I must admit, I was genuinely shocked the first time I watched Sunday Igboho speak softly, that gently, with a regretful and apologetic tone. This is the same man whose voice once thundered across rallies, whose words carried fire, urgency and defiance. To now see him kneel before monarchs, brings back on his past statements and openly acknowledge mistakes felt almost surreal. I found myself asking, what really changed? What happened between the height of his agitation and this moment of humility?
I remember clearly how Sunday Igboho, rose to national prominence as a fierce advocate of Yoruba self-determination and regional security. A native of Igboho in Oyo State, he had built an earlier reputation during the Modakeke-Ife crisis of the late 1990s. But it was in 2021 that he became a household name. At a time when insecurity gripped parts of the Southwest, particularly in Ibarapa and surrounding agrarian communities, Igboho stepped forward with bold ultimatums directed at Fulani herders accused of kidnappings and killings. His rhetoric was emotional, unapologetic and confrontational. He spoke of defending Yoruba land at all costs and questioned the continued union with Nigeria. For many frustrated youths, he became a symbol of resistance and courage.
However, as I reflect now, activism at that level does not operate in a vacuum. His words and actions inevitably drew the attention of federal authorities. Tensions escalated until July 1, 2021, when operatives of the Department of State Services stormed his residence in Ibadan in a midnight raid. The operation turned deadly. Associates were killed, others arrested, and Igboho fled the country shortly after. Igboho was later arrested in the Benin Republic while attempting to travel to Germany and remained in detention before eventually being released. During that period, he was declared wanted in Nigeria, his passport seized, and his accounts reportedly restricted. The movement that once felt unstoppable suddenly collided with the full weight of the state.
Now, I don’t know if to believe exile changes a person or if it’s a certain growth phase that caught up with him. Removed from the adrenaline of mass rallies and the validation of cheering supporters, one is forced into introspection. In a foreign land, navigating legal battles and uncertainty, the rhetoric of revolution can begin to sound different. While supporters continued to chant “Oodua Nation,” Igboho was dealing with confinement, diplomatic negotiations and the psychological weight of displacement. It is in moments like that that leaders either double down in defiance or begin to reassess their tone and strategy.
When he re-emerged publicly and began visiting Yoruba traditional rulers, I could not ignore the difference. His visit to the Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Ogunwusi, was particularly symbolic. Watching him prostrate and apologise for past remarks considered disrespectful was not just a cultural gesture; it was a statement. He admitted that some of his words had been harsh and expressed gratitude for the monarch’s intervention during his ordeal.
In that moment, I saw not just apology but recalibration. In Yoruba culture, respect for elders and traditional institutions is emphatically rooted. By acknowledging that, he reconnected with the very cultural foundation he claimed to defend.
The involvement of traditional rulers, including the Olubadan of Ibadanland, Oba Rashidi Ladoja and others, reportedly played a big role in easing tensions and facilitating his reintegration. The reason why I know their mediation contributed to removing his name from the wanted list and smoothing the path for his return. I find the irony striking, the same institutions he once criticised became instrumental in his restoration. It reinforces something I have come to understand about Nigeria’s political structure, protest may shake the table, but negotiation often secures a seat at it.
Today, his recent statements also suggest a shift in perspective. Rather than focusing solely on separatist rhetoric, he has urged Yoruba leaders to prioritise unity against insecurity and internal divisions. To me, this signals growth. Passion can ignite a movement, but sustainability requires alliances, discipline and patience. Exile appears to have taught him that influence is not only about volume but about positioning.
As I take a look at his journey, I see lessons that go beyond one man. Passion without structure can burn bright and fade quickly. Respect, especially in culturally conscious societies, is not weakness but leverage. Dialogue, even with institutions once criticised, can open doors that confrontation alone cannot. Most importantly, growth does not erase conviction; it refines it.
Now, we should all see that Sunday Igboho’s evolution from fiery mobiliser to reflective advocate illustrates how political struggle can reshape individuals. Time, suffering and distance seem to have tempered his approach. Whether this marks the end of radical agitation or the beginning of a more strategic phase remains uncertain. However, what I know is this, exile did not silence him. It transformed him.
And perhaps that is the bigger story. Strength is not only in shouting defiance; sometimes it lies in recognising when to apologise, when to listen and when to build bridges. The real question now is not just what he once fought for, but how he intends to pursue it going forward.
Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun writes for Oyo Affairs