By Chinedu Agu
As the goalkeeper of NBA Owerri FC, I went to Enugu to represent my branch in the NBA Football Tournament where 40 branches battled for glory at the just-concluded AGC. We came 4th — a commendable feat. But beyond that, I was privileged to be awarded the Golden Glove as the Best Goalkeeper of the Tournament.
It was a moment of honour. But the true reward came not from a medal; it came from the eye-opening, soul-wrenching experience of spending 10 days (August 18–28) in Enugu, a city that, quite frankly, left me in awe, and in pain.
Because I drove myself and spent time moving around Enugu, I can say with confidence: I saw the city. I felt it. I lived it. And what I saw left me with one question — “Gịnị mere anyị na Imo? What happened to us in Imo State?”
From the moment I entered Enugu, I noticed something strange — no potholes. Yes, I drove across town, from GRA to Uwani, from Independence Layout to Trans-Ekulu, and never once did I fear my tyres would burst or my suspension collapse. The roads were motorable, marked, clean, and vigilantly maintained.
Contrast this with Imo State, where even the so-called capital city of Owerri is riddled with craters that swallow cars and test your patience daily. Literally, a man driving in Owerri carries his heart in his hands.
But in Enugu, I drove with ease. No fear of “boom” sounds. No “zigzagging” to avoid gullies in the middle of the road. Just calm.
One of the most painful yet enlightening moments of my trip was my visit to the Enugu Geographic Information Service (EGIS), an agency under the Ministry of Lands. I went there to conduct a simple search, and what I saw stunned me: digitized records, clear service processes, courteous staff, and fast results.
This is how a public institution should function.
Now tell me — when last did anyone walk into Imo State Ministry of Lands and successfully conduct a search? That Ministry has been under lock and key for over two years. A ministry that holds the key to economic development, investments, and housing — completely paralysed.
What kind of leadership allows such critical infrastructure to collapse while singing songs of development?
When an animal’s head begins to rot, you know it’s been left in water too long. That is what has happened to our institutions in Imo.
In Enugu, the police were present, but not predatory. They were there to maintain order, not to extort, intimidate, or frustrate motorists. For 10 days, I was not stopped indiscriminately. I was not asked for “particulars,” “ECMR,” or “fuel our car.” The officers were polite, civil, and professional.
I even saw a vehicle marked DRS – District Response Squad, strategically situate at major junctions and roundabouts, ready for emergency response; an idea clearly built around public service, not harassment. In fact, a colleague told me how they quickly responded on Tuesday night to a distress call to rescue a lawyer whose leg got stuck inside a Gutter Lid infront of Golden Royale after the Meet-and-Greet Outing of the Eastern Bar Forum. The hotel management called and they responded in less than 4 minutes.
But in Imo, the story is different. Young men drive with their hearts in their mouths. Police stop you for sport. In fact, if you don’t want trouble in Imo, don’t drive. They are at all nooks and crannies, not to protect but to prey, especially at nights – Amakohia Road, before Amakohia Flyover; Onitsha Road before A.A. Rano Fuel Station; Bank Road; Warehouse Roundabout; Okigwe Road, before Government College; Orji, before Orji Flyover; MCC Road; Concorde Road; Yar’ Adua drive; Egbeada Road, before A.A. Rano junction, just to mention but a few. Drive down there tonight and you will definitely see them, preying on young motorists and commercial drivers in a manner most callous.
Being a lawyer, I paid attention to the judiciary during my stay. In Enugu, the courts are active, orderly, and strategically digitizing. There is a Chief Judge in place, and we were even treated to a cocktail by the Chief Judge of Enugu during the NBA Conference. That is a judiciary that understands its role as a partner in nation-building.
Meanwhile, in Imo, we do not currently have a Chief Judge. For a state battling land disputes, insecurity, and civil unrest, that vacuum is dangerous. It’s also telling. Our courts are underfunded, under-equipped, increasingly inefficient and non-existent in this vacation period.
I visited Aba High Court in Abia State from Enugu last Thursday, and I saw how digitization is transforming, how records are kept and accessed. The future is arriving in our neighbouring states, while Imo clutches tightly and happily to the past.
The tortoise says it will go on a journey, but forgets that it must have strong legs. You cannot build the future with broken systems.
During the NBA Conference, over 20,000 lawyers descended on Enugu. Yet, the city did not choke. Why? Because the road network absorbed the pressure. Planning worked. Agencies worked.
Compare that to Owerri. A single wedding can lock down the entire city. There’s no plan. No foresight. Link roads are abandoned. Intersections are chaotic. If you want to see the practical definition of chaos, drive down to Worldbank Last Roundabout, or Hospital Junction at Portharcourt Road!
And yet, we clap. We clap for every shallow project, every half-done road, every fresh coat of paint.
Until the leadership changes how it sees governance, nothing will change in this abandoned property called Imo State.
This is not an attack piece. This is a lamentation. A public mourning. Because it is shameful that Imo, once a shining light of the Southeast, has now become its sick patient, limping behind as Enugu, Abia, Ebonyi match forward, and probably looking at the recent Anambra and saying, “let’s limp along.”
Imo is falling apart, and those who should speak have zipped their mouths.
Let me speak to those still praising mediocrity, especially lawyers who ought to know better: You must not give a vulture the food meant for a hen. We are rewarding those who have failed us while punishing our own future.
If you truly love Imo, stop clapping. Start asking questions. Start demanding good governance.
After 10 days in Enugu, my heart is heavy. I love Imo State. I owe my roots to it. But love tells the truth. And the truth is: we are broken. We are behind. And no one is coming to save us unless we rise to demand better.
So I raise my voice — as a lawyer, a son of the soil, and I say:
Enugu is working. Imo is rotting.
Chinedu Agu is a Solicitor and Notary Public, past secretary of NBA Owerri, and writes from Owerri. He can be reached on ezeomeaku@gmail.com | 08032568512.