ON A PLATTER OF GOLD — Terver Akase
In every Nigerian village, there is always that story. The one elders tell while shaking their heads, tongues clicking in disappointment, eyes fixed somewhere between the past and regret. It usually begins like this: a poor but promising young man, barefoot dreams and borrowed hopes, carried on the shoulders of his people.
In Demeza village, it was Ayila. His father died early, leaving behind debts, a cracked mud house, and a boy too bright to be abandoned. The village contributed money for his school fees. One man sold a goat. Another postponed repairing his leaking roof. Women added cups of garri to his feeding. Ayila was not just helped; he was lifted. Everything he became was placed before him on a platter of gold, polished by collective sacrifice.
READ BEFORE YOU REACT — Terver Akase
“Remember us,” the elders told him as he left for the city. He nodded vigorously, gratitude dripping from his promises. Ayila remembered. He just remembered himself more.
Years later, he returned, not walking this time, but arriving in convoys, sirens announcing success before character could catch up. He was now “Honourable.” The same hands that once fed him were now stretched out in expectation, but they met nothing except rehearsed smiles and official excuses. The boy who ate from the village ijôndugh had suddenly developed allergies to his own people.
The village watched in silence as Ayila mastered the art of selective amnesia.
This, sadly, is not only a village problem. It applies to various aspects of life. It applies to both private and public spaces. It is also a national epidemic. Across the country, leadership positions are routinely served on a platter of gold, not earned through integrity or competence, but gifted through loyalty, ethnic solidarity, party sacrifice, or sheer goodwill. Some people are carried into office the way Ayila was carried through school: by the sweat, votes, reputations, and risks of others.
And yet, once seated, many leaders behave like self-made miracles. They forget who spoke for them when they were unknown. They disown the platforms that amplified their voices. They betray the hands that steadied them on the ladder of power. Suddenly, the platter that served them gold becomes an inconvenience, and the people who polished it are treated like beggars at the gate.
Betrayal, it turns out, is easier when success comes cheaply. There is something about unearned elevation that breeds arrogance. When power is handed over effortlessly, respect becomes optional. Accountability feels insulting. Gratitude is seen as weakness. The leader begins to believe the lie that he owes no one anything.
But villages, like nations, have long memories. Ayila eventually fell from grace. Convoys stopped coming. Phones stopped ringing. When he returned again, this time quietly, the elders did not curse him. They simply asked one question: “Was it worth it?” He had no answer.
Leadership given on a platter of gold is a trust, not a trophy. It is a debt, not a gift. Those who are helped up only to kick away the ladder should remember one enduring truth of life: the same hands that lift can also withdraw.
And when the platter is taken away, all that remains is the weight of your choices, and the judgment of those you betrayed.
Mr. Terver Akase is the immediate past CPS and Special Adviser on Media to former Benue State Governor
