“When We Fear the Ballot Box: Muntaka’s Warning and a Hard Look in the Mirror”
A few years ago, I found myself standing in line at a polling station, sweating buckets under a merciless sun, clutching my little slip of paper like it was a winning lottery ticket. It was just a local election. Nothing fancy. But the tension in the air? You’d think we were lining up to fight a war instead of casting votes. I remember this old lady behind me whispering, “Ei, my son, today deɛ no one should try anything funny oh…”
Fast forward to last weekend’s chaos at the Ablekuma North election rerun, and honestly, I felt a sickening déjà vu. You’d think after all these years we’d be tired of seeing blood or hearing threats at polling stations. But nope. Here we are again, with Honourable Muntaka Mubarak bluntly telling the IGP: “No one will be spared.” Part of me wants to cheer that line on. Another part of me wonders: how did we get so numb to this mess that we need threats of “no mercy” to remind us that violence shouldn’t be anywhere near the ballot box?
I’ve noticed something. Whenever election season rolls around, we all suddenly become mini-political analysts on WhatsApp and Twitter (X, if you wanna be trendy). We argue over which party is better, who stole votes, and which leader will magically fix potholes overnight. But when the actual voting day comes, it’s the same story — thugs, broken bottles, people running for cover. And then, after a few days, we move on. We share memes. Post our selfies. Pretend it never happened.
I’m not saying Muntaka doesn’t have a point — he does. In my opinion, leaders have to draw a clear line: no one is above the law. If you’re big, small, party faithful or serial switcher — violence at the polls should haunt you with real consequences. But will it actually happen? I dunno. I mean, our system loves big statements but hates follow-through.
I keep thinking back to that lady behind me in line. She was right to be worried. And maybe we should all be worried. Because what does it say about us when the simple act of voting — literally our democratic flex — has become something you do with one eye open for a flying stone?
Maybe I’m being dramatic. Or maybe we’re all too comfortable being uncomfortable with things that should never be normal. I can’t help but ask: what will it take for us to protect the ballot box like it’s our mother’s kitchen, our father’s legacy, our kid’s future?
Next election, will we still need big men threatening “no mercy” just to keep us from beating each other up over a vote? Or will we finally decide — enough?
What do you think — is it fear that keeps us from changing, or have we just forgotten how?