Welcome once again to Osun APC: Season Infinity, where grown men with oversized egos and undersized political vision gather to perform their weekly ritual of shouting, sulking, and stabbing each other in the back all under the banner of โprogressive politics.โ
At the center of this circus is the self-righteous ringmaster, Senator Ajibola Bashiru (SRJ) National Secretary by title, town crier by temperament. He now spends more time policing peopleโs opinions than building the party he’s supposed to be organizing. At his Sallah party turned political tantrum, SRJ wept bitterly into the microphone: โHow dare they write letters? How dare they talk on radio? Donโt they know President Tinubu is not to be disturbed?โ
And the lamentations continue.
SRJ, who once claimed to fight for democracy, now finds public discourse offensive. Apparently, the man who canโt stop reminding us of his proximity to Tinubu believes everyone else must earn their right to speak by calculating โ2 plus 3 equals 5โ at the polls. A noble standard especially for a party that lost the state to the opposition and hasnโt figured out why.
But oh, the wailing doesnโt end there. Enter Timothy Owoeye, former Speaker turned Chief Lamenter. His press conference was less a policy proposal and more a public pity party: โTinubu doesnโt call anymoreโฆ he doesnโt pick our sideโฆโ Poor Tim. After dancing at the wedding, heโs shocked he wasnโt invited on the honeymoon.
And then comes Ismail Omipidan, once a media aide, now the self-appointed Prophet Jeremiah of Osun APC. He writes open letters with all the drama of a Nollywood script: โOh Asiwaju, thou hast forsaken thy children!โ Never mind that the children in question were already tearing each other apart long before Tinubu stopped texting back. Still, his lamentations echo from radio studios to WhatsApp groups, warning of doom unless his chosen faction is returned to grace.
Bola Oyebamiji, meanwhile, moans quietly in the background the man whose political relevance is so faded, even his complaints sound like echoes in an empty hall. He too joins the chorus of wailing, lamenting the โdirectionโ of the party, forgetting that he helped drive the car straight into a ditch.
And the lamentations continueโฆ
Each faction cries foul, but none will admit their own role in the rot. They scream about injustice, betrayal, and marginalization but never about the people. Never about policy. Just power, power, and more power, like kids in a sandpit fighting over a plastic shovel.
Osun APC has become a theatre of the absurd where the actors cry, not because the audience is suffering, but because theyโre no longer on stage. Itโs not governance. Itโs not opposition. Itโs grievance performance art. A non-stop symphony of whining, plotting, and political heartbreak ballads.
If these men spent half as much time building institutions as they do composing their weekly lamentations, maybe, just maybe, Osun APC wouldnโt be a laughingstock.
But alas, the drama must go on. The curtain rises again next week. The actors will switch costumes, the monologues will continue, and the lamentationsโฆ oh yes, they will continue.
