I have just returned from Abuja travelling through the Kaduna airport. As we disembarked from the aircraft and moved towards the arrival section, I could hear an announcement being made. The diction of the announcer was clear. She didn’t sound like those On-Air-Personalities (OAP, they are called) who speak as if they have hot water on their tongues. Airport continuity announcers in Nigeria tend to imitate these OAPs.

This has been for me a great source of irritation. The last time I travelled from Lagos to Abuja, for example, I missed my flight because I just could not figure out what was being said. I was stranded because someone chose to speak fake English. The electronic boards at Nigerian airports where they are available, are unreliable and so, you invariably have to rely on those announcements.  

The way I go round this sabotage is to keep asking people, or going to the departure gate to find out if the flight had been called or not. So, when I got to Kaduna and found a difference, I was glad that the bad habit at the Lagos and Abuja airports had not yet been exported to Kaduna. It was also the first time I would travel in that direction since the Abuja airport was shut down and traffic was diverted on March 8, to Kaduna, to allow the Federal Government repair the damaged runway in Abuja. Six weeks, they said it would take. I found myself in Kaduna five weeks later.

I met an upgraded Kaduna International Airport. The upgrade is not yet completed but I hope when the diverted traffic from Abuja disappears, the uncompleted parts of the airport will be sorted out and the airport can be put to better use, and not abandoned, and the investment would not be allowed to waste. At the arrival section, a group of persons reiterated the announcement that had been made as we arrived. “Free buses to Abuja are available, please join the buses outside to take you to Abuja, show your ticket and boarding pass please”.  Another lady said: “if you want to travel by train, please join the buses outside to take you to the train station, it is free.”  This got me curious.

It turned out that the Federal Government had indeed made arrangements to make life easier for persons who had to travel from the Kaduna airport to Abuja. I took a look at the buses. Chisco buses. Coaster buses. I also spoke with a few persons who had travelled through the Kaduna airport en route Abuja. The feedback was positive. I was told the bus ride takes about three hours, the train ride about one hour, twenty minutes. But one guy differed.

“I think,” he said, “it is better to charter a cab. If you take a cab, you can get to Abuja in about two hours. If you take the bus, you may have to wait for the bus to fill up, and then for security reasons, the drivers will not drive fast, if you are not careful, you could be on the road for four hours.”

“I guess security is more important than speed”, I said.

“But they will go and drop you at the Abuja airport, and you will spend another one hour getting to the town, and in that case, you will still have to take a cab and pay.”

“Why Abuja airport?”

“That is what they do”

“But come to think of it, is it possible they will go and drop people in front of their homes?”

“Well, I am a man in a hurry. Time is everything. I don’t take the bus or the train. I just take a cab and move.”

“What of the helicopter shuttle?”

“I am sorry I don’t know anything about that. It is better and cheaper to take a cab.”

“And how much is that?,” I asked.

“Between N25k and N30k. But you can also join with other people. If two other persons join you to take a cab, you’d end up paying at most N10k.”

“But is it not better to go with what government has provided, for security reasons?”

“There is no serious danger on the road, particularly if you travel during the day, and not wait till it gets dark. There are policemen and FRSC men keeping watch all the way to Abuja. You don’t have to worry about anything. I have been on this route every week since they shut down the Abuja airport.”

I had an appointment to keep in Abuja and time was not on my side. I could not afford a four-hour journey, so I embraced the guy’s advice, and took the cab option, and just as I had been told, the road to Abuja was safe and stress-free. I made it in good time and did not miss my appointment.  On my way back, two days later, the trip was even smoother and faster. But I ended up not travelling after spending so much time at the airport. My return ticket was wrongly booked: instead of Kaduna to Lagos, I had a Lagos to Kaduna ticket! This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though.

It gave me opportunity to take a better look at the airport. At the VIP section, and elsewhere, the staff appeared polite and helpful, obviously delighted with their assignment. Free drinks, coffee and water, were offered at the VIP section. The missed flight also gave me the opportunity to spend more time with my friend and colleague, Umar Sani who lives in Kaduna. Umar Sani the Cat as I call him, is the Media Adviser to former Vice President Namadi Sambo.

