In Abuja, the buildings now hum with names. Halls echo not just with speeches but with signatures—etched in bronze, stencilled in symbolism. At the centre of this latest rebranding blitz is one man with a bulldozer’s resolve and a showman’s flourish: Nyesom Wike.

This week, the Federal Capital Territory Minister unveiled the Bola Ahmed Tinubu International Conference Centre, formerly just the staid Abuja ICC. Not content with one dedication, Wike christened its flanking halls after Vice President Shettima, Senate President Akpabio, House Speaker Abbas, and Chief Justice Kekere-Ekun. It’s a full house of power—executive, legislative, and judicial—now immortalised in plaster and LED signage.

“Nothing has happened to this conference centre since 1991,” Wike declared, letting Nigerians understand the reasons for his actions. And now, like clockwork, every room has a new name, every name a political echo.

But this isn’t just about renovation—it’s about reclamation. The centre, once a relic of military-era grandeur, has been repackaged for a democratic age, albeit one increasingly shaped by strongman theatrics. Wike insists the transformation is thanks to President Tinubu’s leadership. Critics, like PDP’s Dele Momodu, suggest the bromance has blurred constitutional lines: “It’s looking like we have two presidents,” he quipped.

Tinubu, meanwhile, calls the critics “busybodies.” Wike? Unbothered. With a flair befitting a Shakespearean duke, he now charges ministries to pay rent before hosting events. “No more my-brother-my-sister weddings,” he warned. The message: governance may be political theatre, but the stage will no longer be free.

In the capital of a country that often forgets to finish what it starts, Wike is finishing things—visibly, loudly, and with names that shout from the walls. Love him or loathe him, the man understands optics. Infrastructure here is narrative, and narrative, under Wike’s stewardship, has acquired a swagger.

Is it spectacle or stewardship? In Abuja these days, it might just be both.