In the Bible, Lucifer once held the highest seat in Heaven until arrogance hurled him into disgrace (Isaiah 14:12–15). In the Qur’an, Iblis refused to obey a divine command, and was cursed for eternity (Surah Sad 38:76–77). When men begin to see themselves as gods, they fall not by the hand of others, but by their own pride. This is the tragic arc of Rauf Aregbesola and the Adeleke dynasty, a brotherhood once glued by political ambition, now shattered by rivalry, deceit, and the naked hunger for power.
Rauf Aregbesola was once the roaring architect of Osun’s political narrative. His energy, oratory, and populist flair made him a messianic figure in the eyes of many. But that mask didn’t last. Behind the chants and crowds was a man who ruled like a despot, who made Osun bankrupt and abused the trust of the people, while he burdened the state with economic paralysis. His tenure was marked by unpaid salaries, a ravaged pension scheme, and half-hearted infrastructural projects that littered the state like abandoned carcasses. He turned Osun into a laboratory of financial wreckage and left the civil servants to beg for their lives while he gallivanted with delusions of grandeur.
Yet in recent days, Aregbesola found his voice again, hurling stones at the very house he helped raise. In an unfiltered outburst, he declared, “The government that makes Osun people go hungry should not be in power again… Since they assumed office, even the rain no longer falls as it used to.” This rare moment of candor, though soaked in hypocrisy, reveals the extent of his desperation to rewrite his legacy and claw back relevance. The same man who once hailed Governor Adeleke now calls him a disaster. But snakes don’t hiss until they’re cornered.
If Aregbesola is a fallen god, then the Adeleke dynasty is a political plague, a family whose name is synonymous with opportunism, betrayal, and transactional loyalty. Their patriarch, Senator Ayoola Adeleke, was an early apostle of party prostitution in the old Oyo State. He crossed platforms like a man changing coats in the rain, loyal only to his ambition and completely detached from ideology or principle. His career was built on what he could get, not what he could give.
Then came Senator Isiaka Adeleke, popularly known as Serubawon. He was flamboyant, ambitious, and equally destructive. In 2014, he torched the Osun PDP from within because his governorship ambition was not rubber-stamped. He defected to the APC not to build it, but to use it. The party became a ladder, and once he climbed high enough, he kicked it away. His appetite for power left trails of division and infighting echoes of which still haunt the state today.
Now the latest heir to this dynasty, Governor Ademola Adeleke, has become a predictable continuation of his lineage. Masked by dance steps and shallow populism, he governs with emotion, not vision. His loyalty, like his predecessors, is to his ambition. Today, he’s setting fire on the PDP house just as his brother did all in the name of a second term. If the party dares not bend, he will break it. His record so far is a balancing act of press statements, dancing escapades, and a media strategy built around attacking ghosts from the past.
The irony is thick. Adeleke, who once sought political cover under Aregbesola’s shadow, now spits fire at the man who blessed his path. He accuses Aregbesola of being haunted by the evil of his own legacy. “The empty boast of Mr. Aregbesola about 2026 is a symptom of a troubled mind battling his benefactor,” he said, “a man who should be remorseful and tender public apologies for his years of maladministration.” He brags about clearing 28 months of half salaries and repaying over N60 billion in pension debts, as if that redeems the very fact that he has not governed well, and that he governs without direction.
In the midst of this chaos stood Adegboyega Oyetola, a man who was mocked as weak but governed with stability and dignity. While Aregbesola broke the back of civil service with unpaid wages, and while Adeleke now recycles blame in press releases, Oyetola quietly healed Osun. He rehabilitated 332 Primary Healthcare Centres across the state, reconstructed critical historic roads, and provided food security for the most vulnerable. His administration did not owe a single month’s salary. He didn’t need drums or dancers. His performance was his billboard.
Oyetola, even in the face of deep betrayal, guarded his relationship with Aregbesola jealously. He chose peace. He endured provocation. He avoided scandal. But Aregbesola insisted on destroying the platform that gave him prominence and so chose political adultery and together with the Adeleke dynasty, they produced a bastard child that now hurts them both with cutlasses. That child of betrayal, that Frankenstein of ambition, is now swinging blindly at his creators.
Despite every attempt to humiliate him, Oyetola responded with decorum and civility. He held the peace when others wanted war. But the stench that he once covered out of respect has now escaped and it is being released by the bastard child Aregbesola and Adeleke both nurtured. I doubt that in their long, checkered political history, anyone has demonised them as brutally and truthfully as they are now demonising each other with unprintable descriptions that can only befit wild animals. God fought Oyetola’s battles to such an extent that the very men who conspired against him are now at each other’s throats, throwing missiles in public and disgrace in every direction.
What we are witnessing now is not a disagreement: it is a full-blown war between two egos who once traded smiles. Their recent media spats reveal how shallow their alliance was. Adeleke now calls Aregbesola a “shrew who doesn’t realize he’s smelling.” Aregbesola, in return, hurls back invocations of drought and hunger, blaming Adeleke because the skies refuse to rain. When gods become demons, the people suffer.
The Bible warns in Proverbs 16:18, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” The Qur’an too, in Surah Al-Hashr 59:19, reminds us: “Do not be like those who forgot Allah, so He made them forget themselves.” Aregbesola and the Adeleke dynasty have not only forgotten their promises; they have forgotten their humanity.
Let Osun remember this in 2026. Let the people never again fall for the spells of dancers or the loud prayers of hypocrites. Let this be a generation that rejects recycled chaos. For when demons dress like saviours, the land groans under false deliverance.
If there’s one mercy in all of these, it is that the mask is off. We now know who they really are. And God willing, Osun will never hand them the reins again.
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