I spent the night in his house, and as always we shared reminiscences. We exchanged views about the present and worries about the future.  This was accompanied by day-long enjoyment of dollops of pounded yam, freshly prepared pepper soup with fish from Kogin Kaduna, delicious ram suya, and Hausa music from the old masters. One particular Hausa musician caught my attention, he actually sounded, beat by beat, like the late Yusuf Olatunji were it not for the difference in language.

But the night became darker when we received the news of the sudden and untimely death of Gordon Obua, our former colleague who served as Chief Security Officer to President Goodluck Jonathan. Obua, like many of the Jonathan boys, went through a lot in the last nearly two years. Umar Sani and I tried to reach many of our other colleagues. One said he was scared about tomorrow and what else would happen. Another said he was so sad, he just chose to go to bed. The grief was deep and widespread; the shared emotion was touching. Everyone worked with the CSO. Nobody could access the President or any part of the Villa, without an encounter with the CSO and his team. The Presidential Villa is not an ordinary workplace, it is, every part of it, a security zone.

Our return journey to the airport the following morning was less excitable, marked as it was by unspoken thoughts and pregnant reflections. I made it to Lagos.

Looking back, the Federal Government and Kaduna State Government, Federal Airports Authority of Nigeria (FAAN), Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority (NCAA) and other stakeholders who were involved in managing the process of diversion of traffic from the Abuja airport to Kaduna deserve our commendation. They have not done badly at all. The airport handled many flights daily, including international flights by Ethiopian airlines – the only foreign airline operating in Nigeria that embarked on a voyage of faith and support to Kaduna. I am aware that some travellers have had cause to complain about the lack of a seating area at the ticketing section in Kaduna, the insistence of the airlines on cash payment, the absence of restaurants and Automated Teller Machines (ATMs), and the relatively relaxed security around the airport at certain periods of the day. Nonetheless, I offer a pass mark.

Hadi Sirika, Minister of State for Aviation and Nasir el-Rufai, Governor of Kaduna State both promised that there would be no problem. They have so far kept their word. We may just have found in the management of the rehabilitation of the Nnamdi Azikiwe airport, and the diversion of traffic to Kaduna, a template for inter-governmental co-operation and government-civil society strategic interface on key national issues.

When the idea of the diversion was first mooted, we were all skeptical. Foreign airlines operating in Nigeria kicked, other stakeholders in the aviation sector protested, the general public was worried. I wrote a piece titled “Before the Abuja airport is shut down” (January 10) in which I gave voice to these concerns. I accused the Federal Airports Authority of Nigeria of incompetence and inefficiency, citing the mismanagement of the renovation of the Port Harcourt and Owerri International Airports. In other countries, airport runways are not abandoned for 21 years, and if they have to be repaired, the entire airport is not shut down and travellers put through discomfort. In Glasgow, Scotland, an entire runway was fixed within weeks of off-traffic operation, at night. I later wrote another piece – “A visit to the Gusau Institute” (February 7) in which I complained, parenthetically, about the horrific nature of the Kaduna-Abuja road and the likely threat to travellers.

Criticism obviously helps but that is if the concerned party is willing to listen. Optics also matters. Stakeholders complained previously about the shambolic state of the Kaduna airport. I met a better airport, in varying stages of improvement. I wrote about the bad state of the road linking Kaduna and Abuja. The potholes seem to have been fixed. It also seems as if the state Governor has appealed to the bus drivers on that road to drive more carefully, the motorcyclists to stay off the highway and the trailer-drivers to be more circumspect. I also complained about how difficult it was to get information on the purchase of train tickets between Abuja and Kaduna. The Nigeria Railway Corporation may still have a lot to do to improve the quality of its services, but it managed in the last six weeks, to attract significant interest and patronage.  Governance is not as difficult as it is made to appear- just do what is right and put the people first.

What remains all things considered, is the need to place greater emphasis on the value of maintenance culture as an element of the infrastructure management process. We tend to wait until everything breaks down in this country before we attend to them. We prefer the fire-brigade approach and although we love infrastructure, we do not have in place a system for maintaining assets. We have problems because we run government with the mentality of children. Children love new things, and are impressed by toys. But in due course, they spoil the toys or they get distracted and abandon them. In the same manner, government sets up structures, impresses itself and the public and then moves on until everything collapses.  This institutionalized culture of waste and leakage is deplorable. It falls short of best practices elsewhere.

