When people say that the June 12 crisis invested the country with fear, they are right. When they say, it immiserated Nigerians with hunger, they are also on the money. I am a personal testimony.
On hunger, I had it. I lost my job like many others when the soldiers shut the gates of the Concord newspaper, Abiola’s publishing firm. Almost destitute, I headed to the market in Egbeda, Lagos State, to buy some meat for a pot of soup.
At the meat section, I approached a seller, and I offered the little money left in my pocket for any slice of meat. I had not received a salary in close to a year.
“Oga, this amount no fit buy any meat,” he said, irritated.
I dipped my hands in the pocket and emptied it.
“I no get any other money for my pocket or anywhere. Yesterday, I no eat meat. I no want die of kwashiorkor,” I pleaded with facetious exaggeration.
But I looked at him, a little shamefacedly. I had struck him with my desperation. His contempt softened to affection. He flicked out his knife, and cut a huge chunk of beef on his slab, wrapped it in a green leaf. He looked up at me and handed me the piece of protein, bloodless and fatless.
He rejected my money with magnanimous disdain and asked me to go and have a good meal. That moment and that day, the butcher was my June 12 hero. That was one of several such stories I recall of my suffering. I could not forget I had to trek several miles to draw a debt because I could not afford molue. I had to walk back, weary-legged and starving, because my debtor was not in the office. Several other stories. Many Nigerians lost their lives and livelihoods because the impunity and inanity of one man’s ambition had banished food from their tables.
I also quaked with fear. I didn’t until one afternoon, in the early months of the June 12 crisis, Beko Ransome kuti and Femi Falana (SAN) had appeared at an Abuja court. After the session, I drove behind them curious where they were gaoled. A car zipped past me, someone inside wagging an ominous finger at me and warning me and asking me to return. A few days later, Abiola’s confidant, Olu Akerele, alerted me to two SSS cars that took turns trailing me about town. I was Concord’s managing editor in Abuja. I knew I had to leave town.
When Buhari finally immortalised Abiola, I lamented the frailty of life. The last time I saw him, his whole being kindled like coal fire, his smile, his stride, his brio. He was in his political element challenging IBB. I had walked into the then Nicon Noga Hilton Hotel to see a news source. But when the elevator door creaked open, who was I to see but MKO himself, beneath his cap with its signature “puncture.” A security man behind him. I stepped back in deference.
“Sam Sam,” he intoned in his guttural register. He asked me to accompany him. I was with him for hours until I retired home. He was still consulting with politicians, many of whom looked the other way later, including Abubakar Rimi. I recall him introducing me to them as “Concord’s new landlord in Abuja.” He had promised he was going to make my new assignment worth the while. That was the last time I heard or saw him.
When Buhari declared June 12 the new democracy day, it was a bulwark against the fear and trembling of those days. It was an acknowledgement of the misery of that dark hour. Most Nigerian homes were houses of hunger. Yet, when democracy came, Olusegun Obasanjo decided to push the country into wilful forgetting, a plague of amnesia.
He wanted us to forget the thousands who died on the streets when IBB’s and Abacha’s bullets flew in demoniac and fatal waves, the journalists who toiled in hiding to keep Nigerians abreast of the daily carnage of a dream. The News/Tempo heroes. The Tell heroes, the Bagauda kalthos who dropped forever into oblivion, the Niran Malaolus who lost liberty, the Kunle Ajibades who were out of sight, the Olisa Agbakobas deposited in gulag, the Kokoris whose acts growled like tiger, Wole Soyinka who was declared wanted. Kudirat Abiola, the intrepid Amazon, who earned the name of a radio station manned with such men as Kayode Fayemi. The station snarled fear into Abacha, IBB, and their men. He wanted us to forget the heroics of NADECO, their financier Alfred Rewane shot in a shrill night in his home. Or the late Ubani of the Centre for Democracy, known as “governor of Lagos” for his sit-at-home orders. Gani Fawehinmi now duly honoured. Bola Tinubu who escaped after episodes behind bars and became a nemesis of the state in London and the United States.
Obj was exhibiting what psychologists call the fear of gratitude. He did not want to thank Abiola on whose sacrifice he had become the president. As the Roman historian Tacitus wrote, “it is always easier to repay an injury than a benefit; gratitude is a burden, but revenge is a pleasure.” Obj was wrestling with Abiola, a glorious dead, with a monomaniacal zeal. Literary critic Harold Bloom, the author of the anxiety of influence, describes it as a “triumphant wrestling with the greatest of the dead.” Except that OBJ has now seen his own defeat in his lifetime. The dead woke up and gave him a pin fall. He would not let a dead Abiola be. He decided to rebury him. Now, rather than congratulate Buhari, the Owu chief accuses him of endangering his life. He needs to come out with concrete evidence. A former head of state is not expected to be flippant in such matters. Whether or not it is true, the burden of proof lies with him. Or else, he will be an agbaya who is sulking because his manufactured foe came out of his grave to laugh and party.
Obj wanted us to forget those who abandoned the mandate, including Babagana Kingibe, a shameless and moral failure, a fifth columnist ignominy and quisling of the struggle, who has the effrontery to even accept what he did not deserve. He abandoned the mandate and even poohpoohed and mocked it openly. The award to him of GCON is, in the popular cliché, like giving diamond to pigs. It’s a dishonour to those who stood firm and believed. Or those who went to bed with Abacha like Ebenezer Babatope, Lateef Jakande, Olu Onagoruwa, et al. It was a time when courage failed many a mighty man. From “On June 12 we stand,” the phrase changed to unprintables.
The evil genius IBB now officially joins Abiola in the back of beyond, even if his gap tooth still flashes the hilltop night of his Minna mansion. He and his annulment now belong to the dunghill of history. I thank Buhari for doing what Jonathan did not have the liver for. The Otuoke chieftain had shied from giving us the holiday, because he feared the northern vote. Yet, ironically, it is the northerner who now gives it. The north was afraid of June 12. With Buhari’s decision, they have banished the fear. They had seen June 12 as the Rhinoceros in Eugene Ionesco’s play of that name, when people feared a rhino had come to town even though they saw only dust whirls. Yet they took for granted the cuddly cat in their arms.
Jonathan gave a tepid Unilag offer, against due process and to the uproarious rejection of both students and faculty. The northern vote he did not get and the same southwest voted him out of power. He forgot that Abiola’s victory was Nigeria’s signal moment in unity, when even a Fulani man voted out their son for a Yoruba, and Christians saw a man, not a contest between Christ and Mohammed.
Justice Belgore wanted to be a legal killjoy, but Falana and others have silenced his lordship. Let me also teach him a law lesson. Abiola won the election, so he was in the Nigerian heart a president. The GCFR is actually a restoration of what he earned but was stolen from him while alive. So, for me, this is no post-humous award but a title he was denied of when he won the election of June 12. That is why I agree with the senate that the full result should be released. After all, Humphrey Nwosu, the umpire, had stated it categorically in his memoirs.
Some have said Buhari’s gesture was a bribe for southwest votes. This is one of those sublime gratifications for which even the taker congratulates himself. It’s a holy act disguised as sin. Just like Achebe wrote, “You may cause more trouble by refusing a bribe than by accepting it.”
Category: Opinion
Trump And Kim Hold Talks At Historic Meeting In Singapore
After months of sabre-rattling that gave way to flirtation, President Trump finally met face-to-face with Kim Jong Un at a hotel on Sentosa Island in Singapore on Tuesday morning.
Hours into a working lunch, at which the two leaders discussed a deal to denuclearise North Korea, Trump and Kim took a stroll together, and the U.S. president declared “We’re going right now for a signing.”
