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 Will Any Of Them Wash Our Feet?

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Last week was Holy Week, a week of the passion of Christ, and during that week 2000 years ago so much happened. But, one event stood out, an event that changed the course of humanity forever – the death of Jesus on a Roman cross at a place called Golgotha,  outside Jerusalem. However, my concern in this article is not to argue the historical exactitude of that event, or its theological ramifications, rather, my interest here, is on a lesser incident that occurred on the eve of His crucifixion, during what we now refer to as the ‘Last Supper’.

That evening was the eve of the Jewish feast of Passover when the deliverance from Egyptian bondage during the time of Moses was commemorated. The Passover meal was to be His Last Super with His disciples. So the table was set, and the disciples gathered around, and Jesus had very big plans for that evening, namely, the institution of the Holy Communion; yet something was missing, and as a true teacher, he used the opportunity to teach His disciples one of the greatest principles of leadership.

In John’s account of that evening, he said; “Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” “When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them.
Living in the 21st Century with cars and tarred roads, the true significance of the feet-washing incident is lost on us, but a little insight into 1st Century customs is sure to untangle the knot. Walking in sandals on the roads of Jerusalem in the first century made it necessary that feet be washed before a communal meal. Why? Because everyone ate reclining at low tables, and as a consequence, dusty and muddy feet were very much in the display. This very messy task was reserved for the lowliest of servants; but as you can imagine, as Jesus and His disciples came to the upper room, a place offered to Jesus for His Passover meal, none of the disciples deemed it necessary to carry out this all-important task.

Jesus washed their feet and taught them a great lesson. He said, “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am.  Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” Herein lays the crux of the matter, which among the leadership class in our country, from the President to the Councilor in the smallest ward of the smallest Local Government Area bends down to do any menial task for the comfort of those who elected them?.
Or, will members of the so-called “stakeholders” even allow those elected to serve, and lead by example?  I once had a clergyman in my Church who pastored one of our Churches in a place called Bundu Ama, in Port Harcourt. Every morning, he came   out to clean the gutter, and to keep the environment clean for those who came from the community to fetch water from the parsonage. The Paris Church Council did not take it very kindly with the Pastor. In fact, an emergency meeting was called to question his attitude, yet, since the Church was a small Church without a yardman, the Pastor was doing what Jesus would have done. This is just a small case, but it tells a tale of greater significance.

Why did the teacher wash the feet of His disciples? Notice that some might have stepped on the droppings of horses and donkeys, and now they have their smelly on display to the inconvenience of all who sat at the table. But after the teacher washed their feet, cleaning all the scum, they breathed better and were now able to enjoy their meal. This is the kind of leadership we must demand from leaders at every level in our country; leaders who will recognize their role as those who serve.

Interestingly, if you look at the etymology of the word ‘minister’ according to Wikipedia, this is what you find: “The term minister comes from Middle English, deriving from the Old French word ministre, originally minister in Latin, meaning “servant, attendant”, which itself was derived from the word ‘minus’ meaning ‘less’.” A simple reading of the entry on Wikipedia reveals  that our leaders have been chosen from among us, yet they are not above. No one in any political office today was coaxed to run for political office. No. They all ran for elective positions of their own volition for the purpose of service.

Then again, another critical lesson of the feet washing was the idea of making the led comfortable. The people elected into public office have a primary role in creating policies and running the government in such a manner that helps the people in their pursuit of happiness. Even though, the Nigerian Constitution may not have stated expressly like the American Declaration of Independence, the government has a duty of creating an enabling environment where citizens can thrive and pursue happiness on their own terms void of any forms of threats and intimidation.

When you compare this maxim and the behavior of the current crop of leaders in the country, you begin to wonder if the ordinary Nigerians are peasants in a conquered territory. Currently, the country has a health sector that is dying due to inadequate budgetary allocations for hospitals, universities, and medical research institutions. Even something as small as the hostels where medical students are housed, while they learn are in utter disrepair across the country. In some cases, whatever small budget allocation is made for the sector is first padded by members of the National Assembly, and most of whatever comes out eventually are then stolen by people in the ministry. As if that was not enough, doctors are poorly remunerated, and resident doctors are owed for months, yet a Senator has the temerity to sponsor a bill that is designed to stop doctors trained in the country from leaving for five years after the completion of their training.

