In the quiet corners of Ondo North, the cries of forgotten communities echo not through protests or headlines, but through the rumble of broken vehicles, the splash of muddy potholes, and the silent despair of citizens cut off from hope. The Arigidi–Ikaram Road and the Itapele–Idoani–Kabba Road — two lifelines that once connected vibrant towns, bustling markets, and hopeful travellers — now stand as metaphors for Nigeria’s chronic neglect.
These are not mere roads. They are veins of commerce and symbols of survival. Through them, farmers move their harvests, students travel to school, traders supply essential goods, and families keep in touch with loved ones. Yet today, these routes are nothing more than death traps, relics of broken promises buried under layers of political indifference.
Travelling the Arigidi–Ikaram stretch is a journey into despair. The road that once promised progress has been left to rot in shameful abandonment. Deep gullies now swallow tyres, commercial vehicles break down mid-route, and ambulances struggle to reach patients in distress. In Ikaram, market women now speak of losses not from inflation, but from perishables ruined on the road. Many have stopped making the trip altogether.
It is a mirror image of the Itapele–Idoani–Kabba road, another national artery severed by decades of silence and misplaced priorities. Communities like Idoani, Ipele, Afo, and Ayere are daily cut off from basic access — to health care, education, and trade. The road’s collapse has turned the once-vibrant corridor between Ondo and Kogi into a ghost route. Travellers avoid it, transporters dread it, and bandits exploit it.
These are not natural disasters; they are man-made failures. They are the direct results of government negligence, abandoned contracts, and a governance culture that prizes ribbon-cutting over maintenance. The tragedy is that both the Arigidi–Ikaram and Itapele–Idoani–Kabba roads are federal roads, meaning they fall squarely within the jurisdiction of the Federal Ministry of Works. Yet, for years, communities have been left to plead, patch, and pray — while funds for road rehabilitation appear annually in federal budgets but disappear without a trace.
In a region that has produced respected leaders, professionals, and patriots, it is scandalous that basic infrastructure remains a luxury. A government that cannot maintain a simple road has failed in its most basic duty to its people. Roads are not just about asphalt; they are about access to dignity, opportunity, and safety.
If the truth must be told, the neglect of these roads is a moral indictment on both the Federal Government and the state authorities who have failed to speak loud enough for their people. Development cannot thrive on rhetoric; it thrives on roads, schools, hospitals, and human security. When these fail, governance itself collapses into mere ceremony.
The people of Arigidi, Ikaram, Itapele, Idoani, Ipele, Afo, and Ayere are not asking for much — just the simple right to travel without fear of death, delay, or despair. The time for excuses has passed. The Federal Ministry of Works, in collaboration with the Ondo and Kogi State Governments, must act immediately to reconstruct and rehabilitate these vital routes.
We call on lawmakers representing Ondo North and Kogi West to rise above party lines and make the reconstruction of these roads a national priority. No constituency project or campaign promise can replace the transformative impact of a good road.
For now, the people wait — patient but weary, hopeful yet skeptical. They wait for leaders who will not just pass by in siren convoys but stop long enough to see the suffering beneath the dust. They wait for action, not sympathy.
Because in the story of Nigeria’s forgotten roads, it is not just asphalt that
is broken — it is faith.
