REPORTER’S DIARY: Sit-at-home: True To God, Soludo Is Angry — Open Your Shops, I See Danger

By Tony Okafor

For over one hour, we stood under the scorching sun, right in front of the Governor’s Office at the Light House.
Pens, telephones,notepads and recorders in hand.

Yet, no one complained. No one shifted restlessly. Everyone listened—with rapt, almost solemn attention—to what felt less like a press briefing and more like a sermon in the sun.

I watched Governor Chukwuma Soludo closely throughout that hour, jotting down not just his words but his demeanour.

Even when he attempted a smile, it was dry—strained. The kind that tells you the mind is fixed elsewhere.

One did not need a mind reader to decode it: internally, the governor was angry and, more importantly, resolved to fight the sit-at-home menace to its logical conclusion.

This was not a routine media engagement. Standing there, sweating under the open sky, it was clear that a line had been crossed.

Soludo stated firmly that there would be no going back on the decision to shut Onitsha Main Market over traders’ continued refusal to open on Mondays.

What is playing out, he said, is nothing short of economic sabotage. Listening to him, one sensed that the phrase was not chosen for effect, but for accuracy.

As he spoke, his voice remained steady. No shouting. No theatrics. Just controlled anger—perhaps more unsettling than rage itself.

He reminded everyone that throughout the yuletide, markets opened from Monday to Saturday, and often even on Sundays, without incident.

So why the sudden fear? If Mondays are unsafe, why are people attending meetings, exercising in stadiums, and moving freely on those same days? Why, he asked pointedly, is the focus on markets—especially Onitsha Main Market?

Under the burning sun, his conclusion hung heavily in the air: this is not about insecurity; it is about orchestration.

Then came the warning. If traders persist in defiance, shop ownership could be revoked. If push comes to shove, the government could take total possession of the market—even demolish it and rebuild according to a new plan.

As these words landed, Soludo’s tone never rose. That calm delivery, in that heat, sharpened the message. He sounded less like a man issuing threats and more like one outlining inevitabilities.

He traced the history of the sit-at-home to 2021 and spoke of the steps his administration has taken: visiting Nnamdi Kanu, who disapproved of the order; setting up the Justice Peace Committee; holding town hall meetings; granting amnesty to scores of youths; and launching sustained security operations.
Listening, one thing became obvious to me: the governor believes patience has been stretched to its limits.

When he spoke about losses, his voice softened briefly. Not government revenue, he said—Onitsha generates “pittance”—but the larger economy. The trader who must sell to eat. The child forced into a four-day school week. The distortion of Anambra’s economic rhythm. Monday, he emphasized, is the most important trading day.

As suppressed, dry-harmattan sweat dotted the crowd, heads nodded quietly.

Then politics entered the sermon. Soludo accused politicians of sponsoring the sit-at-home to score cheap points. He said they would be named—if not now, then soon.

A brief, dry smile appeared and vanished again under the sun.
By the time he declared that 2026 would be the year to crush sit-at-home—through shop recertification, revocation and reassignment to willing traders—the message was unmistakable: this government is done pleading.

As the briefing ended and people drifted away from the sun-baked forecourt, my notebook was full. But more than the notes, what stayed with me was the atmosphere—the heat, the stillness, the collective focus.

My final line in the reporter’s diary, written before I left the Light House, reads simply:The governor has drawn his line in the open, under the sun. Traders who doubt him are gambling.

The safest—and wisest—choice is clear: open your shops and resume Monday business in earnest. Because the danger Soludo warned about did not sound distant. Standing there, listening to that sermon in the sun, it felt very close indeed.
From what I noticed, Soludo appeared utterly unconcerned about any litigation that might spring from the imbroglio.