By Akpos Oghentega
In the buildup to the 2011 general elections, the late Senator Professor Adego Eferakeya issued a stern, prophetic warning to the Urhobo nation. He spoke of a quiet but devastating peril: the danger of lacking a “ranking senator” in the Nigerian National Assembly. As a member of his media campaign team during that era, I sat in the front row of history, listening as he articulated a reality that many political observers ignore to their own detriment.
Senator Eferakeya was unambiguous, the Urhobo nation, despite its numerical strength and economic contributions, was often a “lone voice” in the Red Chamber. He argued that without the institutional seniority that comes with ranking status, even the most brilliant or charismatic senator remains at a structural disadvantage.
To understand the weight of this warning, one must look at the demographics of power in Nigeria. The Urhobo nation is the fifth-largest ethnic group in the country. Yet, in the high-stakes theatre of Abuja politics, we often stand as political orphans.
Our neighbours in Delta North find legislative solace and strength in their kinship with the Igbos across the Niger. Our brothers in Delta South—the Ijaws—align with a vast kinship spanning Bayelsa, Rivers, Edo, and Akwa Ibom. When an Ijaw senator speaks, he is backed by a chorus of voices from multiple states. But the Urhobo voice is solitary. For that voice to be heard above the legislative din, it cannot afford to be the voice of a “neophyte.” It must be the voice of a ranking senator who understands the levers of power.
The Historical Cost of the Newbie Cycle
A critical look at the Urhobo political trajectory from the dawn of the Fourth Republic in 1999 up until 2015 reveals a pattern of abysmally low tangible impact. This was not due to a lack of individual talent.
We sent men of immense stature to Abuja: the late Senator Fred Brume, a brilliant engineer and administrator; the late Senator Felix Ibru, a former Governor and architect of repute; and the fiery Senator Pius Ewherido. However, their legislative impact was frequently curtailed by the “newbie” trap.
In the Senate, seniority isn’t just a matter of respect; it is a matter of law and standing orders. New senators are effectively on probation. They are rarely given the floor during critical debates and are almost never considered for the “Tier 1” committees where the nation’s wealth is distributed. Save for Professor Eferakeya—who used his unique goodwill and professional standing to strategically attract the Faculty of Engineering and a Medical Center to the Federal University of Petroleum Resources (FUPRE), as constituency projects—few can point to landmark, multi-generational achievements from that era.
Compare this to the “James Manager Era” in Delta South. Senator James Manager served multiple terms, rising to become the Chairman of the Senate Committee on the NDDC. Because he was a ranking member, he didn’t just ask for projects; he influenced the budget. He was able to facilitate massive infrastructure, thousands of international scholarships, and high-level job placements for his people.
Similarly, Senator Peter Nwaoboshi from Delta North utilized his ranking status to dominate the NDDC committee, ensuring his constituency was a primary beneficiary of the agency’s interventions. The lesson is clear: in Abuja, seniority is the only currency that buys results.
The Omo-Agege Precedent
The most recent and glaring evidence of the “Ranking Advantage” is the tenure of Senator Ovie Omo-Agege. When he first went to the Senate, he was a lone voice. But it was his return as a ranking senator in 2019 that changed the game for Delta Central. Because he was a ranking member, he was eligible to contest for—and win—the position of Deputy Senate President (DSP).
As DSP, Omo-Agege didn’t just represent Urhobo; he led Nigeria. That seniority translated into the Federal Polytechnic Orogun, dozens of power transformers across Urhobo land, hundreds of solar streetlights, and a level of national visibility the Urhobo nation had not enjoyed since the days of the Midwest Region. Had the Urhobo nation fallen into the trap of “rotation” or “political expediency” in 2019, we would have sent a newcomer who would have sat in the back row, and none of these landmark achievements would have materialised.
2027: Avoiding the Self-Inflicted Trap
Today, we see a dangerous repeat of history staring us in the face. As the 2027 cycle approaches, the whispers of “political expediency” and “it’s another person’s turn” are beginning to surface. We must ask ourselves: is it the turn of an individual to go and “dance Kerewawa” (make a mere appearance) in Abuja, or is it the turn of the Urhobo nation to finally consolidate its power?
Senator Ede Dafinone is currently bridging a massive gap. He entered the Senate during a period of intense national economic difficulty and regional tension. Despite being a first-timer, he has used his immense corporate goodwill, his international professional connections, and his pedigree to navigate a difficult scenario. He has not been a silent observer.
His gallant interventions during the Okuama crisis were a masterclass in protective representation. When the very soul of the Ewu Kingdom was under threat, Dafinone stood firm. When Urhobo interests were attacked in Warri and Sapele, and when there were attempts to denigrate the stool of the revered Orodje of Okpe, he did not hide behind legislative immunity.
He stood in the gap, rebuffing attacks and ensuring that the Urhobo nation was not intimidated. He has reanimated the “Mokoro” and “Salubi” era of Urhobo politics—an era where our leaders were thinkers, protectors, and diplomats.
To abandon Senator Dafinone in 2027 for a “neophyte” would be a catastrophic mistake. A new senator, no matter how well-intentioned, will be a “nobody” in the 11th Senate. They will spend the first two years learning the rules of the House and the next two years trying to make friends. By the time they understand how to lobby for a road or a hospital, the four-year term will be over, and Urhobo will be back at square one.
Conclusion: The Choice for Progress
The Urhobo nation cannot afford to be a “perpetual beginner” in the National Assembly. We cannot continue to sacrifice our collective development on the altar of local political rotations that do not serve our national interest.
If we want a forceful voice that echoes across the floors of the National Assembly, if we want our infrastructure to match our status as a host to major oil and gas assets, and if we want our youth to have access to federal jobs and scholarships, we must play the game by the rules of the Senate. The rule is seniority.
Senator Ede Dafinone has demonstrated the temperament, intellect, and courage to lead. In 2027, the choice is simple: do we send a neophyte to “learn on the job,” or do we send a ranking senator to “finish the job”? For the sake of our children and the future of the Urhobo nation, we must not make the mistake of 2011 again. We must return Senator Dafinone to Abuja.
By Akpos Oghentega, writes from Ughelli, Delta State
