The Underdevelopment Of Ijebu-Jesa, My Native Nazareth (1) -By Abiodun Komolafe

I am an angry Nigerian! I am angry because Ijebu-Jesa, my hometown, is a town where the past and present intersect in a complex blend of tradition and modernity. The headquarters of Oriade Local Government in Osun State seems to be struggling to find its footing, and it is as if my Native Nazareth is stuck in a time warp where progress and stagnation coexist in an uneasy balance.

The concept of ‘home’ in Ijebu-Jesa is a complex one. It’s a place of belonging, but also a site of struggle. The rich cultural heritage is still palpable, but the lack of development is a harsh reality. It’s a treasure trove of traditions and customs, but it’s also a reminder of the challenges of preserving the past while embracing the future. Perhaps, it’s time for the people to take matters into their own hands and demand real change.

Ijebu-Jesa is another symptom of underdevelopment. Go to the city centre, famously known as ‘Inu Oja’, remove the ‘Iroko Oja’ that was removed in 1974 and you’ll have no cause not to support my position. The Central Mosque of that time remains where it was, almost becoming something else, and the narrow road, said to have been tarred, also remains practically impassable.

One major issue is the lack of infrastructure investment in my Native Nazareth. Roads, constant power and water supply remain elusive, making life a daily struggle for residents. Agricultural development, despite my hometown’s fertile land, seems to take a backseat, with little support for farmers. Healthcare and education facilities are subpar, leaving residents to fend for themselves.

Ijebu-Jesa has one healthcare centre, formerly known as Dispensary while the General Hospital, the state-owned healthcare initiative, is nothing to write home about. There is one commercial bank, and one community bank. There are only two secondary schools, Ijebu-Jesa Grammar School, IJGS, (established on January 18, 1955) and Urban Day Grammar School (founded on September 11, 1978) catering for the public secondary education needs of the whole town.

The then Divisional Teacher Training College (DTTC), once the pride of Ijebu-Jesa, has fallen far from its former glory. But for the efforts of the late Kanmi Alo, who founded Interlink Polytechnic, my hometown would have lacked a tertiary institution. There’s also a ‘mini stadium’, but its condition is laughable. To add insult to injury, the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) proudly asserts that my Native Nazareth, with over 180,000 residents, deserves only one ward, a claim that defies logic.

The politics of Ijebu-Jesa is a never-ending cycle of promises and disappointments. It is based, not on ideology but on cultural hegemony. It is designed to perpetuate mediocrity and maintain the status quo. The politicians come and go, promising change, but delivering nothing but empty rhetoric. Leaders emerge, touting grandiose plans, but ultimately, it’s all just hot air. After they might have used us to get what they want, they turn around to use us to get us! As a result, the people suffer, the town stagnates, and the politicians reap the benefits. Are we surprised that there’s no focus on development?

“Omo ńlá ló wà, kò sí ìlú ńlá” (We have great children but no great town). I vividly recall the outpouring of support when Messrs S.A. Fatiregun and D.B. Aloba, two of the founding fathers of the Ijebu-Jesa Union Conference (IJUC), died in the 1980s. As a student at IJGS, I was among those who lined the streets to bid farewell to these community leaders. Fast-forward to 2025, an era of social media and artificial intelligence, and it’s striking how few can recall the name of the current IJUC Global President. It is a reflection of how far development has fallen in my hometown.

The Osun State Government’s contribution to Ijebu-Jesa’s development seems to follow a familiar pattern. For instance, promises of change made by the current administration remain unfulfilled, and the cycle of under-development continues. Tokenistic development initiatives, characterized by flashy announcements but little tangible impact, only add to the frustration.

For some of us, our love for Ijebu-Jesa knows no bounds. As a matter of fact, some of us wouldn’t have left home in search of greener pastures elsewhere if only there were jobs to anchor our dreams. Now, with ‘orí adé kìí sùn’ta’ (the crowned head never sleeps outside) echoing in our minds, we’re definitely drawn back home.

Our children also love their hometown. They are educated and just as capable, if not more than others in other places. Unfortunately, they are unemployed and they are not getting any younger. What steps are we taking to stem this tide?

Again, this is where the Igbo community’s town unions have set a remarkable example. Since the 1930s, they’ve made significant strides, leveraging collective efforts to raise long-term capital and drive development. Their ability to work together and support their people is truly commendable. What have we learnt from their approach? Specifically, what cooperative frameworks do town unions in Ijebu-Jesa have in place to drive progress and support our community?

Look at the Igbo economy; they’re dominant in many sectors. But honestly, the Yoruba community has struggled to achieve similar success, and it’s a missed opportunity. We played ludo with the Cooperative Bank and the bank died a ‘Soludo’ death, with no concrete plans in place to allow any conceived offspring to see the light of day. Look around you, and you’ll be surprised that Igbos own most of the houses in the South-West Region.

The sad reality is that my hometown’s development is a patchwork quilt, with Oba Olufemi Agunsoye’s solo efforts stitching together the few modern amenities we see today – from the Federal Road Safety Commission (FRSC) building, to the ultramodern palace (still a work in progress). It’s even telling that over 50% of the palace’s development bears His Royal Majesty’s imprimatur. This speaks to individual brilliance, perhaps, but also a scathing indictment of our collective apathy.

Kudos to pioneers like Rotimi Obeisun, who defied the odds to nurture growth in my beloved hometown. Maybe one or two others! But truth be told, their efforts seem like a lone trumpet in a forest of silence. If other visionary Egboroans had joined this worthy crusade, perhaps Ijebu-Jesa wouldn’t be languishing, almost five decades after the District Council was transformed into a Local Government headquarters.

Like many other communities, Ijebu-Jesa harbours “bad critics who don’t speak on realistic issues”. This reportedly had a lasting impact on Gabriel Onibonoje, who was told an unexpected story that left a mark. He never returned to my hometown until his passing two years ago. Oba Oladele Olasore, the late Ajagbusi Ekun of Iloko-Ijesa, met a similar fate, never looking in the direction of my beloved hometown until his demise.

On a day like this, I remember the late Ajayi Ige, who, despite not being wealthy, sacrificed everything he had for Ijebu-Jesa. He selflessly helped everyone who came his way. What did my hometown do to honour him while he was alive, and what’s it doing to honour his memory as a way of encouraging others?

For God’s sake, where are the sons and daughters of my Native Nazareth in those high places and what are they doing to change the lyrics of the song? It’s even being said in some quarters that Aishat Alubankudi, the Programme Manager for the Grant for Vulnerable Groups under the Federal Ministry of Humanitarian Affairs, Disaster Management, and Social Development, has her roots in the famous Alubankudi family of Ijebu-Jesa. If this is true, then it’s doubtful if she’s been giving back to her hometown in terms of her political tithes. If she has, she definitely needs to up the ante.

• To be concluded.

*KOMOLAFE wrote in from Ijebu-Jesa, Osun State, Nigeria (ijebujesa@yahoo.co.uk; 08033614419 – SMS only)