Category: Niger delta

• By John Mayaki

In Imoga, a small and remote community in Akoko-Edo, years of neglect finally drew the attention of a philanthropist who chose not to refurbish a tired old school building but to deliver something new.

That was until Humphrey Teddy Adewumi, a businessman with roots in the area, financed the construction of a 300-seat examination hall in Imoga and complete with a principal’s office and modern toilets. For residents, the gesture carried meaning beyond the ordinary. He listened to their cries.

In Igarra, the local government’s administrative center, he replaced a washed-out road with interlocking pavement stones, reopening a lifeline street for commerce. In Ibillo, he built new classrooms after learning that primary school pupils were crammed two grades into one room. In Atte, he renovated a decrepit secondary school block, complete with staff offices.

“I grew up here,” Mr. Adewumi said in a brief interview. “I know what it feels like to study without a desk, to walk a bad road, to feel forgotten. If I can fix some of that, I will.”

His foundation has distributed food and medical aid to widows, provided scholarships to indigent students, and delivered grants to small traders. Last November, it launched an ambitious program that empowered 1,000 women across Edo State’s 192 wards with cash support; a scale more often associated with government schemes than private charity.

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That’s not all. Mukaila, a young man from Igarra, tells of Adewumi’s intervention in the form of a motorcycle. Unemployed and struggling, he had turned to odd jobs. A chance meeting with Adewumi became, in his words, “a doorway to transformation.” Moved by his humility and diligence, Adewumi handed him a brand-new motorcycle; a lifeline in rural communities where mobility means survival.

“What my eyes have seen today was once a distant dream,” Mukaila said, choking back tears. “I stand here as a living testimony that God answers prayers through men.”

For some, such stories blur the line between philanthropy and politics. Adewumi is now the leading aspirant for the Akoko-Edo Local Government chairmanship under the All Progressives Congress (APC).

Critics argue that his projects double as campaign strategy. Supporters insist his philanthropy restores dignity where government has failed. But here lies the broader question: what kind of leadership does Akoko-Edo deserve?

Insecurity here is no longer an occasional threat; it is a daily reality. Roads crumble into dust and mud paths. Hospitals lack the most basic resources. Electricity, when it comes, feels like charity rather than service. For young people, the future is so uncertain that many now see internet fraud as a career path. A time bomb lies ahead.

This is the backdrop against which our local government prepares to choose its next leaders. And it is why the old politics of transactional deals and empty slogans will not suffice. Akoko-Edo needs something different; leaders who are creative, self-made, unburdened by political debts, and able to bridge generations.

The current debate, whether the council chairmanship should be zoned north or south, is a distraction. The real questions are these: Who has the courage to confront insecurity? Who can channel resources into schools, hospitals, roads, farms, and jobs rather than patronage? Who will represent us in Benin and Abuja not as sycophants, but as credible voices for our people?

I once considered stepping into the race myself. I drafted a security strategy, consulted quietly across the local government, and asked hard questions of those already in the field. In doing so, I came to realize that leadership is less about noise and more about strategy, sacrifice, and a willingness to deploy personal resources for the common good. It was in that process that I encountered Adewumi.

What struck me first was his tone. Unlike many politicians, he was neither desperate nor arrogant. “If I win, fine. If I don’t, I will thank God,” he told me. Those words reflected a humility rare in politics.

Even more importantly, he outlined a detailed plan to address insecurity, mapping villages and zones, and offering strategies to empower citizens with the tools and training to complement conventional security. His thinking mirrored my own, yet he was ready to act on it at personal cost.

I cannot claim to have spoken with every aspirant. But in Adewumi, I see someone who fits the moment. He is prepared, pragmatic, and willing to sacrifice. Until another candidate presents a stronger vision backed by action, he represents the leadership Akoko-Edo deserves.

Our community cannot afford to recycle mediocrity. We cannot keep losing sons and daughters to kidnappers, or watch our youth drift into crime because leaders cannot provide alternatives. The choice before Akoko-Edo is not simply who gets the council chairmanship. It is whether we are ready to demand leaders who serve, rather than survive.