By Aminu Adamu
When Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan was suspended in March, the decision in Abuja quickly translated into silence in Kogi Central. The sealing of her office cut her off from the normal machinery of constituency work, letters unanswered, aides unable to function, and projects left in bureaucratic limbo. In Nigeria’s political system, where senators serve not just as lawmakers but as direct patrons for their districts, this absence was immediately felt. Constituents depend on their representatives for scholarships, small grants, jobs, and oversight of federal projects. The closure of her office was therefore more than punishment for a senator, it was collective punishment for the voters who sent her to the chamber.
What the Constituency Lost
Nigeria’s budget system allocates hundreds of millions of naira yearly to senators under the Zonal Intervention Projects (ZIPs), designed to fund boreholes, rural electrification, health centers, and training programs. For Kogi Central in 2025, community leaders point to several projects that stalled during Natasha’s suspension: boreholes in Okene and Adavi, scholarship schemes for polytechnic students, and rehabilitation works on feeder roads in Ihima. Women traders who had applied for micro-grants said their files “went cold,” while youths awaiting vocational training were left in uncertainty. The ripple effects were both economic and psychological, projects delayed meant livelihoods disrupted and faith in governance weakened.
Beyond Money: Trust and Morale
The deprivation went beyond unfinished projects. Constituents expressed frustration that their voices no longer carried weight in Abuja. Town-hall meetings thinned out, and civil society groups reported an erosion of trust in democratic institutions. For Natasha’s female supporters, the suspension was read as a gendered silencing: a warning of what happens when a woman challenges entrenched power. The sense of disenfranchisement extended beyond her base, it touched the broader community, which felt excluded from decision-making processes that continued in the capital without their input.
How Other Democracies Handle It
In other countries, suspension of lawmakers does not equate to suspension of representation. In the United States, senators under ethics probes keep their constituency offices running under staff oversight. In South Africa, parliamentary discipline does not extend to shutting down constituency services. Nigeria, however, ties access to constituency work directly to the senator’s standing in Abuja. This conflation leaves ordinary people paying the price for elite disputes. It highlights a structural weakness: institutions punish individuals by effectively silencing entire constituencies.
A Case for Reform
The Natasha suspension has underscored a need for reform. Constituency functions should not collapse simply because a legislator is being disciplined. Mechanisms could include leaving constituency offices operational under neutral administrators, ensuring independent monitoring of constituency projects during suspensions, and publishing real-time ZIP allocation data for public accountability. Such reforms would protect voters from becoming collateral damage in political battles.
For six months, Kogi Central stood in the shadows of Abuja’s disciplinary drama, its projects delayed and its people effectively voiceless. The unsealing of Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s office restores her access, but the damage to her constituency’s trust will take longer to repair. Her suspension serves as a reminder that in Nigeria’s democracy, when institutions blur the line between disciplining lawmakers and silencing representation, it is the citizens who bear the heaviest cost.
