By Tony Edemenaha
By the time the talking drum sounds at the village square, everyone already knows whether it is calling for a wedding, a burial or war. The tone changes, the rhythm shifts, and even the children playing marbles drop their stones and run to listen.
That is how politics works in Nigeria. The drum does not need to announce its message twice. As we inch toward 2027, that drum is beating again, louder this time.
The conversation in beer parlours in Onitsha, tea joints in Kano, WhatsApp groups in Port Harcourt and the corridors of power in Abuja is essentially the same: how much does federal influence matter?
Does incumbency carry a charm or a curse? And are our political structures — parties, alliances, zoning arrangements and the “structures” politicians love to invoke — still steering the canoe, or has the canoe begun steering itself?
Let us sit at the square and talk, as our fathers did.
Our elders tell a story of the Tortoise and the Elephant. The Tortoise wanted to cross the river but could not swim, while the Elephant could wade through easily. The Tortoise climbed onto the Elephant’s back and crossed.
Halfway across, he began to sing, “Who is the king of the river? It is me, Tortoise!” The Elephant, hearing this, submerged slightly, and the Tortoise began coughing.
The moral is simple: there is power in proximity to power.
In Nigerian elections, federal authority and incumbency have traditionally offered political advantages. The government at the centre controls substantial public resources, makes important appointments and enjoys national visibility.
From the First Republic to the present democratic era, parties in power have often benefited from what political scientists describe as an incumbency advantage.
The real question for 2027 is whether that advantage will remain decisive.
What makes the coming election particularly interesting is the changing political environment. Since 1999, Nigerians have witnessed shifts in political loyalties, the rise and decline of parties, changing alliances and the growing influence of younger voters.
The 2015 election demonstrated that incumbency could be defeated peacefully, while the 2023 election showed the strength of voter mobilisation outside traditional political structures.
The question now is whether established structures will regain dominance or adapt to a more unpredictable electorate.
In Yoruba land, they say, “Agbada ti o to ni a ma n so” — we wear the agbada that fits us.
Incumbency is like that agbada. When it fits, it looks majestic. It brings visibility and provides opportunities for those in government to showcase projects, policies and programmes.
But an agbada that is too big can trip the wearer. The debate, therefore, is whether the advantages of incumbency will fit the political circumstances of 2027.
On one side are those who believe that control of the federal machinery, political networks and access to national institutions gives a sitting administration a significant head start.
On the other are voters who insist that performance ultimately matters more than political positioning. Economic conditions, insecurity, employment and the cost of living are among the issues likely to influence how citizens assess those seeking their votes.
Incumbency, therefore, may offer an advantage, but it does not automatically guarantee electoral victory.
In many Hausa communities, the baobab tree provides shade where children play and elders settle disputes. But when its roots begin threatening the foundation of a house, people naturally begin asking whether the tree should remain.
Federal influence can be viewed in much the same way. Nigeria’s constitutional arrangement gives the federal government significant responsibilities, while states and local governments also seek greater room to determine their affairs.
The debate over federal influence is therefore unlikely to disappear before 2027. Critics will continue to argue for stronger devolution of powers and resources, while supporters will maintain that a country as diverse as Nigeria requires a strong centre capable of coordinating national affairs.
Interestingly, political actors can hold different positions depending on whether they are in government or opposition. That flexibility is one of the enduring features of Nigerian politics.
In Igbo land, a masquerade does not dance alone. There are drummers, flute players and others who clear the way. The masquerade may be the most visible figure, but the drummers help determine the rhythm.
Our political structures are those drummers. Party organisations, alliances, zoning arrangements, community networks and campaign structures will all be tuning their drums ahead of 2027.
For years, Nigerians have heard the phrase, “structure wins elections.” Yet 2023 demonstrated that political structures could encounter powerful forces outside the traditional system.
Young voters, social media campaigns and grassroots mobilisation altered the political conversation. The lesson is not that structure has become irrelevant, but that structure now competes with other forms of mobilisation.
In 2027, established parties will likely rely on their organisational strength, while emerging political forces will seek to convert public sentiment into electoral support.
If you listen carefully at the village square, three conversations are happening at once.
The first is the Abuja conversation: the argument that a strong federal government is necessary for stability, continuity and national coordination.
The second is the state conversation: the demand for greater autonomy and control over resources and institutions.
The third is the street conversation: the practical concerns of ordinary citizens about food prices, fuel, jobs, security and the prospects of their children.
The outcome of 2027 will be shaped by the intersection of these three conversations.
No political party can afford to speak only the language of Abuja, just as no party can build a national coalition solely on frustration.
The party that understands how to connect national stability with local development and everyday concerns will have an important advantage.
Voters are increasingly interested not only in political promises but also in what those promises mean for their daily lives.
We have been here before. Nigerian political history has witnessed elections marked by intense competition, disputed outcomes and significant shifts in political power.
Yet the most important lesson from that history is that elections should remain a peaceful means of choosing leaders.
Our oral traditions teach us to remember because memory helps societies avoid repeating their worst mistakes. As 2027 approaches, political competition must not become a justification for division or violence.
Nigerians are witty people, and already the political jokes and memes are flying. But behind the humour lies a serious warning.
Federal influence is not necessarily a problem; the concern arises when political power is perceived as more important than democratic choice.
Incumbents have every right to seek another mandate, but voters have an equal right to accept or reject their record.
Political structures are useful, but they should serve citizens rather than become substitutes for ideas and performance.
So what should happen in 2027?
First, the electoral rules must be clear, consistently applied and trusted by all participants. Electoral institutions and security agencies must perform their responsibilities impartially and within the law.
Second, incumbents should campaign on their records and policies, while opposition parties should offer credible alternatives rather than relying solely on criticism.
Anger may mobilise voters, but sustainable political change requires organisation, ideas and a convincing programme.
Finally, citizens must remain engaged. Democracy is not a once-in-four-years festival.
It requires voters to ask questions, examine records, participate in their communities and hold elected officials accountable between elections.
After 2027, Nigerians will remain neighbours, colleagues, friends and family members regardless of the parties they support.
Nigeria is therefore bigger than any election, candidate or political party.
The talking drum is beating. It is saying: “Come, let us choose.” It is saying: “Come, let us watch.” It is saying: “Come, let us build.”
Federal influence, incumbency and political structures will undoubtedly play important roles in 2027, as they have in previous elections.
But none of them should be mistaken for destiny. Destiny is what citizens and political leaders make of the democratic choices before them.
The cutlass is in our hands; the drum is sounding. Let us dance wisely.
*Tony Edemenaha, poet and social commentator, writes from Asaba
