KWENU: Our Culture, Our Future

“One nation, one destiny”

M. O. Ené

New Jersey, USA

egbedaa@aol.com

Tuesday, October 1, 2002

It may not be our destiny, but if it is our desire, then it is our destination.

Then again, it may be our desire, but neither our destiny nor destination.

Shehu Shagari’s National Party of Nigeria, NPN, was a party of moneybags. When General Olusegun Obasanjo hastily handed over power to this political tribe, the party bigwigs were at home with the national treasury; many of them had been there before. With “One Nation, One Destiny” as its motto, the party went on a looting spree. Parties of phonies, powerbrokers, and financial frauds emerged. At the time, there was still enough to go round; only those politicians with no access to the treasury complained. The others joined them, or let them be -- there was no beating them. These men and women lived on borrowed time. Those who knew it would not last long chose to ignore the dangers. A “great nation” was in the making, or so President Shagari told us.

One Nation?

One Destiny!

All sorts of superlatives surfaced: the most populous nation, the Giant of Africa, the biggest democracy in Africa, the leader of all Blacks on earth, etc. The oil-boom fired a romance with sociopolitical utopia. There was no doubt about it: Nigeria was a paradise; yes, a paradise of princely pickpockets.

The Shagari regime had the opportunity to make Nigeria great. Little things like a caring minister, an efficient communications network, security, probity, and the rule of law could have narrowed religious and regional divisions. Instead, the politicians forced Nigerians back to social and political ghettos. In times of trouble, folks feel more secure with people who look like them and spoke like them. With their “kith and kin,” they dream on. There is one great God up there. The élite go to work and do what they have always done best: acerbic self-criticisms that do not guarantee self-improvement.

The average Nigerian then was a great optimist. Those in the mostly liberal Christian South believed that if they worked hard, they would move into the hi-life class. If they did not work hard enough, their children would pick up from where they stopped. Either way, there was no need to rock the boat by agitating unnecessarily. The average Muslim northerner, especially those from the conservative communities, strongly believed in the will of almighty Allah. Apparently, destiny determined who went to Lagos and who scavenged from the table of alms-giving tribes of alhaji.

Meanwhile, the destined democratic dictators in Lagos looted from the nation’s treasury as if their parents had put the money there. Governors and ministers donated state funds to all causes as if it was loose change. Nigerians traveled to London for Saturday evening parties and came back early enough for Monday-morning “business-as-usual” ^__ whatever that was. After Friday classes at state universities, female students traveled to London for parties and shopped at Marks & Spencer and Harrods and flew back for Monday-morning classes. Priests and popular musicians prayed for the politicians to live forever; the politicians sprayed the musicians with hard cash to sing on and donated large sums to “God” and “Allah.” It was not long before a healthy treasury grew wings and flew into secure Swiss safes and longing London vaults. And then we have the long line of Muhammadu Buhari, Ibrahim Babangida, Ernest Shonekan, Sani Abacha, and Abdulsalam Alhaji Abubakar. That was then; this is now. Back to square one: where we had started. The only difference: the dress of retired General Olusegun Obasanjo.

Today, at 42, no one needs to be told that “the ground is not level,” as we say out east. In today’s atmosphere of phony politics and mean militarism and incomprehensible bloodletting, it is easy to throw the baby away with birth water. There are so many great things about Nigeria, but one has to search. The positive images do not make front pages because journalists chase the mother of negative exclusives. These “exclusives” are not elusive because the politically powerful are often unresponsive. However, there are good old days and many happy hours worth talking about. Many of the events might not have been earth-shattering situations, but many more of such situations would have made matters better.

Thus, certain occurrences in the history of Nigeria make many like me look at this colonial contraption and say, as President Obasanjo would have us believe, albeit with my heart more than my head, “There is still hope.” Even in the face of rancor and rivalry, a few good men and women have risen above personal comfort to speak out, act, and sometimes die for their belief that out of the ashes of dangerous diversity a beautiful nation of nations might emerge. These men and women are usually under-appreciated either because the “victors” are still writing the history or because one mistake the heroes made rubbed a powerful clique the wrong way. In other cases, the nation probably unintentionally turns a blind eye as it grapples with one sociopolitical crisis after another.

