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The corridors of the Benue State Sports Marketing and Lottery Board have turned into a chamber of quiet despair. On November 3, 2025, its staff laid bare a seven-month salary drought in a letter titled “A Desperate Cry for Help,” pleading directly with Governor Rev. Fr. Hyacinth Iormem Alia to intervene before hardship breaks them completely. The document, now circulating among journalists in Makurdi, paints a grim picture of workers earning below minimum wage, unable to fuel their commute or feed their families, yet still expected to show up daily.
“We struggle to put food on the table, afford transportation, and maintain our dignity,” the letter reads. “The daily commute to work alone costs N1,400, which we can no longer afford.” Since April 2025, paychecks have vanished without explanation. Despite repeated appeals, Executive Secretary Mr. Michael Uper has offered neither response nor reason, leaving employees in limbo. “Our salaries, already below the minimum wage, have been withheld without reason, leaving us in a state of desperation,” they wrote.
The workers didn’t just stop at the governor. They copied Commissioner for Youth, Sports and Creativity, Hon. Tiza Isaac Imojime Orya, and even national bodies like the EFCC and ICPC, signaling they’re ready to escalate if ignored. Their tone is equal parts plea and warning: resolve this swiftly, or the consequences will ripple beyond the office walls.
The Board, meant to drive sports promotion and regulate lottery activities across Benue, now risks paralysis. Staff say morale is shattered, productivity nonexistent. One employee, speaking anonymously, told this blog, “How do you market sports when you can’t even buy fuel to move around? We’re ghosts in our own office.”
Governor Alia, known for his “people-first” rhetoric since taking office, now faces a direct test. Will he treat this as another bureaucratic delay or a humanitarian crisis? His administration has prioritized worker welfare in speeches, but actions speak louder. The workers remain hopeful—“we believe the government will act swiftly,” the letter closes—but hope, like their bank balances, is running dangerously low.
As attempts to reach Mr. Uper for comment failed, one question hangs heavy: in a state rich with talent and sporting promise, why are the very people tasked with nurturing it left to beg for survival? The clock is ticking, and Benue’s sports engine is sputtering on empty.
