09/10/2025
An Address By Chief Peter Idion on the day of his Thanksgiving mass at Rev Fr. David Mario Dibie's prayer ground in Owanta, Ika North East Local Government Area, Delta State.
Your Excellency, Distinguished Guests, Reverend Fathers, Medical Professionals, Family, and Friends,
I stand before you today, not merely as a survivor of a medical ordeal, but as a living witness to the extraordinary power of divine providence working through human vessels. My journey through the valley of affliction and into this season of restoration has been, I must confess, one that has fundamentally reshaped my understanding of grace, community, and the mysterious ways in which God orchestrates deliverance.
When I reflect on the path that led me from the precipice of despair to this moment of thanksgiving, I find myself overwhelmed by a singular truth: that God, in His infinite wisdom, does not always send angels with wings. Sometimes, He sends them in suits, in clerical collars, in white coats, and in the humble garments of faithful friends and family. And sometimes, just sometimes, He sends a statesman whose compassion rivals his competence, whose generosity eclipses his political achievements, and whose humanity defines his legacy more profoundly than any office he has held.
I speak, of course, of Senator Dr. Arthur Ifeanyi Okowa, the man who has become, in the narrative of my life, nothing less than an angel in human form.
Your Excellency, when I attempt to quantify what you have done for me, I find that mathematics fails me. Numbers can capture the medical bills you offset, they can calculate the cost of surgeries, they can tabulate expenses. But how does one measure the value of hope restored? How does one calculate the worth of dignity preserved? How does one put a price on the difference between life and death?
Let me be explicit about what Your Excellency did. When I faced this recent medical crisis, the financial burden was not merely substantial, it was catastrophic. The kind of sum that can dismantle a family's security for generations. The kind of debt that transforms recovery into a pyrrhic victory, where you survive the illness only to be crushed by the financial aftermath. Your Excellency, you absorbed that entire burden. You did not hesitate. You did not negotiate. You did not make it conditional. You simply said, in effect, "This man will not die for lack of resources, and he will not survive only to be bankrupted."
But Your Excellency, if you had stopped there, if you had merely written a check and moved on to the next item on your agenda, that alone would have secured my eternal gratitude. Yet you did something that revealed the true caliber of your character. You came to my hospital bedside. You, a man whose schedule is measured in minutes, whose demands are infinite, whose responsibilities span an entire state, you carved out time to sit with me. You prayed with me. You encouraged me when my spirit was at its lowest ebb.
Do you know what that physical presence meant? It meant that I was not a statistic to you. I was not a line item in a budget. I was not a political calculation or a strategic investment. I was a human being whose suffering warranted your personal attention. Your Excellency, in that hospital room, you were not His Excellency. You were simply a man of God, ministering to another man in crisis. That is leadership of the highest order.
And in your characteristic wisdom, you observed something profound during one of those visits. You said, and I quote, "Peter, your hospital ward and then later your house has turned to Mecca" for the people coming to show solidarity. Those words captured the essence of what was happening around me. But Your Excellency, do you know why my hospital ward became Mecca? It was because you came first. Your visit set a standard. It sent a signal. It communicated to everyone in our community that Chief Peter Idion's recovery was important, that his life had value, that his struggle deserved support. You were not just a visitor, Your Excellency. You were the catalyst. You were the example that inspired countless others to follow.
I have witnessed, with my own eyes, a convergence of love and concern that transcended ordinary human experience. But I am intellectually honest enough to acknowledge that this convergence had an organizing principle, a gravitational center. And that center was your compassion, Your Excellency.
But there is more. This was not the first time you extended your hand to me. In 2023, when I faced prostrate surgery, you were there. You paid for that surgery as well. Your Excellency, this is a pattern. This is not opportunistic benevolence or strategic philanthropy. This is covenant faithfulness. This is the kind of sustained commitment that cannot be explained by politics or public relations. This can only be explained by a genuine love for humanity, a deep seated conviction that those who have been blessed must be a blessing to others.
What kind of man does this? What manner of heart beats within someone who returns, again and again, to lift up another? I have pondered this question extensively during my recovery. And I have concluded that Your Excellency operates from a value system that has become rare in our contemporary world. You believe that leadership is stewardship. You believe that power is responsibility. You believe that privilege carries with it an obligation to those who have less.
Your Excellency, you have been a governor, a senator, a vice presidential candidate. History will record those positions. But I predict that when the final accounting of your life is made, when the eulogies are delivered and the assessments are rendered, it will not be the offices you held that define your legacy. It will be the lives you touched. It will be the people like me, who would not be standing here today if not for your intervention. It will be the countless others across Delta State and beyond who have similar testimonies, similar stories of redemption that begin with the phrase, "Dr. Okowa helped me when..."
I want the young people in this audience to understand what I am describing. I am describing a model of leadership that prioritizes people over politics, that values relationships over recognition, that measures success not by what you accumulate but by what you give away. Your Excellency, you have shown us that true greatness is not found in wielding power but in using power to empower others.