Few people living in Enugu know that a pre-independence mayor of the political capital of Igboland was a northerner. Fewer have heard of this true Nigerian. He believed in making his home where he lived and thrived. This trend was not widely replicated. In the West and North, Igbo parents felt so much at home their kids bore Yoruba and Hausa names. Nzeogwu was named Kaduna, his city of birth. Zik was born in Zungeru North, of Igbo parents, as was Emeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu. He was named Ibrahim, schooled in Calabar and Lagos before moving on the United States; he lived in West, and gave his children Yoruba names. Musicians sang in diction other than theirs. Victor Olaiya, a Yoruba, sang the classic ballad Omolanke in Igbo language. The 1990 Shina Peters’ album, Ace, was so popular no one cared he was speaking mostly Yoruba. Cultural coagulation continues in fits and struts, but crises usually butt in to turn back the hand of clock.

Dialects sieve from local languages and ingrain into the Naija lingo at a dazzling rate. Not many Nigerians know the etymology of suya, but they go out in full force to enjoy the spiced roast-beef delicacy. In 1980’s Enugu, nobody beat the Hausa roadside roaster at Owerri Road. Popularly known as “Professor,” patrons did not know what this erudite meat-roaster looked like. It did not matter: the suya said it all. Ishi-ewu is so popular only Igbo speakers really realize at times that the tasty delicacy means exactly what it says: “goat head.” From Efik country came the edikaikong dish, snail-shrimp-vegetable soup, and became a national must-eat. Amebo filtered in as “an overbearing gossip,” from Edo for the last sister-wife in a polygamous household. Who does not know that oga is “boss”  -- ditto, oga-madam! You spew a lot of hot air, it is shakara, apology to music-maestro Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. The Hausa maigadi is now a gateman to the rich; and, if you keep away from his security-cum-cigarette-stall post, you will have no wahala. Wallahi tallahi, eziokwu, the guard will scream ole on top of his voice if you attempt to steal his stuff. Yes, this is Eko, an Edo word for “camp” and the local name for Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial capital.

Misgivings and mistakes and passions apart, few fair-minded folks fault the ideals of Major Patrick Kaduna Chukwuma Nzeogwu. It was mired in blood, yes; but he spoke for a nation sick and tired of sociopolitical jiggery pokery. After reading out a long list of offenses punishable by death ^__ “looting, arson, homosexuality and rape, embezzlement, bribery or corruption, obstruction of the revolution, sabotage, subversion, false alarm and assistance to foreign invaders” ^__ Nzeogwu said:

Our enemies are the political profiteers, the swindlers, the men in the high and low places that seek bribes and demand ten percent; those that seek to keep the country divided permanently so that they can remain in office as ministers and VIPs of waste; the tribalists, the nepotists; those that make the country look big-for-nothing before international circles; those that have corrupted our society and put the Nigerian political calendar back by their words and deeds.... We promise that you will no more be ashamed to say you are a Nigerian.

Nzeogwu said what any leader of a revolution would say about Nigeria to Nigerians today — 36 years later! The only difference is that the table turned 360 degrees: his military colleagues were knee-deep in the mischief of mismanagement and Mickey-Mouse militarism. No matter the mistakes, and they made so many, it is a screeching shame that a sound military setup that produced some of the best patriots Nigeria will ever see should be reduced to a sick shadow of itself by years of political misadventures. The situation calls for the military men and women to back off and stay out of politics; there have enough housekeeping to do for 20 years or more. Unfortunately, a house that is against itself cannot stand. There is no way folks with big logs in their eyes can possibly remove the specks in their compatriots’ eyes. It is so sad because, love them or loathe them, the Nigerian armed forces have produced men that stood tall: the likes of Aguiyi-Ironsi and Fajuyi, Ademulegun and Maimalari, Kur and Unegbe, Nzeogwu and Ifeajuna, Mohammed and Danjuma, Gowon and Ojukwu, Onwuatuegwu and Adekunle, Wey and Effiong, Obasanjo and Yar’Adua, Buhari and Idiagbon, Garba and Nwachukwu, Ukiwe and Madueke, Vatsa and Bissala, Dimka and Orkar, Babangida and Abacha, Madaki and Umar, etc.

