The Silent Struggle of Akoko-Edo: “A People Still Waiting to Be Seen and Heard ”

PART TWO

BY Dr. Obamesoh Afede Omokudu

Beyond statistics and policy debates, the story of Akoko-Edo is, at its core, a human story—one that mirrors the quiet suffering of many forgotten communities across Nigeria. It is the story of parents who rise before dawn to farm land rich in promise but poor in support; of children who walk long distances to schools lacking basic facilities; of elders who remember a time when hope for inclusion felt closer than it does today. These are not abstract grievances. They are lived realities that shape daily existence.

For many Akoko-Edo indigenes, the pain is sharpened by a sense of loyalty unreciprocated. Election after election, the people have participated faithfully in Nigeria’s democratic process, turning out to vote, mobilizing support, and aligning with broader political movements in Edo State. Yet, that loyalty has rarely translated into lasting political leverage or transformative development. This imbalance has bred a quiet question whispered in homes and community meetings: What must we do differently to be treated as equal citizens?

There is also a psychological cost to prolonged neglect. When communities repeatedly watch major projects bypass them, when appointments and opportunities consistently favor others, a dangerous narrative can take root—that some lives matter less than others. This feeling of being “peripheral” within one’s own state erodes trust, not only in government, but in the very idea of national belonging. Nigerians should recognize this feeling, because it is the same sentiment that fuels unrest and alienation in many parts of the country.

Akoko-Edo’s geographical position compounds its vulnerability. As a border region, it should naturally command heightened attention in matters of security and infrastructure. Instead, its people often feel exposed and unprotected. Farmers abandon fertile lands out of fear. Travelers move with anxiety. Entire communities adjust their lives around insecurity. Yet, their resilience remains remarkable. In spite of hardship, Akoko-Edo continues to contribute food, culture, and human capital to Edo State and Nigeria at large.

What makes this struggle especially poignant is the contrast between potential and reality. Akoko-Edo is not asking for charity; it is asking for fairness. With its vast landmass, mineral wealth, and industrious population, the area could easily become a hub of agro-processing, mining-based industries, and cross-state commerce. Proper roads, credible investment, functional schools, and inclusive governance would not only uplift Akoko-Edo but strengthen Edo North and Nigeria’s economy as a whole.

This is why Nigerians everywhere should care. Marginalization anywhere weakens democracy everywhere. When one community is consistently left behind, it sets a precedent that others may eventually face the same fate. Akoko-Edo’s experience is a reminder that democracy must be measured not by speeches and elections alone, but by how evenly hope and opportunity are distributed.

The call, therefore, is not confrontational—it is moral. It is a call to Edo State leaders, past and present, to consciously rewrite the narrative. It is a call to political parties to see Akoko-Edo not just as a voting bloc, but as a partner worthy of leadership trust. It is a call to civil society, the media, and ordinary Nigerians to listen more closely when marginalized communities speak softly but persistently.

Akoko-Edo does not seek dominance over others. It seeks dignity. It seeks recognition. It seeks a fair chance to contribute meaningfully to the Edo State and Nigeria that it has never stopped believing in. Until that happens, the silence surrounding its struggle will remain an uncomfortable reminder that democracy, when unevenly felt, is democracy still unfinished.

The people of Akoko-Edo are not asking to be favored—only to be seen, heard, and treated as equals in the Nigerian story.

Watch Out For Part Three…