While it remained unclear what sort of document the two men would sign, Trump added that the meeting had gone “better than anybody could have expected.”
Their meeting began shortly after 9 a.m. local time, with Trump wearing a dark suit and red tie, and Kim dressed in a black suit. The two men walked along a white colonnade, meeting in front of a bank of 12 alternating U.S. and North Korean flags where they shook hands. The handshake lasted about 12 seconds.
According to the Shanghai Media Group, the 35-year-old Kim arrived at the summit venue seven minutes earlier than Trump, 71, to show respect to his elder.
After their initial greeting, Trump and Kim walked inside, sat down and spoke briefly to reporters.
Trump, who had insisted he would know “within the first minute” if Kim was serious about denuclearisation, said he “felt really great” and that it was his “honour” to meet with the North Korean leader.
“We’re going to have a great discussion,” Trump said. “A tremendous success. We will have a great relationship.”
“It was not easy to get here,” Kim said. “There were obstacles, but we overcame them to be here.”
Kim likened the meeting to something “from a science fiction movie,” according to a translation of his remarks.
Reuters reports that the pair then retreated to a private room where they met one-on-one, with interpreters, for about 35 minutes before an expanded bilateral meeting with both U.S. and North Korean advisers.
Meanwhile, in Seoul, South Korean President Moon Jae-in — whose country remains technically at war with the North — watched live ahead of a cabinet meeting.
“I, too, could hardly sleep last night,” he told his ministers, hoping for a “new era among the two Koreas and the United States”.
Inside Aso Rock: The Day Abacha Died, By Orji Ogbonnaya Orji
Friday June 5, 1998, was a cool bright day. Before we left the Villa, the Press Corps was informed that the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, Yasser Arafat, would be making a brief stop-over at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Abuja, enroute Morocco. And he was expected to hold a brief discussion with the General Sani Abacha. We were therefore expected to be at the airport to cover the event on Sunday, June 7. It was a topical assignment in view of Nigeria’s neutral position in the Middle East conflict. Besides, the rest of us were keen to meet Mr. Arafat, the man at the centre of the storm.
That Sunday morning, the Press Corps headed for the airport to await the arrival of Yasser Arafat. We did not have to wait for too long before the Palestinian leader arrived, accompanied by a very modest delegation. President Arafat and General Abacha immediately went into private discussion at the VIP lounge of the Presidential wing of the airport. The Press outside waited curiously for the possible outcome of the talks between the two leaders, a kind of joint press conference, on all issues involved in the Nigeria-Palestine relations.
After the meeting, which was very brief, there was no press conference. Rather, Yasser Arafat inspected a guard of honour mounted by a detachment of the 3 Guards Brigade of the Nigerian Army, and departed for Morocco. The whole airport ceremony lasted about two hours and we all returned to the Villa (Aso Rock).
Before leaving the Villa, I decided to cross-check with protocol officials if the Head of State would still be traveling to Burkina Faso to attend the OAU Summit, which was already at the Ministerial Session in Ouagadougou. The advance team of the Head of State’s entourage had already left on Friday night. I was to be in the main entourage expected to leave for Burkina Faso on Monday morning, after Abacha would have declared open an International Information Conference expected to begin in Abuja Monday June 8. The Federal Ministry of Information organized the conference. It was normal during General Abacha’s regime, that his movement was always kept topmost secret. As a matter of fact, those of us who used to travel with him would not know until few hours to our departure. So was our trip to Burkina Faso. They told me it was still on course.
With that assurance, I drove straight to NICON Hilton, Abuja where I had passed the previous night as a member of the Organizing Committee of the Information Conference. Six o’clock in the morning, Monday June 8, 1 1eft for the Villa, with my luggage to join the delegation to Burkina Faso for the OAU Summit. General Abacha was to head the Nigerian delegation. At the time I got to the Villa everything appeared quite normal. I met some of my colleagues who were also to be in the Head of State’s entourage to Burkina Faso. At 7 a.m. that fateful day, we all assembled at the Press Centre waiting for the necessary directives. However, when it got to eight o’clock, and no signal was forthcoming about our movement, we decided to go and have our breakfast and reconvene in the next one hour. At that point everything in the Villa still appeared normal. Various officials were seen in their duty posts doing their routine jobs.
From the Villa, I drove straight to my house, had a quick breakfast, and decided to go through NICON Hilton hotel to inform my colleagues in the Organizing Committee about the uncertainty of our trip. On getting to the hotel, I saw people standing in groups, discussing. But I did not give a thought to their attention. I imagined that some of them were delegates or participants at the conference. So I quickly dashed into my room, returned immediately to the Villa to join my colleagues, to wait for further developments.
On driving to the Villa gate, a new atmosphere had taken over. The first gate had been taken over by new set of security operatives. I was not familiar with virtually all of them, except one Major whose name I could not remember immediately. The Major knew me by name. He was fully in charge of the new security arrangement, dishing out instructions in a very uncompromising manner. Initially, I did not take it as anything very serious. As a well known person in the Villa, I was confident that my entrance was just a matter of time moreso when I was hanging my State House identity card around my neck. All my expectations were wrong as I was bluntly ordered to go back. All explanations and introductions on my mission to the Villa were helpless. The instruction was clear go back! go back! they shouted at all visitors. At that delay many cars had formed long queues. My immediate reaction was to seek the assistance of the Major, whom I had identified earlier, to save me from the tyranny of his men. Before I could approach him he shouted, “Ogbonnaya go back!” While I was still battling to wriggle out of what was seemingly a hopeless situation, I noticed a woman right behind me, almost hysterically screaming, that she had an early morning appointment with the First Lady, Mrs. Maryam Abacha. The woman apparently must be coming from the National Council of Women Societies from her dressing. My shock was the way she was instantly assaulted by those stern looking security operatives. At that point, I quickly got the message; I drove away from the scene as quickly as possible. Though my mind was everywhere but my immediate conclusion was that there was a coup because I could not imagine any other thing that could have caused such a high level of security alert. I therefore decided to drive straight to the International Conference Centre to alert my Director General on the latest development. He was attending the conference as a participant.
At the International Conference Centre, I saw some Ministers standing at the lobby in anticipation of the arrival of Abacha and his team. Immediately they saw me, they became very agitated, and almost simultaneously asked me, “is the C-ln-C already on his way?” I said, “no, I am not really sure he is coming. But let us hope he will still make it”. I knew, as a matter of fact, that I had not really provided them with the desired answer, but that was the much I could tell them. While they were still pondering on the uncertainty of my reply, I left and quickly walked into the hall where I met my Director-General, Alhaji Abdulrahaman Michika. He was already seated with other participants. I called him aside. “Sir, I don’t really know what is happening in the Villa. I suggest that you leave this place now!” Without betraying any emotion, he quickly asked me what was the situation in the Villa like, I told him all that I saw. I repeated my advice and that I had not been able to confirm what exactly was happening. I then made it clear to him that it was no longer safe for him to continue staying in the conference, and so should quietly take his leave. Alhaji Michika immediately went back to his table, took his pen and papers and followed me out of the hall.
The moment we were outside, I asked him if he came with his car. He said yes, but because of the extraordinary security arrangement put in place in anticipation of the arrival of the Head of State, it was difficult locating his driver. I then suggested that we should use my car which he obliged. I drove him straight to his house instead of the office. Both of us agreed that he should remain at home for the time being, while I promised to keep him informed about the development. This panic measure was as a result of the usual trauma which Radio Nigeria Management Staff often pass through each time there was a military coup d’‚tat in Nigeria. The first target usually is the FRCN Broadcasting House. The management and staff on duty usually pass through hell in the hands of the military boys in their desperate effort to gain entrance into the studios at record time for the usual “Fellow Nigerians” broadcast.
