By the time he returned from the stadium where his inauguration was held, his government had already been shaped for him.
Even before he could settle into office, key appointments had been made on his behalf—his kitchen staff, domestic aides, driver, and personal security team, up to his Chief Security Officer. His stomach and personal safety were already secured, but in reality, the chains had just begun to tighten.
A Camp Commandant was appointed, alongside a full security contingent, most of whom were strangers to him. The web of control had been carefully woven, ensuring that every move he made was watched, monitored, and ultimately dictated.
Then came the real grip—the government itself.
A cousin of his predecessor had been installed as his Chief of Staff, the first to see him every morning and the last to see him at night. His influence extended far beyond the office; he was the gatekeeper, the one who determined who had access to the Governor.
And if you thought that was all, you’d be mistaken.
A Government Not His Own
The Commissioners?
He had no real say in their selection. Many were carryovers from the previous administration, their loyalties lying elsewhere. Some didn’t even have strong ties to the state, yet they were imposed upon him.
The State House of Assembly?
Another relative of the “Helper” was made Speaker, ensuring legislative control remained firmly in the hands of those who truly pulled the strings.
The Party Leadership?
To tighten the grip, two relatives of the Helper were placed at the helm of the two dominant political parties in the state. No matter which side he turned to, he was surrounded.
The Invisible Governor
The plan was clear: he would wear the title of Governor, but the real control was elsewhere. Decisions were made outside his office, policies drafted without his input. He was a leader in name only.
And to make matters worse, the Helper’s loyalists showed him no respect.
They openly referred to him as “small boy,” “Mugu,” and other demeaning names.
It became the norm to disregard him—to treat him not as a leader, but as a pawn.
Breaking Free from the Chains
But this Governor, though bound, refused to remain silent.
He dared to seek his freedom.
The battle is far from over. The grip may not have been entirely loosened, but the message has been sent: he is no puppet, and he will not be pushed around.
It is still a work in progress, but one thing is certain—the chains will not hold forever.
Tari Ebitimi
Concerned Rivers State Indigene.