What about security? Those who were elected to serve us are busy creating religious and ethnic tensions capable of sinking the country into a civil war with many actors. These men run to Abuja to squander the resources of the states and local government areas while their people are being killed like chickens. Others spend their time on foreign trips, visiting their children in foreign universities where in some cases some Nigerians are also part of the faculty in such universities. Yet, they have everything it takes to put the institutions in their various states on a favorable global ranking. But they are uninterested. Come May 29, 2023, Nigerians must demand from elected officials the kind of government they want to see. No one should say elections are over; therefore we must go to sleep. No. Nigerians must remind elected officials that the office of the citizen is the highest office in the land, and theirs is to serve. Politicians must be reminded that when they asked for our votes, they were like civil servants when they were seeking government jobs. In essence, they begged to apply; and now that they have been hired, they must know that they exist only for the comfort and well-being of the people.

The citizens  also have  a major role to play if a new Nigeria must emerge from the ashes of the recent contentious elections. The citizen must not be like the disciples who waited for their master, who they call LORD to wash their feet when in actuality, they could have washed their feet by themselves or washed one another’s feet. Just imagine what could happen if we come down our high horses to serve those around us. Just imagine what a country we could build.

By: Raphael Pepple

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Opinion

The Girl Who Didn’t Dance 

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Quote:”
This piece is, primarily, the story of the girl who refused to dance during my first public performance as a pop musician. The event was the birthday party of Okechukwu Ogbowu at the residence of Chief Moses Nma Ogbowu at Omoku in February 1968. Secondarily, it is the story of a group of Ogba/Egbema youths who the chiefs considered rebellious and should, therefore, be watched very carefully.  These two anecdotes are woven together by the story of my foray into music as a career in my youth. In 1958, I went on holidays to the home of my uncle Eze JNA Nwachuku at Ahoada. There, I heard a very strange music that tickled my preteen fancy to the point I started singing it using words I made up; I was eight. Back to Alinso Okeanu (Beach) after the holidays, the kids in the cosmopolitan community were wowed by my air and swag while singing the very strange song.
Years later, I learned the real words of the jazz classic “Hit the Road Jack” by Ray Charles. At fifteen, I was arraigned before a juvenile court in Omoku for singing a love song that contained the word “kiss” to the princess of Ogbaland at Ahia Orie market square; though discharged and acquitted, I was bound over to be of good behavior for six months. At sixteen, I got de-robed from the choir of St. Michael’s Church, Omoku for buying a guitar and audaciously changing my name from Enoch. At seventeen, I had my debut at Okechukwu’s birthday party where the girl, who is the primary focus of this piece, did not dance.  During the party. I performed three songs: (1) “All My Loving” by The Beatles, which was the song that took me to the juvenile court, (2) “Midnight Hour” by Wilson “Wicked” Pickett and (3) “Please Don’t Tease” by Cliff Richard.
These songs are laden with amorous innuendos and have the words “kiss” and “love”, which were considered sacrilegious in those days. The veiled explicitness of Wicked Pickett’s lyricism didn’t help matters either; it added to the excitement, which became more palpable and the connection between crowd and artiste grew more profound, when Innocent Masi (now Dr. IA Masi mni) placed a five shillings note on my forehead. Everyone at the party virtually summersaulted on the dance floor, which was the interior balcony of Ogbowu’s house, the most beautiful house in Omoku then.  The next day, the chiefs held an emergency meeting at the home of Chief S.O. Masi who was Commissioner of Onitsha Province during the First Republic; that province is now Anambra State. The single item on the agenda was the worrisome activities of the youths.