From my Director-General’s residence I decided to get to NICON Hilton Hotel to assess the situation there before heading back to the Villa. At the hotel the atmosphere was rather sombre. There were a few cluster of people; some of them who recognized me, rushed and demanded to know what was happening at the Villa. “Orji, is it true that there is a coup at the Villa?”, they asked. I said, “well I don’t know”. At that time, the BBC, CNN and International Media had begun to speculate on the confused situation.
From their countenance I could see they were not satisfied with my answer. They thought probably that I was withholding some information. But they never knew I had none. I felt very uncomfortable. As a reporter covering the State House, I was equally restless that I could not give a valid answer on what was happening on my beat. I recognized too that it was utterly wrong to depend on others for information about events unfolding in my beat. I instantly felt challenged to get back to the Villa. I was equally aware that such an adventure was fraught with a lot of risk. But that is the other side of journalism as a profession.
On getting back to the Villa, I decided to avoid the main gate because of the heavy security presence there. Instead, I used the maintenance gate through the Asokoro District. I was amazed that no single security man was there at the time. There was therefore no difficulty in passing through into Aso Rock. I drove my car to the Administrative Gate and parked there, and decided to walk. Initially everything had appeared normal in some parts of the Villa until I met a Body Guard (BG). I queried, “old boy wetin happen? Why una boys full everywhere?” It is easier to obtain information from other ranks with informal English. “Ah! Na wa oh! You no know say Baba don quench?”. The boy answered also in Pidgin English. “Which Baba?” I shouted. “Baba don die, Baba don quench just like that. Na so we see am,” the boy concluded, clutching a cigarette in his left hand. I still could not understand what he was saying. “Which Baba do you mean?”, I queried further. “Abacha don die! You no hear?” He shouted at me angrily. It was a very funny way of announcing the passage of a man who was feared and dreaded by all. I was nonetheless confused by its reality. My immediate reaction was that if truly General Abacha was dead, it meant the end of an era. What future does it hold for Nigeria? I pondered over the development as I advanced further into Aso Rock. As I moved down, the reality became evident. The environment was cold, cloudy with uncertainties among the faces I met.
They confirmed it was a reality. General Abacha was truly dead. All were in groups discussing it with fear and subdued silence.
I quickly reached for a telephone to relay the sad story to my Director-General who must be anxiously waiting to hear the latest. Moreso, I was still far away from my news deadline at 4 p.m. But I was disappointed to discover that all the telephone links to the Villa had been severed. There was no call coming in or going out, the Villa at that critical moment was almost totally isolated from the rest of humanity. It was a deliberate measure. When I could not get through on telephone, I decided to drive out fast to break the news. But on reaching the gate through which I had earlier entered, I discovered that some fierce looking soldiers who told me that nobody was allowed to go out or come in had effectively barricaded it. This was happening at about 9.30 a.m. I was helplessly trapped in the Villa from that time till about 5 p.m. when we conveyed the remains of General Abacha to Kano for burial.
I felt particularly disappointed that I could not break the news to anxious Nigerians early enough. It was even more embarrassing and certainly very disheartening to learn that some foreign broadcast stations like the BBC and CNN, which had no accredited correspondents in the Villa, were the first to break the news of General Abacha’s death. It did not entirely come to me as a surprise because the system we operate in Nigeria respects the foreign media more than the local ones. It is equally a well-known fact that most foreign media subscribe to policy makers in our country, who always feed them with first-hand information about any event or issue in the country. The foreign media organizations are no magicians. They pay for news sources especially in situations where they have no correspondents. The pay is usually so attractive that the source is efficient. Thus, generally, access to information in developing countries is fraught with discrimination against local media in preference to foreign ones.
That morning, June 8, 1998, Major Hamza Al-Mustapha, the Chief Security Officer to General Abacha, was said to have called key members of the Provincial Ruling Council (PRC) including strategic military commanders for an emergency meeting. We learnt he refused to disclose that Abacha was dead. At about 11a.m., members of the PRC had begun to arrive at Aso Rock for an emergency meeting. Most of the members were informed only on arrival for the meeting except the very powerful ones.
That day, Major Al-Mustapha looked very sharp and smartly dressed in his Army tracksuit and white canvas. The Major was simply too busy running from pillar to post, looking confident but certainly confused about the future without his boss. He was finally in charge, distributing orders to the rank and file to get the Aso Council Chambers ready for the meeting. We watched at a distance in utter disbelief of the turn of events. For Mustapha, the situation was a bleak one. The fear was a possible fall from grace to grass for a man who was dreaded and respected by both the lowly and the mighty. But that morning, he conjured such a pitiable image as he presided over the wreckage of a collapsed regime.
Emotions took over the whole environment. One of the female Ministers worsened the situation when she arrived the Villa by shouting and weeping openly. Nobody looked her way to console her as everybody was simply on his/her own. Cigarettes were a scarce commodity that morning, the only immediate source of reducing tension and grief. Most PRC members who were informed on arrival immediately asked for cigarettes, but none was easily available. Those who had some hoarded them jealously. Elsewhere in the Villa, a gloomy atmosphere, mingled with subdued excitement and relief pervaded. Flurry of activities were taking place at breathtaking speed two crucial meetings were in progress simultaneously. One was a meeting of Principal Officers in the Presidency and the venue was Aso Rock Wing of the Chief of General Staff. The other meeting of members of the Provincial Ruling Council (PRC) was shifted to Akinola Aguda House. The two meetings later merged at Aso Council Chambers for another crucial session. The joint session began at 2 p.m. and ended at 4.45 p.m. I imagined that the items on the agenda of that meeting were:
_ Selection of a new Head of State and Commander-in-Chief.
_ Arrangements for the burial of General Abacha.
While the separate meetings were in progress, we in the Press Corps were held hostage. We had all the information but no means of communication. Hunger was also a problem. However, for the first time we were free to assess the regime openly and objectively. The open discussion and arguments centred on what Abacha did and did not do.
While the meeting at Aso Council Chambers was in session, Major Al-Mustapha sat in the chair at the entrance, holding a newspaper in his hands, which he occasionally glanced at. He looked rather relaxed after ensuring that every necessary arrangement had been put in place. He occasionally responded to our discussions with selected and reserved comments. His aides quoted him as saying that nobody would leave the Council Chambers unless a new Military Head of State was selected by the meeting. His fear, I learnt, was that a vacuum was dangerous before General Abacha’s burial later the same day. Mustapha declined all efforts by the few Pressmen around to narrate how General Abacha died. All efforts to bring him fully into our discussion also failed. Insiders at the “red carpet” revealed that shortly after Abacha died, Major Al-Mustapha took some strategic decisions that were of national significance. One of such decisions was the immediate evacuation of the condemned coup plotters in Jos Prison to a more secured place. The measure was probably to pre-empt any intention to summarily execute the plotters by possible overzealous forces.
From morning till 5 p.m., no official press statement on the death of General Abacha from any quarters was issued, even when the incident was already known all over the world. It was difficult to reconcile how such a major sad event could happen in the country and up till that time, nobody deemed it necessary to issue an official statement. We then decided to mount pressure on the then Minister of Information, Ikeobasi Mokelu, to make a pronouncement. It was after much pressure that an official statement was eventually issued. The press statement was five paragraphs in all, issued at about 5.25 p.m.
The atmosphere in the Villa then was overcast. On June 8 in Aso Rock, hierarchy of command collapsed. It was a day everybody was free. Shortly after the statement was issued, people began to troop towards the Red Carpet area (official residence of the Head of State). I immediately imagined that the body of the General might be Iying in state. I quickly followed, not certain if it was going to be possible to be allowed to have a glimpse of it.
