It was the home of multi-million naira Oluwa
Glass Company as well as a highly
prosperous oil palm firm. The companies
employed thousands of indigenes and non-
indigenes of the ancient town and contributed
in no small measures to the nation’s
economy. Today, Okitipupa is in the throes of
darkness, unemployment, armed robbery and
poverty. Assistant Editor, SEUN AKIOYE,
visited the once promising community and
reports on
Okitipupa is in darkness, literally. The darkness
has endured for eight months since the Power
Holding Company of Nigeria (PHCN) decided
to play a fast one on the residents. Its
inhabitants can only wring their hands in
desolation and gnash their teeth in the
darkness.
Yet darkness is not the first thing you notice if
you enter the town in daylight. The one that
would probably strike you first is that the
town lacks a good restaurant.
“We don’t have many restaurants here.
Everybody eats at home. Where will you get
the money to eat in a restaurant? “Oh, you
mean fast food (long laughter)? Forget it, my
brother. There is nothing like that here, unless
you go to Merry Suze. That’s the only place
we eat,” said Idowu Adeola, a diploma holder
who rides commercial motorcycle known
locally as okada.
Off the reporter went to Merry Suze, located on
Broad Road, the largest road in the town
which also houses all the banks and major
business concerns. There sat Merry Suze in
front of her “restaurant”, resting the weight of
her head on the back of her left hand. Her
attendant, a girl of about 12 years looking like
18, sat close to her, looking towards the road.
Both of them were lost in thought. A steaming
pot of soup rocked gently to the tune played
by the smouldering charcoal under it, while
assorted meat peeped from the pot.
Suze is a curious spectacle. She had a hairdo
and was fat and light-complexioned.
Curiously, her signpost read: Merry Suzze.
A Grade 2 teacher, she had ventured into
caterine business on account of acute
unemployment.
“I am a trained teacher, but I couldn’t get a
job. There is nothing in this town. How many
people have you seen entering this place since
you came,” she queried.
Yet she would be counted among the lucky
ones in the town. In Okitipupa, one of the
large towns in Ondo state and a former
industrial hub, money is as scarce as water in
Sahara desert. Poverty walks so tall that no
one dares to challenge it. The people speak
longingly about the town’s glorious past when
industries like Oluwa Glass and Oil Palm
Company employed thousands and the town
also attracted immigrants, particularly the
Igbo and Urhobo.
business, if Adeola’s words are anything to go
by. “On a good day, I could make as much as
N4,000. Now, you would go round the town all
day and you would be lucky to make N900,”
he said.
There was palpable tension in the town as
rumour filtered in that Ondo State governor,
Olusegun Mimiko, was about to impose a ban
on okada in the town.
Reacting to the rumour, Omobuyiwa flashed a
wry smile; the sort that usually precedes a
dangerous speech.
“Let him come,” he said with a tone of
defiance. “We are waiting for him. What has
he done for this town? He has done nothing,
and he wants to ban okada. What would we
eat? If he dares do it, he will know that this is
Ikale, not Akure.”
The people of Ikaleland do not view their
governor with favour. They accused him of
many wrongdoings. He was said to be the
cause of the over four months shut down of
Ondo State University of Science and
Technology. The school, founded by former
governor Olusegun Agagu, has not received the
blessing of Mimiko.
“When the students were here, things moved a
little. But now we are just at a standstill,” said
Abibat Omoleye, a small scale busines woman.
Desolate town
Riding around Okitipupa reveals a picture of
gloom and doom. The people hardly smile and
cheerful spirits are rare. Everyone seemed to
have resigned to their fate with no hope of
redemption.
But according to Pastor Isaac Adebajo, a
messiah is what the town needs.
He said: “We need to go to God in prayer so
the good times can come back. We cannot go
on like this. We need industries that can
employ our youths so they do not turn into
armed robbers. We need government’s
presence in this place because it is like we are
forgotten.”
But there are residents who would not
complain, particularly the Ilaje and the Igbo.
The Ilaje are Ikale’s closest neighbours. The
Ilaje towns, beginning from Igbokoda, extend
into the sea and the surrounding rivers.
The Ilajes are numerous in Okitipupa, having
made the place their home. But these two
neighbours hardly see eye to eye. The Ilaje
accuse the Ikale of being stingy while the Ikale
say their neighbours are arrogant.
“If an Ilaje man has N5000, he will do like he
has N50,000,” said an Ikale lady who asked
not to be named.
The Ikale angst against the Ilaje has a root in
the takeover of the viable economy of
Ikaleland. Most of the filling stations and
hotels in the town are said to belong to the
Ilaje, leaving the Ikale people to play the
second fiddle.
The Ikale also accused the Igbos of taking
over the small businesses. “All the shops you
see here have been bought by Igbo people.
They own everything and we own nothing”
Suze said.
Ufoma Dennis is Delta Ibo and his parents
came during the days of prosperity. He
rejected the Ikale accusation, saying that the
average Ikale man or woman would rather
wait for manna to from heaven.
Food is also a hard thing for visitors. Apart
from pupuru, a delicacy in the mould of amala,
there is nothing else to eat. The town’s fast
food restaurant is Aroma, which the average
Lagosian would not touch even with a long
pole.
There is the okoka, tree maggots fried and
salted with pepper to garnish. This should be
a relish but it was tough and tasteless.
Back to the darkness. In December 2014, a
major transformer in the town packed up and
darkness descended on the land. But
somehow, nobody complained and the people
seemed to have adjusted rather too nicely to
the situation.
“There has been no rally to NEPA’s (PHCN’s)
office. No protest. Even the big men just
switched on their generators and life
continued,” Blessing, the hotel receptionist
said.
What is curious is that the traditional ruler did
nothing and the Speaker of Ondo State House
of Assembly, Hon. Jumoke Akindele, is an
indigene of Idepe, in Okitipupa. She also did
nothing.
The darkness came with consequences: the
economy, which was crawling before, is now
dead. Hotels suffer most as visitors emptied
out of them. Generators are only switched on
at night till morning. In the day, the windows
are opened and the blinds are turned up. If a
lodger needs electricity, he would be required
to pay for fuel.
Armed robbery is rampant. Because of the
overwhelming noise of the generators, it is
hard to hear when a robbery is taking place or
people are being murdered.
“Nobody comes to this town nowadays. All
the hotels are empty. We are begging people
to come, and when one person comes like you
did, we ensure they don’t leave,” Blessing
said.
Blessing had used all her charms to make the
reporter stay at the hotel, of course, in the
darkness. To while away the time, the
traditional ayo game was brought in.
“We will put on the generator soon,” she said
the seventh time in an hour. “Can you play
ayo? Please let’s play it together,” she
pleaded.
No comments:
Post a Comment