By Eshioleh Abu
Senate President Godswill Akpabio finds himself starring in a comedy of his own making. The plot thickens, the stakes rise, and the audience, comprising the entire nation, watches with bated breath as the untouchable “Uncommon
Transformer” scrambles to salvage his reputation from the jaws of scandal. But alas, the strategy employed by his camp is as flimsy as a house of cards in a windstorm, and their moves are more desperate than a gambler betting his last naira on a losing horse.
Enter Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, the new activist of the Senate, armed with a joker card she claims she possesses, that could very well be the political equivalent of a nuclear bomb. Her allegations of sexual harassment against Akpabio have sent shockwaves through the corridors of power, leaving the Senate President scrambling for cover. But instead of facing the music like a man, Akpabio has chosen to hide behind a human shield, his wife, Unoma Akpabio, and a battalion of proxies. It is a move so cowardly that even the most seasoned political analysts are left scratching their heads.
Unoma Akpabio’s sudden emergence onto the battlefield is nothing short of a political Hail Mary. Picture this: a general, instead of leading his troops, sends his wife to the frontlines armed with nothing but a handbag and a megaphone, running to the court with all manner of emotional this and emotional that. Who in their right mind thought this was a stroke of genius? Whoever advised her to make such a laughable move must have been sipping on a cocktail of poor judgment and sheer audacity. If this isn’t a poorly scripted joke designed to scare Natasha away, then that lawyer needs to pack their bags, head back to law school, and beg for a refund. This isn’t strategy; it is a comedy of errors, and the only thing it is achieving is turning Akpabio’s camp into a laughingstock. If this is their idea of a legal masterstroke, then Natasha must be laughing all the way to the the courtroom.
It is a scene so absurd that it could easily be mistaken for satire. But this is no laughing matter. Unoma’s foray into the fray might be a desperate attempt to take attention away from the real issues. She has become the face of a damage control operation that reeks of panic and poor judgment. But let’s be clear: sending Unoma to the battlefront is like using a teacup to bail out a sinking ship. It is not just ineffective; it is downright embarrassing. The optics are terrible. Instead of projecting strength, Akpabio is projecting weakness. Instead of demonstrating accountability, he is demonstrating evasion. And instead of earning sympathy, he is earning ridicule, even as he tries to use his influence to curry public favour. The message is clear: when the going gets tough, Akpabio hides under his wife’s skirt.
While Unoma plays the role of the sacrificial lamb, Akpabio’s proxies are busy spinning a web of wishy-washy nonsense. These hired hands, armed with nothing but half-baked excuses and empty rhetoric, are tasked with the impossible: defending the indefensible. They scurry about like rats in a maze, issuing statements that are as convincing as a Nigerian prince’s email scam. But their efforts are futile. The more they talk, the more they expose the cracks in Akpabio’s crumbling facade.
Natasha has drawn a clear line in the sand, and it is directed squarely at Akpabio’s wife, Unoma: “Stay out of the fight between me and your husband.” With the confidence of someone holding a royal flush, Natasha has declared that she has enough evidence to nail Akpabio to the wall. This bombshell comes just hours after a visibly rattled Unoma announced she had filed legal proceedings, demanding damages for defamation.
But here is the kicker: Unoma didn’t see this counterpunch coming. Natasha’s response was swift, sharp, and loaded with the kind of scandalous ammunition that leaves opponents scrambling for cover. It is almost as if Natasha is saying, “The more you talk, the more I will unload. Keep digging, and I will bury you.” Unoma’s legal move, instead of intimidating Natasha, has only fueled the fire, turning what was already a political inferno into an all-out blaze. The message is clear: Natasha isn’t just playing the game; she is rewriting the rules. And Akpabio’s camp is learning the hard way that when you poke a lioness, you would better be ready for the roar.
And then there are the poor women of Uyo, paraded on TV like pawns in a poorly orchestrated PR stunt. These women, presumably mobilised to vouch for Akpabio’s character, are nothing more than props in a desperate attempt to sway public opinion. But let’s be real: no amount of staged rallies or scripted endorsements can erase the gravity of Natasha’s allegations. If anything, these theatrics only serve to highlight Akpabio’s desperation.
Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan is no ordinary politician. She is a force to be reckoned with, a woman who has proven time and again that she’s not afraid to go toe-to-toe with the political elite. You can ask former Kogi State governor, Yahaya Bello. You can as well ask the White Lion of Kogi why it took him an eternity to show his face before the EFCC? Or better yet, why he chose to pull a disappearing act at the most inconvenient time? While the world scratches its head, wondering what game he was playing, Natasha was quietly orchestrating moves from the shadows, playing the devil’s advocate with the precision of a chess grandmaster.
Her allegations against Akpabio are not just accusations; they are a ticking time bomb. And if she decides to drop her “nuclear bomb,” the fallout could be catastrophic for Akpabio’s career. The Senate President knows this, which is why he is pulling out all the stops to silence her. But here is the thing: you can’t bench a player who is already on the field. Natasha is not just in the game; she is calling the shots. And unless Akpabio comes clean and addresses the allegations head-on, he risks being permanently sidelined.
Now, High Chief Emmanuel O. Uduaghan has stepped into the storm surrounding his wife, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, and Senate President Godswill Akpabio, likening the situation to a tempest threatening to overshadow the truth. He describes his wife as a trusted tree, deeply rooted in integrity and commitment, bearing the fruits of her people’s trust. He said despite his efforts to calm the winds by engaging Akpabio as a mediator would, the storm persists, with his wife enduring relentless gusts of harassment. Uduaghan reaffirms his support for her and urges the Senate and its President to treat her with the dignity she deserves, while allowing the courts to address the underlying issues.
The solution to Akpabio’s predicament is simple, yet it requires something he seems to be in short supply of: courage. He must recuse himself as Senate President to allow for an independent investigation into Natasha’s allegations. This is not just the right thing to do; it is the only thing to do. Continuing to hide behind his wife and proxies will only deepen the crisis and further erode public trust. Akpabio must understand that the days of sweeping scandals under the rug are over. In an era where social media can turn a whisper into a roar, transparency is no longer optional, it is imperative.
If we lived in a society where norms and decency still held sway, Akpabio would have shown some semblance of respect for the high office he occupies. Instead of cowering behind proxies, spin doctors, and his wife’s skirt, he should have stepped forward immediately to address the allegations head-on. After all, it is not just Akpabio the man who stands accused, it is the office of the Senate President that has been dragged into the mud. The allegations suggest a grotesque abuse of power, an attempt to use the weight of his position to coerce and manipulate. The Senate Presidency isn’t some cheap trinket to be toyed with; it is a sacred institution, a symbol of legislative authority and public trust. Yet, Akpabio seems to have forgotten this, treating it as though it were a personal fiefdom rather than a position of service.
The longer he hides, the louder the whispers grow: if the Senate President can’t uphold the dignity of his own office, how can he possibly uphold the dignity of the nation? I do not know how much longer can Akpabio hold on. The Senate President must recognise that his attempts to deflect and deny are only digging him deeper into a hole. The time for games is over. The time for accountability is now. Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan has thrown down the gauntlet, and Akpabio must decide whether to face it head-on or continue hiding under proxies. The choice is his!
