One hundred days may not define a governor, but nearly two months after crossing that benchmark, Kogi’s Ahmed Ododo still appears to be stretching his limbs from political slumber.
When the governor marked his first 100 days in office back in early May, the celebration was modest, as were the achievements. A handshake with the National Security Adviser, a few courtesy visits, a reception in Okene, and attendance at governors’ meetings were listed like gold stars on a kindergarten chart. Governance, we were told, was underway. But 50+ days later, the scoreboard remains mostly unchanged.
The newly created Ministry of Housing, for example, still has no visible project. In a state housing two of Africa’s largest cement manufacturers, workers continue to haemorrhage salaries on rent while the government lays no foundation, literally or figuratively. Not even a pilot estate. Not a single room-and-parlour.
This is not simply administrative lethargy; it’s a misreading of the moment.
Expectations were not sky-high. Citizens did not demand a revolution within six months. But they do expect a pulse, a signal that governance is more than calendar-filling and ceremonial handshakes. What they’ve received so far feels like the bureaucratic equivalent of marking attendance without showing work.
The tragedy of it all is that Kogi has resources. It has strategic positioning, natural assets, and a young population desperate for leadership that sees past perfunctory headlines. Yet here we are, counting meetings and recycled rhetoric as milestones.
Governor Ododo was not swept into office by accident. His ascension was choreographed by a political godfather now struggling with his own public reckoning. That alone demands that Ododo prove himself on his own merit. But so far, merit seems to have taken a backseat to mediocrity.
The silence from Lugard House is not just disappointing, it’s expensive. Every week without action is a week lost to opportunity.
The governor still has time to pivot. But he must first wake up to the reality that photo-ops aren’t legacy. And that Kogi’s people deserve more than the appearance of motion. They deserve movement.
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