How Chinedu Ogah Perfected the Art of Political Wayo

By every metric of political responsibility, Hon. Chinedu Ogah, OON, has failed spectacularly. What masquerades as representation is, in fact, a carefully crafted scam. A media charade. A camera-friendly fraud. Welcome to the world of Chinedu Ogah, the ultimate modern-day political swindler—a man who understands nothing about service, yet has mastered the art of pretending to care.

We’ve had enough of the packaging. Enough of the noise. Enough of the stage-managed “empowerments” designed to fool the gullible and whitewash a legacy soaked in deceit.

Chinedu Ogah‘s political career has never been rooted in the honest pursuit of justice or growth for his people. Rather, it has been a carefully curated show built on noise, optics, and shallow acts of generosity designed to manipulate perception. His so-called empowerment programs are the clearest evidence of this façade. These events, often heavily staged with camera crews and cheering supporters, are less about lifting people out of poverty and more about crafting the illusion of benevolence. Motorcycles, wheelbarrows, and sewing machines are paraded as evidence of development, yet they do not address the core issues of job creation, education, infrastructure, or healthcare.

In many cases, the so-called beneficiaries of these gestures are handpicked not by need but by political loyalty. Even more damning is the fact that some of the distributed items are rumored to be retrieved after the photos are taken—returned to the warehouse until the next media event. This charade does not uplift communities; it mocks their intelligence. It exploits their desperation and manipulates their gratitude. It is a political performance designed to generate applause rather than impact.

The deception is even more evident in the latest claim that Ogah spent over two hundred million naira registering six thousand students from Ikwo and Ezza South for WAEC and NECO. On the surface, this appears to be a monumental gesture of educational investment. However, beneath the surface lies a web of lies and exaggerations. The figures do not add up. There is no evidence to support the existence of such a large cohort of students being registered in these local governments in a single year. School principals have not corroborated the claim. Examination boards have not issued any confirmation. The students themselves are silent, invisible, or possibly non-existent.

This grand declaration is a classic political con, a strategy to manufacture credibility by creating phantom beneficiaries. In reality, many families in these communities continue to struggle with registration fees. Some of them receive quiet help from concerned citizens who do not wave flags or hire media teams to capture their good deeds. The contrast is stark. Where others act with sincerity, Ogah acts for applause.

Perhaps the most revealing glimpse into the character of Chinedu Ogah lies in the recent account of a young man who sought financial assistance for school. Rather than providing support, Ogah allegedly took a four million naira kickback from the same individual he claimed to be helping. Instead of elevating this young man, Ogah reportedly exploited him, using his access to the Governor not as a lifeline for someone in need, but as a bargaining chip for personal gain. This behavior reflects a deep moral decay. It is not only shameful; it is criminal.

His pattern of conduct exposes a man who sees every cry for help as a transaction. Nothing is free unless it serves his ego. Even loyalty, which should be the foundation of a functional political movement, is treated as a tool of manipulation. Ogah’s loyalists have nothing to show for their years of support. No homes. No cars. No stability. Loyalty in his camp does not bring opportunity. It invites servitude. It demands submission. It offers no reward other than continued humiliation.

There are countless political actors in Nigeria who fall short of expectations, but what distinguishes Ogah is the way he weaponizes poverty and disillusionment. He does not simply fail to deliver—he deceives the people into thinking he has. While the roads in his constituency remain impassable, schools crumble, health centers lack staff and medicine, and the youth remain unemployed, Ogah distracts the masses with buses, t-shirts, and staged parades. His tenure in the National Assembly has been marked not by any meaningful legislation or advocacy but by utter silence. His presence is ceremonial, not substantive.

One must also question how he received a national honor—Officer of the Order of the Niger (OON). What measurable achievement justified such a title? What has he contributed to national discourse? What impact has he made on policy or public welfare? The answer is nothing of substance. The OON he so proudly bears is not a symbol of accomplishment but an indictment of a broken system that rewards political theatrics over genuine service.

It is crucial to understand that Chinedu Ogah’s story is not merely about one man’s failure. It is a reflection of a deeper crisis within Nigeria’s democratic culture—a culture that allows men like him to ascend, to deceive, and to dominate without accountability. His career is a blueprint for how to exploit the hopes of the poor, how to manipulate the media, how to survive in politics without ever truly serving the people.

Ogah may still command a following, but it is one built on illusion. The truth, no matter how long it is suppressed, always finds its way to the surface. And when it does, it will become clear that his entire political legacy was built on lies. The man who promised progress gave us nothing but propaganda. The man who claimed to be a helper was, in fact, a predator.

For the people of Ikwo, Ezza South, and indeed Ebonyi State, this should be a moment of reckoning. Enough of the noise. Enough of the deception. The time has come to demand accountability, not theatrics. Leadership must be earned through results, not rehearsed through performance. Chinedu Ogah’s chapter in our political history should serve as a warning—not a model.

History will not remember him kindly. Not as a visionary. Not as a reformer. But as a cautionary tale of what happens when the pursuit of power becomes a game of deception. His legacy, if it endures at all, will be one of wasted potential, betrayed trust, and a constituency left behind.