At the end of the meeting, a chief, whose name and the first book of the Gospels would tango smoothly to the rhythms and rhymes of poetry, threatened to shoot me if he ever saw me near his house with my jita. I perfectly understood his predicament; he had many pretty daughters. Poor fellow, unbeknownst to him, I was yet to know the difference between the birds and the bees.  The next evening, Monday Wokocha (late Professor Addison), Gary Omo-Odi and I dared the chief in a daredevil episode that belongs in another narrative. He shot…in the air. That day, my parents seized my guitar and grounded me. Subsequently, my uncle Nwachuku whisked me off to Port Harcourt. Back to the party; yes, everyone at the party virtually summersaulted except a girl from Obite who didn’t step on the dance floor. She was slim, beautiful and quite tall for girls (even for boys) of that era; so, she stood very elegant.
Beyond the call-response greetings that characterize the socio-culture of the people of Ogba and Egbema, she was almost taciturn; she was shy and rarely spoke except when spoken to. However, she had a smile that lit up the environment as it contrasted with her ebony skin that glowed with the radiance of youth. I think Kamala Harris placed an order for that specific smile from the warehouse of the Divine on her way to this dimension. The girl who didn’t dance was Ngozi Elemele; daughter of Chief Samuel Elemele, a devout Christian, business man and highly patriotic Ogba man from Obite. Ngozi’s refusal (or was it inability?) to dance made us tease her that she has “two left legs” hence she couldn’t move them to the pulsating and compulsive  rhythm of pop music. She just kept on smiling and that was an impregnable armor against our social arrows.
That calmness under relentless peer pressure earned her the moniker “Nwanjinwa” (Girl Nextdoor) amongst us; it contrasted with “Okoronwangbogbo”(prodigal son), which the vicar at St. Michael’s tagged me as he de-robed me from the choir. Those were the heady days of our lives.  In 2024, a social commentator subjected the youths of Ogba/Egbema of that era to a critique. He observed that, irrespective of their youthful exuberance with a dose of mischief, that generation of Ogba/Egbema youths effectively took advantage of the ample educational opportunities provided by government immediately after the civil war. Also, he noted that that party produced four medical doctors, two lawyers, one architect, two general managers of parastatals, two chairmen of local government, three permanent secretaries, one head of service, three professors, and a deputy governor.
Concluding  the analysis, the critic held that while many in the group held more than one position in the categorization, Ngozi Elemele, the girl who didn’t dance, held more top level public positions than the rest. She was Permanent Secretary, Commissioner, became Professor and is now Deputy Governor. Today, the Obite girl who didn’t dance at the party in 1968 is gracefully and elegantly waltzing at the center stage of Rivers State politics as Her Excellency, Prof Mrs. Ngozi Nma Odu DSSRS, the Deputy Governor of Rivers State. Her excellent performance in public office is a product of decades of fierce focus on the future, dedication and devotion to duty, resolute resilience, humility and simplicity; years spent climbing the arduous ladder of mainstream bureaucracy from Grade Level 08 to the apex of the pyramid, serving as Commissioner and thereafter venturing into the intellectually challenging trajectory of academics and also peaking at the apex of professorship and, eventually, clenching the coveted position of Deputy Governor of Rivers State.
  Naturally, I was very delighted and humbled by the honor and privilege of being chairman of the occasion where Akabuka Community honored Her Excellency with a grand reception on October 25, 2025. It was very gratifying that her boss, His Excellency Sir Siminalaye Fubara GSSRS, supportively graced the occasion as Special Guest of Honor, a reflection of humility and simplicity in high profile office, which is uncommon in our society.   Who says focus, determination, drive and hard work do not pay? They did then; they do now and they always will. Are the youths of today listening? “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matthew 11:15).
 Akparikolamo!!!
By: Jason Osai
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Tradition or idolatry? The Debate Over Nhe-Ajoku 