However, on getting to the house, I quietly walked in and saw the body of General Abacha wrapped in white cloth and laid in a small private sitting room in the residence. And I said to myself, “vanity upon vanity”. His death to me was as dramatic as his ascendancy to power, equally evoking tragic memories of a nation that was unsafe of itself.
I returned to the Aso Council Chambers to wait for the outcome of the special session of the Provisional Ruling Council. The outcome of the meeting was all that the media was awaiting. The meeting was to answer the question “who succeeds Abacha?” But before long, the picture of who succeeds General Abacha began to emerge. Shortly after the meeting at Aso Council Chambers had ended, I saw General Abdulsalami Abubakar walk out of the meeting ahead of other senior military officers. This immediately conveyed the message that he had been chosen as the new leader. My conclusion was based on the tradition in the military, there is much respect for hierarchy and seniority. All other military officers and PRC members lined behind Abdulsalami, confirming the saying in the military that appointment supercedes rank. Besides, I watched and saw that he was dishing out orders which all complied to, even his seniors. He took control of the ad-hoc arrangement to convey the body of General Abacha to Kano for burial. He was seen giving orders to both high and low to arrange vehicles for movement to the airport.
The journey to Kano was already far behind schedule, given the fact that the burial must take place that same day in keeping with the Islamic injunction. We left Aso Rock for the airport at about 6 p.m.
It was indeed a big tragedy for the members of former first family as they packed their belongings to join the convoy which took the corpse of the once powerful General home. I wept when I saw Madam, Mrs. Abacha being helped into the waiting car. She stared at Aso Rock in tears, a most difficult and tragic way to say good-bye. Tears rolled freely from all gathered as Madam was driven out of the Villa with her husband’s corpse in front of her in a moving ambulance. The ambulance is normally one of the last vehicles in the usually long Presidential convoy. But on June 8, 1998, the ambulance was in the front with General Abacha’s corpse. All other vehicles lined behind in a day-light reversal of history. The ambulance drove through the IBB bye-pass connecting the airport link road as the entourage made its way to Nnamdi Azikiwe airport. I was surprised that there was instant jubilation by passersby. Taxi drivers lined up at major junctions shouting shame! shame!! as the convoy drove past. Men and women ran after the convoy in utter disbelief of the turn of events. Some other people formed queues in groups with green leaves in their hands singing solidarity songs in a loud tone that suggested liberation from bondage. It was a day in which my biro refused to write and the lines in my jotter went blank. The journalist in me was overtaken by emotions as most of us in the convoy found it difficult to speak to one another. We simply lacked the words or the topic for discussion as our minds went blank and our brains went asleep.
On our arrival at the airport, the body of General Abacha, which was still wrapped in white cloth was carried into the hold of the presidential aircraft, zero-zero one. There was no particular arrangement on who should be in the aircraft, except that members of the first family and some PRC members were given priority. I however noticed that most PRC members at the airport were not even keen in accompanying the corpse of the late General to Kano.
While the aircraft was being positioned, Madam and her children waited at the Presidential lounge with a cluster of relatives and very few associates. The usual crowd around the first family had begun to disappear. That day, it was as though the Abacha family was for the first time in many years on a lonely journey to an unknown destination, even though the aircraft was heading for Kano. It was incredible to imagine the Abachas without General Sani Abacha. As the saying goes, “when the big tree falls, all the birds will fly away”.
The aircraft ready, Madam and her children left the lounge with the heavy burden of making their last flight on the presidential jet, with the corpse of the former Head of State on board. Mrs. Abacha climbed into the aircraft in tears with measured steps. Her children joined too, then some few friends and relations.
Inside, the plane was taken over by grief, tears and open weeping. We had already boarded the aircraft and almost getting set to take-off when General Abubakar curiously asked, “where is the corpse?” He was told that it was kept in the hold. “No, no, no, bring it inside!” the General commanded. And it was brought in and kept few seats away from where I sat. As the journey progressed, whenever there was turbulence, the body would shake, exposing the legs, which were partially covered. I sat in that aircraft speechless. My reflections were on life, death, power, influence and the vanity of human desires.
Our flight to Kano was barely thirty minutes, but I felt it was more than two hours. The usual conversation and jokes in zero-zero one was overtaken by subdued silence, grief, pain and weeping. Everybody on board was on his own. I could imagine how other people’s mind worked at that sober period. But mine went into a comprehensive review of the Abacha era beginning from the night of November 16, 1993 when the General took over. Within my reflections, my mind was everywhere, the good, the bad, the very bad and the ugly. My mood was interrupted by a sudden announcement from the cockpit that we were few minutes away from Aminu Kano International Airport.
The situation on our arrival at Aminu Kano International Airport was rather chaotic. There was no precise arrangement to receive the corpse on arrival. Apparently, our arrival caught Kano and the people unaware. Apart from the first family, and few officials, everybody was expected to sort out his/her own transport arrangement out of the airport. Eventually I had to arrange for an airport taxi to convey me and two others to the private residence of the late Head of State. Unfortunately, there were few taxis at the airport. While this arrangement was on, the main convoy had left with the corpse. We therefore quickly hired a taxi at a high fare dictated by the driver, who was very rude and uncooperative. We were shocked that the driver showed little or no sympathy, but was rather quick to explain that he never benefited anything from the Abacha regime. In his view, his condition had even worsened. We discontinued the discussion as it was becoming volatile.
The Abacha family house on Gidado street, GRA, Kano is a modest twin duplex located in a rather small compound. By the time we arrived there, the place was already besieged by a large number of sympathizers struggling to gain entry. As there was no time to start identifying who was who, we were all being pushed by the security officials who had a very hectic time trying to contain the rapidly surging crowd. In the midst of the pushing. and kicking, I suddenly realised that the person who was being pushed against me was the highly respected Governor of Lagos State, Col. Buba Marwa. It therefore became clear to me that at that moment, everybody was regarded as equal, courtesy of the security at the gate. I was then encouraged to continue pushing, until I finally managed to squeeze myself inside the compound.
Inside the compound, I observed scanty presence of newsmen, because security was deadly. I also discovered that the grave was still being prepared, an indication that no proper arrangement was made. Earlier, the body of General Abacha was taken to Kano Central Mosque for prayers. From the Central Mosque, the body was laid on the floor of his private mosque just by the gate with two soldiers standing on guard. I peeped several times to assure myself that it was actually the former powerful Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces that was on the bare floor. One was expecting a more dignified presidential burial, with due respect to the modest way the Muslims conduct their burials. Even at a point, a soldier asked, “Why is there no burial party here?” I immediately wanted to know what burial party was all about. I was told that it was the usual twenty-one gun salute line-up of soldiers will give to a fallen officer as his last military respect. But before any of such arrangement could be made, the body of General Abacha had been lowered into the grave. There was certainly no fanfare in the burial, it was simple and brisk. In simple comparison, I had accompanied General Abacha himself to the burial of a top military officer and member of the Provisional Ruling Councils who had died sometime ago and was buried in Minna during his regime. I observed that all the procedures at that burial in all consideration was better managed, more respectful and dignified than that of the former Head of State, their difference in rank and position notwithstanding.
There were quite a number of very important personalities who witnessed the burial. But I particularly took notice of former Military President, General Ibrahim Babangida and his wife Mariam, who were seen talking with Mrs. Abacha, probably trying to console her. There were also some Emirs and other top Northern leaders who were able to make the trip at such short notice. At about 9.48 p.m. when Abacha’s grave was being covered with sand, a powerful businessman from one of the South Eastern States who was very prominent in Abacha’s campaign for self succession arrived and broke down weeping and wailing openly. Some faithful Muslims who dominated the burial reacted negatively to such an un-lslamic approach to the dead. They threatened to whisk the man out of the premises if he failed to comport himself. The businessman was among those who threatened to proceed on exile or commit suicide if General Abacha failed to become President.
