Who’s Scared of APC in Anambra?

Something is stirring in Anambra. You can feel it in the markets of Onitsha, hear it in Awka’s motor parks, sense it in the quiet frustration of traders and students alike. The people are tired, tired of promises that sound like poetry and perform like excuses. Tired of insecurity that keeps families indoors before dusk. Tired of a government that speaks English but delivers little.

And in that exhaustion, a new name is echoing through the chatter: APC. Once dismissed, now discussed. Once doubted, now desired. The ticket of Prince Nicholas Ukachukwu and Senator Uche Ekwunife is no longer a whisper, it’s becoming a movement. And suddenly, everyone is asking: Who’s scared of the APC in Anambra?

Prince Nicholas Ukachukwu is not a man who needs politics to prove a point. His success speaks louder than slogans. As founder of Snecou Group and Niccus Industries, his businesses have employed thousands, built estates, and supported communities long before campaign posters were printed. This is a man who built wealth the hard way, through grit, sweat and vision. His philanthropy is equally legendary. He has sent children to school, built roads, provided healthcare, and sheltered widows. These aren’t campaign stories; they are records carved in real lives.

Ukachukwu isn’t new to power circles. He’s helped others rise to office. But now, as he says, “I’ve helped make governors; now I want to make a difference.” That’s not arrogance; that’s conviction. For once, Anambra has a candidate who doesn’t need government to become successful rather needs government to make others successful.

Beside him stands Senator Uche Ekwunife, a woman who has fought every inch of her political career. If persistence had a face, it would be hers. Twice a senator, once in the House of Representatives, she has built a reputation not through talk, but through work. She is one of the few politicians in Anambra whose performance can be measured in kilometres of roads, classrooms, boreholes, and skill centres.

In 2019, she didn’t just win her senatorial election, she swept all seven local governments in her district. “When you serve the people, they will speak for you louder than your posters,” she said then. And indeed, they did.

Together, Ukachukwu and Ekwunife represent what Anambra desperately needs. Brains and backbone, compassion and competence. Their chemistry isn’t political convenience; it’s shared purpose. Ukachukwu brings vision and resources. Ekwunife brings structure and street credibility. He builds industries; she builds people. He empowers communities; she connects them. They are the balance Anambra has been missing.

Now look around. Enugu is building industrial parks. Ebonyi is expanding roads and urban centres. Even Imo, despite its challenges, is pushing visible infrastructure projects. And then there’s Anambra the supposed “Light of the Nation” flickering under the weight of excuses. Roads still crumble. Security remains shaky. Traders lock up shops early. The promise of a “Smart Mega City” has become a distant echo.

Governor Soludo came with thunder. Big dreams, big grammar, big branding. “The Taiwan of Africa,” he called it. Today, it feels more like the Taiwan of PowerPoint. What we have seen are patches of road repairs and scattered revenue reforms, not the revolution he promised. The insecurity he vowed to crush now lurks like an uninvited guest in our daily lives. Kidnappings. Gunmen. Fear. Hope is shrinking, and silence has become his government’s default language while the security on his convoy increases.

The truth is painful but plain: Ndi Anambra deserve better. Leadership is not a theory class; it’s about delivery. And if Soludo has shown anything, it’s that vision without follow-through is just talk. People no longer want speeches. They want safety, jobs, schools that work, hospitals that heal, and roads that last longer than one rainy season.

This is where Ukachukwu and Ekwunife come in. Their manifesto is not built on grammar but goals. They promise an Anambra powered by gas and industry, where factories hum again and jobs return. They plan to create a general hospital in every local government, upgrade rural health centres, and launch a youth enterprise fund that gives young people capital, not pity. Taxes will be fairer, trade easier, governance more transparent. They vow to publish dashboards, show progress, and hold themselves accountable something rather rare in our political vocabulary.

Ukachukwu once said, “Development is not what you announce, it’s what people can touch.” Ekwunife adds, “Our people don’t need miracles, they need management.” Those words cut to the bone. They are a reminder that good governance isn’t magic, it’s simply method.

Many fear this APC ticket not because it’s weak, but because it’s strong. It threatens the comfort of those who have mastered the art of political survival without public service. It terrifies those who thrive in Anambra’s fatigue. But the truth is, the people are changing. From Awka to Nnewi, they’ve seen enough to know what failure looks like and what sincerity sounds like.

November 8 won’t just be another election. It will be a referendum on disappointment. A test of whether Ndi Anambra will continue rewarding eloquence without evidence or choose competence over charisma. Ukachukwu and Ekwunife are not perfect, but proven. They have built things that last. They have touched lives that remember.

So, who’s scared of the APC in Anambra? Those who know the people are no longer afraid to hope again. Those who know that this time, change isn’t just a slogan but a demand.

Because when the people rise, even the loudest excuses fall silent.

Ejike Agbata writes from Nri,

Anaocha LGA,

Anambra State