And so, Your Excellency, I say to you publicly what I have said to God privately in countless prayers: you saved my life. Not figuratively. Not symbolically. Literally. Without your financial intervention, the medical care I received would have been impossible. Without your personal visits, the psychological and spiritual strength I needed to endure would have been insufficient. You were the instrument through which divine mercy reached me.
I have no adequate words, Your Excellency, only this testimony and a heart forever branded with gratitude. You are inscribed in the story of my survival in letters that cannot be erased. When I tell my grandchildren about this season, your name will be spoken with reverence, with awe, with the kind of respect reserved for those rare individuals who changed the trajectory of our family's history.
I must acknowledge Mr. and Mrs. Sunny Ogwu, whose recommendation of the referral to Asaba Specialist Hospital set this entire miracle in motion. Through their daughter, Dr. Ewere Ogwu, who called the CMD directly, they ensured that I would receive not just treatment, but exceptional care. Sometimes the smallest decisions, the simple act of making a call or suggesting a facility, become the hinge upon which destiny turns.
Now, I must speak at length about Dr. Donald Peterson, a man whose contribution to my survival cannot be overstated. For sixty consecutive days, while I lay in that hospital bed fighting for my life, Dr. Peterson provided both my breakfast and dinner. Every single morning and every single evening, without fail, for two full months. Let me help you understand what this means. When you are hospitalized for an extended period, especially during a critical illness, nutrition becomes not merely sustenance but medicine itself. The body's ability to heal is directly connected to its nutritional intake. Dr. Peterson understood this at a profound level.
But his gift was more than food. It was consistency in a season of uncertainty. It was the assurance, twice daily, that someone was thinking of me, caring for me, investing in my recovery. Each meal arrived as a tangible reminder that I was not forgotten, that my life mattered, that my recovery was a collective endeavor. In ancient times, such faithfulness would be recorded in sacred texts. The biblical concept of breaking bread together, of shared meals as covenant, this is what Dr. Peterson enacted for sixty days. He literally sustained my physical body while the doctors worked to heal it. Dr. Peterson, you fed me when I could not feed myself. You nourished me when nourishment was the difference between decline and recovery. History may not record your name in medical journals, but it is indelibly written in the story of my survival.
The Chief Medical Director of Asaba Specialist Hospital, Dr. Peace, her very name proved prophetic. She was waiting for me the day I arrived. She had already prepared a private room with television, refrigerator, microwave, and twenty four hour electricity. These may seem like amenities, but to a person facing a long hospitalization, they represent dignity, comfort, and the assurance that one is valued. Dr. Peace, you set the tone for everything that followed.
The consultant surgeons led by Dr. Bami and Dr. Obada, along with the entire medical team, I entrusted my life to your hands, and you proved yourselves worthy of that sacred trust. The surgery lasted approximately five hours. I know this because Mr. Cosmos Igbinije, who wheeled me to the theatre, waited the entire time, growing increasingly anxious, repeatedly asking the doctors what was happening. He knew the hospital morgue was located behind the theatre. That geographical detail was not lost on him, nor, I suspect, on me in my semi-conscious state. But you brought me through. Your skill, your training, your dedication, all of it converged to give me a second chance at life.
And now, I must speak of something that transcends even medical recovery. I must speak of an honor so profound, so historically significant, that I still struggle to fully comprehend its weight. My Royal Father, His Royal Majesty the Dein of Agbor Kingdom, found me worthy of a royal visit to my home. Baba Doo Dein, Nitor neyin fe.
Let me place this in its proper context. My great-grandfathers never received any of our kings from the Agbor Kingdom. Not one. Across generations of my lineage, through all the births, deaths, celebrations, and sorrows that mark a family's passage through time, no traditional ruler had ever crossed the threshold of our home. And yet, here I am, in this present moment, having received my traditional ruler in my house. I am the first in my lineage to be accorded this extraordinary honor.
Your Royal Majesty, when you walked into my home, you brought with you the weight of centuries of tradition, the authority of the stool you occupy, and the blessing of the ancestors. But you also brought something deeply personal: the compassion of a father for his son, the concern of a shepherd for one of his flock. That visit elevated my suffering into something meaningful. It transformed my private ordeal into a communal concern worthy of royal attention. You reminded me, and everyone who witnessed it, that in the Agbor Kingdom, no one suffers alone, no one recovers in isolation. Baba, I am forever your grateful son.
To my co-Chiefs who visited me both in the hospital and at home, you demonstrated that chieftaincy is not merely ceremonial. It is relational. It is showing up when showing up is difficult. It is the brotherhood that exists beyond titles, rooted in shared responsibility for one another's wellbeing. Your presence during my darkest hours will never be forgotten.
The Vice Chancellor of the University of Delta, who supplied me with Egovin. Dr. Festus Okubor, who came regularly to visit me and confer with my doctors. Dr. Bernard Orewa, who from as far away as Atlanta, USA, ensured that I never lacked for medication, always arriving within one week of my call. These acts of professional solidarity remind me that medicine, at its best, is a brotherhood devoted to the preservation of life.
