We Faced Ethnic Cleansing In Delta State, Forced To Deny Being Igbos—Sen. Nwoko

The people of Anioma in Delta have been called upon to fully embrace their Igbo identity and join hands with their eastern brothers in building a stronger and more united Nigeria.

The Senator representing Delta North Senatorial District, Prince Ned Nwoko, made the call in Asaba while addressing participants at the conference organised by Igbo Unification Movement in collaboration with the Ndi na Asu Bia Socio-Cultural Organisation, with the theme “Igbo Bu Ofu” (Igbos are One) in Asaba.

The Igbo Unification Movement and Ndi na Asu Bia have in recent years become strong advocacy platforms championing the cultural, historical, and political unity of Igbo-speaking communities across Nigeria, including Anioma (Delta north senatorial district), Igbanke in Edo, and other border areas.

The groups argue that reclaiming a collective Igbo identity is crucial to political strength, cultural revival, and correcting decades of identity distortion.

Speaking at the event, Senator Nwoko commended the organisers for their courage and vision, noting that their efforts align with his long-standing philosophy on Anioma identity and the need for an Anioma State carved out of Delta North.

“There is no argument about our Igbo-ness. I understand history very well. I have a degree in history. I know the migration of the Igbo people, and I know clearly that we, the Anioma, are Igbo. Time has come for us to reverse the old narratives that separated us from our brothers across the Niger,” Nwoko declared.

The lawmaker, who recently sponsored a motion for the creation of Anioma State in the National Assembly, said the agitation is not about politics or personal ambition but about correcting historical imbalances.

This is not about APC, PDP, or Labour Party. It is about identity, justice, and fairness. I have no interest in being governor, but I want Anioma to stand tall with its own state, with Asaba as its capital. That way, we also fulfill the dream of Ohanaeze Ndigbo, which has always recognized Anioma as one of the Igbo states,” he said.

Nwoko also recalled his childhood experience during the Nigerian Civil War when Anioma communities faced ethnic cleansing and were compelled to deny their Igbo identity to survive.

He said the lingering identity crisis from that era must now give way to truth and reconciliation.

He further praised academics and activists, including Professor Abigail Ogwezzy of the University of Lagos, whose research on Anioma linguistics and history has shed light on the people’s Igbo roots.

Highlighting the wider significance of the gathering, Nwoko said:

“The Igbo man is Igbo everywhere, whether from Delta, Imo, or Abia. Just like a Chinese man remains Chinese anywhere in the world, Anioma must rise to embrace its identity. That is the only way we can achieve unity and political relevance.”

The senator urged the Igbo Unification Movement, Ndi na Asu Bia, and other cultural organizations to continue their advocacy, education, and mobilization, stressing that only through such collective effort can the dream of a united Igbo nation and the creation of Anioma State be realised.

God of Jets, Not Jobs: The Unholy Greed of Pastors.

(While factories rot and youths starve, the pulpit dines with politicians).

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | published by saharaweeklyng.com

For years we have blamed Africa’s rot (Nigeria’s especially) on crooked politicians and collapsing institutions. That blame is deserved, but it is not complete. A hard, uncomfortable truth sits in plain sight: a powerful slice of the modern church has chosen spectacle over service, prosperity over productivity and miracle-marketing over the mundane work of industry and jobs. The result is moral confusion and economic decay. In cities like Warri, Lagos and Port Harcourt, abandoned factories that should hum with machines and paychecks now echo with microphones and offering baskets. When pulpits replace production lines, poverty becomes liturgy.

This is not a broadside against faith or the countless pastors and congregations who feed orphans, run clinics and tutor children. It is a charge sheet against a WELL-NETWORKED RELIGIOUS-POLITICAL complex that mirrors the habits of the corrupt state: acquiring land like a feudal lord, converting industrial sites into prayer camps and mega-cathedrals and justifying excess with pious slogans. Nigeria’s own manufacturers’ body reported that hundreds of factories shut down in 2023 under the weight of energy costs, policy whiplash and currency turmoil; 767 closures and 335 distressed firms, according to the Manufacturers Association of Nigeria. As industry gasped, many shuttered spaces found new life not as workshops but as worship halls. Punch and The Guardian (Nigeria) have chronicled churches becoming the “new tenants” of old industrial estates; policy analysts have flagged the conversion of factory premises into event and worship centers as “worrisome” for jobs and competitiveness.

