WIKE AND THE NO‑GO AREA: HOW RIVERS STATE QUIETLY BECAME VERY GO‑ABLE: Tinubu Draws the Red Line, the Chief Judge Underlines It.
— "The Week's Politics Taught Nigeria’s Overfed Politician Simple Arithmetic. From Godfather of Rivers to Tenant in Abuja" —
The tide has turned, and it is not just turning gently; it is crashing like a dark wave over Nyesom Wike’s once‑towering political castle. For years he bestrode Rivers State like an overfed political animal, snorting and stomping as if the entire landscape were his private farm. Now, that same animal is cornered, panting, and watching the fences close in. What he once called a “no‑go area” has quietly become very go‑able indeed.
It now feels like a lifetime ago that Wike went on his famous seventeen‑day “thank you” tour of all twenty‑three local government areas of Rivers State. He spoke then with the swollen pride of a man who believed the sun rose and set at his command. One boast in particular now hangs around his neck like a millstone. Referring to unnamed people who allegedly planned to “call” him and instruct him, he bellowed that nobody would call him, and that “Rivers State is a no‑go area.” In that moment, he did not merely speak; he spat in the direction of every authority above him, including the presidency that handed him the keys to the FCT.
At the time, the remark was not just arrogant; it was an open dare. Senior figures in the APC shifted uneasily. Here was an appointee who spoke as though even the man in Aso Rock could not summon him to order on matters concerning Rivers. It was political chest‑beating of the crudest kind. Yet politics, like nature, has its seasons. The loud rooster of yesterday is today a plucked chicken under the butcher’s table. The question now is simple: how is that “no‑go” market trading today?
Events of the past week have supplied a clear answer. President Tinubu has not only “called” Wike; he has quietly put a collar on him. By publicly affirming Governor Fubara as the political leader of Rivers State -- the president drew a red line so clear even the most overfed ego could not pretend not to see it. In one firm stroke, Tinubu reminded everyone that in party and in state, the sitting governor is the recognised leader of the structure on the ground. He also sent a subtle but sharp message: you are not even a member of the APC; you are a guest in this house, not its landlord.
At almost the same time, another crucial institution wrote its own chapter in Wike’s slow unravelling. The Chief Judge of Rivers State, in a rare but powerful act of quiet courage, refused to dance to the tune of the embattled House of Assembly. When the Assembly wrote asking for action against the governor on allegations of gross misconduct, the Chief Judge simply picked up the law, placed it on the table, and stood with it. Citing existing court orders, the Chief Judge declined to trigger any impeachment process. In that single moment, the legal carpet was pulled from under the legislators who had been marching to Wike’s drumbeat. The supposed plot to sack Fubara suddenly looked like a house built on wet sand.
As if this were not enough, another pillar of Wike’s wider influence snapped elsewhere on the national stage. Samuel Anyanwu, long seen as a reliable ally and weighty figure in Wike’s network, lost his seat as National Secretary of the PDP through a court decision. For a man whose survival has depended on a web of loyal associates placed like chess pieces across the board, this was more than a minor loss; it was a hole in the very fabric of his reach. Within a few days, the scoreline against him began to resemble a cup final humiliation: - blow after blow, goal after goal, with Wike’s once‑mighty empire suddenly looking like a defeated side wandering about in extra time.
Meanwhile, the legal battle over the impeachment itself seems to be slipping further away from his grasp. The appeal lodged by the Speaker of the Rivers State House of Assembly against the High Court injunction has not inspired confidence among legal watchers. Many believe the appeal will likely be tossed aside as lacking substance. Should that happen, it would close yet another door in the corridor Wike hoped to use to push the governor out. Bit by bit, every exit he thought he had kept for himself is being bricked up by the law, by the courts, and by the president’s clear posture.
Therefore, the ball now lies squarely at the feet of the fallen overfed political warlord. Once he thundered through the streets of Port Harcourt like an untouchable godfather; now he shuffles in Abuja as a tenant of the presidency, dependent on the very authority he once tried to overshadow in his own backyard. The body language from Aso Rock is no longer cloudy; the spoken word has now joined the silence. The message is simple: step back, pull your claws out of Rivers, and stop playing god in a state you no longer rule.
If Wike and his loyalists still have any sense of self‑preservation, and any respect for the hand that fed him the FCT portfolio, they will find a way to climb down from their high horse. They should prevail on the Speaker to withdraw the pending appeal, let the aborted impeachment die quietly, and accept that the curtain has fallen on the era of one man holding Rivers by the throat. That would be a sign that they can read the writing on the wall and that they understand a basic rule of politics: no appointee, however loud, however well‑fed, is bigger than the president or the wider interests of the party.
On the other hand, if they choose to ignore these warnings and let desperation swallow their last drops of wisdom, the outcome is unlikely to be gentle. President Tinubu has already shown a willingness to assert himself when pushed. Should Wike persist in open defiance, the result could be a political demolition so complete that even his most loyal praise‑singers will struggle to find a tune. The overfed political warlord who once strutted as godfather of Rivers may find himself skinned of influence, stripped of authority, and hung out in the political sun to dry. What is now a slow decline could quickly turn into a full‑blown political tsunami, washing away careers, networks, and carefully constructed illusions in one angry wave.
Yet beyond the personal drama, something deeper is happening in Rivers politics. The age when one man could boast that an entire state was a “no‑go area” for others appears to be drawing to a close. Institutions are beginning to find their voice. Courts are quietly insisting on due process. The presidency is reminding over‑ambitious appointees / politicians that the tail does not wag the dog. The noise of unchecked boasting is giving way, however slowly, to the more sober language of law and caution.
In the end, Wike’s story, at least in this chapter, reads like a parable written for Nigeria’s political class. The once‑roaring lion of Rivers has discovered that there are bigger lions in the forest and stronger hands on the game board. From godfather of Rivers to tenant in Abuja, from “no‑go area” to “very go‑able” territory, he has learned the simple arithmetic of power:- subtract arrogance, divide your ambitions, multiply respect for institutions, or be reduced to a fraction of your former self.
©EBIKABOWEI KEDIKUMO,
writes from Ayakoromo Town, Delta State
0 Comments