…Inside the tense, groundbreaking dialogue where tradition collided with change, forcing chiefs to confront the very meaning of power
SANKWALA, OBANLIKU LGA – The air in the hall was thick with the weight of centuries. On one side was the unassailable authority of the traditional chief, the custodian of culture. On the other, a new, uncomfortable idea: Male Feminism.
The second day of the training for Obanliku’s traditional rulers was not a mere academic exercise; it was a raw, unfiltered negotiation over the future of their society.
“As a traditional man, as a chief, there are things that, if you don’t do, they will laugh at you, that this one is a woman chief, he’s behaving like a woman,” Dr. Elijah Terdoo Ikpanor, one of the facilitators began his session with the above observation, voicing the immense social pressure to perform a rigid version of masculinity. This set the stage for a clash of ideals that would define the day.
Dr Ikpanor sustained the tension as the discussion on decision-making continued by delivering a stark, unvarnished truth that hangs over every village council in the region. “If you want to take a decision as chiefs in this local government… Will you invite women to come and sit with you as chiefs? No.”
A chief drove the point home with a chilling finality: “Decision making does not involve a woman. That is why a woman cannot even be a chief. Go now and start that women should also be chiefs. The people, your subjects. They will tell you that if you are tired of this position we gave you, give it back to us.”
In that moment, the monumental challenge was laid bare. The commitment to change had to be forged not against, but within the very cultural forge that created the exclusion.
Yet, from within this bastion of tradition, counter-narratives began to emerge, signaling the cracks in an ancient edifice. Another chief rose and spoke of a quiet revolution in his own home.
“I have made it mandatory that my children, both male and female, are equal,” he declared, to a captivated audience. “Even right now, those that are married, have at least a personal land for them… People fail to understand that… If you give responsibility only to male children, they will abandon their sister.”
This was the practical face of the theory presented by facilitator Dr. Elijah Terdoo Ikpanor, who had earlier argued that “inclusive leadership strengthens men, women, and the entire community.”
The dialogue became a microcosm of the struggle itself—a push-and-pull between the comfort of the old ways and the compelling justice of the new. They debated everything from who clears the farm roads to whether a man should share financial planning with his wife.
It was this gritty, honest confrontation with their own biases and cultural codes that gave the subsequent “Charter of Commitment” its profound significance. The signing of the document was not a mere photo opportunity; it was the culmination of a difficult internal and collective journey.
The Obanliku Male Feminists Network is therefore born not from a place of easy agreement, but from a hard-won consensus that the price of maintaining an unjust status quo is far greater than the discomfort of change. The chiefs of Obanliku are not just signing a charter; they are embarking on the most delicate mediation of their lives—a mediation between their past and their community’s future.