Notwithstanding the many anomalies in the armed forces, they gave Nigeria men who are “sons of their fathers.” Navy’s Ebitu Ukiwe did not believe in “benevolent dictatorship” or the absurdity of “democratic dictatorship.” Coups and countercoups are exactly what they are ^__ a rape of democracy, an autocracy. He told Nigerians to stop looking at military juntas as anything but dictatorships. Without firing a bullet and without as much as delivering an academic paper, Ukiwe dealt a devastating blow to the ploy to Islamize Nigeria via membership of the Organization of Islamic Conference, OIC. Whatever the status of Nigeria in OIC today, Ukiwe stood up to denounce military manipulation of religion and ethnicity for unnecessary political posturing.

The irrepressible Colonel Yohanna Madaki is made of similar stuff. While fighting to keep Nigeria one, the trenches in Biafra became his classrooms. He made it to the officer corps. He rose to become an officer and a gentleman ^__ a learned gentleman at that. As a military governor in Gongola, Madaki told a meddling feudal lord, the Emir of Muri, to back off. He made sure the man complied: he fired the emir. He did not stop there, he told a news medium that there were commendable aspects of the first military coup; that Nzeogwu so loved Nigeria he came to the rescue. The army kicked him out, but later relented and retired him. Madaki surfaced again in defense of Zamani Lekwot, a retired general, before a junta-guided Mr. Justice B. O. Okadigbo “special tribunal.” Fed up with the court’s modus operandi and humiliation, Madaki withdrew his counsel. Lekwot was sentenced to death, but Babangida was pressured to commute the sentence to a jail term in Port Harcourt ^__ where Lekwot was once a military governor.

Colonel Abubakar Dangiwa Umar soared like a helium craft. He surfaced as a respected governor of Kaduna after Babangida’s ascendancy. He spoke his mind, even when Babangida and Abacha didn’t like it. After Babangida had heard enough, he sent Umar out for “further studies.” He came back and picked up the pieces, even though he was on a purely military posting as the commander of a military unit. When Umar said the army should let Alhaji M. K. O. Abiola have his so-called “sacred mandate” and get out of governance, Abacha marked him for elimination. Framed for a coup he was not thinking about and sent him home early, Umar left with his head held high. The “coup” resided in the head of Abacha — and it never unfolded. Colonel Umar shunned conspiracies, but he continued to criticize policies constructively.

The Nigerian Police Force, NPF, with warts and worms, has not fared very well in its relationship with civilians, but it has never tried to meddle in governance. It must be disconcerting to the force that both politicians and the military use its members as they deem fit. The police have tried with limited resources and poor conditions of service to hold on. They never rocked the boat of national politics. They never flaunted their power on a national scale nor flouted laws on their own. In fact, the only true allies of the judiciary are men and women of the police force.

This police-army relationship was visibly ingrained until 1986. Police public relations officer, Superintendent Alozie Ogugbuaja, got so frustrated with coups and the behavior of soldiers he simply went ballistic -- verbally, that is. Mr. Ogugbuaja was an instant celebrity. The ruling military junta balked at this blow to excellent military-police esprit de corps alliance. Ogugbuaja was not done: the police officer said the army officers did nothing all day but eat peppered, goat-meat soup and guzzle bottles of beer. This, he postulated, afforded them ample time to plot coups. Meanwhile, the idle, bone-lazy ordinary soldiers loafed around the barracks drinking burukutu (a potent, local brew that canonizes elementary hygiene), smoking whatever weed burned, and placing bets on foreign soccer teams they could not pronounce nor locate the cities they played in on a good map. The junta declared him a hostile ally and fired him. Another courageous citizen silenced.