Let’s call this what it is: a reallocation of scarce urban land from production to passion. Scholars studying Lagos’s urban form describe how neo-Pentecostal infrastructures (prayer camps, auditoria and religious real estate) are literally remaking the city’s map, often without a corresponding boost to broad-based employment or skills. The political economy of these prayer cities may create enclaves of private order, but they do not substitute for the machine shop that trains apprentices or the light-manufacturing plant that anchors a value chain.

This drift has spiritual consequences, too. Paul Gifford, one of the most important scholars of African Christianity, argues that parts of the prosperity gospel (“covenant wealth” secured through tithes and tokens) are the antithesis of the sober, work-ethic tradition that historically linked faith to productivity and institutional responsibility. In his reading, the pastor’s personality cult risks reproducing Africa’s “Big Man” politics inside the church. Ruth Marshall’s landmark study of Nigeria’s Pentecostal revolution shows how powerful ministries have become political actors, shaping public morality and elections, yet too often without the accountability that genuine public service demands.

Meanwhile, the optics are obscene. Even as factories die and graduates hawk sachet water, headlines and watchdogs periodically highlight televangelists defending private jets and fleets of luxury cars as “necessities” of ministry. The United States has its own gaudy examples and the rhetoric used to justify them is depressingly familiar on our shores: evangelism is faster in a Gulfstream; commercial flights are “hostile” to communion with God. When religious elites flaunt luxury while congregants struggle, the line between prophet and politician blurs into a single gilded table.

This is not merely an aesthetic problem. It is a moral failure that weakens the social contract. The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu warned, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” A church that refuses to challenge job-killing policies, that benefits from industrial collapse by buying up plants for prayer, cannot claim neutrality. It has chosen. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. put it even more sharply in 1963: the church must not be a thermometer reflecting public opinion but a thermostat transforming society’s morals. Our religious establishment has often preferred the easy warmth of applause to the hard heat of reform.

To be crystal-clear: faith communities have enormous power for good. They educate millions, deliver health care where the state is absent and knit together fragile neighborhoods. Power misused is corruption by another name. If a governor who hoards SUVs while hospitals lack oxygen is condemned, then a pastor who hoards aircraft while members cannot afford insulin deserves the same scrutiny. That is not anti-Christian; it is pro-conscience.

The economic case: jobs not just jamborees.
Manufacturing is a jobs engine. When hundreds of Nigerian factories went under in 2023, the losses cascaded through suppliers, transporters, service firms and households. Turning those sites into worship arenas extracts demand from the surrounding economy (parking on weekends, a few vendors) but destroys the production ecosystems that train artisans and pay steady wages. When The Guardian and Punch reported churches taking over failed companies’ premises, they captured a symbolic tragedy: we are praying for jobs in the very halls where jobs once existed.

Urban scholars have documented how mega-ministries build parallel infrastructures (roads, utilities, private security) around prayer camps. That can look like “development,” but it is development for members, not citizens; for enclaves, not economies. Lagos’s reconfiguration by religious real estate should alarm any planner serious about inclusive growth.

The theological case: work as witness.
Max Weber’s classic insight (hotly debated but still useful) is that faith traditions can discipline economic life. He contrasted a stern work ethic with magical thinking that treats wealth as a sign of favor detached from productive effort. When pastors preach “breakthroughs” more than budgets, “mantles” more than machinery, they baptize a lottery mentality. Gifford’s critique tracks this drift in parts of African Christianity; Marshall shows how the spiritualization of politics can become an escape hatch from responsibility. A church obsessed with seed-sowing but bored by supply chains is not a thermostat; it’s a fog machine.

A five-point manifesto for reform.

If the church is serious about nation-building, it must prove it; in concrete, steel and payslips:

Re-industrialize the grounds you occupy. If a ministry acquires a defunct factory, it should revive production on-site: lease a wing to SMEs, install a training center linked to local manufacturers or run a cooperative that fabricates furniture, garments or solar kits. Sunday services should FUND MONDAY-THROUGH-FRIDAY WORK. (City authorities can incentivize this with tax rebates for every job created.) The alternative is sanctified de-industrialization.

