By Tony Okafor
Let’s be honest—if divine punishment were to fall only on those guilty of vote buying, not a single political party in Anambra would escape the thunderbolt.
Some called it ego mmanya, others ego oji. The amounts ranged from ₦2,000 to ₦10,000.
During the campaigns, everyone became a saint on the microphone and a sinner at the polling booth. Every party accused the other of “inducing voters,” as if their own agents were distributing Bibles and hymn books instead of cash.
It was a grand theatre of hypocrisy—one party shouting, “They are buying votes!” while their own team was quietly offering cash to the next voter.
The truth is, the act was bipartisan, tripartisan—even omnipartisan. From self-proclaimed progressives to born-again reformers, everyone joined the bazaar of ballots.
The market was open, and conscience was for sale. Voters traded their future for less than the price of a plate of jollof rice and a promise that expires next week. Politicians, in turn, bought the illusion of legitimacy—an election won not by persuasion but by transaction.
But let’s not laugh too hard. Vote buying is not just a political crime; it is a moral suicide note. It reduces democracy to a cash-and-carry enterprise and turns citizens into customers of corruption.
The consequence? Four years of regret for five minutes of gratification. Roads remain potholes, hospitals stay as prayer camps, and schools continue producing half-educated voters ready for the next round of selling.
So, if I were to curse those who bought votes in Anambra, my lips would be busy from dawn till dusk. Every political party would receive its share. Every voter who stretched out a greedy hand would be included.
Because this is not just about who won or lost—it’s about how all of us, collectively, auctioned our state’s dignity for crumbs.
Perhaps instead of curses, we should pray. Pray that next time, conscience becomes more expensive than cash.
Pray that our people remember democracy is not about who can spend the most, but who can serve the best.
Until then, we will keep running elections like markets—and governance like a clearance sale.
For this November 8 election, let no one jubilate. Let us rather go and confess our sins, for we have all fallen short of glory.
