Ramadan has ended, and I want to say Eid Mubarak to everyone who made it through. Alhamdulillah. You fasted when the sun beat hard, you prayed when the nights felt long, and the heat stuck to your skin like a second shirt. I saw you keep going, even when the pot was low, the lights flickered, and the kids asked for more than you could give. It’s not easy, waking up before dawn (sometimes) with a dry throat, pushing through the day on faith alone. That strength, that quiet push, is what I think about today as we step into this celebration, tired but whole.
I also think about how you shared what little you had; a plate of rice, a kind word, maybe a cold sachet of water passed to a stranger. That’s not just Ramadan; that’s who we are when times get tough. You didn’t turn away from the old man begging by the roadside or the kid with no shoes shuffling past your gate. It’s a quiet power, one that holds us up when things shake, like a roof that leaks but still shelters. I respect that grit, and it’s why I believe we can do more for ourselves and all local and urban routes in Oyo State, not just for a month, but every day.
I am reliably aware that life isn’t soft right now, definitely – prices climb, roads break under every rain, and jobs slip away faster than we can grab them. Yet, you’ve all shown heart, not just hunger, through these twenty-nine days, balancing the fast with the hustle of fetching water or haggling in the market. I see the dusty streets you walked, but your hope doesn’t fall, – I see where women struggle with tired hands and men fix things up with cracked knuckles. That’s the Oyo people I know, the one that doesn’t quit, even when the odds stack high. It’s a lesson I carry as I think about what’s ahead for us, it is a truth that sticks.
In our dear Oyo State, I see you as my mirror, tough, real, ready to build, even when the odds lean heavy. You’ve fed your neighbour when your own stomach growled; I’ve seen it in our various dusty corners and crowded lanes, where a woman splits her last loaf with a stranger. That’s the kind of people I want to lead, folks who don’t wait for plenty to give plenty. I’m not here to promise the sky or paint over the cracks; I’m here to work and walk with you, to fix the roads we drive, the schools our kids need and every other necessity. This Eid somehow serves as a reminder to me on why I’m running: I think it’s about us, not just me, about turning that heart into something solid.
Eid Mubarak my dear people. It is a day to eat, laugh, and rest a little, to sit with family and forget the grind for a minute. I’ve watched you carry this month with grace, waking early, working late, still finding time to smile at the mosque or the neighbour’s gate. We’re not perfect, but we’re strong, and that’s enough to keep going, even when the generator coughs or the rent creeps closer. I reflect on this and I believe together, we’ve got what it takes — to celebrate today with full plates and loud voices, and to shape tomorrow with steady hands, one real step at a time.
Eid Mubarak. Taqaballahu Minna Wa Minkum
Oyo 2027
AKK 2027
Governor 2027
AKK! Aseyori ni tiwa.
AKK!! Ajose Ajoje
AKK!!! A Task that must be done.
Sunday March 30, 2025 | 1st of Shawwal, 1446H