By Hamzat Waris
Nigerian politics is complex, and friendships that surfaced as solid as that between Governor Seyi Makinde of Oyo State and Nyesom Wike, former Governor of Rivers State and current Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, seemed unshakeable. But as we are now witnessing in spectacular fashion, that friendship has collapsed into an ugly political divorce, complete with mudslinging, betrayals, and allegations flying in every direction.
Let me be clear from the start: this is not about hero and villain. It is about two who used each other when it was convenient and are now tearing each other apart because their interests no longer align. And frankly, watching Nigerians take sides in this fight is like watching people argue about which shade of dirt is cleaner.
Makinde built his reputation as the “gentle giant” of Oyo politics, the governor who smiled his way into people’s hearts, rarely raising his voice yet always getting his way. His supporters love to describe him as the embodiment of “still waters run deep”—a man who fought his battles quietly, strategically, and effectively. He was the populist governor, the man of the masses, the one who connected with ordinary people while his opponents made noise. That was the brand, carefully cultivated and jealously guarded.
Wike, on the other hand, never pretended to be gentle. Loud, confrontational, and unapologetically aggressive, he was the political equivalent of a sledgehammer. Their personalities are kind of opposite and yet somehow, they found common ground and became not just allies, but confidants. And that should have been our first warning sign, because in Nigerian politics, when opposites attract, it is never about chemistry, it is about calculation.
Their friendship made perfect political sense when you understand the context. The G5 Governors—Makinde, Wike, Samuel Ortom, Okezie Ikpeazu, and Ifeanyi Ugwuanyi, came together with one clear grievance: they felt disrespected by the PDP establishment. Atiku Abubakar had won the party’s presidential nomination, Iyorchia Ayu remained as National Chairman, and the so-called gentleman’s agreement about power rotation to the South was allegedly being ignored. Wike, who had contested and lost the primary to Atiku, was particularly not okay with it. He felt betrayed, sidelined, and disrespected.
Together, the G5 became a thorn in the PDP’s side, refusing to campaign for Atiku, sabotaging party activities, and throwing their weight behind Bola Ahmed Tinubu of the APC. Their common enemy was the PDP establishment, and their strategy worked brilliantly. Tinubu won the presidency, Atiku lost, and the G5 governors emerged as kingmakers. Makinde won re-election in Oyo State and Wike was rewarded with a ministerial appointment despite his party losing. They had dined together, strategized together, and emerged victorious together. The friendship seemed unshakeable.
But here is where Nigerian politics reveals its true nature. Wike’s appointment as FCT Minister was both a reward and a trap. It elevated him to one of the most powerful positions in the country, but it also placed him in an impossible position: remaining a PDP member while serving under an opposition president. And apparently, according to Makinde’s own testimony, Wike did not see this as a contradiction at all. In a meeting with President Tinubu, Makinde claims Wike openly declared his intention to “hold the PDP down” for the president, essentially pledging to sabotage his own party from within.
Now, Makinde wants us to believe he was shocked by this statement. He describes it as “ridiculous” and fundamentally undemocratic. What changed? You both sabotage your party. The only thing that changed is that Wike’s loyalty to Tinubu began to outweigh his loyalty to Makinde, and that’s when the “gentle” governor discovered his voice.
Suddenly, the quiet man who never spoke too much organized a world press conference. There was an attack and a counterattack came swiftly. Former Ekiti State Governor Ayo Fayose dropped a bombshell allegation that Makinde received ₦50 billion from President Tinubu following the Ibadan explosion incident. Let that number sink in for a moment. Fifty billion naira. That is not pocket change. According to this narrative, Makinde quietly pocketed federal assistance meant for victims, announced a state compensation package of ₦4.5 billion that allegedly was never paid, while dwelling about being sidelined by the federal government.
Makinde has since responded to these allegations, confirming that he received ₦30 billion from the federal government but claiming that ₦20 billion was withheld. This admission is significant because it fundamentally changes the nature of the conversation. We are no longer debating whether money changed hands. Makinde himself confirms it did. The question now becomes: what happened to the ₦30 billion that was received? Where did it go? How was it deployed? And why, if ₦30 billion was received, are victims still claiming they received inadequate or no compensation? The ₦20 billion that Makinde claims was withheld raises its own questions. Why was it withheld? Under what conditions was the full ₦50 billion promised? And if ₦20 billion is still outstanding, why was this not transparently communicated to Oyo residents from the beginning? The lack of transparency around federal assistance and its deployment creates exactly the kind of environment where allegations flourish.
