Reading Ejiro Idama's recent piece in Vanguard felt like watching a skilled entertainer masquerade as an accountant. The wit was sharp, but the numbers didn't add up.
Idama asked: "How did Sheriff happen to Delta?" The real question deserves asking back: when did satire replace evidence in journalism?
Political criticism isn't the problem. Democracy needs it.
But criticism should at least acknowledge facts before chasing imagination into the sunset.
A doctor who ignored blood pressure readings, lab results and ECG scans—and instead diagnosed patients by hat shape—would face malpractice charges. Why should journalism operate differently?
Governor Sheriff Oborevwori didn't "happen" to Delta. Voters elected him in one of the state's most fiercely contested gubernatorial races.
Courts scrutinised his victory intensely before, during and after the election. The people chose him deliberately, not chance.
Three years into his tenure, the evidence of work speaks plainly, even if it lacks poetic flourish. Roads have been finished and opened across all three senatorial districts.
Hundreds of contracts—for roads, bridges, schools, hospitals, drainage systems and public works—have been awarded and completed. According to the governor, projects valued over N654.5 billion were delivered in 2025 without fresh borrowing, while maintaining financial discipline and improving procurement standards.
That statistic sits uncomfortably with anyone who prefers building arguments from sarcasm instead of substance.
Workers still collect salaries. Pension payments happen more reliably than in many other states.
Contractors get paid. Industrial peace has held steady.
Students receive bursary grants. Healthcare and education infrastructure keeps expanding.
These achievements won't trend on social media, but they matter far more—they're what governance actually means.
Idama seems frustrated that Oborevwori governs without theatrical spectacle. Perhaps that's exactly the point.
Some leaders call press conferences to announce they're thinking about problems. Oborevwori solves them quietly before critics finish sharpening their language.
The governor belongs to a rare political breed: the doer. He prioritises tarring roads over chasing trends.
He cares more about hospitals than hashtags. Asphalt interests him far more than applause.
That may disappoint columnists hunting for drama. But it delivers results.
Idama's piece tried repeatedly to reduce the MORE Agenda to mere slogans. Yet every serious development programme begins with words before becoming roads, schools, bridges, hospitals and jobs.
Scripture itself opens with: "In the beginning was the Word." The crucial question follows: did the Word become flesh?
In Delta, increasingly it has.
The deepest irony in Idama's essay lies here: while mocking repetition, he repeats opposition commentary's oldest error—confusing noise with accomplishment. Government succeeds or fails not by how loudly leaders speak, but by whether citizens drive safely home when rain falls.
It's measured by whether hospitals have functioning equipment. Whether classrooms have desks.
Whether contractors finish work on schedule. Whether pensions arrive on time.
These questions don't produce viral content. But they produce lives actually improved.
