Opinion
A Background To Radio Rivers
An article titled “History of Radio Rivers” by Baridom Sika chronicled the birth of Rivers State Broadcasting Corporation (RSBC) through Edict 78 of 1973 following which the implementation process of procurement and staff training commenced. Subsequently, on June 1, 1978, Mambo Tumbowei signed on the station as Radio Rivers; that was the beginning. This article presents a background to that beginning.
Reflexively reacting to the earthy percussion that introduced Se Acabo by Santana Band, a DJ on Radio Nigeria, Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation (NBC), William Jumbo Street, GRA, Port Harcourt identified the African roots of the pulsating and compulsive multi-conga rhythmic patterns of the song. In a moment of music-induced madness, he leaned in on the microphone, crooned “Ubleke! Ubleke!! Ubleke!!!” and hailed his invisible multilingual audience in the call-response greeting that is peculiar to his community. That was in 1972 when Radio Nigeria was the only radio station in old Rivers State. The program, “Ship Ahoy”, was a mixed-music morning magazine presented in English Language.
As the DJ stepped out of the studio, his producer, the guitar-strumming and broadminded piper, Seniboye Itiye, roared an oral query: “You spoke your language in my program!!! You think we all understand your endless iyeiye greeting?” “I’m sorry sir; I got carried away by the music”, apologised the DJ. “Calm down; this is radio, not night club or afternoon jump”, said Itiye, reassuringly. Incidentally, the DJ was cofounder and bassist of Blackstones Band, which was the first rock band in the history of old Rivers State; the band’s imitative repertoire was heavily laden with the then evolving earthy and heavily percussive songs that characterized the dissident departure from the Mersey beat of the sixties. Following two and a half years of basking in flashlights and the youthful escapades of rock musicianship, the DJ and two other members of the band opted to return to school; he chanced in and sojourned on radio as a stopgap measure. The language glitch that morning was, therefore, a residue of his immediate past profession.
Mixed reactions came at the heels of that professional indiscretion: while he received raving reviews from his community, his colleagues at the station and the wider Rivers society frowned at what was considered a projection, propagation and promotion of parochialism. Unbeknownst to everyone, the Governor of Rivers State, Navy Commander Alfred Diete-Spiff was listening attentively.
One afternoon, the DJ and his Duty Continuity Announcer (DTA), the beautiful and brilliant Stella Amachree, left the studio in the care of a trainee DTA called Chima Okor and went to Catering Rest House within the vicinity for lunch. Returning through the street now known as Cookey-Gam Drive, they chanced on Governor Diete-Spiff strolling outside the confines of Government House. Expectedly, they stood still on the side of the street in deference to the Governor who, surprisingly, stopped astride them and inquired after their names. To their great delight, the Governor knew them and their radio shows. He commended them, spoke glowingly about their program “Shaft Corner” (a foursome that attracted national attention) and casually said “We should establish a radio station for Rivers State”; thereafter, he walked on.
Stella and the DJ practically flew back to NBC studios and narrated every detail of the encounter to their colleagues. The station, which was manned by Rivers State indigenes, went agog. Matthew Miesiegha, Bernard Graham-Douglas, Mike Oku, Steve Bubagha, Peter O.C. Adiukwu-Brown, Pat Ketebu, Ifiemi Ombu, Florence Olali, Cornelia Omoniabipi, Bobby Bikefe, Monima Kelly-Briggs, Emmanuel Dokubo, Chituru Wachuku, Boma Erekosima, Sunny Meshack-Hart, Tony Alabraba etc. were in high spirits. Given the antecedents of the governor in the sphere of human development, the news held the potent promise of a radio station to call their own. Ernest Ogbanga and others in the engineering department shared the excitement; even Florence Olali, who was feverishly preparing to join her betrothed in Germany, was not left out of it. And it came to pass that that spontaneous statement by a young man who was yet to turn thirty years morphed into public policy and Rivers State Broadcasting Corporation was created on August 24, 1973 through Edict No. 8. The rest is history.
While the following divergence belongs in another narrative, it is pertinent to mention that Radio Nigeria, Port Harcourt was a beehive of crazy but highly creative and fiercely focused fellows. Most of the DTAs, news writers and radio personalities keyed into the generational thinking educational policy of the Diete-Spiff administration and developed themselves. Bernard Graham-Douglas, Ifiemi Ombu, Emmanuel Dokubo and Tony Alabraba studied Broadcasting in the US; Mike Oku did same in Scotland. Stella Amachree studied Law in Oxford University, Peter Adiukwu-Brown read Metallurgy at Manchester University and Pat Ketebu read Accountancy in Scotland. And by the way, our dramatis persona also studied Broadcasting in the U.S. and, having graduated in 1975, became the first person in old Rivers State to take a degree in that discipline. Furthermore, as Senior Special Assistant to Secretary to the State Government, he accompanied his boss, Professor William Ogionwo, who represented Governor Melford Okilo at RSBC Headquarters on May 2, 1981 where and when Dafini Gogo-Abbey signed on the newly added FM Station, Radio Rivers 2.
The above episode lends itself to robust intellectual interrogation within the themes of leadership and human development. Without venturing into the academics of these two concepts, it is necessary to state that it took the visionary leadership of Diete-Spiff to conceive and establish a radio station for the State and create opportunities for people to be trained in the relevant fields. On the other hand, it took the desire for individual development on the part of our dramatis persona and his colleagues in NBC to tap into the opportunities presented by the policy to produce the workforce that eventually manned Radio Rivers. That is the constructive collectivism that births personal, group and national development.
Dr Osai is an Associate Professor in the Rivers State University, Port Harcourt.
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
