Now that the Osun governorship election is settled and Governor Ademola Adeleke has secured another term, there is comedy in revisiting the confidence with which some critics predicted his political extinction. The ballot has a rude sense of humour: it listens patiently to prophets and party oracles, then answers them with numbers.
Temitope Ajayi, former Special Adviser to the President on Media and Publicity, argued that Osun needed a CEO rather than an entertainer. Felix Morka, APC National Publicity Secretary, called Adeleke’s performance “very dismal” and “lacklustre.” Benjamin Adereti, the APC deputy governorship candidate, called it a “colossal failure.” Oluremi Omowaye, APC Osun campaign spokesperson, said voters were ready to remove Adeleke. Senator Ajibola Basiru, APC National Secretary, attacked the administration’s record, while Tajudeen Lawal, Chairman of the Osun APC, repeatedly denounced its governance. Iyiola Omisore, former Deputy Governor of Osun, also joined the indictment.
There is a difference between saying, “This government has failed,” and announcing, with prophetic authority, “The people will reject it.” The first is an argument; the second is a wager. Osun voters have now marked the answer sheet.
The trouble with political adjectives is that they can become narcotics. Say “incompetent” often enough and one begins to imagine repetition has acquired the authority of evidence. It has not. A road is either repaired or it is not; a school either improves or it does not. Politics requires evidence, not adjectives wearing agbada.
The “entertainer” argument was particularly revealing. Dancing is not a governance index. A grim-faced governor can misgovern with solemn dignity; a cheerful governor can deliver public goods. Monday Okpebholo, Governor of Edo State, made political capital out of Adeleke’s dancing, even joking about “dancing roads.” The irony writes itself: the governor mocked for dancing has danced into another mandate. In Nigerian pidgin, make person no start celebration before referee blow final whistle.
Bashir Ahmad, former Special Assistant on Digital Communications to President Muhammadu Buhari, reportedly bookmarked Davido’s post in anticipation of an APC victory and a future taunt. That bookmark now has the tragic dignity of an unopened champagne bottle. Social media can create the illusion that victory has already occurred. But an X post is not a polling unit, and a bookmark is not a collation officer.
There is another lesson. Moyoade Lukman, former Senior Special Assistant to Governor Adeleke on Market Affairs, defected to the APC and called it a “homecoming.” Azeez Kazeem, formerly Senior Special Assistant in the Governor’s Office, also broke ranks and campaigned for APC candidate Bola Oyebamiji. Their right to defect is unquestionable. Yet their stories pose an old riddle: if the house was intolerable, why did its defects become visible only after one had enjoyed a room inside it? Political conscience may awaken late, but voters may examine its timing.
Dr Leye Olagbaju, an Accord Party chieftain and House of Representatives aspirant, and Asamo Gbenga, Accord’s youth leader in Ife Central, also rejected Adeleke and questioned his leadership capacity. A man may know the corridors of power and still misread the road outside the gates.
Perhaps the greatest analytical error was structural. The APC and ADC appear to have treated the contest chiefly as a referendum on Adeleke’s performance while underestimating the politics of rotation. The three major contenders – Ademola Adeleke, Oyebamiji and Najeem Salaam – came from Osun West. That matters. Voters in Osun East and Central could ask not only, “Who should govern now?” but, “If the West retains power, when does our own turn become plausible?”
That is Nigerian politics 101. That is the difference between analysis. Zoning may not be written in constitutional ink, yet it lives in political memory. Identity does not always shout; sometimes it whispers across family compounds, markets, traditional institutions and party meetings. It asks the ancient question: whose turn is it? A sophisticated voter can assess performance, personality, party, competence and succession simultaneously. The APC and ADC may have campaigned for today while voters calculated tomorrow.
The electorate is neither infallible nor infantile; it is sovereign. Its judgement may be contested, but its authority cannot be outsourced to commentators, aides, strategists or party headquarters. Nor does APC’s defeat make every criticism fraudulent. Democracy is not canonisation. The electorate has granted Adeleke another mandate, not a certificate of perfection. His second term must answer critics with roads that endure, schools that function, hospitals that improve, jobs that multiply, agriculture that grows and finances that withstand scrutiny.
But the opposition must learn the difference between criticism and condescension. Osun voters are not political pupils waiting for Abuja to explain their interests to them. They may have heard the criticisms and rejected the conclusion.
A proverb says when an elder falls twice on the same stone, the ancestors may suspect stubbornness rather than bad luck. Why did their narrative fail? Why did denunciation not translate into enough votes? Why did identity, succession and incumbency prove more resilient than their calculations? These are better questions than inventing new adjectives.
The voters have given Adeleke another four years, but also raised the stakes. He must now make the dancing mean something: every step a road repaired, every rhythm a school improved, every flourish a job created, every performance measurable development.
Congratulations to Governor Ademola Nurudeen Jackson Adeleke. The critics have spoken, the parties have spoken, the pundits have spoken, and now the ballot has spoken. Its answer was brief, blunt and democratic: the people chose. The governor’s task is simple, though not easy – dance Osun into development until 2030, and leave history arguing not about the rhythm, but the results.