What fascinates me is how this revelation undermines Makinde’s initial positioning. He presented himself as a defender of democracy, a champion of party supremacy, a man standing up for principles against Wike’s treachery. But let’s be honest about what’s really happening here. Makinde isn’t fighting for democracy; he’s fighting for control of the PDP’s machinery ahead of 2027. He isn’t defending principles; he’s defending his political territory. And there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s politics, after all, but let’s not dress it up as some noble crusade. The time bomb was not set an hour after Makinde’s attack, it has been set for a long time. The psychology here is that political allies in Nigeria share everything; secrets, strategies, and skeletons. They know where the bodies are buried because they helped dig the graves. When such partnerships sour, both parties have ammunition, and the question becomes who fires first. In this case, Makinde appears to have fired first by publicly calling out Wike, but Wike’s camp quickly returned fire with allegations designed to destroy Makinde’s carefully cultivated image as a clean, populist leader.
This is the essence of Nigerian political warfare. The Yoruba have a perfect expression for it: “Ìjà l’ọ̀dẹ, tí orin dówe”. When political allies fall out, all the dirty secrets they once protected for each other suddenly become weapons. And that is exactly what we are witnessing now. The ₦50 billion allegation is now partially confirmed by Makinde himself serves a strategic purpose. It undermines his moral authority. How can he credibly criticize others for compromising with the APC if he himself took billions from Tinubu? How can he claim to be fighting for the masses if questions remain about how money meant for explosion victims was deployed? The reality does not need to destroy him politically, it just needs to plant doubt in the public mind.
And that doubt is growing, fueled by questions that Makinde still needs to answer more fully. Where exactly did the ₦30 billion go? How was it spent? Why are some victims claiming they received nothing or inadequate amounts? If the state announced a ₦4.5 billion compensation package, how does that relate to the ₦30 billion received from the federal government? And why, if Makinde is so opposed to Wike’s relationship with Tinubu, did he himself allegedly meet with the president seeking to influence APC’s leadership structure in Oyo State? But here is the difficult truth that Nigerians and more importantly Oyo residents need to accept: everyone in this fight has dirty hands. This is not a battle between good and evil. It’s a battle between politicians fighting over power, with each side trying to convince us that they are the righteous ones while their opponents are corrupt. They’re all politicians doing what politicians do: fighting for their own interests and dressing it up as principle.
The tragedy is that while these political gladiators fight their battles, ordinary Nigerians continue to suffer. Whatever the truth about the ₦30 billion received and the ₦20 billion allegedly withheld, what’s undeniable is that the victims of the Ibadan explosion deserve full transparency about assistance provided and how it was deployed. More revelations are inevitable. This fight is far from over, and as the 2027 elections approach, both camps will continue digging for dirt and weaponizing whatever they find. Makinde’s confirmation that he received ₦30 billion won’t be the end of this story,it’s merely the beginning of a new chapter where accountability and transparency are demanded.
The Makinde-Wike saga perfectly illustrates why Nigerian politics is often described as an exercise “not meant for a noble man.” Even if you enter with good intentions and a clean slate, you will inevitably get stained. And once you are stained, the system forces you to drag others into the mud with you. It’s a race to the bottom dressed up as democratic competition, and we are all supposed to pretend it’s normal.
For those keeping score at home, here’s what we know for certain: Makinde and Wike were allies of convenience who used each other to achieve their goals. When their interests aligned, they were brothers. When their interests diverged, they became enemies. Makinde has confirmed receiving ₦30 billion from the federal government while claiming ₦20 billion was withheld, which raises critical questions about transparency and accountability that deserve answers.
So no, we should not be picking sides in the Makinde-Wike fight. What I will say is this: both of them owe the Nigerian people answers, both of them have benefited from a system that rewards treachery and punishes principle, and both of them represent exactly what’s wrong with Nigerian politics. The fact that we are even having this conversation instead of demanding answers about governance, development, and accountability tells you everything you need to know about how successfully they have distracted us from what really matters.
Hamzat Waris can be reached via Warishamzat61@gmail.com