Whether Alozie Ogugbuaja was wrong or right, many more coups would occur within a decade of his exit. The fact that the police could not defend its own showed that the law-enforcement agency had become the prawns in the political pasta of whomever occupies the state house. It is a shame that no administration has deemed it fit to equip the police to such a standard that forced takeover of government and flagrant disregard of the courts could be challenged if not stopped. Since the police could not defend its own accused of verbal diarrhea, the press jumped in. Dele Giwa, the flamboyant ex-New York Times writer and founding editor-in-chief of Newswatch, raised print journalism to a higher pedestal by vowing to keep Ogugbuaja’s star shining. When it became clear that Mr. Ogugbuaja would be fired, Mr. Giwa pledged to welcome him on board as a columnist. At the time, Alozie Ogugbuaja was writing a very popular column for the Government-owned Sunday Times.

Alas, Dele Giwa had opened up many fronts. There was a very incisive story on the removal of Ebitu Ukiwe as Babangida’s No. 2, and he promised more. Dark clouds gathered around the likes of Sani Abacha. The army was getting jittery. There were rumors of corruption and drug dealing in high places. The mysterious story of “Gloria (Drug Mule for a Big Madam) Okon” and other street-corner stories of fake contracts involving billions of dollars circulated freely. The state security services moved in -- to “rattle” the pressman, according to Prince Tony Momoh, then information minister. The next day, on October 19, 1986, at about noon, a special mail arrived at his Lagos residence. If Dele Giwa knew the sender, we would never know ^__ the pressman was blown back to his maker.

Because the letter-bomb assassination of Giwa was not solved, it drove the living fear into Nigerian journalists. The media men and women, who had thought they saw the last of press persecution with the departure of the Buhari-Idiagbon junta and the dreaded publish-and-perish Decree 4, were scared senseless. They remained undeterred though, even under severe economic squeeze. They fueled the light that Giwa and those before him had lit. No matter the number of charlatans, impostors, and praise-singers infesting the profession like demented dogs, the unsolved death of Dele Giwa will remain a testimony to the courage of Nigerian writers.

On December 7, 1993, President Félix Houphouët-Boigny of Côte d’Ivoire joined his ancestors at an official age of 88 years old, exactly 33 years after his country secured independence from France. The world lost its third-longest-reigning head of state (after North Korea’s Kim il Sung, who followed shortly after; and communist Comrade Fidel Castro of Cuba, who has survived every American president from JFK to Bill Clinton). Africa lost one of the generations of leaders who had led their countries from colonialism to freedom and beyond. Nigeria lost a friendly enemy -- a good friend of Biafra. Here was a man who recognized the Biafran secession, and hosted Ojukwu and his core command when Biafra failed; a larger-than-life leader who actively encouraged dialogue with the apartheid regime of South Africa while successive Nigerian leaders and intellectuals itched for global isolation, if not war. The first African in a French government cabinet, Houphouët-Boigny kept close cultural and economic ties with France to an extent his critics called him a neocolonialist who imitated European grandiose infra-structure while his people starved. It didn’t faze him; unlike the Brits elsewhere, the French stood by him through thick and thin.

You would expect the funeral to be just a news item in Nigeria, especially since Babangida who had cultivated a warm relation with Houphouët-Boigny was no longer in office. General Abacha turned a trip to the funeral into a coup of sorts. On his entourage were the ex-warring generals: now restored ex-General Emeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu, Biafran head of state; now Professor (General) Yakubu Gowon, ex-Nigerian wartime C-in-C; and retired General Olusegun Obasanjo, the colonel who received the Biafran surrender in situ. Pundits marveled at this sometimes strange but in fact normal African show of solidarity. One diplomat reportedly rhapsodized: “This is good for Africa.” In death, therefore, Houphouët-Boigny made Nigerians stand tall. Sadly, within two years, Abacha had Obasanjo behind bars for a 15-year jail term.

Every time I open a book on African affairs, I check out entries for Nigeria to gauge its position on current continental issues, and to reassure myself that things are not too bad. In David Lamb (1983), Ghana’s President-elect Hilla Limann said shortly before he took office in September, 1979: “As soon as we have a civilian government, foreign investment will pour into Ghana.”

It didn’t. .... Ghana’s national debt at the time was nearly $2 billion; it was eighty-nine months behind on loans; its inflation rate topped 100 percent a year. Shortages of essential commodities were so severe that, as a Christmas present, nearby Nigeria sent Ghana twenty-three truck-loads of food and medicine.”

