Ekiti, a state in southwest Nigeria with one of the largest Yoruba sub-groups, nabbed our hearts in July without warning. The fast-approaching governorship elections had thrust Ekiti into the limelight, making it the nexus of frenzied media coverage. The amplified political tempo of the state had forced the agriculturist community out of its lethargic cocoon.
I was in Ado-Ekiti, the state capital–a small town crested with undulating steep hills due to the rocky topography of that part of the country–with two days to go until the election.
The pulse of the campaign was palpable. Feverish and inflamed. Posters of political candidates were splattered everywhere. Even the locals became walking billboards, wearing shirts with slogans and caps with logos of their desired candidates.
Though the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) registered 35 parties, the race was really between the two leading opposition parties – All Progressive Congress (APC) and Peoples Democratic Party (PDP). The other 33 political aspirants were simply ink on the ballot papers.
After a long day at the INEC office to obtain my Press Accreditation, Georges Macnobleson, a boisterous bespectacled man working as my fixer, drove us to his favorite roadside restaurant.
“I want you to have a feel of Ekiti,” he said. That ‘feel’ of Ekiti is a dish of mashed yams served with vegetable soup. Iyan, or pounded yam, is the staple food of the people of Ekiti. The yams are boiled until soft, pounded with a pestle until they crumble into a thick paste, then rolled it into steamy mounds before serving.
The Ekitis are credited with spreading an extensive pool of intellectuals across the country. It is believed they produce the highest number of professors in Nigeria, but that’s not all they’re known for. The locals also have a striking penchant for pounded yam. They consume this soft, chewy yam dough round the clock, either for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. One town in Ekiti, Igbara-Odo, celebrates an annual Pounded Yam Festival to usher in new yam and symbolize unity among the indigenes.
“This election will be a heated face-off between the APC candidate, Kayode Fayemi, and the PDP led incumbent governor, Ayo Fayose,” said Macnobleson, dipping a ball of pounded yam in his bowl of Egusi (melon) soup. “In fact, it will just be a replay of the polls in 2014.”
“A replay of the 2014 polls?” I asked, confused.
“Yes,” he said, talking at a faster pace. “Fayemi is set to even the score by ousting the incumbent governor and his continuity candidate, Kolapo Olushola, the same way he lost the 2014 polls in all the 16 local governments in the state to Fayose and the PDP cronies.”
In other words, through vote buying. The election process in Nigeria has long been fraught with political malpractice, voter militarization, and stealing ballot boxes. Vote buying was the latest tactic employed in the game. Sadly, though a “free and fair” election process was promised, the most recent Ekiti gubernatorial election was no different. The elections were fairly peaceful, but the legitimacy of the result was marred when reports of vote buying started streaming in. This time the fraud was termed ‘See and Buy.’
The influence of large sums of money in deciding the winner of an election is fast substituting the anti-poll styles that previously prevailed over the political landscape in Nigeria. In the governorship election, political party agents invaded polling units with bags of money and approached voters who had Permanent Voters Cards, convincing them to vote for their parties. Both the PDP and the APC were reported to be culpable of this electoral malpractice.
Kayode Fayemi, the gubernatorial candidate of the APC, was declared the winner of the election, but it’s hard not to assume he was simply the highest bidder. While some in town were filled with jubilation over the result, others were vexed and despondent, condemning the outcome.
The Ekiti elections did not live up to free and fair democratic standards. Still, amidst the chaos of exercising constitutional rights and fulfilling civic obligations, I found comfort in conversation over a bowl of pounded yam.
