In the serpentine theatre of Imo politics, where ambition often masquerades as altruism and solidarity dissolves at the first whiff of personal gain, the emergence of Owerri Zone United strikes a refreshing, almost redemptive chord. For a zone that has nursed a long-standing grievance over its exclusion from the governorship of the state, the decision of its leaders to close ranks under one umbrella is not just symbolic; it is strategically consequential.
The February 15, 2026 convergence at the residence of Prince Charles Amadi in Owerri was more than a routine political gathering. It was, by all indications, a calculated attempt to arrest a historical pattern of self-sabotage that has haunted Owerri Zone’s governorship aspiration. That the meeting drew political heavyweights, technocrats, clergy, traditional rulers, business figures, women and youth leaders suggests that the message of unity resonated beyond partisan silos.
At the heart of this renewed solidarity is an explicit endorsement of Hope Uzodimma and the much-invoked Charter of Equity. In publicly aligning with the governor’s rotational philosophy, Owerri Zone’s elite appear to have accepted a pragmatic truth: they now know that political power in Imo is not seized by sentiment; it is negotiated through structure, discipline, and timing.
For years, one of the most debilitating afflictions of the Owerri gubernatorial project has been the proliferation of parallel pressure groups. Like mushrooms sprouting after a night of rain, organizations emerged with grandiose names and overlapping mandates—each claiming authenticity, each professing exclusive custodianship of the zone’s destiny. In some seasons, they numbered close to thirty. Predictably, many became arenas for ego contests and subterranean rivalries. The cause suffered.
Even in the current political cycle, familiar centrifugal tendencies resurfaced. Groups duplicated functions, issued competing communiqués, and jostled for relevance under the banner of a common objective. The tragedy of Owerri’s past miscalculations lies precisely here: unity proclaimed in public but fractured in private.
If Owerri Zone United has indeed subsumed formations such as Imo Harmony Project, Owerri Zone Mandate, OZAC, OZPOPROM, and Owerri Leaders of Thought, then it has performed a vital act of political consolidation. Unity, after all, is not a poetic abstraction; it is an organizational discipline. Without it, numerical strength degenerates into strategic impotence.
One must concede that assembling figures as varied and influential as Capt. Emmanuel Ihenacho, Kema Chikwe, Charles Amadi, Alex Mbata, Henry Njoku (Harritex), Ambrose Ejiogu, Jude Ejiogu, Marcellinus Nlemigbo, Jerry Chukwueke, and others under a single canopy could not have been an effortless undertaking. These are individuals with independent followings, personal networks, and, undoubtedly, private ambitions. That they chose to share a platform speaks to a dawning realization that fragmentation is a luxury Owerri Zone can no longer afford.
Across the nine local governments of the zone, there is reportedly a perceptible shift in mood—a new rhetoric of collective destiny replacing the old grammar of suspicion. Credit is due to Owerri Leaders of Thought for their grassroots tour, sensitizing communities to the strategic advantages of presenting a cohesive front in 2027. Political consciousness, when diffused methodically, can inoculate a people against internal betrayal.
The reported pouring of libations and symbolic curses against potential saboteurs, while dramatic, is also revealing. It underscores how deeply the memory of past derailments is etched in the zone’s psyche. Owerri’s tragedy has never been a deficit of qualified aspirants; it has been late-stage defections, quiet compromises, and the fatal temptation of personal bargains over collective interest.
Yet even as one applauds this new architecture of unity, prudence demands caution. The gravitational pull of power is relentless. Today’s comrades can become tomorrow’s competitors once the succession conversation crystallizes. Should the governor signal that the zone must produce a consensus candidate from among its ranks, will fraternity withstand ambition?
History counsels skepticism. The offer to “choose among yourselves” has destroyed stronger alliances. It can unleash subterranean rivalries, revive dormant camps, and convert solidarity into suspicion. In this regard, a paradoxical argument presents itself: perhaps it would be wiser for the governor to exercise his prerogative decisively, selecting whom he considers fit and capable from the zone, rather than setting off a fratricidal contest disguised as internal democracy.
Owerri Zone United is, without question, a welcome development—timely, strategic, and potentially transformative. But unity is not an event; it is a sustained discipline. If the zone truly desires to produce the successor to Governor Uzodimma in 2028, it must resist its historical impulses toward duplication, ego warfare, and last-minute sabotage. The test of this newfound togetherness will not be in communiqués or group photographs; it will be in the quiet, difficult compromises that precede the final choice.
