20/07/2025
The ongoing battle between Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senate President Godswill Akpabio is not just personal.
It is institutional.
It is political.
It is gendered.
And it is constitutional.
This is a fight that lays bare the fragility of Nigeria’s democracy and the dangers of unchecked power in a male-dominated Senate where only 4 of 109 members are women.
What started as a seating disagreement in February 2025 spiraled into suspension, sexual harassment allegations, assassination claims, and court rulings that now threaten the balance between judicial authority and legislative independence.
Natasha refused to change her seat.
Akpabio saw that as insubordination.
She said he wanted her silenced.
She accused him of sexual harassment—of making lewd remarks back in 2023.
She accused him and Yahaya Bello of plotting to eliminate her.
Akpabio denied everything.
The Senate’s Ethics Committee refused to investigate.
They dismissed her petition and suspended her for six months without pay.
She fought back.
In court, she argued the suspension was unconstitutional and robbed her constituents of representation.
The judge agreed.
Justice Binta Nyako called the Senate’s action excessive, unlawful, and a violation of the 1999 Constitution.
She ordered her recall.
But the court also found Natasha guilty of contempt.
A Facebook post mocking Akpabio landed her a ₦5 million fine and a mandatory apology.
She must pay.
She must apologise.
That’s the cost of defiance.
Akpabio didn’t sit back.
He filed an appeal.
He says the court has no business interfering with internal Senate matters.
He wants the ruling thrown out.
This isn’t just about a woman refusing a seat.
It’s about a Senate President refusing scrutiny.
It’s about a court daring to check legislative power.
It’s about one senator exposing how democracy is manipulated by procedure, power, and patriarchal politics.
Yes, Natasha made mistakes.
She bypassed Senate protocol in filing her petition.
She went public when the court told her to be silent.
She escalated a confrontation that might have been defused politically.
She made claims she’s yet to prove with hard evidence.
But she also showed guts.
She stood up in a chamber that thrives on silence.
She broke the code of complicity.
She didn’t fold.
Akpabio, on the other hand, used power like a hammer.
He led the suspension.
He ignored a court order halting it.
He ridiculed her publicly, likening the Senate to a “nightclub” unfit for her presence.
His past isn’t clean either—Joy Nunieh’s harassment claim still casts a shadow.
He punished dissent.
He denied due process.
He’s now daring the court to stop him.
This crisis is no longer about two people.
It’s about the Senate’s credibility.
It’s about the separation of powers.
It’s about whether a woman in Nigeria’s parliament can speak out without being crushed.
The Constitution is clear.
Court orders must be obeyed.
No branch of government is above the law.
Natasha must pay her fine.
Akpabio must respect the recall order—or await the appeal without obstruction.
The longer this drags, the more it exposes the Senate’s weakness.
And the more it poisons public trust.
The message from this conflict is brutal and loud:
Challenge power, and they will punish you.
But if you cower, they win.
This isn’t just a battle for one Senate seat.
It’s a fight for the soul of our democracy.