Publish audited accounts and related-party transactions. If politicians must declare assets, pastors who solicit public donations should publish independent audits, disclose land banks and vehicle fleets and list any businesses owned by the “man of God” and relatives that contract with the church. Financial sunlight is spiritual hygiene.

Adopt a “No Jet Until 10,000 Jobs” covenant. Any church considering private aircraft should first demonstrate (publicly) that it has helped create or sustain 10,000 verifiable jobs in its host communities through investments, apprenticeships or supply-chain partnerships. If that sounds radical, compare it to the radicality of the gospel’s demands for the poor. (And remember how grotesque the justifications for jets have sounded in other contexts.)

Tithe to industry. Earmark at least 10% of all offerings to a transparent, independently governed Local Enterprise Fund that backs tool-shops, agro-processing and repair clusters around the church. Publish the portfolio quarterly. Transform “seed” into steel.

Preach the dignity of building as hard as you preach the danger of “enemies.” Replace warfare liturgies with workshops. Teach financial literacy, export basics, safety standards and coding. Partner with polytechnics. Make altar calls for welders and machinists.

A word to regulators and city planners.
Governments enabled this drift by failing at energy, logistics and credit and by looking the other way as zoning laws were bent into halos. Nigeria needs an industrial land-use compact: once-industrial zones should not be casually converted to non-productive uses; any religious conversion must carry binding obligations for vocational training and SME tenancy. When the FT, Punch and MAN warn about factory carnage, policymakers must treat industrial land as a strategic asset, not a soft target for quick sales.

The moral bottom line.
The church that dines with politicians while congregants queue for fuel has forfeited the authority to thunder about “destiny helpers.” The pastor who hoards land and jets while factories die is not merely tone-deaf; he is an accomplice to unemployment. Tutu’s admonition and King’s thermostat test stand at the door of the sanctuary. Pass or fail.

Nigeria does not need fewer prayers. It needs prayers with payrolls. It needs pulpits that can drill boreholes and balance books, that can bless machines as readily as microphones. It needs bishops who will turn back from vanity purchases and turn abandoned plants into vocational hubs. It needs ministries that trade celebrity for citizenship.

If you’re reading this as a church leader, consider it an altar call of a different kind. Open your books. Reopen a factory. Fund a welding school. Lease space to small manufacturers at peppercorn rent. Publish impact numbers. And when next you stand before your people, remember the standard King set: be a thermostat. Set the temperature of our public life to justice, truth and work, then hold it there.

Until the pulpit returns the factory to the people, the gospel we preach in Africa will remain a loud cymbal in an empty hall; BEAUTIFUL on Sunday, USELESS by Monday.

Byline: George Omagbemi Sylvester
Publication: saharaweeklyng.com

Prophecies of Prophet Kingsley Aitafo Stir Conversations as Events Unfold

On July 11, 2025, Prophet Kingsley Aitafo of Oneness in Christ Ministry issued a series of prophetic warnings, calling for fervent prayers over several pressing issues. He specifically urged prayers against violent protests in some countries around the world, warning that such unrest could lead to bloodshed and destabilization. Barely weeks later, his words appear to be finding reflection in ongoing protests currently rocking Australia and Indonesia.

The Prophet also raised a call for intercession on behalf of Nigerian comedians, saying he foresaw troubling events ahead but could not fully interpret the vision. Sadly, the nation was thrown into mourning when popular comedian Sanku tragically lost his life in a motor accident, reinforcing the urgency of the prophetic plea.

In the same message, Prophet Aitafo urged prayers for a “very popular Yoruba film act,” warning that without God’s mercy, a sorrowful story might emerge. Just days ago, tragedy struck the Yoruba film industry when veteran actress Peju Ogunmola lost her only son, an incident that has left fans and colleagues deeply shaken.

These unfolding events have sparked renewed attention on the Prophet’s warnings, with many urging Nigerians not to dismiss such calls for intercession lightly. Prophet Aitato, however, maintains that the aim of prophecy is not fear, but prayer and preparedness.

As the words of the prophecy continue to resonate, one message stands clear: prayers remain vital for the entertainment industry, the nation, and families facing grief.