Ashawo Dey Your Eyes, Honourable Minister – Abdul Mahmud

By Abdul Mahmud

Public office is not a private playground. It is a place of trust which demands utmost restraint, dignity, and the discipline of speeches. When those who occupy high office forget this, the damage goes beyond their person. It damages the offices they occupy beyond repairs, lowers standards, and tells citizens that power excuses vulgarity and the vulgar.

The recent remarks credited to David Umahi, Minister of Works, are troubling for many reasons. In responding to allegations of harassment and molestation reportedly made by Mrs Ohiri, the Minister chose a line of defence that reveals more about his understanding of power and gender than about the truth of the allegations levelled against him. He suggested that if it were Senator Natasha who accused him of chasing her, his “face would be bolder”. He then dismissed his accuser as “any how person” who claimed that this “handsome man” had pursued her for twelve years. We must be unequivocal here.

Allegations of harassment and molestation are serious. They deserve serious responses. They demand facts, evidence, and clarity. They demand either a firm denial grounded in truth or an admission and apology grounded in responsibility. What they do not require is body shaming. What they do not permit is the sexual ranking of women. What they do not justify is the casual invocation of another woman’s name as a prop in an obsequious personal defence.

The first problem with the Minister’s remarks is the unmistakable contempt embedded in them. To describe a woman who has consistently accused him of harassment as “any how person” is not merely rude. It is demeaning, while suggestive of the fact that some women are worthy of attention and others are not. It reduces a human being to a crude hierarchy of desire.

Body shaming is a cheap weapon. It is often deployed when reason is absent. Women’s bodies change. Biology changes them. Age changes them. Childbirth changes them. Illness changes them. Life changes them. To mock those changes is to mock the human condition itself. When a public official engages in such mockery, he sends a message to millions of girls and women out there that their worth lies in appearance. He tells them that if they do not fit a certain aesthetic, their voice can be dismissed.

That is not the language of responsible leadership. It is the language of the marketplace.
The second problem is the troubling invocation of Senator Natasha. By suggesting that if it were Senator Natasha who accused him of chasing her, his face would be bolder, the Minister does two things at once. First, he elevates one woman as an object of desire while diminishing another as unworthy as a rag. Second, he drags Senator Natasha into a controversy that has nothing to do with her. Public speeches have consequences. Senator Natasha is a married woman. She is a public figure in her own right. To speak of her in this manner is to invite speculation, gossip, and innuendo. It is to suggest covetousness where none should exist. It is to turn a respectable senator into a measuring stick of sexual validation. Is this how a minister should defend himself against damning allegations? What kind of defence is that? It is not a denial. It is not an explanation. It is an exposure of a naughty mind.

There is more. The casual arrogance of the minister’s remarks betrays a deeper problem in our political culture. Many rulers still speak as though women are trophies. Too many speak as though power entitles them to flirt, to pursue, to joke, and to trivialise issues when they are confronted with them. Too many forget that they are husbands and fathers before they are ministers. Too many forget that the office they hold is larger than their egos. This is not about moral puritanism. It is about responsibility. When you hold public office, your words carry weight. They travel far. They shape culture. A Minister of Works is not an ordinary citizen bantering at a roadside bar. He represents a government. He represents a state. He represents the aspirations of citizens who expect decency in public life.

There are also broader legal and ethical dimensions. Allegations of harassment and molestation are not resolved in the court of bravado. They are resolved through due process. If the accusations are false, then let the Minister submit himself to investigation. Let him clear his name through lawful means. Let him demonstrate that he respects institutions enough to trust them with his vindication. Regrettably, institutions entrusted with impartiality, most notably the police and the courts, appear to have aligned themselves with the minister in response to Mrs. Ohiri’s allegation that he has failed to discharge a debt owed to her.

What is, at its core, a straightforward civil claim has now been recast and weaponised as an allegation of cyberbullying against a vulnerable woman.

If Mrs Ohiri’s allegations are true, then bravado will not save him.
What is disheartening is how quickly some in public life resort to attacking the character or appearance of their accusers. This tactic is familiar. Discredit the woman. Question her looks. Question her motives. Question her timing. Shift attention away from the substance of her allegations. In doing so, the conversation moves from conduct to cosmetics. But society is changing. Women are speaking up. They are refusing to be silenced by shame. They are refusing to be intimidated by titles. The old script of ridicule is losing its power. It is also worth asking what message this sends to young men watching from the sidelines. When a powerful man jokes that he would only pursue a woman of a certain kind, he reinforces the culture in which women are graded and discussed as conquests. He normalises the idea that sexual desire is the currency of exchange. He trivialises the pain that allegations of harassment carry.

We must demand better. We must insist that public officials model the values we wish to see in public life. Respect. Restraint. Responsibility.

The phrase that many ordinary Nigerians use in matters matter of this nature is blunt. “Ashawo dey your eyes”. It is a lingo of the street. It is raw. It is uncomfortable. But it captures a moral intuition. When a man speaks with such casual covetousness, when he measures women publicly as though selecting from catalogues, people conclude that the problem lies in his gaze. Leadership begins with the eyes. What do you see when you look at women? Colleagues or conquests? Citizens or trophies? Equals or ornaments? Our politics has suffered enough from the arrogance of unchecked power. It does not need the added burden of sexual bravado masquerading as wit. The Minister still has an opportunity to rise above this moment. He can retract. He can apologise. He can recommit himself to the dignity his office demands.

Or he can double down and confirm the worst suspicions.
In the end, the issue is not about handsomeness. It is not about who would chase whom. It is about whether those entrusted with public power understand the moral weight of their words. Nigeria deserves rulers who know that strength is not displayed through ridicule. It is displayed through restraint. If we cannot expect that from a Minister, then we have normalised the very decay we lament.

And that would be the greatest tragedy!