Minister of Aviation says Abuja airport is now ready and that it will be back to business on the promised date of April 19. He has taken journalists to the airport to assess progress. Vice President and Minister of Information also visited. The promptitude with which the Abuja airport renovation has been handled is un-Nigerian. I actually don’t mind if the Ministry of Aviation takes additional two weeks to get everything properly in place. When eventually traffic returns to the airport, the Federal Government and Kaduna State Government should work together to ensure that the hopes that have been raised about the Kaduna airport are not dashed. The investments made there in the last six weeks should be well-managed and the still on-going upgrading of the airport should be completed.  

What a relief! So, the Big Brother Naija reality television programme is finally over. It ended Sunday evening with 23-year old Efe Michael Ejemba, University of Jos graduate of Economics and singer winning the N25 million + SUV at stake, with 57.6% of the votes from over 24 million voters across Africa. Warri, where Efe’s family lives, erupted in excitement. At the Multichoice viewing centre in Ikeja, Lagos, where Katung Aduwak took charge so brilliantly, there was a similar eruption of incandescent joy. I was relieved because for about 70 days, the Big Brother Naija show was a big distraction, crass capitalism at its most cynical edge, a source of unmanageable madness in homes and on the streets. Now that it is over, it is time for some honest frank talk for the attention of all stakeholders involved.

Let me start with the lessons, on a positive note, before delivering the blows. Lesson one: In a very instructive manner, the Big Brother Naija reality television show promoted the ideas of choice and people power at the heart of democracy. Televised across Africa, the viewers had the final say in determining who stayed in the house or left during eviction moments on Sundays. The votes were collated, audited and confirmed by Deloitte, a firm of auditors and thus, the viewer as the voter determined the outcomes. In that regard, a reality show of that sort promoted a consciousness of democracy, choice and influence and it further explained why the people from Nigeria to Cape Agulhas all the way up to the Mediterranean sea took fierce ownership of the programme. In a continent where power is the ultimate aphrodisiac and every access to power, fame and influence is seen as an opportunity to oppress and demean, whatever is done to promote a consciousness of choice and the civil society is laudable. Multichoice, thanks.

Lesson Two: in every business concept, perseverance pays. Multichoice has been running its Big Brother Naija and Big Brother Africa concepts for a number of years. Apparently, this year’s Big Brother Naija has been the most impactful, the most profitable and probably also, the most exciting. In one week, over 11 million persons voted to determine the eviction. In the final week of the programme, over 24 million persons voted – that is more than the total number of persons who voted in the Nigerian Presidential election in 2015. This year, Multichoice has made more money from the Big Brother franchise than it has ever done. The programme was sponsored by PayPorte, and with all the voting, and the money spent on recharge cards, Big Brother and Multichoice are the biggest winners. In the end, it is all about business and profit. Everybody has been used. In business, once you have a good, attractive product and you can capture the market, you can fool everybody and make profit. Multichoice, weh done - in Falz, the bad guy’s voice.

Lesson three: humility pays. At the end of the day, in the last week of the programme, the decision by the viewing public was a moral, sentimental one. The biggest star of the programme was, I don’t know what you think, TBOSS (real name: Tokunbo Idowu), half Nigerian, half-Romanian. She dominated the space with her Jezebelic antics, even got some of the male participants ousted by entrapping and outsmarting them with her sexual wiles. She projected herself as a sex object, the ultimate manipulator, the champion Delilah of the Big Brother Africa series. She even made a joke of the entire Big Brother concept by saying she didn’t need the money and if she won, she would spend it in two weeks to pay off debts, and in any case, she had men hitting on her, offering to take her on a ride in their private jets. She played the role of a female barracuda.

