Osun: Our Governor Is Not Dancing Well -By Maxwell Ajibola

Dance is an ancient language in the heart of Yorubaland. It is a ritual that encodes history, grace and cultural balance. When a leader steps into the public square, his steps are watched closely. The rhythm of his feet must match the heavy, thumping heart of his people, and his hands must beckon prosperity. If his movements fall out of sync with the gangan (the talking drum), the act becomes an embarrassment. There and then, “ijó àjùmọ̀jọ́ yíò wá da ijó àdánìkanjọ́”; that is, the dance of collective harmony will eventually degenerate into a selfish, isolated solo performance.

As the state prepares for the August 15, 2026, governorship election, Osun stands at a chaotic and confusing crossroads. The political air is thick with tension. Supporters are ditching party colours out of fear, and security forces are racing to stop outbreaks of pre-election violence. In the middle of this, it is clear that our governor is not dancing well. What we see at the state capital no longer answers the needs of the people.

In politics, there are two kinds of performance: empty show and real statecraft. Erving Goffman said social life is a stage where people play roles to manage how they are seen. Trouble starts when a leader mistakes stage play for the hard work of governance. As we are all aware, governance is not for show. It is a sacred contract built on stability, economic progress and survival. When all we get is optics while life gets harder, leadership loses its meaning. In Osun, the show of administration has not shielded the average citizen from harsh economic realities, rising inflation, and growing insecurity. The rhyme is missing, and rhythm is gone.

In this moment, the words of Senator Francis Fadahunsi of Osun East give us a clear measure. Fadahunsi, a retired Customs chief known for saying things plain, has always refused to sugarcoat. His career shows a man who reads the mood of the people.

In a recent interview, Fadahunsi cut through the noise and faulted the incumbent administration. He said the governor has no concrete, workable plan for the good people of Osun. He also said the governor spends too much time chasing Skelewu lyrics everywhere, and that this habit has left the state adrift and destabilised its socioeconomic indicators.

Fadahunsi’s record shows he knows governance needs protective policy and strong institutions, not compliance for the cameras. He stands as the counter-weight in a place full of sycophants. He knows that when a governor spends too much time playing to the gallery and moving to Skelewu beats, the foundations of the state rot. His warning is simple: leadership is measured by stability, trade that lasts, and human security. In those areas, the current administration’s steps have become clumsy.

History is full of rulers who chose vanity over their people. When leaders dance to their own tune while the system collapses, history judges them hard.

In the Holy Book, King Herod Antipas is an example of a leader lost to show. At his birthday, he was so taken by Salome’s dance that he promised her anything, up to half his kingdom. His love for spectacle led to the death of John the Baptist. Herod chose applause over justice. In the same way, when a governor puts optics and street dancing above the economy and safety, he repeats Herod’s error, trading the state’s future for momentary praise.

The same failure shows in the story of Emperor Nero. Popular folklore says Nero fiddled while Rome burned. In the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, he did not lead the firefighting or comfort displaced citizens. He dressed in costume and sang about Troy, using his capital’s ruin as a stage. That is the peak of self-absorbed rule. When a state faces violence in Ikire, Ilobu, and Esa-Oke, and the leadership answers with PR and detached celebrations, it plays the tunes of Nero’s detachment.

A similar break happened in 18th-century France. Queen Marie Antoinette and the court at Versailles lived in a world of fashion, balls and play-acting. They were cut off from the hunger of the French people. The court treated the kingdom’s money crisis as distant noise and kept to its rituals. That gap in trust helped spark the French Revolution. The lesson is clear: when leaders dance in sealed palaces while the people struggle to eat, the social contract breaks.

Senator Fadahunsi has kept saying it: real development cannot be faked, and it cannot be danced into place. A state cannot build a future on PR while its youth are jobless, civil servants are crushed by inflation, and communities fear political thugs.

To change course and restore dignity, we must realign leadership. Osun must turn to competence. The state must choose the All Progressives Congress (APC) and vote Asiwaju Munirudeen Bola Oyebamiji, AMBO, as Governor on August 15.

Oyebamiji is a seasoned corporate banker, two-time Commissioner for Finance, and institutional administrator. He is the opposite of the current show. His record is deliberate statecraft that puts treasury management, investment and infrastructure ahead of street carnivals. Voting APC and AMBO is not just about party loyalty. It is a move to bring governance back to sobriety and deep thought.

To dance well as a leader is to move with the struggles, hopes and fears of the people who gave you power. It means knowing when the music has changed and adjusting your steps.

If Osun is to avoid the path of Herod, Nero and Versailles, leadership must drop empty show. The state needs an administration that trades applause for governance. As the drums for August 15, 2026 beat louder, Osun must look past the choreography, ignore the Skelewu and Kpanlogo distractions, and vote for the steady hand of Asiwaju Munirudeen Bola Oyebamiji to restore our rhythm.

• Mr. Ajibola lives in Osogbo