By O Derick
There was once a village.
A village of red soil, palm trees, and people who ate from the same pot.
In that village lived two brothers. Same father, same mother, same compound.
One of them stood up one day and said, I want to serve our people. I want to be governor of Enugu State.
It was not pride. It was burden. He had seen the roads rot, the schools empty, and the youths idle. He wanted to fix it.
But not everyone in the village clapped.
Some of his own brothers frowned. Why him? they whispered because of Small envelopes. Bags of rice. Fake promises Given to them.
And so, some of his brothers betrayed him.
They stood in public and swore, he will not be governor of Enugu State.
Not because he was bad.
Not because he was incapable.
But because strangers had sent a token to him.
The village watched.
Elders shook their heads. Mothers cried at night.
Because a house divided against itself cannot stand.
Because when we sell our brother for tokens, we mortgage our children’s future.
Years passed.
The village that supported a stranger got nothing. No road. No hospital. No voice at the table.
The tokens finished. The promises expired.
But the shame remained.
Today, the same village is learning a hard lesson:
You can eat a stranger’s food and still go to bed hungry.
But when you stand with your own, even when it is hard, the whole village eats.
We cannot keep betraying our brothers for little things and expect big results.
Obodoeze Ocho, knows our pain. He knows our roads. He knows our names.
Let us not be that village again.
Let us not swear against our own because of rice and tokens.
Let us choose progress over pettiness. Let us choose home over tokens.
Because at the end of the day, when the election is over and the dust settles,
it is still brother and brother that will drink from the same well.
