By Adeniran Oyewale I Thursday, April 16.26
OSOGBO, Osun – In the rough-and-tumble world of Nigerian politics, things don’t just get complicated; they often turn into a complete circus, and they do so with alarming speed. As we gaze toward the August 15, 2026, governorship election in Osun State, one particular, rather unsettling comparison keeps surfacing in the mind: the ‘Strait of Hormuz.’
If one were to judge Osun’s developmental trajectory solely by the endless stream of “trending” social media clips or the flair of public events, one might be easily deceived into believing the state is cruising toward prosperity. However, the reality on the ground tells a much more sobering story: our rural roads are crumbling, our classrooms are dilapidated, and our public health services are in systemic decline.
In the Middle East, the Strait of Hormuz is a narrow, treacherous artery of water where a vast portion of the world’s oil supply must navigate. It is a place of perpetual, high-stakes tension, where a single miscalculation or a stray torpedo could send the global economy into a tailspin. If there is even a ripple of trouble in those waters, the entire world feels the tremor.
Today, Osun State is navigating its own version of that narrow, dangerous passage – what we might call the ‘Strait of Osun.’ Our future, the collective aspirations of our people, feels trapped in a tightening, suffocating bottleneck. This isn’t because we are at the mercy of some uncontrollable, divine force or an external enemy; we are here because the current administration has fundamentally lost its way, prioritizing public spectacle, camera-ready performances, and hollow theatrics over the grueling, unglamorous, and absolutely necessary work of actual governance.
Governor Ademola Nurudeen Jackson Adeleke, who has transitioned into the Accord Party (A) following his tenure with the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), appears to have completely conflated the serious business of governance with the art of entertainment.
If one were to judge Osun’s developmental trajectory solely by the endless stream of “trending” social media clips or the flair of public events, one might be easily deceived into believing the state is cruising toward prosperity. However, the reality on the ground tells a much more sobering story: our rural roads are crumbling, our classrooms are dilapidated, and our public health services are in systemic decline.
Critics have long pointed out that this government manages the state treasury and its administrative duties as if it’s staging a variety show. We have endured a barrage of controversies: from public, embarrassing disagreements over the handling of local government funds to the blatant, documented disregard for judicial pronouncements.
When a leader treats the rule of law as an optional suggestion – a hurdle to be skipped rather than a firm foundation to build upon – it is only a matter of time before the ship of state inevitably hits the jagged rocks. The most dangerous, yet often overlooked, casualty here is the systematic destruction of the professional backbone of our civil service.
By prioritizing blind personal loyalty, performative optics, and public showmanship over institutional merit and hard-won experience, the current administration has fostered a toxic culture where initiative is crushed by the fear of being outshone by the governor’s ego. When our dedicated government workers are reduced to mere props for an aggressive, image-obsessed public relations team, the machinery of our state stops functioning for the people and begins functioning solely to keep the leader in the news cycle.
On the other side of this political divide stands Asiwaju Munirudeen Bola Oyebamiji (AMBO) of the All Progressives Congress (APC). While the present government is busy obsessing over the optics of power, Oyebamiji’s career trajectory speaks to a man who understands that governance is, at its core, an exercise in tedious, diligent and technical competence.
Oyebamiji is a seasoned banker, a man who understands the language of fiscal discipline, and a former Commissioner for Finance here in Osun. Having also led the National Inland Waterways Authority (NIWA), he brings to the table real, documented experience in how capital moves, how robust institutions are constructed, and how to manage the complex, often volatile finances of a state.
An angle that is frequently missed in this debate is his profound capacity for what we might call “institutional memory.” Unlike those who view the governor’s office as a blank slate for vanity projects, Oyebamiji represents a critical bridge to a time when fiscal responsibility was a primary mandate, not a secondary afterthought.
AMBO’s background signals a necessary return to the fundamentals: disciplined debt management, long-term revenue planning, and protecting the essential rights and benefits of our civil servants – the very pillars that have been discarded in the current, desperate push for viral, short-term gratification.
Politically, Oyebamiji seems to grasp that Osun craves stability, not drama. He has been actively engaging young people, urging them to take a leading, active role in voter mobilization. This isn’t just a political tactic; it is an acknowledgment that the future of Osun belongs to its citizens, not to the inflated ego of the man occupying the governor’s chair. While the current government treats our state treasury like a private, slush-fund amusement park, Oyebamiji’s history as a financial expert suggests a return to the fiscal discipline that our local economy so desperately needs to survive.
The 2026 election is not merely a contest of parties; it is the final, decisive test for this state. Voters face a crystal-clear choice: remain stuck in the ‘Strait of Osun’, held hostage by a captain who prefers the fleeting applause of a crowd to the precise navigation of the ship, or pivot toward the open, stable waters of professional, accountable, and steady leadership.
The true tragedy of these past few years is not just that development has ground to a halt; it is that we have been conditioned, almost brainwashed, into accepting noise as progress and stunts as governance. But just like the Strait of Hormuz, if you do not meticulously maintain the passage – if you do not fundamentally respect the laws, the institutions, and the people that keep the vessel afloat – the ship will eventually, inevitably, run aground.
Oyebamiji offers a path back to stability. For a state that has been tossed about by the mercurial, unpredictable moods of its current leadership, this change is not just something to hope for – it is a matter of our survival. As we march toward August, the people of Osun must decide what they value: a captain staring at the horizon planning for the next decade, or one staring at the nearest camera lens.
The path through the ‘Strait of Osun’ is indeed narrow; but with a steady hand, we can steer toward a future defined by hard work, not showmanship. It is time to retire the entertainer and bring back the engineer.
- Oyewale wrote from Osogbo, Osun State.
