When Barking Replaces Leadership: A Rejoinder to Governor Ahmadu Umaru Fintiri on Hon. Aliyu Wakili Boya.

When Barking Replaces Leadership: A  Rejoinder to Governor Ahmadu Umaru Fintiri on Hon. Aliyu Wakili Boya.

By: Umar Aliyu 

Politics in Adamawa has never been short of drama. But when His Excellency Governor Ahmadu Umaru Fintiri, a man who ought to be burdened with the heavy responsibility of governance, suddenly decides to turn his attention to calling out Hon. Aliyu Wakili Boya, one is forced to wonder: is this the mighty distraction strategy left in the governor’s political toolbox? Truly, this is laughable - laughable to the point of pity.

Let us be blunt. Hon. Boya has become a thorn in the side of those who believe politics is about noise, showmanship, and endless promises without delivery. Unlike the usual Adamawa brand of “audio” politicians, Boya is a visible, verifiable achiever. His interventions are not imaginary or whispered in hidden corners they are practical realities lived and confirmed by his constituents. The young men who proudly wear their uniforms as police constables today owe their breakthrough to Boya’s effort. The people of Jabbi Lamba and Belel do not need any government bulletin to remind them of the projects Boya flagged off. These are not Photoshop achievements or politically rented crowds; they are tangible, on-the-ground developments.

So, the big question is: why does Boya’s progress sting the governor so deeply? Why does a man who occupies the exalted seat of power feel compelled to bark at the rising influence of a legislator whose only “crime” is empowering his people? The answer is not far-fetched. It is the classic case of a faltering political empire recognizing that its expiry date is written on the wall.

Every leader, no matter how powerful, must one day face the sunset of their tenure. Some depart with grace, leaving legacies that earn them respect across generations. Others, however, descend into pettiness, seeing shadows in every corner and barking at every rising star. Sadly, His Excellency Governor Fintiri seems to have chosen the latter path.

Rather than focusing on consolidating the little he has managed to achieve, he is busy chasing shadows and picking quarrels with men whose footprints are already outshining his. It is almost as if the governor has accepted that history will not be kind to him, so he prefers to drag others into his swamp of irrelevance.

One would expect a man who has sat at the helm of Adamawa State to have outgrown petty attacks. But alas, when leadership loses direction, insecurity becomes its only fuel. Instead of statesmanship, we are left with sarcasm from the very top.

Let’s pause and laugh for a moment. The governor of an entire state, with a cabinet of advisers, commissioners, and special assistants, wakes up and decides that the greatest threat to his throne is Hon. Aliyu Wakili Boya. Really? Out of all the challenges confronting Adamawa— fragile security, and dwindling trust in government—the governor’s obsession is to call Boya’s name in the political marketplace?

It is as though Boya has become the governor’s nightmare, haunting his speeches and reminding him of the void in his own performance. That is what happens when one man’s visible achievements shine too brightly in the face of another man’s fading candle.

Let us be sarcastic here: maybe Boya should apologize for empowering his youths. Maybe he should beg for forgiveness for securing police constable jobs for his people. Perhaps he should stop flagging off projects because they make the governor uncomfortable. After all, in today’s twisted politics, real work is offensive while empty noise is celebrated.

What exactly has Boya done wrong? Empowering youths? Securing jobs? Attracting projects? Connecting his people to opportunities? If these are crimes, then may Adamawa be filled with more “criminals” like Boya. Because the truth is simple: Boya’s model of representation is the antidote to Adamawa’s stale brand of politics.

While many politicians perfect the art of speeches, Boya perfects the art of service. While others chase after praise-singers, he chases after opportunities for his people. This is why his constituents testify without being prompted. This is why every effort to malign him only ends up boosting his relevance.

Mr. Governor, this is where your bark fails. Because barking cannot erase visible projects, nor can it rewrite the testimonies of empowered youths. The voice of the people of Song and Fufore is louder than any insult you can muster.

Leadership is like milk; it has an expiry date. And when it nears that date, it begins to stink. What we see today in Adamawa is a classic example: instead of innovative governance, we get petty quarrels. Instead of bold policies, we get sarcastic jabs. Instead of a vision for tomorrow, we get a leader whose obsession is one man—Hon. Boya.

This barking, Mr. Governor, is not strength; it is weakness in disguise. It is not courage; it is insecurity. It is not governance; it is a desperate attempt to remain relevant in a conversation that has long moved beyond you.

The good people of Adamawa are not blind. They can see who is working and who is whining. They can differentiate between the man who flags off projects in their communities and the man who spends his energy barking at shadows.

Perhaps the governor imagines that by calling Boya’s name, he is diminishing him. Ironically, the reverse is true. Each bark only amplifies Boya’s profile. Each sarcastic jab only convinces the people that Boya must be doing something right to attract such hostility from the very top.

In fact, the governor’s obsession with Boya is the best campaign endorsement Boya never asked for. It sends a clear message: “This man is important enough to scare the state government.” And in the world of politics, nothing boosts credibility like fear from your opponents.

So, thank you, Mr. Governor. Your barking has done what millions in campaign posters could not. You have stamped Boya’s relevance in the political map of Adamawa.

In the final analysis, governance is not about who can shout the loudest. It is about who delivers. The people of Song and Fufore know who delivers. The youth who found jobs through Boya know who delivers. The communities that witnessed projects flagged off by him know who delivers.

Your tenure, Mr. Governor, is already counting down. The expiry clock is ticking, and no amount of barking will reset it. When history writes its verdict, it will not remember how many names you called or how many politicians you tried to ridicule. It will remember what you left behind for Adamawa. And on that score, the contrast between you and Boya is already glaring.

So let the barking continue if that is what soothes your political ego, Mr. Governor. Boya is not deterred. He will continue, In Sha Allahu, to do his best for his people. He will continue to empower, to secure opportunities, and to stand tall as a representative who delivers.

In the end, history is not written by the loudest bark but by the strongest legacy. And in that book, Hon. Aliyu Wakili Boya already has his name inscribed—visible, permanent, and undeniable.

The people are watching. And when the final whistle blows, the bark will fade, but the work will remain.

Umar Writes From Home