To the various Reverend Fathers who made personal visits and prayed over me, I say this: your prayers created a spiritual canopy over my hospital bed. But I must make particular mention of Reverend Father Dibie, whose relentless prayers, whose mountings and laying on of hands, released something in the heavenly realm that manifested in my physical healing. Father, you were not an occasional visitor. You were a spiritual warrior who refused to let the enemy have the last word. My parish priest, Reverend Father Barr Steve Chukwuma, Reverend Father Nwoko, and Reverend Father Collins, your ministry to me during this time has deepened my faith immeasurably.
I must speak now of my family, the people who had no choice but to stand by me, yet chose to do so with such devotion that choice became privilege. My late twin brother's wife, Mrs. Rita Idion, and our children: Oghogho Idion, Rimma Idion, Dr. Kris Idion, and Maryjane Idion, you all stood by me as your father. In African culture, family is not merely a biological category. It is a covenant. You honored that covenant when it was most difficult to do so.
My cousin, Professor Jude Ogala and his wife Lucy Ogala, your presence reminded me that extended family is not an outdated concept but a living reality that sustains us in crisis. Dr. Kingsley Agholor and his wife, who called me every single day to ensure things were progressing well, you turned routine into ritual, and that ritual became a lifeline.
The Local Government Chairman, Engr. Jerry Ehiwarior, came every week with cash and all kinds of fruits, visiting me both at the hospital and later at my home. Mr. Chairman, you demonstrated that leadership is not about titles and positions. It is about showing up, consistently, with tangible expressions of care.
The Management of Delta State Traffic Authority, led by DG Okemutete, your institutional support reflected the best of what government agencies can be when they remember that they exist to serve people, not just enforce regulations.
Dr. Hilary Ibegbulem purchased a wheelchair for me, and let me tell you about this wheelchair. It was so specialized, so comfortable, that when the doctors saw it, they jokingly asked the Chairman of DESTMA, "Do you really want him to walk?" The implication was clear: this wheelchair was so well appointed that I might be tempted to remain in it. But the hardest part of my recovery was not the surgery itself. It was learning to use crutches to walk again. For the first time in my life, I began to see myself as physically challenged. That psychological shift was almost as debilitating as the physical limitation.
But Reverend Father Nwoko and Reverend Father Collins would have none of it. They would say, emphatically, "Don't use those words again. It is not your portion." They were rebuking not just my speech, but the spirit of defeat that was attempting to attach itself to my identity. Language, they understood, shapes reality. And they refused to let me speak myself into permanent limitation.
As I conclude, I want to return to His Excellency Senator Dr. Okowa's observation about my hospital ward and later my house turning into Mecca. What he witnessed, what we all witnessed, was nothing less than the mobilization of a community around one of its members. But I must be honest about the architecture of this mobilization. It began with one man's compassion. It was amplified by one man's example. It was sustained by one man's belief that my life was worth saving.
Your Excellency, you were not merely a participant in my recovery. You were the cornerstone. You were the foundation upon which everything else was built. Every visitor who came after you, every prayer that was offered, every act of kindness that followed, they all existed in the wake of your initial intervention. You created the possibility. You opened the door. You showed everyone what love looks like when it is translated into action.
I have learned that recovery is not a solitary journey. It is fundamentally communal. Yes, the patient must fight. Yes, the doctors must apply their expertise. But surrounding all of that must be a network of love, faith, and practical support. And at the center of that network, there must be someone willing to bear the heaviest burden, to take the greatest risk, to make the most significant sacrifice. Your Excellency, you were that someone for me.
To everyone I have named, and to the many others whose contributions I may have inadvertently omitted, please know that you are inscribed in the book of my life. You are part of my testimony. When I tell my grandchildren and great grandchildren about this season, your names will be mentioned with reverence.
But to His Excellency Senator Dr. Arthur Ifeanyi Okowa, I say this: you are not merely inscribed in the book of my life. You are the chapter that explains how I survived. You are the plot twist that transformed tragedy into triumph. You are the deus ex machina, except you are not a literary device. You are a flesh and blood human being who chose to be the answer to my desperate prayers.
I have passed through the fire and emerged, not unscathed, but purified. I have been broken and reassembled, not as I was, but as I am meant to be. And I have witnessed, with my own eyes, that God's mercy is not an abstract theological concept. It is concrete, tangible, and delivered through the hands and hearts of His people. And sometimes, when the need is greatest, when the stakes are highest, when life itself hangs in the balance, God sends someone extraordinary. He sent Senator Dr. Arthur Ifeanyi Okowa.
Your Excellency, may the same God who used you to save my life bless you beyond measure. May your years be long, your health robust, your influence expansive, and your legacy eternal. May your children's children rise up and call you blessed. And may history record, accurately and completely, that you were a man who wielded power with compassion, who accumulated resources to redistribute them, and who understood that the greatest achievement in life is not what you accomplish for yourself, but what you make possible for others.
Thank you, and may the God who orchestrated my recovery continue to work miracles through each of you.
