Opobo Town, the vibrant hometown of suspended Rivers State Governor Sir Siminalayi Fubara, is known for its lively celebrations during Easter, Christmas, and New Year.
But this year’s Easter, which ended on Monday, April 21, 2025, brought an unprecedented silence— Opobo became a ghost town.
Residents say the town’s usual festive energy vanished. Streets once jammed with revelers and tourists were deserted as Easter was celebrated on Sunday, April 20, 2025.
Boat operators ferrying indigenes of Opobo and visitors to satellite communities such as Epellema, Minimah, Iloma, and Queenstown have expressed disappointment over low patronage.
Key locations in Opobo Main Town, including the bustling King Jaja Monument Square, Macpepple Compound, Prestige Hotel, Opubo Hotel, and other popular waterfront spots, have seen little to no activity recently.
This decline mirrors broader challenges faced by boat operators in the region, where factors like high operating costs and competition from road transport have reduced passenger numbers significantly.
“Normally, during Easter, you’d see massive traffic and people pushing past each other at tourist spots,” said Miss Ibiwari Stella. “This year, there was nothing. People are sad. There’s no cause to rejoice.”
The somber mood is widely attributed to the political crisis that has gripped Rivers State. In March, President Bola Tinubu declared a state of emergency following months of deadlock between Governor Fubara and the state assembly, suspending the governor, his deputy, and all lawmakers for six months. The crisis has left the state in limbo, with governance at a standstill and residents feeling abandoned.
Venerable Michael Dappa of the Christ Army Church in Opobo expressed that this Easter is particularly sad due to the illegal suspension of the governor, which has negatively affected the community and local businesses.
He urged President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to reinstate the governor to restore happiness and prayed for strength for both the governor and the state.
Dr. Ann Epelle, a medical practitioner and long-time resident, captured the community’s despair:
“Opobo is like a ghost town. I’ve been married here for 23 years, and I’ve never seen it like this. Normally, during festive times, there’s so much traffic, people pushing past each other. Now, people are not happy—they have no reason to feel happy because of what’s happening. It’s horrible.”
Three other residents echoed these sentiments, describing a town weighed down by uncertainty and loss. For Opobo, the suspension of its most prominent son and the broader political turmoil have cast a shadow over even the most joyous of seasons.
As Rivers State faces an uncertain future, Opobo’s silence this Easter stands as a stark reminder of the deep impact political crises can have on the heart and spirit of a community.
For generations, Easter in Opobo has been synonymous with cultural displays, including masquerade parades, boat regattas on the Opobo River, and communal feasts. This year, however, the town’s iconic waterfront—usually alive with music and laughter—lay eerily still.
“Our traditions are tied to our unity. Without it, even the river feels sorrowful,” lamented a compound chief who preferred anonymity.
Boat Operators that ferry indigenes of Opobo and guests to various satellite communities such as Epellema, Minimah, Iloma and Queenstown are disappointed with low patronage.
Major points in Opobo Main Town such as the lively king Jaja Monument Square, Macpepple Compound, Prestige Hotel, Opubo Hotel and other strategic sit out areas at the water front in the kingdom experienced zero activity.
“I prepared 200 pots of fish pepper soup, but only 20 were sold,” said Madam Kokoatee, a street vendor. “This crisis is starving us.”
Boat operators, who typically ferry tourists to historic sites like King Jaja’s Statue and the Opobo-Nkoro Mangroves, idled at the docks.
Economists warn that the prolonged political unrest could erase decades of progress in tourism, which accounts for over 40% of the town’s income.
Despite the gloom, some residents see an opportunity for reflection. Youth groups have begun organizing prayer vigils and town hall meetings to foster dialogue.
“We must reclaim our joy,” said Emmanuel Pepple, a local activist. “Politics will come and go, but Opobo’s spirit is eternal.” Yet, as the state of emergency stretches into its second month, the question lingers: Can a town famed for its resilience rise above the turmoil, or will its vibrant soul remain hostage to the chaos in Port Harcourt? For now, the answer lies in the quiet currents of the Opobo River—waiting, like its people, for a tide of change.
