By: Femi Adesope
Yesterday, as I was preparing to retire to bed, I got tagged in a video by a colleague who now lives in the United States. He has always known how deeply I cherish anything about Ibarapa, so much that during our undergraduate days, he nicknamed me “Baba Ibarapa.” For him, it doesn’t matter which part of the region I come from or the composition of our communities; once it is about Ibarapa, he shares it with me.
I recall how, during the COVID-19 pandemic, he once tagged me in a video of an Honourable from Ibarapa distributing a small bucket and 200 naira airtime as palliatives. His caption read, “Come and see your Honourable.” I had to politely explain that the lawmaker wasn’t “my” Honourable because we are not from the same constituency. But to him, Ibarapa is Ibarapa.
So, when he tagged me again this time on a video of Hon. Peter Gbadegesin Ojedokun, representing Ibarapa Central and North in the Oyo State House of Assembly, I knew I could not make that same defence. I was caught between amusement and embarrassment.
The video showed the Honourable struggling to read from a prepared document on the floor of the House. It was one of those moments you wish you didn’t have to see and even more, one you cannot explain away. Watching it, I felt the weight of perception, knowing full well that for people like my friend, moments like this define an entire region.
After our brief conversation, I went back to watch the video again, this time, more carefully. It turned out to be a list of resolutions from a motion sponsored by the Speaker, who is also from Ibarapa and co-sponsored by Hon. Ojedokun himself, addressing the urgent need to improve electricity supply in Ibarapa. But a question lingered: do you improve what doesn't exist?
That, however, raised an even more troubling concern, how does a co-sponsor struggle so visibly with a motion he helped put forward? To many viewers, it appeared as though he was encountering the document for the first time. Unsurprisingly, the video has generated one of the highest levels of engagement on the Assembly’s official page, in comments, reactions and shares. That alone should worry the House.
Beyond the moment itself, the reactions and even the delivery of other contributors, save perhaps the first spoke volumes about the depth, or lack thereof, of legislative engagement on critical issues. But while others may falter, what concerns us most is our own.
Now to the real issue. Ibarapa has a long history of underrepresentation and neglect across multiple levels of government. In some communities, a 10-year-old child has never experienced stable electricity and may not even understand what a consistent power supply feels like. This is not new. It has been the reality for more than a decade. Even voices like Akinola Badiu Akinbode, in a recent interview, have echoed similar childhood experiences. I cannot remember the last time there was steady electricity in Ibarapa North and Central. Even in Ibarapa East, where supply occasionally flickers, one must ask: how frequent? How reliable?
Businesses have shut down. Welders, barbers and other small-scale entrepreneurs have abandoned their trades, migrating to cities like Lagos, where many now survive as commercial motorcyclists. Households have turned to solar bulbs purchased on installment not as a choice, but as a last resort for survival.
Electricity, by law, sits on the concurrent list in Nigeria. While the Federal Government controls generation and transmission, state governments also have the authority to legislate and regulate electricity distribution within their jurisdictions. This means the Oyo State Government and by extension, its lawmakers cannot absolve themselves of responsibility.
And that is where representation becomes critical. An Honourable member who struggles to read from a prepared document raises concerns beyond that moment. It speaks to preparedness, competence and ultimately, the ability to effectively represent a people. Legislative work is not merely about occupying a seat; it is about contributing meaningfully to debates, lobbying for the interests of constituents, shaping policy and driving solutions.
Hon. Ojedokun is not a first-time member. By now, one would expect a level of mastery, confidence and depth in legislative engagement. If those entrusted with these responsibilities lack the capacity to engage effectively, then the people they represent will continue to bear the consequences. Unfortunately, in our political reality, even such glaring shortcomings do not always translate to electoral accountability. The political class understands this and often relies on it.
Ask ten people from Ibarapa what they want most from the government, and the answer will almost certainly be the same: electricity. Not speeches. Not motions read without conviction. Because with electricity comes economic activity, better education, improved healthcare, enhanced security and dignity.
Until that fundamental need is addressed, moments like the one in that viral video will continue to serve as painful reminders, not just of individual shortcomings, but of a deeper, systemic failure of representation.
And for people like my friend, watching from thousands of miles away, it reinforces a simple but uncomfortable narrative: Ibarapa is Ibarapa and its people deserve better.
Femi Adesope is the Editor-in-Chief at Peoples Conscience.
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