EDITORIAL | Muraina Saubana Ajibola: A Good Dancer Should Know When To Leave the Stage

There comes a moment in every political career when ambition must give way to wisdom, when personal aspiration must bow to public sentiment and when a politician must look beyond the next election to consider the legacy he will leave behind. In the theatre of politics, the microphone does not belong permanently to one person, just as the stage was never built for one dancer. The applause may be intoxicating, the crowd may once have shouted your name and the political machinery may once have revolved around you, but every serious politician must understand one fundamental truth: a good dancer should know when to leave the stage.

The politics of Ibarapa is currently witnessing a fascinating transition. Across Ibarapa Central, Ibarapa North and the wider political landscape of Oyo State, old structures are being tested, new alliances are emerging and political calculations that once appeared permanent are beginning to look increasingly fragile. What we are witnessing is not merely another season of political permutations; it is the collision between an old political order and a generation that is becoming increasingly unwilling to accept political inheritance as a substitute for political performance.

For those who understand the history of Ibarapa politics, certain names immediately evoke memories of an era when political influence was measured by proximity to powerful structures. During the days of the late Chief Lamidi Adedibu, the political kingmaker of Oyo politics, names such as Saubana Muraina Ajibola in Ibarapa Central, Olufumilayo Orisadeyi in Ibarapa North and Yemi Taiwo in Ibarapa East were not ordinary names. They were part of the political architecture of their respective territories. They understood the game, understood the structures and understood the kind of politics their godfather, Chief Adedibu, wanted. Take it or leave it, the individuals graduated from that political school of thought.

But history has a way of humbling everyone, the political arena that once produced unquestionable political giants is now producing voters who are prepared to question even those they once revered. The videos circulating from Ibarapa recently, in which constituents openly confront and criticise Hon. Ajibola Muraina, may be uncomfortable to watch, but they represent something much bigger than the individuals involved. They demonstrate that the relationship between the political elite and the electorate is changing. The people are no longer content to clap simply because a politician has been on the stage for a long time.

And this is where Muraina’s story becomes particularly instructive. Nobody can honestly write the political history of Ibarapa Central and North without acknowledging his electoral experience. He served three terms in the House of Representatives and was elected on the PDP platform in 2019, defeating the APC candidate in that election. He later moved to the APC in 2022 and contested the 2023 election under the party. But the 2023 election produced a significant political turning point: PDP’s Adebayo Anthony Adepoju defeated Muraina in the constituency.

That defeat should have been more than an electoral statistic. It should have been an opportunity for introspection, because politics is not mathematics where the only question is how many times one has contested. Politics is about understanding the people, understanding changing sentiments and knowing when the political wind has changed direction. A politician may have won yesterday and still lose tomorrow. A politician may have been feared yesterday and become questioned tomorrow. And a politician who refuses to recognise that transition may eventually discover that the very crowd that once celebrated him is now asking him to leave the stage.

The question, therefore, is not whether Muraina has experience. He does. The question is what that experience has been converted into. Three terms in the House of Representatives should produce more than a political résumé. It should produce institutions, protégés, political successors, community projects, strategic influence and a generation of younger politicians who can say, without hesitation, “I became better because Muraina gave me room to grow.”

This is where the politics of personal ambition becomes dangerous. When a political leader begins to measure his relevance solely by whether his name is on the ballot in every election season, he risks confusing political leadership with political candidacy. The two are not the same. You can be a political leader without contesting an election. You can influence government without occupying a legislative seat. You can build people without putting your name on every political poster.

Indeed, some of the most consequential political figures in Nigeria’s history understood this distinction. They built structures, mentored people, negotiated power and influenced political outcomes without necessarily being the candidate in every electoral cycle. The truly powerful politician is not necessarily the one who must always contest; it is the one whose influence survives even when his name is absent from the ballot.

This is why the argument about political party loyalty cannot simply be dismissed as propaganda. Defection is legal and common in Nigerian politics and politicians have legitimate reasons for changing platforms. But when a politician repeatedly moves between political formations, the electorate is entitled to ask what principle is driving the movement. Is it ideology? Is it conviction? Is it the interest of the constituency? Or is the overriding objective simply securing a ticket?

