By GbaramatuVoice Editorial Board
June 12 arrives each year with fanfare in the cities. Speeches echo from high podiums, parades flow through capital streets, and powerholders take their turn at praising democracy. But down in the creeks, by the brown waters of the Nun, the Bonny, the Escravos, and the Forcados, there is no celebration. There is only silence. And questions.
What exactly has democracy done for the people of the Niger Delta?
The region that feeds the nation’s economy still drinks from rusted tanks. The region that powers the national grid still lives in darkness. The land that gave Nigeria its place among oil-producing nations is still watching its children cross rivers in canoes just to reach dilapidated classrooms. It is a painful contradiction. And it has lasted too long.
The truth is, the Niger Delta is tired, not just of being exploited but of being divided. From Akwa Ibom to Delta, from Rivers to Cross River, from Bayelsa to Edo, from Abia to Ondo, and Imo, the people share the same story. Crude oil flows beneath their soil, but poverty lives in their homes. Pollution chokes their rivers, but silence greets their cries. Each state fights its own battles, each tribe demands its own share, and while the region fragments, others decide its fate.
How did we get here?
Part of the answer lies in the failure of leadership—both external and internal. For decades, international oil companies have drilled without conscience, reaped without rebuilding, and departed without care. They buried pipelines in sacred lands, flared gas near sleeping villages, and claimed to offer Corporate Social Responsibility through token projects that barely scratch the surface.
Yet what is even more painful is that many of those who were elected to protect the region have chosen to enrich themselves instead. Governors speak of transformation while communities sink deeper into despair. Legislators hold press conferences while oil spills remain unaddressed. Development agencies pile up documents and memoranda while real people wait for electricity, health care, and safe roads.
Where is the East-West Road they promised? Where is the functional sea port that should serve the entire region? Where are the promised bridges between our communities—not just physical but political, social, and economic?
We cannot ignore the part we play in our own suffering.
The divide between Ijaw and Itsekiri, Urhobo and Isoko, Ogoni and Ikwerre, Ibibio and Efik, Ndokwa and Obolo, has weakened our collective bargaining power. While we bicker over oil-bearing lands and political appointments, the real decisions are made elsewhere. They speak about us without us, and too often, our leaders nod in agreement.
What if we decided differently?
What if, for once, the Niger Delta moved with one voice? What if we treated the region not as a map of states or tribes but as a family with shared pain and shared purpose? What if governors stopped thinking only as party men and started acting as regional stewards? What if youth groups dropped violence and picked up advocacy, technology, and innovation? What if women were invited not just to attend events but to shape policies? What if our traditional leaders returned to the role of conscience and not contractors?
It is not enough to say the Niger Delta is rich. Riches buried in the ground mean nothing if the people above it cannot live with dignity. It is not enough to lament oil theft or blame foreign multinationals. What do we do when those entrusted with our voice speak only when it suits their pockets?
The region does not need pity. It needs purpose.
Today, GbaramatuVoice calls for that purpose to be rediscovered. Not through conferences or slogans but through action. Coordinated action. Sustained action. Honest action.
Let our governors form a working council that does not dissolve after handshakes. Let our federal lawmakers become defenders of regional dignity, not just budget negotiators. Let every community demand transparency, not token projects. Let civil society rise, not in anger but in strategic resolve. Let oil companies know the era of unchecked extraction is over. Let Abuja know that a disunited Niger Delta is no longer an option.
Let our children grow up hearing stories not just of what the region suffered but what it overcame.
Today may be Democracy Day for Nigeria. But let it also be Reflection Day for the Niger Delta.
Not a day to clap. A day to question. A day to decide.
And may the answer lead us not just to more talk, but to real, united action.
