By Amieyeofori Ibim
There are moments in the life of a people when history bends, when the weight of collective struggle and prayer collides with providence to alter the course of destiny. Rivers State, after six months of turbulence under emergency rule, appears to have entered such a moment.
The reinstatement of Governor Siminalayi Fubara, his deputy, Prof. Ngozi Odu, and the State House of Assembly is not merely a political act; it is, as the women of Rivers under the auspices of Rivers Women Unit for SIM proclaim, the unveiling of a glorious new dawn. Their thanksgiving march last Thursday was less a protest than a ritual of renewal, a living poem written in green cloth and in the rhythm of dancing feet.
At the Ecumenical Center, where their gathering began, gratitude was lifted like incense. “Mercy has triumphed over judgment,” declared Mrs. Ebele Ngelale. These words echoed not just in the hall but in the collective memory of a people who have endured fear and uncertainty, waiting for light to break through the heavy clouds.
From prayer to procession, the women carried their message into the streets. Their movement through Port Harcourt was symbolic — a reclaiming of public space from silence and despair, a reminder that democracy is not confined to chambers of power but also lives in the chants and footsteps of the people.
Comrade Glory Sunday, speaking as both witness and participant, framed the act with profound clarity: “We march not only to thank those who lifted the emergency rule, but to honour the resilience of Rivers people who stood with us in hope.” Her words stitched gratitude and defiance together, pointing to the enduring strength of civic spirit.
But beyond the spectacle of drums and placards lay a deeper covenant. The women spoke of rest — rest from battles, fears, and struggles. Rest not as an idle state, but as an assurance that peace can be rebuilt, that reconciliation can take root where division once festered. It was an invocation of a Rivers at peace with itself.
Reconciliation, however, is no easy prayer. It requires humility from the restored leaders and patience from the governed. The women’s call for “an altar of prayer” is thus more than religious devotion; it is a metaphor for vigilance, a reminder that peace must be tended like a fragile flame.
One could see in the faces of women from Degema, Bonny, Andoni, Ahoada, Opobo, Buguma, Isiokpo, Bori, Etche and beyond the lines of history etched by years of neglect, yet also the glow of renewed hope. “For six months, it felt as if we were in the wilderness,” said Mrs. Patience Wokoma. Her metaphor evokes the biblical journey — exile and return, brokenness and restoration.
The streets of Port Harcourt bore witness. Traders, commuters, and bystanders paused as the procession passed, some joining the chorus, others merely watching, yet all touched in some way by the sound of democracy resurgent. In their eyes, one could glimpse relief — the relief of a state exhaling after months of holding its breath.
And yet, beneath the joy lies an unspoken question: will this new dawn truly last? Political actors must resist the temptation of old rivalries, for the promise of Rivers’ women is fragile if men of power return to the politics of bitterness. Their chants of “peace, progress, and great possibilities” will ring hollow if governance slips again into crisis.
It is here that the symbolic power of women emerges. As nurturers and moral anchors, they stand as conscience-bearers of society. Their march was not merely in celebration of Governor Fubara’s return; it was a declaration of vigilance, an insistence that the peace purchased by sacrifice must not be squandered.
The imagery of green attire cannot be lost on us. Green is the colour of growth, of renewal, of life. By choosing it, the women clothed themselves in the very promise they proclaimed — that Rivers State can flourish again if sown with seeds of unity and watered with justice.
One is reminded of the poet’s line: “Out of the night that covers me, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul.” The women of Rivers, unconquered by six months of silence, stood unconquerable in song and march, declaring not only survival but triumph.
As the march of the Rivers Women Unit for SIM dissolved into the city’s veins, leaving behind echoes of drums and the fragrance of prayer, one truth became clear: democracy is alive in Rivers, not because decrees have been lifted, but because the people — especially the women — have chosen to embody its spirit.
And so, Rivers enters a new chapter. Whether this dawn grows into day depends on the choices of its leaders and the steadfastness of its citizens. But for now, as the women themselves chorused, “Indeed, it is a peaceful Rivers State again.”
Amieyeofori Ibim is seasoned journalist, political analyst and public affairs commentator.
Ibimdarlinton@gmail.com
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