Given her looks and talents, she would have been a perfect winner. She would have looked good on the billboards. But she lost because of her arrogance. Attitude is everything: this is the lesson of TBOSS’s disgrace and humiliation. When she was sent out of the House as the second runner up, the viewing centre in Ikeja, Lagos, including Kemen whose nemesis she was, danced in joy. “They are taunting me?” she asked Ebuka, the anchor. No, sweetheart, they were making a far more serious statement about you. The melodramatic ending of Big Brother Naija 2017 is its only redeeming outcome. Bisola, the first runner up does not even have a degree but she showed talent and resolve, even if her whorish flirtation with Thin Tall Tony is so cheap and self-denigrating. Her One-Nigeria consolation prize is something big she should take seriously. Efe won because of his humility. He is considered the poorest and the most needy of the contestants. Patrons of the programme chose to vote for the contestant who looked and sounded like he would need the money and the opportunity. They gave him a chance in life, although the organizers must ensure that going forward, the show does not become a poverty alleviation scheme. Bisola came second because she too looked like she needed help. Debbie Rise and Marvis also made the finals, but that was meant to be a great compliment to their good conduct, but they didn’t have enough support to make it to the top. TBOSS is the main star who lost. I hope she was taken out of South Africa with a private jet or maybe a submarine! Beauty is not everything, baby.

Lesson four: Marketing helps. Branding is everything. Propaganda is profitable. Packaging is nice. Big Brother Naija is nothing but marketing, branding, propaganda, and packaging. A reality show is supposed to be nothing but reality, virtual reality as it happens, but let no one deceive you, everything that happened in the 70 days of BBNaija was packaged, marketed, carefully branded and manipulated. Ebuka, the Big Brother, thumbs up, the scenic designers, kudos, the content developers, three hearty cheers, Multichoice, you guys are the smartest capitalists around, well done! The finale was a bit overdone though, dragged out, over-delayed. Tiwa Savage (hey baby, watch that growing fat around your waist and thigh), Tuface (thanks TuBaba but next time tell Annie to twerk for us- what was that!). In all, the power of television was well advertised.

Now the hard knocks: I rate the theatre high but I consider the whole show a sham, a 419 manipulative effort by a corporate agency, long overdue for an ethical review and scrutiny, a bad influence on corporate ethics. The owners of the programme are just a bunch of insultive, manipulative and exploitative capitalists, feeding on public need for distraction and the negligence of the authorities. Big Brother Naija 2017 is something that should never happen again in the shape we have seen. If Multichoice as a corporate investor wants to make a contribution to Nigeria, it must find ways of doing so in more meaningful forms.

Reality shows have become an established form on television, but whereas there are reality shows that promote talent, music, human capability and genius, enhanced relationships, and intellect, Multichoice, through its Big Brother Naija and Big Brother Africa franchises seems committed to the promotion of base values, chiefly adultery, prostitution, love of money, nudity and sex. What just ended as Big Brother Naija 2017 was nothing other than the corralling of some human beings into a zoo, pressured to behave like nothing but animals. The organizers made money devaluing other human beings. Multichoice and Payporte, the sponsors, turned alcohol and pornography into legitimate sport.

TBOSS and the other girls kissed and got groped by the boys on live television putting their upbringing to shame. TBOSS, who claimed she didn’t need the money even exposed her breasts on live television more than once. I have seen better breasts TBOSS. I am not too sure those private jet owners will be excited by your fluffy, South-looking, slightly bigger than mangoes breasts. If the same men see bigger assets, I mean, those interesting Ojiakor-like ones that look like papayas, pineapples and watermelons, they will not send private jets, they will deploy submarines and fighter jets! And that's why you got N500k in the end, way back behind Bisola with her hard facial features, and Efe whose victory is based on poverty logistics and appeal. But I have no doubt that TBOSS will end up doing better in the larger, outside market than the other finalists, because even those who did not vote for her, know in their hearts that she represents the message of the programme.

It is a wrong message and that is why Big Brother Naija drew more audience in Southern Nigeria than in the North. In the last week of the programme,, every town in Southern Nigeria was  seized by the #BBNaija fever. Prayers were offered in churches for Efe. One lady threatened to commit suicide if Efe did not win. Another one said she would not stop crying until Efe won. Nollywood stars declared support for housemates. There was Team Bisola, Team Efe, EfeNation, TBOSSNation, TeamDebbieRise (small), TeamMarvis (even smaller). There were public processions even in universities. We were told how to vote. Twitter was on fire. What I saw was nothing but sheer madness. T-shirts were printed. One musician turned his personal car into a billboard. Nigeria became a mad house because of one reality television show. It looked like mass hypnotism at work. 