As the burial ended at about 10.05p.m., we hurriedly left for Abuja. I expected that there could probably be some other ceremonies. But I was wrong as we left barely twenty minutes after the body had been interred. We arrived Abuja a few minutes to twelve midnight and drove straight to Aso Council Chambers in the Villa for the swearing-in of General Abdulsalami Abubakar as the new Head of State, Commander-in-Chief of the Nigeria Armed Forces.
The swearing-in ceremony was rather brief. It was preceded by a formal announcement by the Principal Secretary to the former Head of State, that General Abubakar had been appointed to succeed the late General Sani Abacha. General Abubakar was then invited to step forward and take the oath of office and allegiance at about 1.43 a.m. on June 9, 1998. That ceremony marked the end of the Abacha era.
After the oath-taking, General Abubakar signed the register to herald the beginning of the new era. That era ushered in a new dawn, a brighter future and hope for a sustainable democracy in Nigeria. The rest is now history. Back to the newsroom at 3 a.m., June 9, with series of events that had taken place in the past 24 hours, my diary was full. It was difficult to decide a headline for the 7 a.m. news bulletin. I do remember that, that morning, at the FRCN Network News studio there was a problem over which of the two important stories should come first; that Abacha was dead or Abubakar has been sworn-in as the new Head of State. Coverage of the events of that day without food and water was among my most challenging assignment.
* Excerpts from the book, Inside Aso Rock, written by respected broadcast journalist, Orji Ogbonnaya Orji who for seven years covered the State House for Radio Nigeria. Published by Spectrum Books Ltd. It is available in ma
jor bookshops.
Ọmọ Ewé Vs Ọmọ Aiyé: Our Huge Shame, By Odolaye Aremu
… the gang killings in the UK especially within and around the London hub can never abate with the reality TV-like shamelessness of some of the parents. Of late, kids especially from Nigerian and Jamaican homes have been the hardest-hit in these many knifing incidents.
Infact London recently surpassed the Big Apple for the first time ever in killings of such because of these ‘surging knife’ deaths. Opeyemi Olugbodi posted a video of some Nigerian women- Yoruba women fighting at Stratford-a popular train station. I advise you to go see it. If you’ve ever seen the 1979 gang, cult-movie ‘WARRIOR,’ this is it! Except this looks cringe-worthy enough to make it seems like one is watching the simulation of a bunch of very low-grade extras probably pulled from Ojuwoye, Ojuina, Apongbon and some other Lagos inner-cities practicing method acting. One group goes by the name ‘Ọmọ Ewé’ and its nemesis- Ọmọ Ayé. Of course those are familiar sounding names, for they are clearly spinoffs from Ẹyẹ and Aye- two deadly collegiate confrats, from all the way back home in Nigeria.
Their respective leaders are two bold, nasty, trashy, brash and totally ridiculous ladies with a copious splash of idiotic fluid supporting their brain membrane. Infact some of these trashy women even brought their kids to do battle with their opponents. Perhaps for them to understudy thier warrior moms at their nefarious duties or thier presence necessary for some kind of emotional support. And both sides militarily rallied round thier respective bosses in a perimeter-like formation in the most depressing show of defence.
Nigerian London parents, I dare say to you that your efforts to speak out against gangs and thier deadly activities, shall amount to a waste of time when you partly encourage this show of shame by rushing to power your smartphone in order to preview another smashing show of Ọmọ Ayé Vs Ọmọ Èwe as they do battle on one of their many, long-running, inglorious and disgraceful episodes. With enough evidence to nail these idiots, I don’t know what the Metropolitan Police are still waiting for on their part. And with as much noise as Nigerians readily make on all issues, I don’t get it why our brethren in the UK are still mute about this brewing, totally worrisome phenomenon. Or do you all still think this is entertainment?
Ras Kimono: I Will Call You Tomorrow, By Azuka Jebose
Rasman, so this is how you anchored your last live performance?: on a lazy Sunday in June?. “Nwa ba”, it is humid here, the sun is tearing earth’s morning. I will not mourn, not this June… No!. I will reflect on our younger years and what happened to us along our new hope road in life. Yesterday, Alex Zitto and I chatted on the phone for about an hour. We reasoned about you. Last week, you told Zitto, during your last call, that after you arrived here, my two friends would “go and visit Jebose in North Carolina”. That was yesterday. Our conversations are still fresh. So I will not mourn because you are still coming to visit me. I am waiting!!!…
This morning, you decided the last encore without applause. You didn’t invite us. You did not tell your family, friends and fans about a secret eternal garden performance. You chose your song, time and venue. Ras man, did you forget that ”Na Kimono dem want?”. You left us to romanticize about unexpected final bow to life and living. Oh, Okwudili Onwubuya( death is sorrow)!
We were part finders to our destinies in life. Along with our pleasant valley of struggles and hustles, we became brothers: those were in the 80s. You hustled every space in the creative industry. You had the gift and glamour of young hard working entertainer and Reggae toaster. I was the chronicler of happenstances…You were determined to share your talent and unafraid of the challenges. So we walked along the milky ways of recording studios: from Japex Studios on Anthony Village, snaked through Ottor Records, Tabansi and EMI records, seeking future, fame and finance. Rasman, you sacrificed your tattered youth days for recognition and acceptance. You pleaded with music business to just “gimme likkle sugar for me tea”. The “likkle sugar” was an audience while your tea was your profound rhythms, lyrics and style of reggae music. These record studios were our hard rock cafe until PolyGram Records reached out and signed you “ina Rumba style”.
I watched and sometimes walked the road to Stardom Boulevard with you. Did you remember our weekend musings at Magama Nite club, Bariga axis, where you created a first cult following?, the midnight hours at Caban Bamboo at Hotel bobby Benson, the naughtiness inside Klass Nite Club, Chez de Gracias Nite Club, Lords and Ace (later renamed Ozone) nite clubs?. Oh, Kimono, how about our chances at Floating Buka Club inside a permanently docked ship by the waterfront of marina…We floated our passion for music and fell in floating love, serenaded by your toast live music and the cool smooth marina breeze.
Your music and lyrics became our weapons against police and military brutalities and marginalization. You arrived at the most unique times in our lives. You were bold, rugged and UNDER PRESSURE. We were just ordinary everyday Nigerians whose lives were compressed by economic mismanagement by our past leaders. You gave us hope, told our stories with brilliant dub master beats and tempo. We gyrated. We listened. We danced.
Few years after we disconnected, we found each other in America, their Americas. The story I will tell tomorrow. It is late now. I must let you rest from today’s shenanigans.. you are tired. “Nwa ba” Kachifueh( Goodnight). I will call you tomorrow morning.
Fuad Oki, A Sinking Captain With An Empty Boat
Dear Mr Fuad Oki,
I hope my letter meets you in peace and if not I hope you find peace after reading. I have successfully read through your interview for the 6th time and all I can think of is a sinking captain with an empty boat who is trying to pull down its rescue party.
What happened to your sense of Aluta? When did spilling lies and snitching to implicate become your watch and guiding principles. The Oki we knew was a reasonable man, what could have gone wrong to you?
Mr Fuad Oki let me state categorically that you have failed and not just an ordinary failure at that but woefully. You have crossed the line in this battle of yours for self recognition and rewards from which you have always benefitted from. At first people listened to you because they found you interesting but sooner than they saw your naivety displayed by reckless utterances of untrue accusations.
