In the political kingdom of Rivers State, the battle for supremacy is no different from the infamous “Game of Thrones.” Alliances shift overnight, betrayals are routine, and the quest for the throne is unrelenting. The key players wield three powerful symbols, the umbrella of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) and the broom of the All Progressives Congress (APC) and the salutary wits of a political master. However, none but the foxy brain functions as it should: the umbrella leaks at the slightest political storm, and the broom is better at sweeping people out of power than keeping things clean. Nevertheless, Baba remains calculating and looming on the horizon, ever ready to strike. The major cast of this political drama are tempestuous Nyesom Wike, former governor and now minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), and his anointed godson, Siminalayi Fubara. A man known for his fiery speeches, unrelenting political warfare and ability to turn allies into enemies overnight, Wike’s tenure as governor was marked by aggressive political maneuvering and a sharp decline in opposition activity, as he successfully made Rivers a PDP fortress, or so it seemed. Like all great rulers, Wike needed a successor, a loyal steward who would not only protect his legacy but also ensure he remained the unseen hand behind the throne. So, who would inherit the throne? Then enter Fubara, Wike’s handpicked successor. But, as Rivers’ history has taught us, godsons do not always remain loyal. The 2023 election crowned Fubara as governor, and for a moment, it seemed like Rivers had achieved political peace. But just months into his reign, the battle for supremacy exploded. Wike, now in Abuja, expected Fubara to remain a humble steward, taking directives from the “emperor” in the capital. But Fubara, like a true Stark, was tactless and hastily began asserting his independence. He started questioning the godfather’s influence, seemed to have forgotten the immorality that brought him to power, seemingly forgetting the immorality that brought him to power, and gradually moved to build his own power base. The result is the full-scale war between a sitting governor and his political godfather. Neither Wike, Fubara nor the state has known peace since then. In the ensuing chaos, the Rivers State House of Assembly suddenly became a battleground. As if Rivers politics were not dramatic enough, the state also became a hub for the Defection Olympics. Lawmakers and political figures switched parties at an alarming rate. Overnight, PDP stalwarts became APC loyalists, citing “irreconcilable differences” as their reason for switching. Fubarba, once a Wike protégé, began cozying up to the opposition, while Wike, despite being a PDP member, was now more aligned with President Bola Tinubu’s APC. A majority of the lawmakers loyal to Wike attempted to impeach Fubara, citing “gross misconduct.” But Fubara struck back, resulting in the emergence of parallel Assemblies. One faction continued holding meetings in a secret location, passing laws that the governor refused to recognise. Another faction, recognising Fubara as their leader, operated separately. The numbers tell a shocking story: About 27 lawmakers defected in one night, effectively shifting legislative control. By early 2024, the Rivers Assembly had been reduced to a mere three loyalists for Fubara, while the rest pledged allegiance to Wike. Strangely, realising their folly, the defectors denied their highly publicised move, backed by an affidavit, and tried to force themselves back into the PDP. They were rebuffed, and their seats were declared vacant. With confusion unfolding, Abuja stepped in. President Tinubu, a master of political chess, hosted feuding parties, trying to broker peace. A truce was announced, but in Nigerian politics, a truce often lasts only as long as it takes for the ink to dry on the agreement. As the crisis deepened, President Tinubu wielded the sledgehammer and declared a state of emergency in the state, sacking all elected officers, including Fubara, the deputy governor and the Assembly members. President Tinubu’s involvement raised eyebrows, with critics suggesting that his mediation efforts were a cover for a larger political ploy. Tinubu, known for his strategic calculations, appeared to favour Wike’s faction, a move that did not sit well with many in the PDP. Was he truly a peacekeeper or political gambler? The suspicion: A deliberate weakening of PDP strongholds ahead of 2027 by keeping Rivers in political turmoil and subtly favouring Wike. The proclamation of a state of emergency in Rivers, a state that, despite political chaos, was not in total collapse, raised concerns that Tinubu might be setting a precedent for executive overreach. Political analysts have pointed out that this could pave the way for a federal intervention that might sideline both Fubara in favour of a temporary APC-friendly administrator. The game was no longer just about Rivers, it was about national power dynamics. With the appointment of Ibok-Ete Ibas as a ‘sole administrator’ for Rivers, many are now insinuating that Tinubu has covertly handed the reins of the state to Wike, a theory that was heightened when celebrity publisher of Ovation Magazine, Dele Momodu, published a picture of Wike and Ibas together. Interestingly, Reno Omokri, not the president’s media team, rose to defend the picture uninvited. Omokri is allegedly posturing for a job and ready to latch onto anything to ingratiate himself to the President’s good book. However, the optics may be showing a different story. It appears that the Asiwaju, a deft political strategist, may have tacitly outwitted Wike and aborted the minister’s desire to foist his Man Friday on the throne, hence sending him on a spin to irrelevance and nipped in the bud prophecies of future betrayal by Wike. Nobody can really say which but while the political elites engage in their warfare, the real victims remain the people of Rivers State. Despite being one of the wealthiest states in Nigeria due to its oil reserves, the reality on the ground shows a state where poverty levels remain abysmally high, with more people living below the poverty line. Unemployment remains a major crisis, leaving thousands of youths disillusioned, as political battles take precedence over governance. Worse still is the seizure of the state’s federal allocation ordered by a curious judgement of the Supreme Court against constitutional provisions. The ordinary people of Rivers watch helplessly, as their leaders fight for control, knowing that their needs are mere afterthoughts in this endless Game of Thrones. One begins to wonder if the Rivers episode is a true democracy or just a flood of madness. What with suspicious court rulings replacing electoral mandates; godfathers pulling the strings behind the scenes, and raping the constitution through bizarre voice votes instead of raising up of hands. But if history has taught us anything, it is that in Rivers politics, there are no permanent victories; only temporary thrones. One high court declared a faction of lawmakers illegitimate, but the appeal court reversed the decision. Another ruling made those lawmakers ‘valid’ again, but under a different party. Confused? So is everyone else. Meanwhile, governance takes a backseat while politicians engage in legal battles that make Nollywood dramas look like child’s play. Even a game of football is not as amazing. One moment, a political leader is the sworn enemy of his opponent; the next moment, they are “consulting for the interest of the people.” Even Chelsea’s player loan system has nothing to do with how Rivers’ politicians move between camps. The fans (Rivers people) have seen it all. Political players who once swore on live TV that they would never betray their party suddenly switch sides after a “private meeting” in Abuja. Those who once criticised the judiciary for overreaching or refused to obey court rulings now hail it as the last hope of democracy and insist on rule of law, depending on whose side the judgment favours. For the ordinary citizen, democracy in Rivers feels more like a spectator sport. They are forced to watch the powerful fight for control while basic governance is neglected. For now, the Rivers throne remains contested. Fubara fights to assert his independence from ‘exile’ like an outsider looking in. Wike remains a political colossus, pulling strings from Abuja, his gravelly voice grating the feeble minds of opponents back home. Tinubu and the APC loom in the background, seeking to claim Rivers for themselves for 2027. The flummoxed PDP has whittled into oblivion; its clay feet gradually washed away in the rivers of confusion that have flooded the state.