Amid the melee of Edo’s political theatre, Betsy Obaseki, with a tongue sharp as a winter wind, sought to chill the resolve of All Progressives Congress (APC)’s gubernatorial candidate, Monday Okpebholo, by questioning the warmth of his hearth, the absence of a wife by his side. But in the shadows, where resentment festers like untended wounds, Adams Oshiomhole, the elder lion of Edo’s savannah, roared back with a fury that scorched the earth beneath them both. His words, heavy as stones and twice as cold, questioned not just her words, but her very womanhood, leaving the air thick with the scent of bitter harvest.....CONTINUE READING THE ARTICLE FROM THE SOURCE
When Betsy, wife of the incumbent Edo Governor, Godwin Obaseki, dared to scorn the APC gubernatorial candidate Okpebholo for his lack of a spouse, she may not have foreseen the tempest that would follow. But like a thunderclap from the heavens, her husband’s predecessor, Oshiomhole, retaliated with a sharpness that left the air trembling.
His response, as cutting as a blade honed by years of political combat, questioned the very essence of Betsy’s womanhood, casting aspersions on her childless state. And thus, a campaign that could have stood as a testament to the future of Edo, has been mired in a cesspool of bitterness, where dignity drowns in the wake of misplaced words.
The Irreversible Descent of Words
Betsy Obaseki, in her bid to undercut the candidacy of Monday Okpebholo, chose to venture into a territory where even angels fear to tread. She aimed not at his policies, his vision for Edo, or his capacity to govern, but at the absence of a wife by his side. In doing so, she unwittingly unlocked a Pandora’s box, releasing not just criticism, but an unbridled attack on her personal life. For when the former governor Oshiomhole responded, it was with a searing indictment of her marriage, a brutal reminder that in the absence of children, she too stood vulnerable to judgment.
Oshiomhole’s words were not those of a seasoned politician, but of a man embittered by the slights of those he once called allies. He thrust forward a dagger of rhetoric, asking how a woman without children could dare to comment on another’s marital status. His insinuation, that she and her husband lacked the capacity to love children, cut deeper than any political critique. It was not just a rebuttal; it was a public flogging, a stripping away of dignity in the court of public opinion.
The Boundaries Broken, The Elders Fallen
The tragedy here is not merely in the exchange itself but in what it signifies. The fall of dignity, the abandonment of decorum by those who should know better, leaves a sour taste in the mouth of the electorate. These are elders, statesmen, and women who have walked the corridors of power, who have seen the rise and fall of many campaigns, yet they have chosen to engage in the basest form of politicking—personal attacks.
One thing about going personal in political campaigns is that you cannot control it. Once you descend into the personal, it spirals, uncontrollable, uncontainable, spilling into realms where politics should never tread. It becomes a wildfire, raging through the underbrush of civility, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Oshiomhole, in going below the belt, has opened the floodgates, allowing the discourse to sink to levels where no argument is off-limits, where nothing is sacred.
The Poisonous Fruits of a Bitter Harvest
The ramifications of such conduct are manifold. For Oshiomhole, the veteran politician who has seen both victory and defeat, this moment marks a departure from the sage-like presence he once carried. His words, dripping with venom, betray a bitterness that corrodes the very foundation of his statesmanship. It is a reminder that no matter how seasoned, a politician’s legacy can be tarnished in a single utterance, in a single lapse of judgment.
For Betsy Obaseki, this is a cautionary tale. Had she stayed her course, focusing on the issues that matter—the welfare of the people, the policies that will shape Edo’s future—she might have been spared this public humiliation. Instead, she chose to strike at the manhood of a candidate, and in doing so, invited scrutiny into the most private aspects of her own life. The battlefield she chose was one where no one emerges unscathed, where the very act of engagement leads to self-inflicted wounds.
A Call for Return to Decorum
In the broader scheme, this exchange highlights the dangerous trend of personal attacks in Nigerian politics, a trend that does nothing to advance the cause of the electorate. When leaders, presumed to be learned and sophisticated, resort to such base tactics, they diminish not only themselves but the very office they seek to serve. The electorate is left disillusioned, caught in the crossfire of egos and insecurities, rather than being uplifted by visions of progress and prosperity.
There is a lesson here, one that the elders of Edo and beyond would do well to heed: the power of words is immense, but so too is the responsibility that comes with wielding them. To rise above the fray, to focus on the issues that truly matter, is not just a matter of political strategy—it is a matter of integrity, of maintaining the dignity of the office they seek to uphold.
Unseen Bruises of a Tarnished Campaign
As the echoes of this exchange reverberate through the streets of Edo, one thing remains clear: the wounds inflicted by words are often the hardest to heal. The bitterness sown in this campaign will linger, casting a shadow over the very election it seeks to influence. And while the electorate watches, hoping for a return to civility, they are instead left with the bruises of a battle that should never have been fought. In the end, the real victims are not the politicians, but the people of Edo, who deserve better from those who would seek to lead them.
