Why Osun Should Continue With Governor Ademola Adeleke By Omo'ba Isaac Joseph-Fagbemi

 

"A kì í yí ọkọ̀ ojú omi padà ní àárín odò" — one does not turn a canoe around in the middle of the river.

The elders left us that proverb not merely to decorate conversations but to rescue generations from foolishness. A people who abandon a canoe that has found its rhythm against the current because another boatman is shouting louder from the riverbank often discover, too late, that noise does not paddle a canoe.

There is an old story from the forests of Ijesaland. When a terrible drought visited the land, all the animals gathered beneath the ancient ìrókò tree to decide how they would survive. The Elephant proposed digging a great pond. The Tortoise promised a magical river that would appear overnight. The Monkey, ever theatrical, leapt from branch to branch, entertaining the gathering with songs about the beautiful lake he would build if only they trusted him. The animals applauded. Even the Parrot repeated his promises until the forest echoed with applause.

But while speeches filled the air, the Beaver quietly gathered sticks, moved stones, and diverted tiny streams. Day after day, unnoticed, he worked. His dam was not spectacular. It did not make the loudest sound. Yet when the sun grew fiercer and the streams began to disappear, it was the Beaver's pond that gave water to the forest. That is the difference between performance and progress.

Our fathers also say, "Ọ̀rọ̀ kì í kọ́ ilé; ọwọ́ ló ń kọ́ ilé" — words do not build a house; hands do. As another election approaches in Osun State, we must ask ourselves a simple but profound question: shall we reward the loudest promises, or shall we preserve the steady hands already laying the foundation?

Politics often resembles the marketplace. Every trader advertises his wares as though heaven itself packaged them. Yet the wise buyer does not purchase pepper because the seller shouts the loudest. He tastes, examines, and remembers who sold him quality yesterday. Leadership deserves the same wisdom.

Across Osun today, one does not need to borrow another man's eyes to observe the gradual but undeniable footprints of development. Roads are being rehabilitated. Public infrastructure continues to expand. Investments are reaching sectors that shape the daily lives of ordinary citizens. Communities that once waited endlessly for government attention are beginning to witness visible interventions. Progress may not always arrive with the drama of a talking drum, but like the rising sun, it announces itself quietly before illuminating the entire landscape.

The Yoruba understand something modern politics often forgets. They say, "Bí a bá ń gé igi, a máa rí ìrùkèrúdò" — when a tree is being cut down, chips of wood will inevitably fly. Every serious project encounters obstacles. Every administration faces criticism. Perfection belongs only to Olódùmarè. The true measure of leadership is not the absence of challenges but the consistency of purpose despite them.

Governor Ademola Adeleke's administration has demonstrated that governance is not merely about winning elections; it is about building institutions, expanding opportunities, and creating foundations upon which future generations can stand. Sustainable development is not cooked like instant noodles. It is prepared like àmàlà over patient fire, slowly, carefully, until every ingredient finds its proper place.

An elderly neighbour of mine in Imesi-Ile would never tire of repeating: "A kì í dá ilé tí a ń kọ́ nù torí pé orí àjà kò tíì pé" — we do not abandon a house under construction simply because the roof has not yet been completed. To do so would be to waste the labour already invested and begin another cycle of unnecessary uncertainty.

Continuity is often misunderstood as complacency. It is not. Continuity simply acknowledges that when a seed has germinated and begun to bear fruit, wisdom demands that we water it rather than uproot it to test another seedling. Even the farmer knows that changing crops every market day guarantees hunger.

Osun today stands at such a crossroads. The temptation of political change for its own sake is always seductive. New slogans are already coined. Fresh promises are rained upon us like the first storm of April. Some will even attempt to convince us that yesterday never happened. But history is a stubborn witness. It remembers those who built and those who merely boasted.

The responsibility before every son and daughter of Osun is therefore greater than partisan loyalty. It is a responsibility to posterity. Future generations will ask whether we nurtured the foundations already laid or whether we abandoned them halfway because the music from another drummer sounded sweeter.

The wisdom of our ancestors offers the answer. "Àgbà kì í wà l'ọ́jà kí orí ọmọ tuntun wọ́" — an elder does not stand in the marketplace and allow the head of a newborn to hang awkwardly. Experience exists to guide judgment. As a people, we must resist the temptation to confuse excitement with excellence and spectacle with substance. The journey of development is never a sprint. It is a relay race in which every completed lap brings the destination closer. Interrupting that rhythm unnecessarily serves no one.

Osun is already on the road. The road ahead may still have bends. There are bridges yet to be crossed, schools yet to be built, hospitals yet to be improved, and opportunities yet to be created. But every meaningful journey begins with staying the course. The choice before Osun is not between perfection and imperfection. It is between continuity and needless interruption; between building upon a foundation already laid and returning once again to the drawing board.

Our elders say, "Ẹni tó bá fẹ́ mọ ibi tí òjò máa dá, kó wo ibi tí ojú ọ̀run ti ń ṣókùnkùn" — whoever wishes to know where the rain will fall should watch where the clouds are gathering. The clouds of development are already gathering over Osun. It would be unwise to abandon the farm simply because the first drops have not yet become a flood.

There is yet another timeless counsel from our fathers: "A kì í dá aṣọ tí a ti hun dé ìdajì sílẹ̀ ká tún bẹ̀rẹ̀ míràn" — we do not abandon a cloth that is already half-woven simply to begin another one. That is not wisdom; it is waste.

For this reason, I call on the good people of Osun State to renew their confidence in Governor Ademola Adeleke by granting him a second term in office. The work of building a prosperous state is not accomplished in a single term. Roads must connect communities, reforms must mature, investments must yield lasting benefits, and institutions must be given the time to grow strong roots. Continuity is not merely a political choice; it is an investment in the future of our children and generations yet unborn.

As another election beckons, let us choose steady hands over uncertain experiments, visible progress over attractive slogans, and proven commitment over familiar promises. After all, as the Yoruba wisely remind us, "A kì í yọ ọmọ tí ó ń dàgbà kúrò l'ọwọ́ olùtọ́jú tó ń tọ́ ọ dáadáa" — we do not snatch a growing child from the caregiver who is nurturing the child well.

Osun is on a journey of renewal. And a river that has found its course should not be forced back to its source. Let us entrust Governor Ademola Adeleke with a second term, so that the current of progress may flow unhindered until it reaches every town and every home in Osun State.

Osun is moving forward! Let us move forward together!

Omo'ba Isaac Joseph-Fagbemi writes from Imesi-Ile, Obokun Local Government Area, Osun State. He can be reached at isaacolawolejoseph@gmail.com.