Peter Odili, a man who rose with the backing of powerful forces but fell the moment he dared to assert his independence.
The consequences were swift; funds withheld, projects abandoned, and the people left to suffer the fallout of political punishment.
Then came Rt. Hon. Chibuike Rotimi Amaechi (CON), whose ascent was also tied to the same system he later attempted to escape. His break from his political godfathers came at a heavy cost; one that left the state divided and its politics even more toxic.
Barrister Ezenwo Nyesom Wike (CON) followed, rising with the same machinery that had consumed others before him. His loyalty was rewarded, but the moment he sought autonomy, the cycle repeated itself. Betrayal. Conflict. Fallout.
And now, Governor Siminalayi Fubara stands in the same arena, facing the same lions, dancing the same dangerous dance. The feud between him and the FCT Minister is not just a personal disagreement, it is a reflection of a system that refuses to evolve.
A system that prioritises ego over governance, power over progress, and personal ambition over public welfare. Rivers State is once again the collateral damage.
A people betrayed, future stolen
How did we get here? How did we become a state where institutions are pawns, where the rule of law is optional, and where leaders treat public resources like personal inheritance?
The answer is painful: we allowed it.
We allowed our dignity to be traded for crumbs. We allowed our future to be mortgaged for political favours. We allowed our leaders to plunder our resources while we clapped for them at rallies. We allowed sycophancy to replace accountability. And now, we are reaping the bitter harvest of our silence.
Look around. The evidence is everywhere.
– Roads abandoned halfway.
– Schools with leaking roofs and no teachers.
– Hospitals without medicine, equipment, or hope.
– Communities without any visible development.
– Youths without jobs, direction, or opportunities.
Rivers State is bleeding. And the people are tired.
The Youth as greatest casualty
No group has suffered more than the youth. They are the ones whose dreams have been suffocated. They are the ones forced to flee to Lagos, Abuja, Ghana, Uk, Canada anywhere but home.
They are the ones used as political thugs during elections and discarded like waste afterwards. They are the ones whose talents rot in unemployment lines while politicians fight over who controls the state’s treasury.
The brain drain is real. Rivers State is losing its brightest minds at an alarming rate. And what is replacing them? A vacuum. A void. A future slipping through our fingers. Our leaders do not see it. Or perhaps they do, but they simply do not care.
A leadership class that refuses to learn
One would think that after decades of political betrayal, Rivers’ politicians would have learned from the North where political alliances are strategic, long‑term, and rarely sacrificed on the altar of ego. But no. In Rivers State, we throw our brothers under the bus for strangers.
We trade loyalty for temporary favour. We repeat the same mistakes, expecting different results.
Odili’s experience should have taught us.
Amaechi’s humiliation should have taught us. Wike’s betrayal should have taught us. Yet here we are, trapped in the same vicious cycle.
When will we learn?
Only way out is unity and purpose
There is only one path forward: collaboration, not conflict. Rivers’ politicians must understand that going alone is a guaranteed loss. The only way to break this cycle is through unity, unity of purpose, unity of vision, unity of leadership. The state cannot continue to be a battleground for personal vendettas.
It must become a place where leaders work together, not tear each other apart.
And above all, Rivers’ money must serve Rivers’ people. Not political parties. Not external godfathers. Not national ambitions.
A call to Fubara and Wike
To Governor Siminalayi Fubara and Barrister Ezenwo Nyesom Wike, the message is simple and urgent: Stop this madness!
Your feud is not just a political disagreement, it is a burden on millions of innocent people. It is stalling development, destroying confidence, and deepening poverty. Rivers State cannot breathe because its leaders are choking it with their rivalry.
Think of the people. Think of the future. Think of the legacy you will leave behind.
A Call to the people
To the people of Rivers State, this is the moment to rise above division. This is the moment to reclaim your state. This is the moment to demand better. The time for silence is over. The time for unity is now. Rivers State deserves to breathe.
A Call to the youth
To every young person in Rivers State, Ehie Edison, Ichiemati Ezebunwo, and countless others; this is your wake‑up call. You have the power to break the chains of godfatherism.
You have the power to reject manipulation. You have the power to shape a new future. Stop being pawns. Stop being tools. Stop being expendable.
Sanitise your minds. Reorient your values. Start from the grassroots. Build a movement that cannot be bought or intimidated.
The future belongs to you, if you are bold enough to claim it.
A cry for change
As I write this, my heart is heavy. My eyes sting with unshed tears. My soul aches for a state that has suffered too much, for too long. I am tired, tired of the chaos, tired of the corruption, tired of the broken promises. Tired of watching our children leave, our mothers weep, and our fathers shrink under the weight of disappointment.
But even in my exhaustion, I hold on to hope. Hope that one day, Rivers’ people will rise as one. Hope that one day, the chains of godfatherism will break. Hope that one day, Rivers State will be a land of opportunities again. Hope that one day, our children will inherit a state worthy of their dreams.
And when that day comes, Rivers State will finally breathe again, deeply, freely, joyfully.
Until then, I will continue to cry, to speak, to write, and to hope for a better tomorrow.