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Quote:“But when it becomes cloaked in mystery and secrecy, it risks breeding fear and abuse. 
In the heart of Ikwerre land, nestled among the green stretches of Rivers State, lies Omerelu  a community steeped in heritage and rhythm. Here, the people gather every two years for the Nhe-Ajoku, the bi-annual New Yam Festival that marks the harvest season, the renewal of gratitude, and the reaffirmation of kinship with the land. Debate It is a time when the yam, known as “the king of crops,” takes centre stage. The festival begins in joy and ends in solemnity, as the community offers thanks to the Almighty for sustenance and peace. At the climax of the celebration comes Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku, a sacred dirge performed only by the initiated. By long-held custom, it forbids the Igbo people  from witnessing it irrespective of how long they have lived among them (Omerelu people) . The dirge, performed in secrecy and deep reverence, closes both the spiritual and physical chapters of the festival.
Yet, as the years pass, questions are rising within Omerelu: what still lies at the heart of this ceremony? Has the spirit of thanksgiving been overshadowed by practices that no longer serve the wellbeing of our people? The call to abandon idle worship that is, the worship of lifeless objects or empty rituals  grows louder. For many, the time has come to separate what uplifts the community from what diminishes it. Tradition, when rightly kept, preserves identity. But when it becomes cloaked in mystery and secrecy, it risks breeding fear and abuse. The dirge that once bound the people in reverence now occasionally divides them by secrecy. To the devout Christian, the festival’s spiritual dimension raises moral questions. Can thanksgiving to God be mixed with homage to carved symbols or ancestral forces? Must reverence be expressed through objects rather than through the heart?
Within Omerelu Community , elders recall that the first purpose of Nhe-Ajoku was gratitude  not idol worship. It was to honour hard work, the soil, and divine providence, not to erect shrines to shadows. But today, the week that should bring peace and brotherhood sometimes ends in conflict, theft, and fear. Livestock disappear. Goats and fowls vanish in the night. Some justify it as ritual entitlement; others call it ‘fast finger’. This is where the red flag must rise. A festival of peace cannot thrive in the smoke of wrongdoing. If Nhe-Ajoku becomes an excuse for moral decay, it loses its sacredness. Let the people of Omerelu remember: a tradition that harms its own people ceases to be culture it becomes bondage. It is not the festival itself that is at fault, but the way it is practised. When men hide behind masquerades to seize property, when youths interpret freedom as license, when the dirge becomes a cover for intimidation, the festival must be re-examined.
This conversation must happen without fear or sentiment. The Ikwerre person is proud, industrious, and deeply spiritual. We need not abandon our heritage to embrace truth. Rather, we must purify it, as gold is refined by fire. To understand where we stand, it helps to look back at FESTAC ’77  the Second World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture, held in Lagos in 1977. It was a grand showcase of African identity, heritage, and pride. For a moment, the black world united under one banner of culture and art. Yet, in hindsight, some critics raised warnings. They argued that Nigeria, in trying to celebrate culture, unconsciously revived old spiritual practices that blurred the line between art and idolatry. A respected cleric once said FESTAC ’77 “handed Nigeria over to idols,” claiming it marked the beginning of the country’s moral confusion.
 Whether one agrees or not, it stands as a cautionary tale: culture without conscience can lead to chaos. So too in Omerelu, Nhe-Ajoku must not become a miniature FESTAC grand in display but hollow in purpose. The harvest must be about life, not lifeless worship. If a festival meant for peace turns into a spree of theft and intimidation, then the red flag flutters over the village square. Our elders must rise to correct this trend. Chiefs, youths, and women leaders must come together to reclaim the true essence of Nhe-Ajoku: thanksgiving, unity, and renewal. The dirge, Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku, should retain its dignity and secrecy for those qualified, but its purpose must be explained clearly to the younger generation. Secrecy without explanation breeds suspicion and rebellion. Instead of exclusion, let there be understanding. Festivals should strengthen bonds, not stretch divisions.
Omerelu must show that tradition and modern faith can coexist, that the people can celebrate harvest without bowing to idols, can sing ancestral songs without losing moral clarity, can dance without looting. We must also redefine the meaning of worship. Worship is not about objects but obedience; not about rituals but righteousness; not about noise but truth. The younger generation watches keenly. If we hand them confusion, they will discard our culture. But if we hand them purpose, they will preserve it proudly. Let every yam harvested remind us that blessings come through toil, not through spirits or symbols. Let the sound of the drum call us to unity, not to indulgence. The red flag has been raised  not to condemn Omerelu, but to caution it. The line between reverence and ruin is thin; we must tread it carefully. If we reform Nhe-Ajoku today, we will hand to our children a festival worthy of pride.
 If we ignore the signs, we risk turning celebration into regret. Let’s celebrate hard work again by ensuring that our yams are from our yams, not Hausa yams. Our chickens and goats should also come from our farms. I , being a bonafide offspring of Nhe-ajoku adherence, know too well that agric (poultry fowl) and Hausa goats were never anywhere near the ‘Ajoku Shrine’, but now, the reverse is the case. The implication? People are no longer interested.However, let this year, and every year henceforth, mark a new beginning: a Nhe-Ajoku of peace, honesty, and gratitude   that honours our Creator. The yam is life, but life must be pure. Let the dirge speak truth again. Let the red flag remind us  when culture forgets conscience, it ceases to be culture. And when the drums of Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku sound again in Omerelu, may they beat not for idols, but for renewal, justice, and peace.
By: King Onunwor
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Opinion