That question becomes even more important when the political history of the individual is examined over time. A political party is supposed to be more than a vehicle for personal ambition. It is an institution with ideology, members, structures and people who sacrifice years building it from the grassroots. To arrive shortly before an election, demand the ticket and then abandon the structure when the ticket becomes uncertain may win a temporary battle, but it can destroy something more valuable: trust. And trust, unlike a party ticket, cannot be obtained at a primary election.

The 2023 experience should therefore remain a permanent lesson. Muraina entered that election as a former three-term federal legislator and the APC candidate, yet the constituency chose another direction. Despite the strong performance of the APC and the wider political momentum surrounding the party at the time, the result in Ibarapa Central and North did not produce the victory many expected despite Tinubu tsunami. This becomes even more striking when compared with neighbouring constituencies, like Ibarapa East and Ido Federal Constituency where APC candidate recorded margins of more than 15,000 votes to defeat incumbent lawmaker representing the constituency. The result was therefore not merely a defeat for an individual; it demonstrated that political pedigree, party platform and electoral calculations do not automatically translate into acceptance by the people. In politics, yesterday’s achievement earns you respect, but tomorrow’s acceptance must still be earned.

There is a generation in Ibarapa today that was not politically conscious when some of the current political battles began. Some of those young people were children when these political figures were already occupying major offices. Today, those children are graduates, professionals, entrepreneurs, party leaders and elected representatives. Some in their age bracket are sitting in State Houses of Assembly as members across Nigeria while others are commissioners and other political offices. They are not necessarily interested in hearing how long somebody has been contesting, they want to know what that long journey has produced for them. That is the question every political veteran should answer. What have you built that can survive without you? If the answer is another campaign poster, another political rally, another defection and another attempt to secure another ticket, then perhaps the problem is not that the politician has run out of opportunities. Perhaps the problem is that he has failed to understand that politics is ultimately about legacy.

This is where President Bola Ahmed Tinubu offers an interesting political lesson. After leaving the Lagos State Government House in 2007, his political journey was not defined by an obsessive attempt to occupy every available ballot. He remained deeply involved in political organisation and the development of political networks, helping to nurture structures and political actors. Eventually, the man who once left the governorship became President of Nigeria in 2023. Whatever one’s assessment of his presidency, his political trajectory demonstrates that leaving one stage does not necessarily mean leaving politics. Sometimes, it is precisely how one prepares for the bigger stage.

That is the lesson Ibarapa’s political class must learn. There is dignity in succession. There is strength in mentorship. There is greatness in making room for another person to rise. A leader who produces ten capable successors is arguably more powerful than one who contests ten elections without producing anyone capable of carrying the torch. The former builds an institution, the latter may simply be extending a personal political career.

So, when the people begin to ask questions, the wise politician listens. When younger politicians begin to emerge, the wise politician mentors them. When the political environment changes, the wise politician adapts. And when the applause reaches its loudest point, the wise politician knows that the most dignified thing to do may be to bow, wave to the crowd and walk away from the centre of the stage. That is not defeat. That is mastery.

Ibarapa does not need permanent political candidates. Ibarapa needs permanent political institutions. It does not need men who believe that political relevance expires the moment they leave office. It needs statesmen who understand that the greatest political achievement is not how long one’s name remains on the ballot but how long one’s impact remains in the lives of the people.

The political awakening currently taking place in Ibarapa should therefore be welcomed, not feared. It should force every politician, young and old to look into the mirror. The question is no longer simply “Who will get the ticket?” The bigger question is “Who deserves the trust of the people?” And there lies the difference between a politician and a statesman. A politician asks, “What office is next?” A statesman asks, “What legacy will I leave?” A politician fights to remain on the stage. A statesman knows when to leave the stage and still commands respect after the music stops.

So, to every political veteran watching the events unfolding in Ibarapa: do not mistake the microphone for immortality. Do not mistake experience for entitlement. Do not mistake repeated candidacy for leadership. And do not mistake the ability to secure a party ticket for the ability to command the hearts of the people. Because eventually, every dancer hears the music stop. And when that moment comes, history will not ask how many times you danced. History will ask whether you knew when to leave the stage.