Reports like this do not appear in the Lagos popular press. Everyone is busy emphasizing the negative; the positive deeds go unrecognized. The “Christmas present” did not help Limann. On New Year Eve 1981, Jerry Rawlings, whom he had retired, came back with military men “asking for nothing but proper democracy.” Nigeria’s President Shehu Shagari frowned. Some observers say that Shagari should have risked international brouhaha and invaded Ghana to restore democracy. Instead, Shagari chose to make life a bit uncomfortable for Rawlings. The mass repatriation of about one million Ghanaians, Togolese, and other ECOWAS citizens engaged the attention of every organ of communication throughout Nigeria.

Early in the 1990s, Rawlings discarded his dictatorial ways in a controversial election. He was no longer the wolf; he turned Ghana around economically and politically. He is still preaching proper democracy. Changing military uniform with mufti might not be everybody’s idea of “proper democracy,” but it worked for Ghana. This could reassure Nigerians that come coup, come combat, they could still turn things around… even with the many military musclemen in mufti. Here is a country with more Ph.D. holders than East, Central and West Africa combined; a country with more universities than many so-called “advanced nations”; and where state capitals have three tertiary institutions. Yet no Nigerian head of government and commander of the armed forces has earned a bachelors degree from a regular university. Nothing to be proud of, but it shows the road ahead is still wide open; the future is pregnant with possibilities.

Beating the patriotic drum is not patriotism. Still, sometimes in the quiet of their inner world, most Nigerians can’t help but be proud of their country. [On Saturday, at the Governor’s Mansion in Princeton, NJ, an estimated 2000 Nigerians trooped out in their vibrant colors to watch Governor James E. McGreevey raise the Nigerian flag.] This is a country that got wealth and shared it with others; unwisely, but it shared without asking for anything in return. Gowon flooded the ports with every product made on earth in the early 70’s, and then went on a Caribbean-spending spree… even paying teachers’s slaries in some countries! Everyone cheered and rejoiced: a giant of Africa at last. The FESTAC ’77 Expo was one feat no country has attempted to repeat.

Okay, an oil-boom bonanza drove those days. Before that, while the people operated a cocoa-peanuts-palm produce economy, Nigeria took in a young Briton from the London ghetto of Brixton. He had no high-school credit worth remembering, and he had failed an interview to a bus-conductor job. [In racist and xenophobic Britain, the unskilled job went to an immigrant, West-Indian lady!] He surfaced in Jos, Northern Nigeria as a bank teller. Twenty years later, this man made it to the pinnacle of Her Majesty’s Foreign Service, and later became Britain’s chief financial officer, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. His name: John Major; yes ex-British Prime Minister John Major, the now scandalized John Major. Did Mr. Major ever go and visit or seek out old acquaintances in Jos throughout his tenure at No. 10? No. A Nigerian would be in London the next day digging out old friends and teachers and landlords/landladies. Yes, the Nigerian, natural or nurtured, has soul. Unfortunately, it has become a soul-path to pilfering.

Following the fine tradition of General Aguiyi-Ironsi in the 1960’s Congo-Katanga crisis, General Chris Garuba headed the 1995 United Nations peacekeeping force policing Angola’s never-ending crises. Nigerian military men led peacekeeping efforts from Serbia to Somalia, from Cambodia to Lebanon. Nigeria has lost very fine men in Sierra Leone and in Nigeria’s “Vietnam” — Liberia, and bore the brunt of wars in which it had little strategic interest… unless you count that Liberia conveniently “stayed out” during the December 1995 UN resolution condemning Nigeria over the hanging of Saro-Wiwa!

Nigerians appreciate and cherish good leadership. They expect their leaders to show the way, to make right or wrong decisions but to make something happen. This explains why some hardcore Abacha critics elevated him from 1995 “evildoer” to 1996 “saintly status”: he dethroned Dasuki, fired “unsafe” generals, clubbed the Customs, dismantled “disruptive” unions, jailed bank swindlers, etc. Right or wrong, something was happening. Nigerians cheered!

