● Silent Fences Built on Political Battle: In Their Husbands’ Shadows, the Rift Runs Deep Between the Two Women
There is much to rue in the fractured elegance of two Kwara Queens – Toyin Saraki and Olufolake Abdulrazaq. The two women stand as silent casualties of a war they did not start but are bound to fight. Toyin graceful and stately, once the queen of Kwara’s sociopolitical scene, now navigates her days with the poise of a swan gliding over tumultuous waters. Opposite her stands Olufolake, equally regal, her steps measured as if each stride affirms her position in the seat of power.
Their husbands—Bukola Saraki and Abdulrahman Abdulrazaq—are the protagonists of a political saga that has divided Kwara State. Yet it is these women, the wives, who now bear the weight of estrangement, their mutual disdain a mirror to the bitter rivalry that burns between the two men. Where once a cordial nod might have sufficed, now an icy avoidance defines their encounters. A feud that began in the political trenches has spilt over into private lives, setting them on parallel paths that never meet, like train tracks running to the horizon.
At the recent wedding of Nike Animasaun’s son, for instance, the air seemed to crackle with unspoken grievances as the two women graced the occasion. Guests whispered behind sequined gele and silk agbada as Toyin and Olufolake maneuvered the grand ballroom like queens on a chessboard, each avoiding the other with calculated precision. Not a word, not a glance passed between them. It was as if their presence in the same space threatened to unravel the carefully stitched fabric of decorum.…CONTINUE READING
The scene was emblematic of their relationship: two powerful women, each a model of elegance, choosing to navigate their lives as though the other were a ghost. Those who observed could not help but mourn the tragedy—a relationship that might have blossomed into camaraderie now withered under the shadow of their husbands’ political feud.
The roots of their animosity stretch deep, nourished by decades of political rivalry between their husbands. For forty years, the Saraki dynasty reigned supreme in Kwara, its patriarch, Olusola Saraki, the political godfather who moulded the state’s destiny. Bukola Saraki, his heir, built an empire of influence, crowning his legacy as Senate President. Yet, 2019 saw the winds of change sweep through Kwara with the “O to ge” (Enough is Enough) movement, which toppled the Saraki stronghold and ushered in Abdulrahman Abdulrazaq, a scion of another illustrious Kwara family.
The Saraki-Abdulrazaq rivalry, however, predates this seismic shift. It is a tale of two patriarchs whose political ambitions clashed in the 1979 gubernatorial election, setting the stage for decades of hostility. This bitterness has now been inherited by their sons and, by proxy, their wives. Toyin and Olufolake find themselves caught in a web of old wounds, their interactions—or lack thereof—a reflection of a history neither can escape.
The feud between the Saraki and Abdulrazaq families is etched in the very soil of Kwara. When Governor Abdulrazaq’s administration demolished Ile Arugbo, the Saraki family’s political home, it was more than the destruction of a building; it was an erasure of legacy, a declaration of war. Abdulrazaq argued the land had been illegally acquired; the Sarakis saw it as an act of vendetta.
For Toyin Saraki, Ile Arugbo was more than her husband’s political symbol—it was a space of community and connection. Its destruction signaled a dismantling of the ties that once bound her family to the heart of Kwara. For Olufolake Abdulrazaq, however, it marked a new beginning, a reclamation of the state’s identity from what her husband has described as the “Saraki stranglehold.”
In public, Toyin and Olufolake are paragons of grace, their smiles as polished as the pearls that adorn their necks. Yet beneath the surface lies a sea of tension, their interactions reduced to studied indifference. Invitations are declined, pleasantries omitted. Even the grand spectacle of the Ilorin Durbar, a cultural event that should unite, becomes another stage for their estrangement.
The people of Kwara cannot help but notice. What should be a unifying force—two women who might have stood together as symbols of progress and empowerment—has become a stark reminder of the divisions sown by their husbands’ battles. Where their collaboration might have heralded a new era for Kwara women, their estrangement only deepens the fractures within the state.
Toyin Saraki, with her impeccable pedigree and international acclaim, embodies a certain aristocratic elegance. Her philanthropic efforts, particularly through the Wellbeing Foundation Africa, have earned her global respect. Yet, these achievements are overshadowed by the feud that now defines her public image in Kwara.
Olufolake Abdulrazaq, too, is no stranger to grace and achievement. As an accomplished diplomat and advocate for women’s rights, she has carved a niche for herself that extends beyond her role as First Lady. Yet, her contributions are often viewed through the lens of her husband’s governance, her legacy intertwined with his political agenda.
Theirs is a tragedy of circumstances, two women caught in the crossfire of a battle that has little to do with them. They are like two rivers that once flowed in harmony but now run parallel, their waters forever separated by the banks of political rivalry. In another life, they might have been allies, their shared experiences as mothers, wives, and leaders forming a bond unbreakable by politics. Instead, they are adversaries, their interactions defined by avoidance and disdain.
As Kwara’s political landscape continues to shift, one can only hope for a reconciliation—not just between the Saraki and Abdulrazaq families but between Toyin and Olufolake. Their estrangement is a microcosm of the divisions that plague Nigerian politics, a reminder of the personal costs of public power struggles.
For now, the people of Kwara watch with bated breath, their hopes pinned on the possibility of a truce. After all, when two elephants fight, it is not just the grass that suffers—it is also the beauty of the savanna that fades.
