By Christopher Sunday, Kogi State Polytechnic, Lokoja. Omaalake@gmail.com.
As a son of the Igala Kingdom, and with a deep sense of pride in our heritage, I write this article not out of anger but out of a deep concern for the future of our people. In recent years, we have witnessed an alarming trend—our once unified voice has become fragmented, and our struggles, rather than fostering collective strength, have been displayed on platforms where we seem to have forgotten the core values that once held us together. Social media, which could have served as a tool for unification and progress, has instead amplified our divisions. This article is a call to action for us to rethink our approach and rediscover the unity and vision that can propel the Igala people forward.
The Igala Kingdom once stood as a pillar of unity, cultural dignity, and political relevance. But in recent years, particularly after the untimely demise of Prince Abubakar Audu, a gradual unraveling has taken place—one marked not by external invasion, but by internal disconnection. What was once a coordinated voice has now become a scattered echo, and nowhere is this more evident than in the digital realm of social media.
We now live in an age where the frustrations of a people are broadcast rather than addressed. What ought to be strategic dialogue has been reduced to blame games. Every grievance becomes a post. Every disagreement, a thread. And every anger, a performance.
Social media, in its raw power, should have become a tool for organizing, informing, and enlightening. Instead, for the Igala people, it is quickly becoming a mirror of our divisions, a stage for airing what should be settled in wisdom circles, and a platform where our cultural fabric is increasingly shredded thread by thread.
One cannot overlook the role of the elders in this collapse. Traditionally, elders were the custodians of wisdom, the silent warriors of peace, and the quiet architects of strategic engagement. But today, many of our respected elders appear politically fatigued, morally distracted, or individually compromised. Rather than being the rallying point for progress, they now seek relevance in proximity to power—often at the cost of collective dignity.
The youth, in response, have turned their energy not toward reconstruction, but toward reaction. With no structured platform for mentorship or political grooming, frustration finds its home online—unrefined, unguarded, and often disrespectful. But shouting cannot substitute for strategy. Anger, no matter how sincere, cannot replace organized vision.
We must realize that the path to redemption is not paved by exposing our wounds to the world, but by healing them from within. Disagreement is not weakness; it becomes weakness only when it lacks direction. And leadership is not about age—it is about the courage to listen, the wisdom to act, and the humility to serve.
Now is the time to choose clarity over chaos. If we are truly to reclaim the soul of the Igala nation, we must begin by restoring internal dialogue—between elders and youth, between tradition and innovation, between history and hope.
The future of the Igala people cannot rest in reactionary tweets or viral Facebook posts. It rests in vision, in structure, in discipline, and in the quiet work of rebuilding trust across generations.
As the philosopher Marcus Aurelius once noted, “What stands in the way becomes the way.” Our crisis must become our catalyst. Our disunity must birth a new dialogue. And our losses must summon a new leadership—one that thinks beyond self and acts beyond noise.
Igala will rise again—but not through outbursts. Through order. Through vision. Through redemption.