Fubara’s Strategic Masterstroke

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Quote:”What sets this administration apart is not just the volume of projects but their strategic coherence. Each road, bridge, and seaport initiative forms part of an integrated economic master plan that places Rivers State at the heart of Nigeria’s maritime future”
In the evolving narrative of Rivers State’s infrastructural transformation, Governor Siminalayi Fubara is quietly but decisively carving out a new economic roadmap—one anchored on strategic connectivity, blue economy exploration, and sustainable development. His recent inspection of the 13.5-kilometre Oyorokoto Road in Andoni and the visionary Trans-Kalabari Road project underline a bold ambition: to reposition Rivers State as the economic gateway of the Niger Delta and a key player in Nigeria’s emerging maritime economy. The Oyorokoto Road, slated for completion and commissioning in March 2026, is not just a transport corridor. It is the spine of what promises to be a thriving coastal economy. Stretching from Andoni’s popular Oyorokoto Beach to the newly discovered Atlantic beachfront, the project embodies the governor’s vision of turning Rivers State’s natural endowments into engines of growth. The road’s design is strategic—it connects land to sea, trade to tourism, and communities to opportunity.
Governor Fubara’s decision to extend the road beyond the initial Oyorokoto Beach destination speaks volumes about his forward-thinking approach. Upon discovering an expansive Atlantic beachfront with immense tourism and marine potential, the governor ordered the extension of the project—transforming it into what he aptly called “the pathway to the blue economy.” This statement encapsulates a shift in governance philosophy: from mere infrastructure delivery to economic diversification and sustainability. The blue economy, which encompasses maritime transport, fisheries, coastal tourism, and renewable energy, offers Rivers State a new frontier for wealth creation. With Oyorokoto’s proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, deep-sea exploration, aquaculture, and ocean-based tourism can thrive. Governor Fubara’s plan to develop activities around the seafront—hospitality, logistics, and marine services—will not only attract investors but also create jobs for local communities long isolated by geography and neglect.
The significance of the Oyorokoto project also lies in its symbolism. It signals a shift from oil-dependent infrastructure to climate-conscious development. The governor’s insistence on conquering difficult terrains to connect Andoni’s coastal communities underscores his administration’s commitment to inclusion and balanced growth. For decades, these communities have watched from the margins as the mainland prospered. Now, they are being woven into the state’s economic fabric. But the true genius of Fubara’s strategy emerges when viewed alongside the Trans-Kalabari Road project, a monumental undertaking designed to link several island communities in the Kalabari axis to the mainland. The first phase, which terminates at Bakana, is already being celebrated as a historic project with transformative economic implications. Beyond mere connectivity, Bakana’s deep-sea potential positions it as a future hub for maritime trade, shipbuilding, and logistics—key pillars of the blue economy.
By aligning the Trans-Kalabari and Oyorokoto projects, Governor Fubara is weaving a coastal development network that will fundamentally alter the geography of commerce in Rivers State. Once completed, these roads will not only ease movement but open up access to virgin coastlines, attract tourism, and stimulate private investment. In essence, Fubara is building corridors of prosperity across the state’s most difficult terrains. The governor’s unannounced stop at the Kalaibiama-Epellema Road in Opobo/Nkoro Local Government Area further underscores his personal commitment to follow-through. His inspection of the piling work at the Epellema bridge site reveals a hands-on leader determined to ensure that no project lingers on paper. In a region where infrastructure is often hindered by terrain and politics, Fubara’s approach reflects courage and vision in equal measure.
What sets this administration apart is not just the volume of projects but their strategic coherence. Each road, bridge, and seaport initiative forms part of an integrated economic master plan that places Rivers State at the heart of Nigeria’s maritime future. The synergy between the Trans-Kalabari and Oyorokoto corridors will create a seamless coastal belt that can support tourism, fisheries, and inter-island commerce—stimulating both rural and urban economies. Governor Fubara’s economic strategy is also deeply political in the most constructive sense. By investing heavily in long-neglected coastal communities, he is rebuilding trust in government and expanding the social contract. He understands that prosperity must be inclusive, and that true development is not measured merely in kilometers of asphalt but in livelihoods transformed. Critics may view these projects as ambitious, but ambition is the currency of progress.
Fubara’s determination to beat the terrain and deliver projects on schedule is a lesson in leadership under constraint. In the face of financial and environmental challenges, he is proving that development can be both visionary and pragmatic. The broader implication of these infrastructural moves is clear: Rivers State is transitioning from an oil-dependent economy to a diversified, ocean-driven one. The integration of deep-sea potential at Bakana, tourism assets at Oyorokoto, and bridge connectivity at Epellema points toward a strategic blueprint that could redefine the Niger Delta’s development model. As March 2026 draws closer, the Oyorokoto Road will stand not merely as a physical link between Andoni’s communities and the Atlantic but as a symbol of a government that sees beyond the present. It will represent a bridge to new possibilities—economic, social, and environmental.
In the final analysis, Governor Siminalayi Fubara’s economic masterstroke lies in his ability to turn geography into destiny. By connecting land to sea and people to prosperity, he is charting a course that could make Rivers State not just the treasure base of the nation, but the anchor of Nigeria’s blue economy in the 21st century.
 Ibim is a seasoned Journalist, political analyst and public affairs commentator.
By: Amieye-ofori Ibim
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