How zoning evolved, why it hardened, and why reversal remains possible
By Okechukwu Ajoku | Owerri Zone
IS CHANGE EVEN POSSIBLE? YES.
Before zoning became a political slogan, before it hardened into a talking point, and long before it began to determine access to power, Ohaji already existed within a clear administrative and historical reality. That reality matters today—not because of sentiment, but because governance must be anchored in truth, not habit.
This is not an emotional argument.
It is a structural one.
What Ohaji Was Before Zoning Ever Existed
Ohaji was originally part of the old Owerri administrative structure, later known as Owerri West, long before zoning entered Imo State’s political vocabulary. This fact is crucial.
Ohaji was not originally an “Orlu” community.
What happened instead followed a clear administrative sequence:
Ohaji existed under the Owerri administrative axis.
It was later merged administratively with Egbema for local government convenience.
Only after zoning became politically relevant was Ohaji–Egbema treated as part of Orlu Zone.
There was no cultural relocation, no historical reassessment, and no community referendum.
Ohaji did not move zones culturally.
Ohaji was not redefined historically.
Ohaji simply followed an administrative merger when zoning arrived.
Any argument based purely on “current zone” defends the final label while refusing to examine how that label was produced.
Who Classified Ohaji into Orlu Zone?
A question often asked is: Who did it? Which government? Which governor?
The honest answer is this:
No military or civilian administration ever issued a formal, legal zoning order placing Ohaji in Orlu Zone.
Before 1999, zoning did not operate as a binding political structure in Imo State. Politics revolved around:
Local Government Areas,
Senatorial districts, and
Administrative convenience.
From 1999–2003, with the return to civilian rule, zoning began to matter politically—mainly for governorship calculations, party balancing, and appointments. Political actors grouped existing LGAs into zones for convenience, not history. In that period, Ohaji–Egbema LGA was treated as part of the Orlu political bloc.
It was assumed, not legislated.
From 2003–2007, repetition turned assumption into “fact.” Political parties, appointments, and public discourse consistently treated Ohaji–Egbema as Orlu Zone. What began as practice became orthodoxy.
This classification hardened through usage, not decision.
Responsibility therefore cannot be pinned to one individual or administration. The pattern emerged during the early Fourth Republic—particularly under PDP-dominated governance—and was sustained by successive governments without review.
This is not conspiracy.
It is institutional inertia.
Why This Matters: If It Was Never Legislated, It Can Be Reviewed
This point must be stated plainly:
If no legal instrument placed Ohaji in Orlu Zone, then the classification is not constitutionally locked.
What sustains it is political habit, not law.
Ohaji is therefore not asking Imo State to break a constitution.
Ohaji is asking Imo State to stop enforcing an assumption as if it were destiny.
That is a governance-consistent request.
The Zoning Debate: Fair Until It Reached Owerri
For years, zoning in Imo State functioned as an informal stabilising understanding. It was not written into law, but it was respected in practice. When it favoured Okigwe, it was called balance. When it favoured Orlu, it was called fairness and realism.
Now that the same logic points toward Owerri Zone, the language has shifted, from balance to competence, from rotation to merit.
Competence is important. But a serious governance question arises:
Why is the framework only declared flawed at the moment it is expected to benefit the last zone in the rotation?
If zoning was acceptable as a tool for stability before, it cannot suddenly be dismissed as illegitimate only when its outcome changes. Otherwise, the argument appears outcome-driven, not principle-driven.
Ohaji Exposes the Same Pattern
Ohaji’s case exposes the same tension now visible in the zoning debate itself:
Structures accepted when convenient,
Questioned only when consequences shift.
This is why the Ohaji argument is clean and difficult to dismiss.
If Zoning Is Being Scrapped, Ohaji’s Case Becomes Stronger
If voices from Orlu and Okigwe now argue:
“Scrap zoning; let competence decide,”
then logic demands consistency.
You cannot scrap zoning and still insist that Ohaji remains permanently zoned.
That is internally contradictory.
Ohaji’s request is therefore best understood as a call for administrative review—the correction of an informal assumption that hardened into orthodoxy without legal foundation.
A Necessary Clarification for Critics
This argument does not propose mass boundary reconfiguration, nor does it invite indiscriminate redrawing of zones across Imo State. Ohaji’s case is specific, historically traceable, and administratively distinct. It rests on documented sequencing, not sentiment. Reviewing an inherited assumption where evidence clearly warrants it does not weaken governance; it strengthens it.
Stability is not preserved by refusing to review anomalies, but by correcting them before they harden into lasting fault lines.
Why Owerri’s Silence Does Not Kill Ohaji’s Case
Owerri’s support would help—but it is not decisive.
Because:
Zoning is not Owerri’s property.
Zoning is not Orlu’s property.
Zoning belongs to political parties and informal practice.
If Ohaji succeeds in neutralising automatic zonal tagging, asserting historical continuity, and gaining party-level recognition, alignment will follow reality, not declarations.
Politics follows facts when facts persist.
Conclusion
Ohaji’s placement was assumed, not legislated.
What began as practice became orthodoxy.
The issue is not the volume of Ohaji’s voice, but the validity of the assumptions that continue to define its classification.
The real question before Imo State is whether it is willing to review an inherited political classification and align it with historical and lived reality—or continue defending inertia as destiny.
Ohaji’s return is not dependent on noise or permission. It is dependent on removing an assumption.
Once the assumption falls, classification becomes negotiable.
And once classification becomes negotiable, alignment with Owerri ceases to be controversial—it becomes coherent.
The challenge is not how loud Ohaji speaks.
It is how long Imo State can maintain stability while refusing to examine contradictions it already knows exist.
