Who Speaks for the Forgotten Minorities in Kogi Politics?
By Abdul Mohammed Lawal.
The political atmosphere in Kogi State is changing once again. With the 2027 elections drawing closer, the familiar conversations have returned. Political meetings are becoming more frequent, alliances are quietly taking shape, and aspirants are testing the waters, while supporters are already defending their preferred candidates. Very soon, the campaign season will begin properly. The streets will be filled with posters and social media will become a battlefield flooded with political messages.
Every party will try to convince the people that it has the best answer to Kogi State’s challenges.
The APC, as the ruling party, will tell the story of its achievements and ask for another opportunity to continue its programmes.
The opposition will also have an opportunity to present a different vision. That is what democracy expects. Elections should be contests of ideas, policies and leadership, but sadly, our politics often takes a different direction. Instead of selling better alternatives, too many of them will spend their energy attacking opponents, spreading propaganda and appealing to emotions rather than reason.
As always, ordinary people will become the biggest targets. They will be told who to love and who to hate. Some will even allow politics to divide friendships and families. Yet, after the elections, many will discover that the politicians they defended so passionately have moved on, while their own daily struggles remain.
Then there is another conversation that never fails to return whenever governorship elections approach.
“The question of where power should go.”
Many people in Kogi East believe the governorship should return to the district after years away from power. In Kogi Central, the people believe Governor Ahmed Usman Ododo should be allowed to complete a second term if the people so decide before any discussion about another shift in power begins. And in Kogi West, many believe the district deserves its opportunity after years of demanding greater political inclusion. Others prefer to continue the existing partnership until 2031 before making another claim.
These are arguments built on the principle of fairness and political balance, but while the three major blocs continue to negotiate power, there are communities whose political aspirations hardly enter the conversation. So whenever I listen to these conversations, I cannot help but ask a different question.
Who is speaking for the forgotten minorities in Kogi politics?
Take the Bassa people, for example. They have remained loyal participants in Kogi’s democratic journey. They vote, they contest elections, and they contribute to the development of the state. But, when major political offices are discussed, they are rarely mentioned. The same question can also be asked about Lokoja and Kogi Local Government Areas within Kogi West.
How often do we deliberately discuss their place in the future of the state’s leadership?
When will Kogi East produce a Senator from Bassa?
When will the Dekina/Bassa Federal Constituency elect their next member of the House of Representatives from Bassa?
When will Lokoja and Kogi Local Government Areas produce another Senator for Kogi West?
And ultimately, will Bassa, Lokoja or Kogi Local Government Area ever produce a Governor of Kogi State?
Some may quickly dismiss these questions as unrealistic, but every political dream once appeared unrealistic until someone made it possible. There was a time when many believed power could never move outside certain political strongholds. Yet history has repeatedly shown that politics is always changing, and today’s impossibility often becomes tomorrow’s reality. That is why this conversation matters.
If our only understanding of fairness is to rotate power among the biggest ethnic or political blocs, then we may unknowingly create another form of exclusion.
This is not an argument against any region, it is simply a call to widen the conversation. Perhaps the time has come to ask whether our politics truly reflects the diversity of Kogi State. Perhaps the time has come to move beyond the politics of the big three and begin a new conversation about those who have quietly waited on the sidelines for decades.
As another election season approaches, regional politicians will tell the people who to hate. The people should also ask politicians a question like:
Beyond your campaign of who to hate and who you love, what place do the forgotten minorities have in your vision for Kogi State?
Just like the wise man would say, the true strength of a democracy is measured by whether those who have waited the longest still have reason to believe that tomorrow can be different.