But it should not be allowed to happen again. BBNaija should not be hosted and staged in South Africa as has been the case. Multichoice, Payporte and their partners made crazy money and got brand promotion off the back and sweat of Nigerians. Do the maths; we got peanuts in return. We were told BBNaija could not be staged in Nigeria due to electricity problems so the studio had to be in South Africa. And the Nigerian government looked the other way. Wawu! All the billions that the South Africans are running away with, after giving our boy a Kia SUV and some N25m, who is going to collect the Value Added Tax on that? Nigeria or South Africa? See the real Gobbe! All the staff who worked on the programme with extremely marginal exception were South Africans. Where were the Nigerians? Abi, Lobatan oh.

The Nigerian government must assert itself. Nobody henceforth must brand anything involving primary production, Nigerian off Nigerian soil. We can’t get far by wearing made-in-Nigerian clothes on Mondays and Wednesdays, turning the country into an extension of Nollywood, but we can gain a lot by insisting that economic production and profit based on Nigerian talent and resource must have significant Nigerian content. 

Congratulations Efe; the grace of God is forever sufficient, but sorry Nigeria.

Aliko Dangote at 60

Alhaji Aliko Dangote is 60 and understandably the entire country is busy paying tributes. He is the richest man in Africa, but more than that he is one of the most successful, forward-looking and resourceful entrepreneurs in the entire continent. He has investments and connections virtually everywhere.

I think a special remark should be made about his less known attribute - his humility and humanity. Aliko Dangote, for all those who have related with him closely, is a very humble man. His life is not driven by money, but belief in hardwork and the impact that he is able to make. He is helpful, supportive and kind, always believing he can make a difference. I offer a special testimony.

Many years ago, before the Abuja job, I used to visit Aliko at home, sometimes on my own and sometimes with my family. On one occasion, he gave my first son money as he saw us off to the door. It was that kind of money that caused a fight between father and son. My son wanted to hold on to it, and there I was insisting the boy must hand over the money because it was enough to pay his and his sibling’s school fees. The innocent boy said the money was for him. How could it have been for him? We resolved the fight, big fight, right there, with Aliko pretending not to notice.

On another occasion, Aliko asked if I had built a house and I told him I was building a house somewhere in Ajah. This was in 2006. He said we should go there. He jumped into my miserable Tokunbo car and followed me to the uncompleted building.  He walked round the building and asked me what I wanted. He ended up giving me enough cement to complete the house and the money to paint it. He told me I should contact him if I wanted to build any other house, but after that other house, I stopped bothering him, because it was obvious the bricklayers knew cement was free, and they were busy taking advantage.  

I went to Abuja to work. The true story of that job is best told by Aliko Dangote, Mr Alex Ibru, Rotimi Amaechi, Femi Otedola and Ojogbane Adegbe. They supported me as best as they could without interference. It was Oronto Douglas who made the phone call. One day, every story will be told. Thank you Alhaji, for being a friend and a brother. Thank you. May you see many more seasons.

It is a sign of the times, and a tragedy that the most popular Senator in the Nigerian National Assembly at this moment is not the person who has moved the most impactful motion, not a lawmaker who has proposed a thought-provoking bill, and certainly not any Senator who has given any impressive speech debating a matter of national importance. What we get, most of the time, in place of legislative responsibility, prudence, accountability and distinction is burlesque, farce, Japanese-styled Bungaku-Bunraku enactments, a dose of medieval commedia d’ell arte and an enormous supply of Yoruba Alarinjo with a bit of the Akata from Efik and Ibibioland. And the star in this comedy of errors that the Nigerian National Assembly has become is a gentleman called Dino Melaye. He is the perfect archetype of all that is wrong or right with the Nigerian legislature, a fine representation of contradictory binaries, and a lesson unto the rest of us.  

