As I walked into Lieutenant Colonel Gbolawole Majekodunmi’s (rtd) office in Idi-Araba, Lagos, I was struck by its simplicity. The walls were bare, except for a few framed photographs of his military days. He sat on an old chair, with a visage of a map of pain, reflecting the turmoil of his past. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed, as if the memories themselves were a physical burden. As we began to discuss his abrupt exit from the Nigerian Army, a profession he still holds dear to heart, Majekodunmi’s eyes clouded with a mix of pain and determination and his voice laced with a sense of loss and longing. With a career spanning decades, he had hoped to rise through the ranks to become a General. But his aspirations were viciously crushed when he was callously drummed out of service, on trumped-up charges that he later discovered were cunningly fabricated to thwart his ascension to the coveted position of Military Administrator (equivalent of state governor under military regime).

Journey to the Army

He started the interview with Sunday Vanguard with the story of his journey into the Army. His words: “As a young boy, I attended Baptist Academy in Lagos. Then, at Oyingbo bus stop, I always saw Land Rovers carrying officers in their well-starched uniforms. I was immediately drawn to their professionalism and knew I wanted to join the Army. This motivation led me to write the Nigeria Defence Academy (NDA) examination, which I passed. I was called for an interview and subsequently offered a place at the NDA. However, my mother, a rich business woman, had different plans for me. She wanted me to study Pharmacy in America, and she had the resources to make it happen.

But my father, a civil servant in Kaduna, insisted that I joined the NDA. He even threatened to disown me if I didn’t report to the academy. My love for the Army uniform and fear of my father’s wrath led me to choose the NDA over America. I joined the NDA Regular Combatant Course 13; we commenced training on January 2, 1973 and I went on to have a distinguished military career. I was posted to Infantry, then changed to Engineers. The military sent me to Canada and America for advanced training. I also attended a degree course in Pakistan. Throughout my service, I was known for discipline and professionalism, which earned me the respect of my Commanders. I served as Brigade Major, the nerve center of every Brigade, and was sought after by Commanders who valued my expertise. In those days, the motivation to join the NDA was genuine, and politicians’ influence was minimal. Discipline was paramount, and young officers were driven by a sense of duty and honor.

However, times have changed, and today’s young officers often have ulterior motives for joining the NDA. Some are driven by ambition, greed, or a desire for power. The system has changed, and discipline is no longer the cornerstone of the NDA. I fear for the future of our beloved Army if this trend continues”.

Back to Nigeria

Majekodunmi inhaled deeply, his gaze intensifying, as he resumed his account: “Upon returning to Nigeria, I was posted to 3 Armoured Division, Jos, Plateau State where I served as the Cantonment Maintenance Officer, while General Olanrewaju was the General Officer Commanding, GOC. During a mini-maintenance conference, General Olanrewaju offered me a bicycle for maintenance tasks within the Cantonment, but I declined, preferring to use my Mercedes- Benz car which I brought from Pakistan. This seemingly innocuous exchange sparked General Olanrewaju’s anger and he admonished me, threatening at the same time to expel me from the Army if I didn’t ‘shape up.’

My Commander then, Colonel Idubueze, sensing my discomfort, intervened and offered to accept the bicycle on my behalf. However, the damage was done, and General Olanrewaju’s displeasure towards me was palpable. This incident marked the beginning of a downward spiral in my relationship with General Olanrewaju, culminating in my eventual posting out of the Command to the Nigerian Training and Doctrine Command in Minna, Niger State. In Minna, I served without incident until my subsequent posting to Ibadan, Oyo State, where a significant incident occurred in 1993. Under the command of the late General Aziza, GOC 2 Division, I received appreciation for my dedication and hard work. General Aziza even sponsored my wife’s pilgrimage through Lagos State, a gesture that unfortunately fueled jealousy among some colleagues”.

Maruti, the point of contention

He paused at this point as his phone’s insistent ringing shattered the air. His eyes darted towards it with a gaze that pierced the screen like a dagger, before refocusing on me. Slowly, he continued the traumatic event that shattered his 20-year military legacy, leaving scars that continued to throb and pulsate like a raw wound: “Later, the Maruti incident occurred.

Maruti was a small utility vehicle, an Indian-Suzuki jeep used for utility services. It was given to me by the Army to be working with. The mechanic was bringing it to me in Lagos from Ibadan because he just repaired it. And the driver was not around, so I was afraid that probably the Maruti would need to be driven by a technician. I told the mechanic to bring a driver and also come with my identity ID card to meet me in Lagos. I told them my ID card was inside the pigeon hole, that in case anyone stopped them on the road, they should show it that Colonel Majekodunmi sent them. That was the mistake I made because the Maruti was intercepted at the toll gate in Ibadan. I made such minor infractions which, normally, under normal circumstances, should have been an office issue to be handled by the late General Aziza. I believe he was used as a pawn on the issue. Otherwise he didn’t give me admonition; he did not give me warning”.

