The Domestic Goat In Ukana and The Community Yam in Abuja

By: Celestine Mel

For a time, I held my peace. Deliberately, almost ceremonially. I told myself, “Not every family thunder deserves an echo. Let this one pass.” But the drums grew louder and the dance more disgraceful. The cacophony refused to fade; instead, it swelled into a full-blown orchestra of shame. I realized that silence, in such a season, is not prudence. It is complicity.

What has unfolded between our dear Senate President, Distinguished Senator Godswill Akpabio, GCON, and a member of his extended family, Princess (Dr.) Pat Ibanga Akpabio, transcends domestic discord. It is the tragic spectacle of kinship undone before a curious nation; the transformation of private fracture into public feast, for all the wrong reasons. It made me remember a story told at my boyhood by my late old man, Mr. Mel Idioikpa of Ikot Inyang Udo, who had the wisdom of seven men in one frame.

Here it goes: Once, there was a young farmer named Otu. He worked tirelessly and came home one day with a heap of yams that could make a hungry man sing halleluyah . He dropped them by the veranda and went inside to wash up. Moments later, a commotion broke out. Otu’s goat had escaped its barn and was feasting on the very yams that Otu brought home. The neighbours rushed in, shouting, “Catch the goat! Wicked goat! Useless goat!”

Just then, Elder Samson, the old philosopher of the village, arrived. He surveyed the scene quietly, then asked, “Who owns the yam?” “Otu!” they chorused. “And who owns the goat?” “Otu!” “Then why all this noise?” the elder asked calmly. “Should Otu’s goat rather eat your yam? Are you not aware that the yams may reduce, but the goat will grow fat, and both still belong to Otu? What have you lost?” The crowd dispersed. Thoughtful.

I was waiting for reason to prevail and for the elders in Ukana to find the sweet spot. to cool things down, chase the goat back to the barn, and let peace reign. I was wrong. The trouble, which started in private initially, has now spread into our collective disgrace. The laughter of outsiders has become our shared shame. And I can no longer hold back.

In the past three weeks, the media has been polluted by the stench of this quarrel. Social media vultures have circled and swooped, feasting on family flesh. Bloggers, ever hungry for clicks, have turned pain into performance. Many who once benefited, directly or indirectly, from Akpabio’s political magnetism have watched in disbelief. This is not the first family to quarrel, but the scale and spectacle of this one; the betrayal, the venom, the theatrics, are beyond comprehension. They churn my tummy.

Yet, amid the noise, one voice rose like a bell in the fog. Yes. Hon. Prince Ukpong Akpabio II, my friend and people’s representative in the Akwa Ibom State House of Assembly, who is cousin to the Senate President, spoke clearly and unambiguously yesterday. His statement was everything a family elder’s counsel should be: calm, dignified, corrective. He spoke lucidly, as if he were the custodian of the family heritage. His intervention steadied the souls of many who were bleeding in silence. It has made me speak out, too.

Let’s call a spade what it is. The demon here is not anger. Far from it. Rather, it is vaulting entitlement which reminds me that when gratitude dies, madness takes its place. Too many in our land have eaten from the table of privilege and grown bold enough to spit into the soup pot brewed by Senator Godswill Akpabio. Some in the great family have basked in the grace of God and in the generosity of men for so long that they forget that it is God’s abundant grace and rare privilege that catapulted one of their own into the commanding heights of power. Yet they try to pull him down? Who does that to their own?

I have said it before: to rise to the office of Senate President in this complex, combustible Nigeria is not an accident. It takes more than politics and destiny. That Akpabio, a minority son of Akwa Ibom, now sits third in the nation’s order of precedence is, by every measure, divine disruption. Even those of us who once clashed with him can’t deny it. His victory in 2023 redefined Akwa Ibom’s place in Nigeria’s power geometry. His ascension to the number three spot broke all records. It is one reason His Excellency, Pastor Umo Eno, the golden governor of our State, courageously tilted his sails toward the centre in a political realignment that cost him peace in certain quarters, but one that was, and remains, wise.

And I wonder: if a sitting governor could pay such a political price for the larger good to support a great son of the soil, pray tell, what excuse does a family member have for dragging him through the mud of social media? Must a goat chew all of the community yam in public to prove that it is hungry?

Some have asked why I, Celestine Mel, would bother to defend Senator Akpabio today. Let me answer plainly: in 2018, he hurt me. Deeply. He wronged my brother, too. But pain, like palm wine, must ferment into wisdom over time. Post-2023, the wound healed, not because the senator came to me, but because I went to the altar of conscience. When Akpabio rose to the Senate Presidency, I swallowed my pride and prayed for him. Because destiny is not personal property; it is public trust. What matters is not who was right yesterday, but who is ready to build tomorrow. I see in Senator Akpabio the destiny of millions and the dreams of the entire State. So why try to bring him down?

If I, who once had reason to resent him, can forgive and defend him for the sake of Akwa Ibom, what then explains the venom of one who bears his blood; who enjoyed his patronage at the highest level; who was in the inner room where allegiances were fiercely pledged and traded for gold and slver? What does a brother or his wife lose by seeing his brother flap along the birds beyond the skies? Why seek to destroy what you helped to build; what you will contribute to bury? What if Akpabio falls? Would his seat be inherited by his brother? Or wife?

Akpabio is no saint. Tell me, who is? Even Moses, the friend of God, lost his temper and struck the rock. David coveted Bathsheba. Peter denied Christ thrice. And Judas kissed his Master before betraying him. Power tests character; it does not create it. Yet, if history were a courtroom, Akpabio would stand guilty of greatness. From transforming Akwa Ibom’s skyline to repositioning it on the federal map, his fingerprints are etched on every corner of our story. That alone demands that we defend him, dutifully.

Because when a man of your house holds a staff of national authority, your shame must be private, your pride public. When an UsoroAkpabio becomes the MD of SSDC, a Chris Okorie becomes a board member in NCC, and a Rachel Nse becomes the Board member of the NCDC, I find perfect joy in my heart. When I drive through a road in Etim Ekpo developed through the Federal Cooperative College, Orji River, I swallow my hurt. It was not worth it.

Now, we must close ranks. This quarrel has burned too far already. The enemy is not within the bloodline; it is in the glee of outsiders watching us tear our own. Family is like clay: once broken, it can be moulded again, but the cracks will show. So, the earlier we stop this public theatre, the better for everyone.

To those who truly love Akpabio, the message is simple: guard him, guide him, pray for him. Do not feed the mob with gossip. Do not wash family linen by the roadside. Remember, when two brothers fight, a stranger inherits their father’s compound. Tarry to go live on Facebook. Let the embers die.

Senator Godswill Akpabio must be protected, not because he is perfect, but because he is ours. Minority in leadership at the apex of government is a rare fruit; you don’t expose it foolishly to the birds. As for me, I repeat: Senator Akpabio’s family extends beyond Ukana. It includes all of us who see the hand of destiny in his story and the need for redemption in his humanity. The goat in Ukana may belong to Ukana, but the yam in Abuja belongs to all of us. Let no goat, domestic or wild, eat it in public. Again.

No!

+++++++ Celestine Mel is a clear thinker, civic engagement advocate, and leadership analyst whose essays explore the intersections of morality, governance, and nationhood, with particular focus on Akwa Ibom State and the Nigerian polity. He writes from Abuja, FCT.