You have blindly and stupidly called out people you have benefitted from and for year been envious of. You have tried not only to rope in His Excellency Gov Rauf Aregbesola, the “Grand Master” and Hon. Bayo Oshinowo of the Lagos State house of Assembly into your silly and headless battle and tussle for leadership against the party.
May i quickly remind you of this adage “ Igba ti o ni Omi ninu lo man pariwo” and “ Ere ti aja go Ogun Osun sa iron faaji… You have successfully exposed your stupidity and it came too early. I bet your sponsors would back out immediately.
You have claimed success for the electioneering of the past and present Governors of Lagos State starting from our emeritus Leader, Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu up to H.E Akinwunmi Ambode but if you were such a genius how come you haven’t contested to win any elective positions. You have benefitted more than the real party loyalist that have served unflinchingly and still hopeful.
Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola is not with you on this page and would never descend this low. Ogbeni’s creed as always been LOYALTY and only to Asiwaju Bola Tinubu. If indeed Ogbeni had issues ( which is a fallacy) with our Amiable and performing Governor he would voice to his Boss and never betray his choice.
You are finished Mr Oki and do you are looking for a way out. It’s a shame a self claimed political juggernaut such as you will will stoop so low to to play a dirty game of “I’m not alone in this” at this point in time.. If you have problems with Gov. Akinwunmi Ambode please be bold enough to face him without implicating those bigger than you politically and psychologically.
I implore you to look inward and make peace with the demons you have fed for your situation might just be that of another Nebuchadnezzar in the Bible. To be fore warned ? Is to be for Harmed!
A very concerned Citizen.
Believe This Man, He Sees The Future
McDaniel M. Okoronkwo
Sometimes it seems man has truly lost the image of the Creator in him. Sometimes, it seems the Creator Himself is far off from man and his envisions. Sometimes, it seems man’s antiquity, which forms part of the good olden days, had divinity and its propinquity at his beck and call. The latter soliciting for the yawning of diviners, seers and thus prophets.
But indeed, man has never for once lost the image of God in him, but has been constantly estranged due to transgressing acts that pull off man’s sentience and cognisance of God’s presence within him. Indeed, God is never far off from man and his envisions. Indeed man’s antiquity and post-modernity are same with regards to the presence of the unchangeable Creator and His Omnipresence in creation. And thus, every age, society or group, is always blessed with seers, diviners and prophets that are but perhaps never recognised to be such.
Consequently, there is no gainsaying the fact that Imo State has prophets, seers and diviners spread beyond church and altar confines, and are vivant also in the Imo chapter of the NUJ, Imo APC, etc. In the Imo NUJ, almost all the editors of Imo local tabloids are blest with foresights. Mr Ifeanyi Nwanguma is chief among them, so are most of the powerful chief scribes that our apex politicians have hijacked and made their CPS.
In Imo APC, Barr Chima Anozie is the chief seer, in fact their High Chief in foresight, prescience, accurate prediction and prevision, which the most religious call prophecy. Somehow, I think he sees the future. If you have been a constant reader of his publications, you will notice among other outstanding qualities, that almost all his declarations in Imo APC have come to pass.
If you have been an ardent reader of his publications, I mean his and not those of his Secretary, Stanley U Okoroji, you notice that his predictions are highly prophetic and come true. On April 30, 2018 there were “2019 is Owerri Zone’s Turn” and “We’ve Govt House Come 2019” in the Big Truth and Nigerian Horn newspapers. They were from an interview he granted, and predicted how Imo APC would go about the proposed and then forthcoming congress, and that such would either make or mar the party. This saying became very true.
On April 2 and 5, 2018, in his publication on “Buhari and the Ergonomics of Tenure Elongation” in Announcer Express and Whitepaper, he warned that Imo APC must “thread with cautions, bearing the supreme democratic rulebooks on one hand, holding goodwill, spirit of sacrifice and sportsmanship, dedication and unity of the party on the other hand.” Without a frank-party spirit as nucleus in all party activities, he predicted that the party Congresses will be disastrous in terms of peace and synergy, nationwide and Imo State in particular.
Also, in a publication about him by Stanley U Okoroji, “Home Base Solicits for Peace” on March 26 in Nigerian Horn, March 29 in Whitepaper and March 30 in Big Truth, Barr Chima Anozie was quoted as having said that the in-house fighting in Imo APC, ‘will end up destabilising the party. And the issue of “Onye agburu anyi” (our race or folk) will bring dichotomy, which polarises and breaks unity and its consequential synergy.’
In the Nigerian Horn, April 4 2018, it was published of him declaring that he is “The Alternative to the Answer that Will Fail” for Imo APC gubernatorial election come 2019. Today, the crises rocking Imo APC and the obvious incompatibility of the two camps- Agburu and Coalition- On the issue of the gubernatorial aspirant that each of the camps projects, which from all indications the other group can never accept, makes case for the volunteered and avowed Alternative, and that is what Imo APC sees as last resort and is longing to see and cue in.
In another interview he granted to journalists in the State, published in Big Truth 16th March 2018 and Nigerian Horn March 15 2018, he warned Imo APC politicians and political gladiators in the State, not to destroy the party- “Do not destroy the Party because of your selfish ambitions.” Today, the selfishness is gross and even manifesting in the sharing of bounties for the Coalition and Agburu, each with its own problem, and then the collective bargaining will be impossible.
Also from April 7-9, the Nigerian Horn, Announcer Express, Whitepaper and Big Truth newspapers relayed his interview, where he foresighted that the crisis then in APC was small and that a bigger one loomed. Though he was optimistic that “Crisis is very essential for progress” especially when there is no violence, as it brings up good results at the end. Today, it’s all true that without these crises, Imo APC would have become one man’s property and others turned to vassals of the grand fief.
He was also too sure in the interview that “2019 is Owerri zone’s turn” to produce Imo Governor, and claimed to be the best and highest team player in the Party, and boasted that he had all it takes to rule Imo State- Socially, morally, religiously, materially and intellectually. Perhaps, these claims may be true also, given the verity and realisations of all his predictions and declarations since February 2018 on the Imo APC.
In same publication he noted that the debouched APC “tenure elongation was a blessing in disguise. It aimed at the party’s unity, especially given the proximity of the general elections. Without it, APC risks stepping into national crisis as lists will abound and each interest leader will scheme and skim for his candidates, and is ready to spend millions of naira to make sure the candidates scale through.” He also warned that “we must now thread with cautions, bearing the supreme democratic rulebooks on one hand, holding goodwill, spirit of sacrifice and sportsmanship, dedication and unity of the party on the other hand.”
In his recent publications in the Nigerian Horn, Big Truth, Announcer Express and Whitepaper, “Imo Is My Agburu” from May 29 to 30th 2018, Barr Anozie harmed on two essential issues. First that if Imo APC goes “by agburu, we’re into multifaceted problems. The entire State should and have to be carried along entirely, taking the whole Imo State as an agburu, and use the gregarious language of the Owerri man- Batama, uyoo wu uyoo mu’a gi!” I pray the party takes this serious unlike before, and devises means of making the entire Imo State one Agburu- “Agburu Imo” as he vowed Imo is for him.
This week again, June 4 2018 in the Nigerian Horn and Big Truth newspapers, as well as in the Announcer Express, June 6 2018 which relayed his newest interview that had him declare that “Suspending Rochas Is not the Best” for Imo APC, he has come up with some prophetic declarations that must be taken cognisance of. He has called on the two factions of Imo APC to sheathe their swords, “to survive” he said, Imo APC “must close all ranks and this is the time.”
