By Bashir Banjoko

When Nigerians discuss their politicians, the conversation often descends into cynicism, with tales of grand promises leading to meager results. Against this backdrop, the story of Babajimi “Jimi” Benson — fondly called JB by constituents — offers a compelling counternarrative that demands our commendation.
Since his election to the Federal House of Representatives in 2015, Benson has methodically dismantled the conventional excuses that have long stunted development in Nigeria’s growing communities. His work in Ikorodu Federal Constituency presents a pointed rebuke to the politics of limitation that has dominated our national discourse.

The standard political playbook in Nigeria has long included explaining why things cannot be done: federal funds cannot be used for local roads; legislators cannot drive capital projects; classifications like Trunk A, B, or C roads create jurisdictional barriers too complex to overcome. These arguments, repeated so often they’ve calcified into accepted wisdom, have provided convenient cover for representatives content with the ceremonial aspects of their office while delivering little substantive change.
JB’s approach is refreshingly straightforward: if a road in Ikorodu needs fixing, he finds a way to fix it, bureaucratic classifications be damned.

The results speak volumes. Communities like Oreta, Odogunyan, and Erunwen — names that would have remained in obscurity under less effective representation — now stand as testaments to what political will can accomplish. Where residents once navigated muddy, impassable streets during rainy seasons, functional roadways now facilitate commerce and connection.
What makes JB’s infrastructural achievements particularly notable is that they haven’t come at the expense of his legislative duties. His bill to formalize Lagos State’s 37 Local Council Development Areas as full-fledged Local Government Areas represents serious engagement with governance structures that impact millions of Nigerians. It’s a reminder that the false choice between local impact and national policy work is just that — false.

His “Apo anu” food bank initiative and Law School scholarships for 30 Ikorodu students (N200,000 each) further demonstrate a holistic understanding of representation that addresses both immediate needs and long-term community development.
That This Day newspaper recently named him Representative of the Year comes as no surprise to those who have witnessed his work. The real surprise is why his approach remains exceptional rather than standard.
The nickname bestowed upon him by grateful constituents — “Julius Berger of Ikorodu,” referencing Nigeria’s premier construction company — perhaps best captures what makes his representation distinctive: he builds things that last, both physically and institutionally.

Let’s be clear: Benson is not operating with special resources unavailable to his colleagues. Every representative receives constituency allocations. The difference lies in how these resources are deployed, the political will to overcome bureaucratic obstacles, and the courage to challenge entrenched systems that benefit from maintaining the status quo.
Therein lies the challenge to Nigeria’s political class. If one representative can transform his constituency through focused determination and creative problem-solving, what excuse remains for those who deliver far less with the same tools at their disposal?

The broader implications are significant. In a country where political cynicism runs deep, models of effective representation offer crucial evidence that our governance systems, for all their flaws, can still deliver when occupied by the right individuals. This realization is essential for a functioning democracy — citizens must believe that their votes can translate into tangible improvements in their lives.
Critics might argue that personality-driven governance cannot substitute for robust institutions. They’re right, of course. But the binary thinking that positions strong individuals against strong institutions misses a crucial truth: transformative individuals often create the conditions for institutional reform. By demonstrating what’s possible within existing constraints, they expand the imagination of both citizens and fellow politicians.

As Nigeria confronts its developmental challenges, the template offered by representatives like JB deserves serious consideration. The “Juggernaut of Brilliance” model — combining infrastructure delivery, substantive legislation, and community welfare initiatives — offers a roadmap for representation that addresses both immediate needs and long-term aspirations.
The question now is whether this model will remain an exception or become the rule. Nigerian voters increasingly demand evidence-based representation. Politicians who cannot point to concrete achievements may soon find themselves facing an electorate unwilling to accept excuses about jurisdictional limitations or bureaucratic obstacles.

In the end, JB’s greatest contribution may not be the roads he’s built or bills he’s sponsored, but the standard he’s set — a standard that says to other politicians: “This is possible. What’s your excuse?”
Omo Olori toba Oba de ita;
Omo osumare pupa to n yo laafin oba;
Omo Oba Lasunwo, keep up the good the work!
Bashir Banjoko writes from Ikorodu