The accusation

A look of haunted introspection crossed his face, his eyes sunken, his features etched with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. His voice cracked with emotion, a heartwrenching whisper that conveyed the depth of his pain, as if every syllable was a tear shed for what could never be undone. Continuing slowly, Majekodunmi narrated: ”I was accused of stealing a Maruti and my ID card. I tried to see the late General Aziza who was the GOC 2 Mechanised Division when I learnt I would be court-martialed.

But my efforts were unsuccessful. I reached out to several people to beg my GOC on my behalf, including Papa Adeyemo, the Kabiyesi of Ibadan, Alhaji Jimoh Garuba, and the Alake (of Egbaland). Additionally, Justice Oguntade and Chief Bukola Okunowo intervened, begging Aziza to show mercy. Despite these efforts, Aziza ordered the court martial, which left me feeling hopeless and demoralized. The excuse he allegedly gave was that he had sentenced me to two-and-ahalf years in prison, but he wasn’t the judge and didn’t preside over the court martial. He also allegedly instructed the President of the court to sentence me, which was unusual. I was not supposed to be kept in the other ranks’ guard room after trial without confirmation from the appropriate supreme authority, but they put me there anyway.

The conditions were deplorable – the room was smelly and leaking from rain. I met others there, like Major Akinlade, who was accused of an affair, and Major Emelike. I was confused and wondered what was going on. I spent a month in that guard room without committing any major offense. I didn’t sleep with anyone’s wife and I didn’t plan a coup or steal anything significant to have warranted such treatment. In the past, when General Danjuma was the Chief of the Army Staff, the Chief of the Army Staff would review the judgment of the court martial case legally and make a justified decision. However, in my case, it was a satanic conspiracy between some senior officers against me and I spent three months in prison. The court martial verdict left me feeling utterly hopeless, and it took a significant toll on my spirit. I spent close to two-and-a-half months in Agodi Prison, Ibadan, and, even after my release, I struggled with feelings of hopelessness for four years. Despite the challenges in my marriage, I felt like I’d hit rock bottom. It was as if the second chapter of my life had been turned upside down, and I was struggling to find purpose and meaning again”.

Drama in court

His eyes would occasionally flash with a hint of anger, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of calm, as if he had long since made peace with his past. He narrated further, ”Before the court-martial began, I visited Colonel Alli, the Commanding Officer of the Special Investigation Panel, who later became the Comptroller General of the Nigeria Customs Service. I requested for a lawyer, Giwa Amu, who was 2ic to Ali. I had to meet the Provost Marshal, General Mujakpero. I asked him to allow a Military Police officer to be my lawyer, and he agreed. I wrote an application, and Ali approved it. Giwa Amu was my sent ‘messiah’. When the court martial commenced, I was sitting down facing the panel. Giwa Amu came to whisper in my ear that I should accept charge one; that I was guilty, and also accept charge two, stealing the Maruti that brought me to the venue, and that my ID card was stolen. I agreed.

But when the arraignment started and my charges were read, Giwa Amu had a change of heart. He rushed to tell me again to say I was not guilty. If he hadn’t done that, I would have accepted the charges, including stealing the Maruti. They had tricked Giwa Amu into thinking they wouldn’t do anything to me, but the spirit of God intervened, telling me not to admit guilt. If I had accepted that I was guilty of stealing the Maruti and my ID card, there was no way I would have won that case. The same Maruti that brought me in front of the Officers’ Mess, where the trial was held, was the same vehicle they said I stole. They commenced my case at 10 a.m. and finished it the next day. The next day was the confirmation. I had met the person in charge of the court, now late, before the trial. He told me not to worry, but unknown to me, they had already instructed him on how to handle my case. It was a set-up”.

Appeal case

His voice was a low, raspy growl at this point, with a sound that seemed to scrape against the inside of his throat, as if the words themselves were a physical torment he could hardly bear to utter. He went on: “Even when I met an officer in the Army Legal Department, he advised me to forget about the case because three senior officers who were instrumental to my woes were in the former Head of State, late Sani Abacha’s kitchen cabinet. However, after four years of being laid off from the Nigerian Army, someone suggested I appealed the case. I went to the Court of Appeal, where my father had worked as a civilian executive officer. When I arrived at the court, accompanied by my lawyer, the Registrar told me to go upstairs and narrate the case to the judge.

