AKWA IBOM 2031 GOVERNORSHIP: MR Perez is Tipped to Win… by Ufok Ibekwe Esq

 

I have said it before that predicting the political future is a fool’s errand. More often than not, the hand that appears first is not the head that eventually wears the crown.

The governorship election of 2031 is still five years away. Yet some political desperados in Akwa Ibom have already taken to the dance floor, dancing themselves lame when the main dance is yet to come. They are sweating over a contest whose starting gun has not been fired, exhausting their political ammunition in a war that exists largely in their imagination. Alliances are being hurriedly assembled, loyalties are being tested, enemies are being manufactured and political territories are being marked out as though the governorship were an inheritance awaiting immediate distribution.

They appear to have forgotten a fundamental truth about politics: the first to arrive at the dance hall is not necessarily the one who gets the crown. Akwa Ibom’s political history has a curious way of disappointing those who mistake early movement for final victory.

There is a fascinating biblical story that captures this political mystery. It is the story of Perez.
In Genesis 38:27–30, Tamar was delivered of twins. As the children struggled in her womb, one stretched out his hand. The midwife, convinced that he would be the firstborn, tied a scarlet thread around it. His name was Zerah. But the hand withdrew. Then, as though impatient with the established order, the other child burst forth. He was named Perez, meaning breakthrough.
The midwife’s exclamation was almost political: “How hast thou broken forth?” The first had announced himself. The second took the precedence.

This is a story Akwa Ibom’s political class should read before becoming intoxicated with the governorship of 2031. It is a warning against mistaking visibility for inevitability, early positioning for an irrevocable claim to power, and apparent precedence for guaranteed succession.

Akwa Ibom is an interesting laboratory of political succession. Its history has repeatedly embarrassed the prophets of political certainty. The most expected candidate has not always become the eventual beneficiary. The most financially equipped has not necessarily prevailed. The anointed heir has sometimes discovered that anointing is not the same thing as electoral coronation.

In 1999, Chris Ekpenyong and other political heavyweights occupied prominent positions in the governorship calculations. Yet Victor Attah emerged through the political permutations that followed the controversial Okadigbo panel and the interventions of the political establishment, including Etiebet. Attah became governor and laid important foundations for modern Akwa Ibom. The man who eventually occupied the throne was not necessarily the man whose arrival appeared most inevitable.

In 2007, the incumbent, Victor Attah, was believed to favour his son-in-law, Udoma Bob Ekarika. It appeared that a succession arrangement had already been scripted. But politics has a peculiar habit of laughing at prepared scripts. Godswill Akpabio emerged from the political turbulence and took the prize. The presumed heir discovered that proximity to the palace does not guarantee possession of the crown.

Then came 2015. Umana Okon Umana, a former Secretary to the State Government, was a formidable contender. Bassey Albert, then Commissioner for Finance, was another heavyweight. Both occupied important positions in the political architecture of the state. Yet Udom Emmanuel, whose professional background was in Zenith Bank and whose political profile was comparatively less prominent, emerged as governor.

In 2023, the script performed another somersault. Several aspirants entertained governorship ambitions and possessed the credentials, structures and political relationships to make credible claims. Yet Umo Eno emerged as the eventual successor to Emmanuel.
Four electoral cycles. Four different political calculations. One recurring lesson: Akwa Ibom does not always surrender its governorship to the candidate who appears first in the succession queue.

But the more troubling spectacle is the premature desperation now gathering around 2031. Five years is a considerable stretch in politics. It is enough time for alliances to collapse, reputations to rise, fortunes to reverse, political loyalties to change and unexpected actors to become consequential.

The Bible offers a fitting description of those who have already exhausted themselves in this premature contest. Ecclesiastes 10:15 declares that the labour of the foolish wearies them. There is a peculiar foolishness in expending enormous energy on a destination whose road has not yet opened. It is the labour of those who confuse agitation with advancement and noise with influence.

There is nothing foolish about preparing for an election five years ahead. Serious aspirants should build relationships, develop policy ideas, cultivate public confidence and demonstrate capacity. But preparation is different from desperation. One is the architecture of possibility; the other is the anxiety of entitlement.

The man who begins dancing before the music starts may only succeed in exhausting himself before the real performance. He may spend five years fighting imaginary enemies, while the eventual beneficiary is quietly building the credibility that political moments reward.

Perez did not need to announce that he was coming. His emergence was the surprise of the story. Zerah had the hand, the scarlet thread and the appearance of precedence. Perez had the breakthrough.

Will 2031 produce another Perez? Nobody knows. It may be one of the familiar names already circulating in political conversations. It may be somebody whose political credentials are still taking shape. It may even be an individual presently outside the theatre of loud ambition.

But Akwa Ibom’s political history counsels humility. The political establishment should resist the temptation to confuse early endorsement with final victory. Aspirants should resist the delusion that money can purchase political inevitability. And the electorate should remember that succession is not a family will to be executed by political executors.

Five years is a long time in politics. Another general election cycle will come and go before 2031. The political landscape may be rearranged in ways that today’s enthusiastic dancers cannot imagine.

The dance has not begun for 2031. The music has not reached its crescendo. Those already dancing themselves lame should conserve some energy.
The scarlet thread is not a certificate of occupancy.
In 2031, somebody may yet withdraw the hand that appeared first and allow another to burst forth.

Perez is not necessarily the person we see coming. That is precisely what makes the story worth watching.