At fifty years old, a child should be standing firm—walking with confidence, building a future, and carrying responsibility. But what do we say of a child at fifty who refuses to stand? One who crawls helplessly, then collapses, unable even to crawl again—legless, directionless, abandoned?
This, sadly, is the story of Imo State at 50.
What exactly are we celebrating?
Is it mere existence, or meaningful living?
Imo State is one of the most blessed states in Nigeria. Endowed with rich mineral resources—oil, gas, and others—gifted with breathtaking natural landscapes suitable for tourism, and strategically positioned to the extent that the British colonial government found it worthy enough to establish commercial activities and construct a seaport. By all standards, Imo should be a model of development and prosperity.
Yet today, the state lies bruised and broken.
The tragedy of Imo State is not a lack of resources, but a surplus of bad leadership. Leadership that came not to serve, but to steal; not to build, but to destroy. Leadership that raped the beauty of the state and left it bleeding.
The only periods many can genuinely point to as moments of purposeful governance were under His Excellency, Sam Mbakwe, and His Excellency, Evan Enwerem—leaders remembered for service, vision, and commitment to the people. Sadly, most of the leaders who came through democratic processes after them have been nothing more than political scavengers, feeding off the state while leaving its bones bare.
At fifty years, rural communities still resemble dunghills. Access to clean water remains a luxury, with citizens still begging for boreholes. Electricity is not a right but a recurring campaign promise. Nearly 80 percent of the roads have become death traps, claiming vehicles, livelihoods, and lives.
Healthcare is fragile. Education struggles. Youths are frustrated. Hope is thinning.
So again, what are we celebrating?
A state that exists only on paper?
A government that survives while its people suffer?
A golden land trapped in the hands of those who see leadership as a feeding trough?
Anniversaries are meant for reflection, not empty fanfare. At fifty, Imo State should be evaluating its failures honestly, demanding accountability fiercely, and charting a bold new course—not clinking glasses over ruins.
Until leadership is redefined as service, until public office is treated as responsibility, and until the people refuse to reward failure with applause, Imo State will remain what it is today:
Old enough to walk, yet still crawling.
Prince Maduba Chukwudi Francis
OluImo.
Oluimo.com.ng.
Apostle of Truth
