By Anthony Iwuoma
By Amah
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There is an old wisdom that a tree is not judged by the enthusiasm with which it is planted but by the shade it eventually provides. In much the same way, legacy projects are not measured by unveiling ceremonies, glowing commendations, or newspaper headlines, but by the tangible benefits they bring to the people whose lives they are meant to improve.
This is why two projects often celebrated as landmark legacies in Okigwe Zone present a fascinating paradox. They are routinely acclaimed as transformative achievements, yet one remains atop the trailer that brought it while the other increasingly resembles a forest reserve.
Take the much-publicised Mobitra Substation.
When it arrived, it was greeted with excitement and hope. Given the perennial power challenges confronting homes, businesses, artisans, and industries across the zone, expectations were naturally high. The arrival of the facility was presented as a major milestone in the quest for improved electricity supply and accelerated development.
Months later, however, the substation remains where many first encountered it, perched majestically on the trailer that transported it.
Like a distinguished visitor unwilling to descend from his carriage, it continues to occupy an elevated position while the people wait below. The explanations, meanwhile, have evolved with time. At first, attention was directed to the preparation of the foundation upon which it would stand. Then came discussions about site readiness and other technical considerations. More recently, a subtle qualification emerged: even when fully installed, its effectiveness may ultimately depend on the capacity of the national grid to supply adequate power.
One cannot help but marvel at this curious situation. A project celebrated as a solution is simultaneously accompanied by explanations as to why the solution may not fully solve the problem.
It raises an uncomfortable but legitimate question. If the availability of electricity remains largely dependent on factors beyond the substation itself, what immediate relief does the project presently offer to the communities that eagerly awaited its arrival?
After all, a substation derives its value not from occupying space but from transmitting power. Metal does not illuminate homes. Transformers do not energise businesses merely by their presence. Electricity is measured not by installations but by illumination.
The same philosophical puzzle confronts the university acclaimed as another enduring legacy for the zone.
Universities are among the most visible symbols of development. They attract students, lecturers, researchers, investments, businesses, housing developments, and countless economic opportunities. They become centres of innovation, knowledge creation, and intellectual advancement. Wherever a university takes root, entire communities are often transformed by its presence.
Yet the proposed site today presents a different spectacle.
Nature appears to have embraced the project more enthusiastically than human beings. Grass grows where lecture halls should rise. Bushes flourish where laboratories ought to stand. Trees seem to be advancing academically while students remain absent. A first-time visitor could easily mistake the location for a conservation area rather than the future home of higher learning.
The irony is impossible to ignore.
A university is not merely an approval. It is not a declaration. It is not a signboard. A university becomes real when knowledge begins to inhabit the space through classrooms, libraries, laboratories, faculty, researchers, and students. Until then, it exists more in imagination than in reality.
This is not to diminish the potential significance of either project. Both possess the capacity to positively transform Okigwe Zone if fully realised and operationalised. The issue is not potential. The issue is functionality.
History is rarely impressed by intentions; it judges outcomes.
A road earns its legacy when people travel on it. A hospital earns its legacy when patients are treated in it. A university earns its legacy when students graduate from it. A power substation earns its legacy when homes, markets, workshops, and industries receive electricity through it.
Until functionality replaces anticipation, the Mobitra Substation remains, perhaps, the most celebrated passenger on a trailer, while the university site continues its quiet evolution into what may well be the most academically ambitious forest in south-eastern Nigeria.
And so the people watch, wait, and wonder: at what point does a legacy cease to be an announcement of tomorrow and become a reality of today?
The whole scenario is like a man who announced the arrival of rain only to be surprised when the people brought out their buckets to collect rain water. For months now, the people of Okigwe Zone have stood with their buckets under the sky, waiting for the rain of light and knowledge that was loudly proclaimed.
While the people wait, they are too often confronted not with answers but with attempts to clobber those who dare to ask questions into silence. Yet one is compelled to wonder: if all were truly well, why should cudgels descend upon the heads of those merely seeking clarification? Why should inquiry be treated as rebellion and scrutiny mistaken for hostility?
Questions are not enemies of progress; they are its guardians. Genuine achievements invite examination, and applause. Only fragile narratives fear interrogation.
Be that as it may, another electoral season is fast approaching. The people of Okigwe Zone would do well to remember the wisdom of the elders: one must count one’s tongue with one’s teeth, or is it the other way.
For overly trusting Okigwe, these past years, everything is topsy-turvy. Much that ought to stand on its feet appears to stand on its head. What should be functional remains anticipatory; what should be visible exists largely in projection. The familiar has become strange, and the normal has become inverted.
The moment is, therefore, approaching when the people must decide whether to continue along the well-worn path of expectation and disappointment or chart a new course from darkness to light, from promises to performance, and from celebrated possibilities to measurable realities.
So, Ndi Okigwe, this is your chance; the choice is right there at your doorstep.
Anthony Iwuoma, a political commentator, wrote from Owerri
