The streets of Abuja had long learned the rhythm of fear. Barricades, threats, stolen votes—elections were no longer about choice but survival. And yet, the consequences of that violence never stayed confined.
Douglas Egharevba, a former member of Nigeria’s two dominant parties, APC and PDP, discovered this the hard way. Seeking asylum in Canada, he hoped for refuge from the chaos he had known. But the Canadian Federal Court saw differently. In a ruling that shocked many, the court denied his asylum, citing his association with parties linked to political violence and voter suppression. Membership alone, it said, was enough to deny him entry.
It wasn’t a universal declaration. Canada had not labeled APC and PDP as terrorist organizations for the world to see. Yet, in the eyes of Canadian law, the shadows of Nigeria’s elections had crossed oceans. For ordinary party members back home, it was a chilling message: past affiliations could now carry international consequences.
Inside Nigeria, the news stirred whispers and headlines. Opposition groups seized the ruling to paint the parties as dangerous and corrupt. Investors and diplomats abroad began to take notice. A political party, once a badge of influence, became a potential red flag in visa applications and international scrutiny.
The truth was unavoidable. Nigeria’s culture of election violence, the suppression of voters, and the quiet coercion of citizens had left scars that could travel. What once happened behind closed doors now echoed in foreign courtrooms. And for those who had lived under the weight of intimidation, it was proof that no act of political cruelty truly vanishes—it lingers, far beyond the borders of its origin.
Canada’s ruling was more than a legal decision. It was a mirror, reflecting the cost of decades of political manipulation. For Douglas Egharevba, it was a door closed. For Nigeria, it was a warning: the world is watching, and shadows of violence follow you, even across oceans.