I thus use this medium to call on all Imo APC chieftains and members, to come up this weekend with the forward no matter how difficult it is to ones’ ego and the afflictions felt, so that next week, we will experience new life, hope and vision in the party.
McDaniel M. Okoronkwo, writes from Owerri, Imo State (07035159689)
The Buharists In The Wilderness, By Bamidele Ademola-Olateju
The call came from a cherished friend and ally as I went about my errands that Buhari has declared June 12 democracy day. When he told me, I swallowed hard and thought aloud ; will this be enough? Is it not a day late and a Naira short? The mixed reactions online and offline confirmed my thoughts.
Buhari’s problem in 2019 will not be from those who has never believed in him or those who are his diehards. His victory will hang on the decision of disenchanted and disappointed Buharists who overlooked all his shortcomings and invested time and emotion in his candidacy. Those who believed he had the balls to take on our problems. After all, what should a septuagenarian General be afraid of?
Buhari had a long honeymoon. This particular crowd kept handing him a new rope, a new lease and renewed sympathy until the last rope got worn and snapped. Who are these? We are not Buharideens, the crowd for whom Buhari can do no wrong. We are Buharists – patriotic and objective former believers in Buhari and we are in the wilderness. We are the believers who lost hope. We have been branded, called names and rẹ-christened as wailers. We love it that way. Some of us were voters of Buhari long before it became fashionable. We weren’t fence sitters who suddenly loved Buhari because he was about to win or has won.
I am a recovering Buharist. My updates and my articles are forever in the bowels of the Internet to prove it. On July 7, 2015, I saw clearly; the change we worked for has gone to the dogs. I wrote in my column; “President Buhari, Integrity Is Not Enough!” (you can Google it). Things went downhill from there. The making of “President” Abba Kyari, Babachir, Maina, Security Architecture, Herdsmen, and so on.
I commend the president on his latest gesture. A good thing is a good thing. Politicians play politics. This gesture is political, it does not make it a bad thing. I don’t have a candidate yet. This time in 2014 , Buhari wasn’t even as aspirant. People forget so easily. I will not sit out the 2019 elections. I will support a candidate and again, my candidate does not need to win. If things remain the same, all that is needed, is to prevent Buhari from making two thirds of 36 states. The reality of that possibility has hit Buhari and his team. That is why we are seeing gestures like this. His supporters may not know this but those of us who read the signs know. I can boldly brag that I predicted Buhari’s win long before many believed it.
For many of us Buharists whom he abandoned in the wilderness are still there. We are in the wilderness because he did not listen, because he defaulted to political inbreeding and incestuous politics. Even though he got this right, it is not enough to win us back. So much has been lost!
For Kunle Ajibade @ 60, By Olayinka Oyegbile
It was not unexpected, an Omoluabi to the core such as Kunle Ajibade, a leading light in purpose driven journalism and a deep thinker, couldn’t have been sixty without being honoured. Even by the standard of journalists, in which we celebrate others and refuse to do so for ourselves. It was enlivening that the auditorium of the Nigerian Institute for International Affairs on Victoria Island, Lagos was filled to capacity last Wednesday.
Mr. Ajibade has been an inspiration for my generation of journalists, not only for his crusading stance but also for the intellectual and literary verve he adds to this job. Reading any story written or edited by him is like reading an engaging work of literature. And despite his profundity, he never at anytime became standoffish or proud. An original Omoluabi, who my friend Prof. Kole Ade-Odutola, in his poem of tribute describes as “the town crier of the oppressed.”
From a sitting governor, Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola of Osun State to former governor of Ogun State Aremo Olusegun Osoba, a grand elder of our tribe (journalists) who was the chair at the engaging outing, to our own Nobel laureate Prof Wole Soyinka and another of the enduring elders of journalism in Nigeria, Mr. Sam Amuka, publisher of the Vanguard.
It was indeed a day of great honour for egbon Ajibade, who in truth does not deserve anything less. For any journalist who is a lover of arts and words, the depth of his writings, reviews and interviews with writers both at home and abroad could not have escaped notice
But beyond his writings which naturally attracted me to him, although I never worked with him. But from time to time we had met at many arts and book related events, he would always greet you with a familiarity that his peculiarly his own and no ones. He remembers names (how would a man who is such a voracious reader not remember details?), asks about your family and exchanges banters with you.
When my book on Jos and Ogbomoso people was to be publicly presented in 2012, there was only one person in my mind to approach to do a review of the book at its presentation. I told my friend Bamidele Johnson. He immediately put a call across to Mr. Ajibade to ask whether he was in the office. I could hear his soft voice from the other end confirming his presence. After Bamidele told him that he would like to introduce a friend to him, he said we can come immediately.
We left where we were and headed straight to his office. On entering his office he told Bamidele, “O serious, so it is Yinka you want to introduce to me?” He stretched out his hands and the rest, as they say is history.
He was elated that I have written a book about something that has to do with the crises that were then rocking the country and the city of Jos, in particular. He gladly agreed to be the reviewer even though as of then we had no certain date because we were waiting for our lead presenter to choose a date. When the date was eventually chosen he did a splendid review for this aburo.
Ajibade has really “entered the nation’s folklore” as Odia Ofeimun said at the event on Wednesday. Without people like him our nation would today not have made the little gains we have made, even with our democracy in crutches today.
To a man who signifies (for me) what I call undiluted literary journalism at its best, I rejoice with you and thank God that in a nation where many have disappointed many of us, you have remained constant and unmoved.
Happy birthday, Sir.
How We Missed The Boat Since 2015, By Dele Momodu
Fellow Nigerians, as we count down to the next general elections in 2019, we should begin to take stock of what has gone wrong with the current government in the past three years. We must do this in the hope that a few issues can still be addressed, and that the lessons learnt can be put to good use after 2019, regardless of who wins the next Presidential election. It is certainly my prayer that a repeat of this monumental mess in which we have found ourselves would be avoided come the next government, whether it be President Buhari, or someone else, at the helm of affairs.There is no doubt, and certainly without any fear of contradiction, that the ‘Change’ government Nigerians brought to power in 2015 has not lived up to its much advertised billing, or come anywhere near the expectations and hopes pinned on it. Even the most fanatical supporters of the Buhari administration are struggling to defend its performance by merely explaining, and regurgitating, the same tales by the moonlight that we’ve been forced to hear endlessly, to the point of boredom. We have been constantly regaled with stories of how past governments, especially that of Dr Goodluck Jonathan messed things up, and how Nigeria would have collapsed, but for the merciful intervention of God and the benevolence of President Muhammadu Buhari. All well and good. This is not the time to argue with anyone over these lame and worn-out excuses. What is important is to note that the government could have done better, say so in plain language and urge them to move on in peace and in prosperity.
I was inspired to write this epistle today after watching a very re-assuring video a good friend sent to me yesterday. All the vengeful bloodsuckers in Nigeria should try and find it, as I hope it may help redirect us to the right course. The video was recorded in Nairobi, Kenya, during a very powerful and massive national prayer session which was hosted and led by President Uhuru Kenyatta. I could not believe what I saw in that video. Before I say a bit about its content, let me give a brief background to my little knowledge of Kenya.