Even when unpopular, the masses soften the tyrant in their mind’s eye. Brig. Samuel Osaigbovo Ogbemudia, a military and later elected governor of then Bendel State, was dubbed the “action governor” for his populist style of governance. Obasanjo was fondly called “Uncle ’Sege” even as he stumbled in his transition program in 1979. Babangida was “Maradona” to friends and foes, or simply IBB. Abacha was “Uncle Sani” to his pocket fans and foes. For the second-coming of Obasanjo, many now call him “Baba” -- Baba Iyabo.

The problem with almost all dictators and or democrats is that they try to determine how history will judge them. They forget that those who argue with history are doomed to fail. History is unforgiving and uncompromising; it rules beyond appeal and beyond all reasonable doubts. Tyrants are always remembered by the one big blunder they all commit: denial of man’s inalienable right to life, freedom, and fraternity. This is why Obasanjo and Babangida dictatorial days still hunt them. Who would remember that Abacha’s jaundiced transition produced two female senators-elect: Hajia Mohammed, first woman-senator elect in the north, and Mrs. Florence Ita-Giwa, the “Princess from Bakassi,” second woman senator from the south; the first being Edo-born [South] Senator Franca Afegbua and who is now married to a northerner. Today, we have three sitting female senators (including Ita-Giwa) and two full female ministers, Dr. Kema Chikwe and Modupe Adelaja.

Abacha’s reign was stuck with the hanging of Saro-Wiwa, but it did not define his reign; “looting” is the name. Babangida earned the hauteur of history with the annulment of June 12 election -- just one single act at the dusk of his eight-year reign -- not for his political pragmatism and toothy smile. Buhari weighed in with his ruthless overzealousness and effectiveness, thanks to his unsmiling, stone-faced No. 2, Idiagbon. We remember Obasanjo fondly because he handed over power willingly -- though he had no other choice, if he wanted to live and enjoy his money. Murtala Muhammed is remembered by the brutality of his death, the romance with martyrdom, not for his regime’s deeds or his military might and callousness during the war. We remember Gowon for squandering an unimaginable wealth and boys-scout looks, not for winning a war, keeping Nigeria one, and reigning the longest.

Compare with politicians. While folks may remember one bad policy, they first and foremost relate to elected officials for what they are: politicians. Dr. Nnamdi (Zik) Azikiwe was a politician first. With all his faults, everyone admired his fight for independence and his being the first president. Chief Obafemi Awolowo was a politician too. Fault him all you want, the man had sterling qualities that make his loyalists elevate him to sainthood. [He died in 1987 aged 78, but he was interred on May 13, 1996, the weekend Zik died at 91.] The “sins” of Awolowo stuck only when he flirted with the military; the logical fallacy of “the friend of my enemy is my enemy” went to work. Sir Ahmadu Bello [born Ahmadu Ibrahim Rabah] lost out to Sultan Abubakar III in the struggle for the Sultanate of Sokoto. As Sarduanan Sokoto, he shined like a star much brighter than the respected but reserved Sultan. He died more than 36 years ago, but no one in the entire North has held a torch to his strong leadership qualities.

Balewa, Bello, Okotie-Eboh, Mbadiwe, Akintola, Okpara and all the First Republic politicians have soft spots in the hearts of many Nigerians. Ditto all “our heroes past”:  Herbert Macaulay, Mbonu Ojike, Aminu Kano, Adegbenro, Dantata, Louis Odumegwu Ojukwu, Sanussi, Akanu Ibiam, Ene A. Bassey, Joseph S. Tarka, Margaret Ekpo, Gambo Sawaba, Dennis Osadebay, Kashim Ibrahim, Fani-Kayode, Imoudun, Eze nwa Iboko, Alvan Ikoku, Tai Solarin, Michael Ajasin, Alfred Rewane, Chime, Flora Azikiwe, Eyo Ita, Mohammed Ribadu, John Nwodo, Sabo Barkin-Zuwo, etc.

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All this is mostly romance; the reality is a different. The spilling of blood has marred many great events worthy of celebration today. These unconscionable killings are creating a nation of spineless citizens and an angry citizenry. The question is, will the scars of coups and senseless political wrangling stop the salt of residual ethnic and religious rivalries from reaching the sore wounds of national dysfunction? This issue goes to the heart of the reality of Nigerian society.

Everything else is embellishment.