In Nnewi, the saying “in the absence of the elephant, the grasses suffer” has never felt more real.
A quiet stroll yesterday to the residence of the late Senator Ifeanyi Ebubechukwuzo Ubah revealed a stark contrast to what once existed. The street that used to be alive with activity now feels like a shadow of its former self—quiet, empty and unsettling.
His massive gate, once constantly open to welcome visitors, now sits firmly locked. The sight alone is enough to send a shiver through anyone who knew the history of that home.
Senator Ifeanyi Ubah was more than a political figure in Nnewi; he was a true grassroots champion. He understood his people deeply, and the people understood him in return. In many homes across Nnewi, he was spoken of with a reverence rarely given to politicians. Onye Ndi Nnewi Ji Ejemba!—that was the man they knew.
While he lived, his residence and the entire stretch of road leading to it felt like a pilgrimage ground. Day or night, people thronged in and out. Whether he was in town or away, the place buzzed with life, almost like the always-busy Main Market in Onitsha.
You could question many things about him, but no one ever questioned his love for his hometown.
A follower of the late senator once captured it perfectly:
“If I’m broke, I just make sure I find my way to Ifeanyi Ubah’s house by any means. Money must enter my pocket before I leave.”
At his home, groups gathered daily—some for financial support, others simply for food. And there was always enough. A dedicated caterer cooked for guests every single day. Patience was all that was required; your turn would come.
But for people like Okechukwu, a staunch admirer, it wasn’t the food or the money. It was the senator’s humility and accessibility.
“I never met him before. He didn’t know me, yet one day my phone rang and it was Ifeanyi Ubah,” he recalled.
That unexpected call led to a working relationship that lasted until the senator’s passing.
To the late senator, there were no social classes—no rich, no poor. Everyone mattered. Ejike from Umudim shared that his admiration came from something as simple but rare as responsiveness:
“Even if you message him by 3 a.m., he will reply,” Ejike said.
Truly, Ifeanyi Ubah meant different things to different people.
As I walked down his street yesterday, the eerie silence and absence of the usual traffic spoke loudly. It was a reminder of how deeply one man’s presence shaped an entire community.
I sighed—and kept walking.
Written by Ogemedi Udoegbunam
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