My fascination for Kenya started over 40 years ago through my addiction to reading English Literature in school and, in particular, my incurable interest in the African Writers Series. Some of my favourite writers were of East African origin, such as Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Meja Mwamgi, Jomo Kenyatta, Oginga Odinga, Okot p’Bitek, David Rubadiri, and others. Rubadiri, a Malawian and Okot p’Bitek both lived in Nigeria for a while and taught me Literature-in-English at the then University of Ife, now Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife. Their influence and that of our Nigerian lecturers, such as Wole Soyinka, Oyin Ogunba, Kole Omotoso, Biodun Jeyifo, Ropo Sekoni, Adebayo Williams, Chidi Amuta, Funso Aiyejina, Wole Ogundele, Yemi Ogunbiyi, Wande Abimbola, Olasope Oyelaran, Akinwunmi Isola, Bade Ajuwon, and others aroused my absolute passion in both English and Yoruba Literature.
I read any work of Literature voraciously and Ngugi was one of my all-time favourite writers. His novel, Weep Not Child, I read repeatedly, to the extent that I knew many lines and could recite them from memory. Kenya became a country I craved to visit. I loved the story of the Mau Mau struggle, and the epic battle the founding fathers of Kenya had to fight. Two people stood out prominently, Jomo Kenyatta and Oginga Odinga. Incidentally, their offspring are in the vanguard of the creation of a new Kenya today. I fell in love with Kenyan teas, just by reading books. I discovered the importance Kenyans attached to cattle-rearing. Wealth was calculated by how many cows you owned. I read about the game reserves and every imaginable wildlife in Kenya. The climate was said to be extraordinary; Kenya has a climate similar to that of Europe. My best friend, Prince Adedamola Aderemi, spent his honeymoon in December 1986, after his wedding to Kemi Oyediran, in Nairobi, and he titillated us with the adventures they both enjoyed and savoured. I looked forward to visiting someday.
I have been to Kenya many times since then and, actually, fell in love with the place, more and more. The two things that worried me in recent times were terrorism and the volatility of their political contests. Nigeria seems to share the same proclivities with Kenya in this regard. However, Kenya has managed its terrorist challenges much better than Nigeria and now it has also succeeded in calming frayed nerves after pushing itself to the brink during the last Presidential election. Things were so tense and terrible that the opposition leader, Raila Odinga, swore himself in as a parallel leader. This is where I’m going. All President Kenyatta needed to do to set Kenya on fire was to arrest Raila and his bitter supporters, but Uhuru chose the path of peace and reconciliation and it has paid off so beautifully and handsomely. It has led to both men, particularly Uhuru, achieving the status of esteemed world statesmen. They held private meetings, signed an MOU and agreed to a ceasefire.
The icing on the cake was the National Prayer Breakfast with a mammoth congregation in attendance. What a great man Uhuru Kenyatta is! He invited his Vice President William Samoei arap Ruto to the stage. He then called on his arch-rival, Raila Odinga and another opposition figure, Stephen Kalonzo Musyoka (former Vice President of Kenya) to join them. The President then did the unexpected. He publicly apologised to Raila admitting that they had traded unnecessary insults against each other. Vice President, Ruto, soon followed with his own apology.
My mind went straight to Buhari’s Nigeria, where three years after the last election, and less than one year to the next, we are yet to have a reprieve and settle down in peace and tranquillity. Political prisoners are still chained down and held incommunicado without trial. Tension has refused to go away because we have refused to seek love, cordiality and togetherness. We prefer the military bragadoccio of trying to bully everyone into submission. Our country is the biggest sufferer for it. Let’s break it down properly. The Buhari government would have secured and stabilised the economy if it had not come with his usual and customary jackboots approach. He would still have been able to tackle corruption through the carrot and stick approach.
The ill-conceived and self-immolating rush to expose alleged criminals and retrieve looted funds only crippled the nation, because it was not based on principles of fair-play and justice but more of ego-trip and vengefulness. A bit of patience and careful understanding of the situation would have been more rewarding. Fear-mongering may arguably have worked under the military, but it is very complicated and doomed in a democratic setting. Every anti-corruption crusade since President Obasanjo has only produced one very strong man or woman, but no strong institution, the reason it has not gone very far. We forget that individuals live or die, but institutions are permanent! By personalising the anti-corruption crusade in the name of one person and suggesting that that person is the only saint alive, it is only a matter of time before we return to square one, whenever that person quits the stage.
In any case, once the war is patently and brazenly selective and oppressive, it will fail ultimately. No one in good conscience would say that only PDP stole money to fund elections of former President Jonathan. How did APC fund its own elections in which billions went on polling agents, campaign jamborees nationwide, private jets, adverts, billboards, media, and so on. Surely the funds did not come only from the private sector, but also from top government functionaries who opened their vaults to match PDP Naira for Naira for Naira and Dollar for Dollar. In such a situation, detaining one group and ignoring the other is tantamount not only to oppression, but also abuse of office. What should have been done was to trace as much of the loot as possible way back to previous generations of government, and recover as much as possible by moral suasion, hard negotiations, forceful compulsion and, criminalisation, if all else failed. This was the impression and re-assurance given by the APC during the course of its 2015 campaigns, namely that no one would be hounded or victimised, unless they chose that path. Out of 16 years of PDP misrule, attention was focused rigidly on the Jonathan era which spent five years before things fell apart. Before our very eyes, the same guys who remained in PDP throughout the 2015 elections sauntered across, in droves, to APC after the elections, and their sins were promptly forgiven without any redress or recompense being sought. This is rather unfair and grossly unfortunate.
As I read somewhere, anger often beclouds reasoning. This is our case. The government chose to pander to populism instead of reality and practicality. Despite the grandstanding, corruption is not about to abate or disappear from our climes unless one is living in fool’s paradise, or suffering from complete gullibilty. Every new government only recycles the same template and attacks its enemies ferociously, with the next government coming on a revenge mission and retaliating blatantly. We should be tired of this crude methodology by now. Efforts should be made to strengthen our institutions first. Nigerians would cooperate with government on all fronts when they are reassured that “all animals are equal, and some are not more equal than others.” There is also inherent danger in pitching the poor against the rich. What we are playing with is mayhem, anarchy and systemic failure. The bottled up anger and bitterness may explode into a snowball that will engulf the nation and no government may be able to contain it. Each time the government tries to blame others for it’s sluggishness in making appreciable progress, it can only heighten the combustive tension.
A senior member of this government once told us, gleefully, in conversation that the reason Nigerians are crying is because Buhari has killed corruption and many rich people are now very poor and miserable. However, even if true, the job of government is to increase prosperity and not to kill it or make anyone miserable, whether friend or foe. What shall it profit a country that claims to fight corruption but kills businesses, with the same poor people it seeks to defend losing jobs and dying in different stages of dillapidation? For every rich man or big company that collapses, so many poor people will go down with them. Many, if not all, of the so-called advanced nations we all run to today were built with proceeds of fraud, corruption, illegality, and even the sweat of slavery, before they started building stronger institutions and changing negative mind-sets to positive ones. They understood that everything starts from need before it escalates to greed. But here we want to kill everything without replacing it with something tangible or commensurate. It can only increase the angst and anguish.
This was how we missed the boat when we wasted precious time assembling a government team only to start fighting on all fronts from the very first day. South Africa would have collapsed on the head and shoulders of Nelson Mandela if he had chosen the path of all-out war and confrontation against supporters of apartheid, looters and murderers and too many dangerous enemies of State. His greatness derived from resisting that temptation of wanting to exhibit his macho and mojo as a King Kong. By going for reconciliation, he saved his country and people from a cataclysmic fall and avoidable elongation of the trauma of violent segregation. I know most people in Nigeria are in the mood to draw blood because of our crazy corrupt past, but at what cost. Is it not insane to continue repeating the same system and expecting different results, when it is obvious we are in perpetual crisis because no civilian government can oppress and suppress without being confronted eventually? Healing does not come by amputation, nay death, but by salves and balms. The choice is ours.
May God help us know when to cool temper, lay down our arms, and live to fight another day.