By Ismail Abdulazeez Mantu
I grew up reading history books that chronicled the valiant struggles of women who defied the odds, broke glass ceilings, and stood in the face of oppression like immovable rocks against the tide. Names like Gambo Sawaba, who fearlessly championed gender equality in the conservative North, and Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, whose defiance against colonial oppression and male chauvinism earned her the title of the “Lioness of Lisabi,” were etched into my mind.
These women fought battles that many believed were unwinnable, yet they pressed on, even at great personal cost. But for years, they remained pages in history. Until Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan walked onto the Nigerian political scene, blazing like a comet.
This modern-day Amazon did not just enter the ring; she stormed into it, gloves off, daring to challenge the status quo. When she filed a sexual harassment petition against the sitting Senate President, Senator Godswill Akpabio, she did what few dared—she skinned the lion in its den. Her petition shook the foundations of the Senate, stirring Akpabio into a frenzy. Like a wounded beast, he lashed out, using his influence to orchestrate an illegal six-month suspension, stripping her of salaries, allowances, and even her security details.
But Akpabio and his allies underestimated the tenacity of Natasha.
They hatched a sinister plot—a desperate attempt to recall her from the Senate. With the unholy alliance of her longtime political adversary, former Kogi State Governor Yahaya Bello, they manufactured over 224,000 forged signatures, an audacious fraud meant to silence her voice. As if that wasn’t enough, Akpabio allegedly pulled the strings of Kogi’s current governor, Usman Ododo, who swiftly banned convoys, rallies, and public gatherings in the state—all in a bid to deny Natasha access to her people.
But like a seasoned warrior, Natasha proved that where there is a will, there is a way.
Defying all odds, she arrived in Kogi Central by helicopter, greeted by a jubilant crowd in Okehi Local Government Area. It was a moment that sent fears through the corridors of power—a deafening declaration that the so-called recall was nothing but a castle built on shifting sands. The people had spoken. Their loyalty was not for sale.
And then, in a move that could only be described as historic, Natasha—despite being illegally suspended, financially starved, and politically persecuted—launched the construction of a free maternity and childcare centre for her people. A suspended senator building hospitals while those in power build obstacles. If that is not the spirit of Gambo Sawaba and Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti reborn, then I don’t know what is.
Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan is more than a politician; she is a movement, a revolution in human form. She has shown that leadership is not about power but about service, not about titles but about action. And while her adversaries play politics with deception, she plays it with devotion to the people.
In the face of adversity, she has remained unshaken, like an iroko tree in the middle of a storm. With each battle she fights, she carves her name deeper into the annals of history, proving that Nigeria’s past heroines may have set the stage, but the play is far from over.
Natasha is here. And she is just getting started.
Ismail Abdulazeez Mantu