But my lawyer refused to go with me because he said it was unethical for a lawyer to be seen in the chamber with a judge. Eventually, I mustered the courage to knock on the judge’s door. To my surprise, the judge recognized me and asked about the case. I burst into tears and asked if he knew about it, he said ‘yes’. Just then, Aribisala, the son of a legal icon, walked in and offered to handle my case for free. He wanted to help me and also gain experience for his SAN qualification. I gratefully accepted his offer. But Justice Oguntade refused, insisting rather that my lawyer should handle the case.

And to God be the glory, I think after a year into the Appeal, I was discharged and acquitted by the Court of Appeal. In fact, in the January 2004 Nigerian Army Law Publication on Majekodunmi versus Nigerian Army, Justice Oguntade of the Court of Appeal stated: ‘It is really worrying that in a case as plain as this, when the observers of elementary principle of justice ought to have led the General Court Martial to return a verdict of not guilty, the General Court Martial found the appellant guilty; in the process, the career prospects of the appellant, a Lieutenant Colonel at the time of his trial, were needlessly ruined. Perhaps it is not out of place to say here that those called upon to conduct these trials should very carefully consider the ingredients of an offence under the Armed Forces Act before railroading their colleagues into prison and ruination in very undeserving situation’. With the court discharging and acquitting me, I approached the Army authorities with the verdict. They gave me compulsory retirement. But I was not satisfied with compulsory retirement. So, I met General Dambazau, who was the Minister of Internal Affairs. He spoke to the Chief of the Army Staff, Buratai, who called me for an interview, I wrote again, and they converted it to voluntary retirement”.

Military Administrator’s dream

At this point, Majekodunmi’s face convulsed in a storm of self-reproach, his features twisted in a grimace of anguish, as if the weight of the action was crushing him. He recounted: “The most important aspect of this experience was my naivety and the external factors that played a role. I realised after I left the prison that my offence was because I had approached some persons, indicating my interest to be Military Administrator. I didn’t know that these same people had somebody else who was also interested in the position. It wasn’t until after I left prison and was at home that I realized this. They announced the change of Military Administrators and mentioned that person’s name. That was when I remembered that a former top security official who became an Oba asked me who was senior between me and that person who was appointed Military Administrator. I then understood that the former top security big wig and a former top military senior officer who had shown apparent animosity towards me were acquainted with the family of the officer who was appointed MILAD, and therefore wanted him for the position”.

Lies

At this point, we had to pause for him to catch his breath, after speaking for long. In this fleeting moment, his face twisted in a tortured grimace, as if the memories of deceitful blows from those he trusted were physically pummeling him. When we resumed discussion, he said: “To further nail me, a colleague told me that during a debate on who would become the next Military Administrator, someone in The Presidency said I was from Abeokuta, Ogun State, and that I came into the Army through Lagos State illegally. However, everyone knew I was from Lagos State. One of the top military officers behind my ordeal knew me from our time in Pakistan or India and knew that my family, Majekodunmi, is from Lagos State. What pained me was that as a fellow Yoruba, if there were no political undertones or negativity, he would have granted me an audience to see him when I sought to see him to intervene in the court martial issue.

Admonition

“Indeed, the lesson from my experience is huge. I learnt one should not rely solely on humans or on the arm of flesh, as Shakespeare says, ‘There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.’ A person’s true intentions can be difficult to discern, and they may not be trustworthy. I learned this lesson personally. Second lesson is that I was naive in my a p p r o a c h , broadcasting my intentions widely. But glory be to God; after my incarceration, I turned to God and pursued a pastoral course at the Redeemed Church. I also went to the Mountain of Fire Ministries and learned that forces of darkness can destroy someone. I am sharing this to warn future generations to depend on God for solutions to their problems.

Additionally, I want the Nigerian Army to know that I’ve worked under tough Commanders who recognized my dedication and commitment as an officer. Commanders sought me out to work with them, including General Garuba Mohammed, former Minister of Works, who gave me an excellent report. In his commendation note on me, he wrote, ‘I have no reason not to recommend this officer for promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, which is long overdue’, (reading from a document he collected from a pile of files on a table)”. With a heavy heart and a hint of humility, he continued his tale in a voice laced with a deep sense of regret and a longing for spiritual guidance, “Perhaps, if I were more grounded in biblical teachings or scripture, I would have understood the significance of sharing my ambition with those I did.

But the whole thing was a blessing in disguise. I recall that the most brilliant student in our Course was Major Akinyemi, brother of Prof Akinyemi. He excelled at Sandhurst, winning multiple awards as the Best Military Cadet, Officer, and personnel. However, after returning to Nigeria, he was involved in two coups and was eventually killed. He was imprisoned and allegedly injected with a harmful substance. If I had been accused of being involved in a coup, I would not be alive today. I now appreciate the value of prayers and the guidance of scripture.

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