Who has ever wandered through Ikorodu and asked who their favourite son is? Chances are, the name “Jimi Benson” would float back to the inquirer before the question was finished. Three terms deep in the House of Representatives and still running on what appears to be renewable goodwill, Babajimi Benson has become something of a unicorn in Nigerian politics: principled, effective, and unusually well-prepared.

With a résumé that reads like a cabinet of polished credentials, a law degree from LASU, a master’s from London Guildhall, MBA from Warwick, Benson didn’t just stumble into politics. He studied it, worked adjacent to it, and stepped into the ring when the moment was right. Since 2015, he’s quietly worked his way through the National Assembly’s web of committees: Defence, Finance, Works, Justice—you name it, he’s touched it.

But Benson’s appeal isn’t just in the marble halls of Abuja. Back home in Ikorodu, he’s built a legacy that leans less on slogans and more on service. There’s IKD 106.1FM, a community radio station that gives residents a voice. There’s iCare, a food bank that regularly delivers staples to the vulnerable. And there’s the 80-bed Mother and Child Hospital in Imota, a rare monument to practical governance in a region often starved of it.

The man is not flashy. The man does not bark on social media or spin in controversy. Yet somehow, in a political landscape thick with cynicism, Benson has managed to stay relevant, even admired. Perhaps it’s his advocacy for gender inclusion, or his persistence in pushing defense reform bills. Maybe it’s just the fact that he shows up and keeps showing up. Whatever it is, Hon. Benson has become a case study in how to do politics without losing one’s soul or constituency.