In the unfolding drama around the fate of Jabi Lake Recreation Park, two voices rose – one softened by humility, the other sharpened by power and edged with irreverence.
At the center stood Sarah Omakwu, a pastor who chose not the language of confrontation, but of surrender. Kneeling – an image as old as faith itself – she spoke not as a rival to authority, but as a mother among her people. Her plea was simple, almost fragile: let the land remain a shared space, a living ground where ordinary lives unfold – where laughter, commerce, love, and community meet. She did not claim ownership; she appealed to conscience. She did not command; she entreated, invoking God not as a weapon, but as a witness to her sincerity.
Her words carried gratitude as much as supplication. She acknowledged progress, praised development, and honored the works already done. Yet, in that same breath, she drew a line – not of defiance, but of care – asking that this one space be spared for the collective soul of the city.
Opposite her stood Nyesom Wike, Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, unmoved by the posture of humility before him. Where she bent low, he stood firm – unyielding, dismissive of emotion, and resolute in authority. To him, her kneeling was not a moral appeal but an irrelevant gesture, one that held no weight in the calculus of governance.
Yet it was not merely his refusal that stirred unease – it was the tone with which he dismissed both her plea and the divine reference she invoked. His retort – suggesting she could “call her God to come down” – rang less like a policy position and more like a challenge cast upward, brushing against reverence itself. In that moment, the sacred was reduced to rhetoric, and faith – so central to her appeal – was met with a kind of public indifference, if not outright scorn.
The minister’s argument rested on legality and development: land must serve its purpose, and those who fail to develop it forfeit their claim. On paper, it was a position of order and efficiency. But layered beneath was a posture that seemed to leave little room for empathy, communal memory, or the intangible value of shared spaces.
Thus, the contrast became visible.
A pastor, grounded in humility, appealed to higher ideals and collective belonging.
A minister, anchored in authority, responded with finality – and a remark that many might see as crossing from firmness into irreverence.
Between them lies not just a dispute over land, but a deeper tension: between power and compassion, between policy and people, and between reverence and dismissal of the sacred.
Their words:
Sarah Omakwu on Tuesday: “I cannot fight the minister of the FCT. I cannot.
“But I go on my knees as a mother in this land that Jabi Lake Recreation Centre should not be given to anybody.
“That is where people go for exercise. That is where people sell.
“That is where people meet and hobnob and get married.
“That is where people go to watch games. That is where young people go to.
“I beg you, Mr Minister, in the name of God, as a mother, to not sell that land to anybody,” she said.
“I can’t fight you. But I can beg you in the name of God Almighty that that land be left for everybody. I beg you. Please heed our call
“I want to thank you for all the highways you have built around the city.
“I thank you. You have made my journey to my home a whole lot easier.
“Thank you for the other things you are doing. But for this piece of land, I beg you, let it go”.
Wike’s position on Wednesday:
“You talk about the woman kneeling down and begging.
“I’m not carried away by such emotions. Begging to do what?
“Who owns Jabi Lake? How does it become your own?
“First of all, I came on board; that place was given to a company that said they wanted to turn it into an entertainment place, but they have turned it into shanties.
“One of these days I went there and said, ‘This can’t be; there is a hotel, and who would come to stay in that hotel when there are shanties all over?’ You don’t know if there are criminals.”
“You cannot allocate land and leave it for that long with nothing to show. We revoked it. Now we want to give it to people who are ready to develop it.
“We will reallocate the land with clear conditions. If there is no development within the specified time, we will take it back.
“To the woman who was crying, if she likes, let her call God to come down. What is my business?
“How does Jabi become hers? Is it an individual or government property?
“We are trying to make sure investors develop this land for the interest of all of us….
“You must sign to develop within a given period. If you fail, the land returns to government. It is as simple as that.
“We are not taking anything from the public. We are reclaiming land from those who failed to do what they were supposed to do or who converted it to unauthorised uses….”
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