Between Division and Destiny: Itsekiri’s Moment of Reckoning

There comes a time in the life of a people when silence becomes complicity and indifference a form of betrayal.

For the Itsekiri Nation, that time is now.

Across the land, troubling signs abound. While external aggressors, emboldened by our silence, creep steadily into our ancestral spaces, we find ourselves distracted by arguments over personalities, internal affairs, and petty squabbles that do little to secure our collective future. As the dangerous shadow of the ward delineation dispute looms large and unresolved, some among us are more invested in who holds what title, who should genuflect to whom, and who shouted loudest in WhatsApp and Facebook loops. These are not the preoccupations of a people determined to defend their heritage.

It is a tragic irony that while the very ground beneath us is being contested, we are preoccupied with trivialities—like Nero fiddling while Rome burned. Only in our case, the fire creeps quietly through policy, silence, and missed opportunities.

Let us be frank:

* No chieftaincy rivalry, no royal misunderstanding, and certainly no personal grudge is worth more than the future of Itsekiri land.

* No tribal pride is greater than our collective security.

* No sentiment should blind us to the fact that disunity invites erasure.

We stand at a historic inflection point, and our conduct today will either become a reference of pride for future generations or a cautionary tale of what happens when people lose their way.

This is why I am compelled to speak—not to point fingers, but to hold up a mirror.

Our title holders must now rise to the demands of honor, not just heritage. The call of a title in Itsekiri tradition was never ornamental—it was a burden of responsibility. In these trying times, prestige must give way to purpose. Our chiefs, community leaders, and followers alike must remember that history does not remember those who danced in times of danger. It remembers those who stood in the gap when it mattered most.

We must also speak candidly about the rise of those considered in the literature as conflict entrepreneurs—individuals who have made a cottage industry out of division, stirring conflict for personal or political gain. Their agenda is simple: sow confusion, exploit discontent, and fracture unity. It is our duty to deny them the oxygen of relevance. The times call for clarity, not chaos.

Still, as we rightly challenge those who sow division, let us also be careful not to dismiss the modest but determined efforts of patriotic and prominent Itsekiris who, though away from the klieg lights, are working quietly and consistently to defend our territorial integrity. Their silence is not complicity—it is strategic restraint. Not all defenders wear titles or trends online. Some understand that real influence often moves quietly, away from the noise. We must resist the temptation to measure commitment by visibility. After all, even in warfare, not every hero stands on the frontline. There is such a thing as “the good and bad call”—and history rarely forgives those who ignore the good in pursuit of the loud.

Still, disagreement is not a sin. In fact, it is necessary for any vibrant society. But we must disagree with purpose. Let us debate, yes—but let our debates be rooted in principle, framed by respect, and driven by what is best for Itsekiri, not egos bruised by WhatsApp/Facebook posts or social media shade.

If history has taught us anything, it is that disunity is the surest path to irrelevance. And irrelevance, once cemented, is difficult to reverse. Other nationalities are aligning, strengthening their voices, and fortifying their political leverage. We must not be the tribe that fritters its strategic advantage while squabbling over crumbs.

That said, let us pause to celebrate an encouraging development: the rise of a generation of young Itsekiris—on the streets and in cyberspace—who are defending the integrity of our story with courage, clarity, and consistency. These young men and women, many without titles or official recognition, have become cultural anchors and digital sentinels, reminding us that heritage is not always protected in palaces—it is often preserved in the arena of ideas.

To these young warriors, I say: history sees you. And it will remember you kindly.

In truth, we are all watchmen now. Whether you’re a chief or a clerk, an influencer, or a fisherman, the call to vigilance is universal. Because when the walls are being breached, it matters little what title you hold—what matters is whether you stayed awake.

On my part, I have chosen to lend my voice—modestly, perhaps imperfectly—but always in the hope that our people might pause, reflect, and realign. If this piece stirs even one conversation toward unity and responsibility, then the effort has not been in vain.

This is not a time for grandstanding.

It is a time for measured urgency.

For strategic unity.

For responsible speech.

And above all, for remembering that our adversaries, whether visible or veiled, gain strength when we turn our swords against ourselves.

So let us return to the things that matter.

Let us build, not bicker.

Let us defend, not distract.

Let us consolidate, not capitulate.

Written by: Michael Tidi

About the Author: Michael Tidi is a lawyer, economist, and public affairs thinker with a deep commitment to dialogue, identity, and justice. He shares these reflections as one among many concerned Itsekiris, hopeful for a more united and forward-driven nation.

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