Not even Ben Ayade himself believed that the smooth ride he enjoyed during the past eight years could have come to a total halt in this manner – against his own wish. Yet there was absolutely nothing he could conjure in order for him to keep his smooth ride, which seemed like a birthright in the days he reigned supreme. Do we not say often that there’s an end to everything, whether good or bad?
As May 29 approached, I imagined that the former governor, within him, wished he had the power to adjust the calendar by a period of 10 years or possibly keep May 29, 2023 away for forever. But none of these options appeared possible and Ayade was faced with the inevitability of what he dreaded the most: leaving office.
I am not penning this treatise to enumerate the devastating chaos that this former governor brought upon our state by his unprecedented misrule. For doing so would be heartbreaking, especially when one remembers the cataclysmic consequences that these chaos are bound to have on Cross Riverians. Rather, this essay is to remind us and Ayade himself, who may now be struggling to adjust to life away from the usual razzmatazz that comes with power, that the saying that power is transient is real, and that what you do with it whilst you have it defines your legacy and your relationship with those who trusted you with it.
In a democracy, public opinion is treasured and forms a basic part of the democratic process. But for eight years, Mr Ben Ayade led Cross River State with an iron fist. His metamorphosis was quite swift, turning into a dictator almost seamlessly. The former governor intimidated, hounded, arrested and ultimately jailed those who disagreed with his way of governing the state. It was a reign of terror, and I remember several calls from concerned people who persistently begged me to stop writing critical essays against Mr Ayade because he had the knack for arresting people wherever they lived in Nigeria. After which he would drag them to his comfort zone in Calabar for proper persecution. But how could I cage the truth in me because of the fear of a tyrannical governor?
I have used the words “tyrant” and “dictator” on Ayade a number of times whilst he was governor, and this is because it amounts to tyranny when you govern people and then suggest that these people should have no say in how they should be governed. Democracy is not a one-man show as Ayade made it look upon assuming office in 2015. The people who hired you amidst a pool of several other applicants and subsequently trusted you with their finances, properties and other sensitive assets, have a right to call you to order when it becomes clear that your policies are inimical to their wellbeing.
Contrary to this elementary principle of democracy, Mr Ayade ran a one-man show in Cross River State and became widely known as the governor who jails activists, journalists and other citizens with divergent opinions. Yes, Ayade has now left office, but his atrocities and the fundamental human rights he violated whilst in it have been well documented, and it is these unfortunate incidents that must define his legacy.
Many of our people have now admitted to me that they made a costly mistake by electing Mr Ayade, not once but twice. It is a mistake that came with grave consequences after eight ruinous years that witnessed the collapse of education, healthcare, road infrastructures, tourism and several other alarming defects that are now prevalent in the state. But the people at least had the satisfaction of expressing their resentment by massively rejecting his bid to walk into the Senate after eight years of failure. So extreme was the indignation towards Ayade that even after rejecting his senatorial bid, people in his own hometown of Obudu thronged to the streets with green leaves chanting: “Sack Ayade!” “Sack Ayade!” “Sack Ayade!” It must be recalled that it was in this same Obudu that residents chanted: “The eagle has landed” when Ayade visited for his campaigns prior to the 2015 general elections. Eight years later, the same people, men and women, young and old, armed with vuvuzelas, armed with green leaves, stormed the streets of Obudu demanding that he be sacked, just few hours after voting against him in a senatorial election! That tells a lot!
Today, Cross River has a new governor in Bassey Otu, whom we hope makes deliberate efforts to sanitise the state and clean the mess Ayade left behind.
In retrospect, however, I must say that it is a disturbing irony that with the high hopes the people invested in Ayade, he should go down the infamy as the worst governor Cross River has had since 1999. And the governor himself admitted his own failure in a widely circulated video in 2020, shortly after the pandemic, when he said:
“I never knew that four years into office as governor I could still find someone living in a thatched house in Cross River State. I am almost crying because I knew how prepared I was but it didn’t end the way I had dreamed for the state.”
Many of us who criticised Ayade did not do so because we had any hatred for him. We did it because we wanted his administration to succeed in order for the state to prosper. But Ayade would not have it; the man loathed criticisms in a way that you would be tempted to believe he got to power through a coup d’etat. But today, the curtain has fallen, the lights are out, the glamour is gone, and Ayade is left with a tainted reputation as a failed governor. Yet, no amount of PR can erase this reality which stands before us unclad!
Whilst in office as governor, Ayade forgot that nothing is permanent. Even life itself isn’t.
I wish him well in these tough times as he struggles to come to terms with the inevitable loneliness that comes with life after leaving a political office. But if he had done well whilst in that office, he would have found comfort and succour in his good work, knowing that he is truly never alone – the people would always be with him. But no, Ayade lost everything and now he must wander far and wide – all alone. Truly, this olimpotic cruise is finally over.
Elias Ozikpu is an author, essayist and social commentator.