I love writing about telecoms with relish; if only to enjoy the little pomposity that I am one of those journalists who wrote the industry into existence. You know the story started somewhere and we like everyone to understand our circumstantial intervention to make things happen. I was on the way to Edo State last weekend, August 21, 2026, to be specific, to pay my last homage to Uncle Benson, full name — Benson Omonzokpea Okoh, the last of my father’s generation, who went to join his siblings and ancestors in that final place where home is eternal and harbours the kind of peace that cannot be disturbed by human wickedness. He was 103 years, 12 years short of that of his father, Pa Okoh Akhimien (aka Okoh Alowa), who died at the beautiful age of 115 in the early ’70s. Uncle Benson made his choices very early in life and that paid off. He was the second of his siblings who worked for the white man, the first being Pa Michael Ojeabulu Okoh, who went home much earlier than hisA younger sibling. When you worked for the government in those days, it was assumed in my part of the country that you were working for the white man as you earned the much-coveted monthly salary.
I cannot be specific about the number of telephone lines that were available in Nigeria in 1963, but I am certain as the existence of tomorrow that there were no phones at Ugbegun and hardly any in the whole of Esan land. But that hardly diminished the enthusiasm of Esan people to establish their heritage with pride.
Since there were no phones that very year, 1963, Uncle Benson had to go all the way to Uromi to execute a message as directed by his elder brother, who was a teacher at Uromi. Chief Dan Ose Okoh (SAN) made an emotional recall. “In 1963, I fondly remember my uncle coming from school to Ivue, Uromi, to honour my father’s request directing him to take me to Pilgrim Baptist Grammar School, Ewohimi, to sit for the entrance examination. He rode my father’s bicycle while I sat on the pole from Uromi to Ugbegun and thence to Ewohimi where I passed the examination, and he painstakingly took me back to Uromi on the bicycle with the good news of a fruitful trip. He was the first in the Okoh dynasty to attend a technical college,” Dan wrote.
He had a good heart. Just one act of obedience and goodwill. Today, Dan Ose Okoh is a Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN). His son, Hon. Justice Ehinon Anthony Okoh, is a High Court judge in Edo State. Uncle Benson made this happen by being there for his nephew. He served Nigeria well and retired with satisfaction, decency and a good sense of humour. We are far from their world now. Today the world is more connected, but there is more chaos, visited upon us by those who promised to bring the moon down to the earth once elected. What would seem little problems in other parts of the world graduate into monsters, and the people are indeterminately helpless.
Sometimes, you find yourself in a situation in life where everything fails around you, even telecommunications. I was a victim of the transportation dread that was visited on Edo State over the weekend, and permit me to tell a story here which is the lived experience of so many Nigerians and businesses every day. Edo State becomes only the denouement of a horror drama which begins in other parts of the country, being a transportation hub and a transit point to other parts of the country. My journey began on Friday morning, August 21, 2026, by 6:30 a.m. That journey would not end until 7 p.m.; that is over 12 hours, more time than it would take to fly from Lagos to New York, which is 12 hours, and twice the time to fly from Abuja to Heathrow in London, which is 6 hours. All the time you are confused and helpless, wasting away on the road and, if you are foul-mouthed, causing everybody you could hold responsible.
The road between Abuja and Edo State is bad, very bad. There are traces of work going on, but such effort cannot do anything in the next 10 years to complete the work within which period the people and infrastructure may have been completely pauperised. The guy who took us on the trip knew the road and the terrain very well. At some point between Okene and Okpella, there is a security checkpoint less than a kilometre from each other because of the dangerous nature of the road. Those soldiers and policemen — may God bless them — made efforts to give hope to the absolutely terrified. At a particular time of the day, our driver told us, the soldiers would go on patrol with their motorbikes. There are secrets of the road you may never know except you are a permanent denizen. Looking at us clutching our dear phones which seemed to distract us from the travails around us, the driver told us by experience that Glo remains the best network on that stretch of the road for reliable communications.
However, what happened last weekend was beyond telecommunications or even the possibility of sustained communications on the road. I had been told that some travellers had spent three days at Ewu and that I needed to confirm before setting out for the journey. For me, this was extreme exaggeration, a hyperbole without reasonable conclusion. Until we got to Ewu. I found out suddenly that hopelessness and helplessness could carry the similitude of a solid state. Immovable. You could see a line of trailers snaking for kilometres with smaller vehicles trying to win a dangerous war against them, and the very bad roads providing dangerous ammunition for disorder and victory for the devil. You see businesses ruined, commodities destroyed in capsized vehicles, you see life grinding to meaninglessness and you cannot do anything about it. Sometimes, you think you can almost see death but cannot feel the taste. Sandwiched between trailers, you are asking, what happens now if the whole thing overturns? And there were many such developments on the way.
I had my phones but couldn’t make any calls. I couldn’t call for any help because that is not what the system needs. Somewhere along the bypass in Benin, a more bizarre scene was playing out. Travellers spent hours and days trying to either make it into or out of Benin on the Benin–Agbor road. A friend who came to see me had said he would quickly drop his friends at Agbor on Saturday evening and head to Benin by 7 p.m. on a journey of two hours. By the time I sent him a text at 1 a.m. to thank him for a much-appreciated honour to my uncle, he couldn’t respond because he was on a very dangerous patch at the bypass. He didn’t get to his destination until 3 a.m.
The state was unsettled and needed help. People blamed Governor Monday Okpebholo. But this is not about the governor; it is about a system that has failed miserably. Edo State is a transport hub, and with almost all the federal infrastructure failing around the state, there is hardly much the governor can do, although he will need to stay more in the state to know how to tackle the immediate needs of the people.
Having returned to my base after another 12 hours for a journey of five hours, I want to make a humble suggestion. Whoever desires to rule this nation should be made to do his campaign by road; move across the various places like Agbede and Ewu, Benin Bypass, go down to the deeper South, move down to the West and up North.
Whoever wants to rule Nigeria should experience part of our road infrastructure and swallow the daily experiences of the ordinary Nigerians. How would you know what to do without thinking you are doing the people a favour if you do not experience it or live it? The telecom infrastructure is part of the superstructure of the nation. My experience on the road this time is that it has not progressed much in the past two years in that part of the country. I even want to assume that the failing road infrastructure may have compounded the fortunes of the telecommunications industry. Which is quite a shame and an irony because the past doesn’t always have to be better than the future.
In the final days, Uncle Benson wasn’t very enthusiastic about answering his phone. He did his bit and his best for the nation, but did the nation reward his efforts to smoothen his final journey into eternity? For most people who feel satiated in their positions now, they should expect the approach of that final opportunity to exit peacefully, when calls will come that may not be too accommodating for their failures. Uncle Benson left satisfied and happy. All humans will depart one day, but not everybody will have the benefit of a happy ending. For the politician, there is a Rubicon, that little bridge to cross between reality and fantasy, and between truth and falsehood. The choice is yours to make. Because as a public figure you can’t live a quiet life or a life in isolation. The networks may not be strong everywhere, but the people have their phones and are connected. They may have the last laugh by harassing your life into eternity with their little phones.
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