Walahi. Tallahi.
God should punish Governor Seyi Makinde of Oyo State.
Not tomorrow.
Not metaphorically.
Now. I say this with full chest and exaggerated piety. I even implore the Almighty—Owner of heaven and earth, Chairman of destiny, silent auditor of Nigerian politics—to subcontract the assignment if necessary
. Let Ṣàngó sharpen thunder rhetorically. Let Ògún warm his metaphors. Let Obatala clear his throat. Let Èṣù, the eternal examiner of hypocrisy, take notes.
. Let every symbolic principality that has ever supervised human excess assemble—not to kill the man, God forbid—but to interrogate the audacity of this Omituntun nonsense called governance. Because something has gone terribly wrong when a governor begins to behave as if excuses are illegal.
Yes. This guy has crossed the line. He has refused to respect the sacred Nigerian tradition that nothing must ever really work. He has ignored the covenant that governance must remain a performance art, not a delivery system. He has offended the gods of chaos by paying salaries on time. He has provoked the spirits of disorder by turning slogans into roads, policies into hospitals, and promises into institutions. He has disturbed ancestral expectations by governing quietly, competently, and without begging permission. That, in our political climate, is not reform—it is rebellion.
This rebellion did not start yesterday. From the very beginning, Seyi Makinde was not meant to win. That was the unwritten agreement. He did not emerge from the predictable political aristocracy. He was not presented as a crown prince of godfatherism. He defected into the PDP and many smiled the indulgent smile reserved for men expected to lose with dignity. He was expected to beg for acceptance, negotiate survival endlessly, wobble between factions, and borrow legitimacy like a seasonal loan. He refused. He won—quietly, decisively, and against projections. That single act alone unsettled many political careers built on prediction and gatekeeping.
Yet winning was not his greatest offence. His real crime came after. He refused to scatter the party. He integrated too smoothly. He warmed himself naturally into the PDP hierarchy in Oyo State, studied its internal culture, and immersed himself fully in its ethos and ethics. He accepted the supremacy of the party without drama, without rebellion, without performative arrogance. He did not arrive as a conqueror; he settled in as a stakeholder. In Nigerian politics, this level of calm is suspicious.
He respected elders—but not recklessly. He consulted widely but did not surrender authority. He listened patiently but did not mortgage governance. And this is where the problem truly began. Because in our politics, respect is often expected to mature into permanent entitlement. When respect refuses to become indulgence, long throats develop. Gratitude evaporates. Loyalty thins. Whispering becomes currency. Bad-mouthing becomes vocation. Names are unnecessary; history is not deaf.
Then Makinde crossed the unforgivable line.
He governed.
Instead of transactional politics, he chose systems. Instead of emotional governance, he chose data. Instead of accelerated noise, he chose sustainable development. His Omituntun mantra committed the gravest political sin—it meant exactly what it said.
Before 2019, Oyo State lived with labour unrest, salary anxiety, pension arrears, violent transport union wars, and institutional disorder. Makinde dismantled all of it with almost irritating composure. He fixed salary and pension payments to the 25th of every month—the now notorious GSM Date—and industrial strikes vanished. He paid 13th-month salaries consistently and offended the gods of suffering. He conducted democratic local government elections and restored grassroots governance. He proscribed the violent NURTW and replaced it with the Park Management System, ending decades of motor-park warfare that previous administrations feared to confront. Order returned. Revenue improved. Chaos lost its licence.
But that was not enough.
He moved to roads—the ultimate provocation. Not ceremonial roads. Not press-statement roads. Real economic arteries. He completed the 76.7km Iseyin–Fapote–Ogbomoso Road, the 65km Moniya–Iseyin Road, and the 34.85km Oyo–Iseyin Road, finally linking the food basket of Oke-Ogun to the markets of Ibadan. Inside Ibadan, corridors long surrendered to potholes were rehabilitated—Ring Road, Akala Way, Dugbe, Bodija—under a zero-pothole mandate that embarrassed excuses. Then came the ultimate affront: the Ibadan Circular Road, not as rumour, not as artist’s impression, but as living infrastructure redefining the city’s economic perimeter. The General Gas Flyover ended a generational traffic nightmare that had mocked several governments.
God should punish him for allowing roads to actually lead somewhere.
Education did not escape his stubborn logic. He abolished the ₦3,000 education levy and enrolment surged. He built over 60 model schools, renovated more than 800 classroom blocks, and restored dignity to public education. He secured sole ownership of LAUTECH for Oyo State—once thought impossible—and established the Iseyin Campus. He upgraded Emmanuel Alayande College of Education into a full-fledged University of Education, quietly expanding Oyo State’s academic map.
Healthcare followed the same disobedient pattern. One functional PHC per ward—351 wards. Over 250 already operational, solar-powered and equipped. Ring Road State Hospital and Adeoyo Maternity Hospital were fully renovated, fitted with CT scans and dialysis units. Through the Oyo State Health Insurance Scheme, over 200,000 residents now access surgery and chronic care without selling destiny.
Transportation was reorganised. International-standard bus terminals rose at Ojoo, Challenge, and Iwo Road. Over 100 air-conditioned Omituntun buses replaced indignity with order. The Samuel Ladoke Akintola Airport began its journey toward international status. Tourism woke up. Olunloyo Park transformed. Agodi Gardens breathed again. Igbo-Ora Twin Festival became global. Bowers Tower and Ado-Awaye Suspended Lake regained relevance.
Security improved. Amotekun became organised and equipped. The 615 emergency response system changed crisis management. Over 250km of smart LED streetlights reclaimed the night economy. Crime grew uncomfortable.
Revenue doubled—from about ₦1.8 billion monthly to over ₦4 billion. The Fasola Agribusiness Industrial Hub attracted tens of billions in private investment. Estates emerged—Senator Rasheed Adewolu Ladoja GRA, Lere Adigun Estate, Kolapo Ishola Estate—because planning, access roads, and security finally made sense.
At this point, punishment became urgent.
Because now, quietly and dangerously, a conclusion formed across Oyo State: that Seyi Makinde may well be the best Governor the state has produced so far. Not because he shouted. Not because he insulted opponents. But because things worked.
Nationally, he represented Oyo State within the PDP with discipline and ideological clarity. He stood by party ideals without duplicity. He refused to dance on every table. He refused to trade governance for applause.
In Nigerian politics, this behaviour is intolerable.
So yes—God should punish Makinde.
Punish him for succeeding beyond permission.
Punish him for making excuses irrelevant.
Punish him for exposing how low the bar had been before he arrived.
But history will not cooperate.
History, in its cold honesty, will record this phase not as his trial—but as the evidence of his impact.
if you are not happy
I am in Usi Ekiti come and beat me..
