With Marindoti Oludare

As a first-year medical student, I was eager to meet new people, learn new perspectives, and engage in stimulating conversations. However, one recurring encounter left me both sick to my stomach and furious. When fellow students asked where I was from and I proudly said, “Akure,” they would pause, look at me strangely, and say, “You don’t look like an Akure boy.”

My immediate response was always the same: “How does an Akure boy look?”

Their answer? “You look like a Lagos boy.”

Apparently, because I was articulate, confident, and in tune with current affairs, I couldn’t possibly be from Akure. This ridiculous notion—this deeply offensive stereotype—has bothered me for years. Why is it that an Ondo State indigene is expected to be less refined, less exposed, or less intellectually engaging? Where did this condescending perception come from? And more importantly, why has it persisted?

This notion of Ondo State and its people being second-class citizens is not limited to mere campus conversations. It is deeply embedded in the national psyche, particularly within the Yoruba ethnic group. Our leaders, our kings, our heroes—people who have made significant contributions to Nigeria—are often treated with less reverence than they deserve.

Take, for example, the way our monarch was regarded. In 1999, Oba Olu Falae, a distinguished statesman, an intellectual and internationally renowned economist ran for the presidency under the Alliance for Democracy (AD). Yet, even within Yoruba leadership circles, he was dismissed. Chief Bola Ige was so convinced that an Ondo State indigene couldn’t win, that he didn’t even bother attending his own party’s primary election. More insulting was the reaction of Chief Bisi Akande, who, upon seeing Falae emerge as the AD candidate, remarked, “I was sure Falae couldn’t win. Who knows him?” (as quoted in an interview with Edmund Obilo).

How can a man of Falae’s stature—a man who had served Nigeria diligently in public service—be dismissed so casually? How can his candidacy be written off, not because of competence or capacity but because he was from Ondo State?

Even our historical figures don’t get the respect they deserve. Pa Adekunle Ajasin, a pillar of leadership and sacrifice, is not accorded the same level of reverence as his contemporaries from other Yoruba-speaking states. D.O. Fagunwa, the literary pioneer, would be held in much higher regard if he had been from Ijebu or Ibadan. But because he was from Ondo, his legacy remains underappreciated.

This issue goes beyond mere perception—it has real consequences. Ondo and Ekiti States remain the only Yoruba-speaking states without a federally funded medical university. The Ondo State University of Medical Sciences took decades to secure federal approval, while similar institutions in other states received swift approval.

Our bitumen reserves—some of the largest in the world—lie untapped, neglected by the federal government. The much-anticipated coastal highway project is set to run through Ondo State only in the second phase—an afterthought. The deep-sea port, a critical project that could transform our economy, has been in limbo for years. Nothing substantial has been done.

Meanwhile, our federal roads are in deplorable condition. The Ondo-Ekiti road is practically unmotorable. When citizens complained about neglect in the past, Chief Akintola once sarcastically quipped, “Ọ̀da tán dà sílẹ̀ yìí, ṣé ìgbẹ́ ẹlẹ́bọ́to lẹ̀ rò pó wà níbẹ̀ ni?” (Do you think the tarred roads are made of bird droppings?). Decades later, we are still asking the same questions.

Former Minister of Works, Babatunde Raji Fashola, came to commission a dualisation project for the road, but no meaningful work has begun. His body language during the commissioning suggested he was speaking to people who should be grateful that the federal government even remembered them. What kind of nonsense is that?

Despite all this, when election season arrives, they rush to Ondo State, scrambling for our votes. They recognise our strategic importance when they need political support but quickly forget us when it’s time for development.

Enough is enough.

We are not second-class citizens. Ondo State is not a second-class state. We refuse to be overlooked. We refuse to be treated with disdain. We demand respect.

If the federal government cannot accord us the dignity we deserve, then they should hasten the restructuring of this country and allow us to take control of our own destiny. Let us manage our own resources, our seaport, our bitumen, our deep-sea port, and our roads. We have the intellectual capacity, the talent, and the vision to bring ourselves prosperity.

We are a people of intelligence, culture, and resilience. We are not docile. We are not inferior. We are not to be ignored.

Let it be known loud and clear: Ondo State will no longer accept second-class treatment. We demand respect, and we will claim what is rightfully ours.