I am not condemning Dino Melaye. I am in fact just about to say that we created a man like him, just as before him, we needed a Busari Adelakun, and a Lamidi Adedibu to show us the true character of Nigerian politics. And to those who think Dino Melaye is something of an aberration, I say to them that Dino Melaye is indeed a true picture of Nigerian politics. He is much smarter and far more politically savvy than those who condemn him. His Wikipedia profile announces that his ambition is to be Nigeria’s President someday, may be he won’t become President, but he may suddenly show up in the future as something close to that high office. He is far more Nigerian than those who criticize or condemn him. He knows the system. He plays the system. He has the capacity to beat the system. Most people who get to the top in Nigeria beat the system, and when they do so, they flaunt their smartness in the people’s face. The pundits write their articles but nothing changes, because a man like Dino Melaye can get a whole Vice Chancellor of a University created under the Act to do his bidding, and a National Assembly to queue up behind him.  

I read one piece in which the writer was wondering how on earth we ended up with a Dino Melaye in the National Assembly: A man like that whose brand raises too many questions.  His school certificate result is not exactly impressive. His year of graduation from Ahmadu Bello University has been controversial, even with the sitting Vice Chancellor’s needless testimony. Nobody is sure whether a BA or a BSc is the appropriate description of a degree in Geography. Dino’s name is allegedly missing in the University’s Graduation Year Brochure, an omission that nobody has been able to explain. There is an NYSC group photograph but he is just about the only person not properly dressed. Former classmates have confirmed that he was actually a university student and that he graduated, and the Vice Chancellor says he got a Third Class. Third Class!

I have never seen any student so proud of a Third Class like Dino Melaye. To celebrate his Third Class he wore to the National Assembly, a Doctoral candidate’s gown, and thus insulted the entire academic establishment. I have a Ph.D gown and the full robes of the Nigerian Academy of Letters, but no form of temporary insanity will make me wear either of both robes to a wedding party. Dino Melaye is a Nigerian Senator; nobody should be surprised if one of these days he wears his distinguished borrowed robes to a funeral just to convince everyone that he has a university degree. No serious person advertises a Third Class degree, but Dino Melaye says on top of that, he has acquired six additional degrees, including certificates from Harvard and the London School of Economics! The lesson from this is that the certificates of everyone who aspires to lead Nigeria at any level must be carefully verified henceforth. Only God knows how many persons at the highest levels in Nigeria are parading certificates and qualifications that should form the subject of scrutiny. A nation that is led by the least educated and the most ignorant of its population is definitely in trouble.

In the United States, a man like Dino Melaye would probably never win an election. His former wife, Tokunbo accused him of battery and domestic violence and showed pictures to prove her point. Her short-lived successor made similar claims, spent six months and fled. There was another lady, one of those “man-eating” Nollywood girls who entertained us with her misery and the story of a child and DNA tests. If the wives and the baby mamas were wrong, Dino Melaye soon had a tiff with Senator Remi Tinubu and what he said about her menopausal status, we don’t have to repeat.  He even went to the front of Remi Tinubu’s house in Lagos to pose for a photograph, daring her husband to do his worst. Senator Tinubu’s husband, the Jagaban of Borgu, Asiwaju of Lagos, former Governor of Lagos and national leader of the APC knew better. The last time Dino Melaye got into a duel, he came out of it with torn clothes, which he proudly advertised.

Dino Melaye poses as an anti-corruption crusader. He rides some of the most exotic cars in Nigeria, all labeled Dino 1 to 5 or whatever. He is loud, flamboyant, and unconventional. He can talk, which means he is articulate, he is fearless, he is also fiercely and stubbornly loyal to the incumbent Senate President Bukola Saraki. He can sing. He can dance. He obviously has no respect for women because he is a macho-man, an alpha male. He can also fight, and he considers journalists the scum of the earth. That is why when Omoyele Sowore of Sahara Reporters digs into his past and qualifications, his immediate response is to say that he is being stalked and to go after the investigative journalist with everything that he can deploy. Melaye was elected as a Senator to make laws for good governance, but he has been busy acting like he is an awada kerikeri actor on loan to the National Assembly.

I am not condemning him. He won an election. In fact he has won many elections. The people who voted for him must see something in him. The man who represented Kogi West before him used to make useful contributions that made the headlines, he was respected for his informed interventions; there was never a time he wore torn clothes to the Red Chamber, but the people voted him out and elected Dino Melaye and since he started ruffling things up, nobody who voted for him has questioned him. You actually get the impression that Melaye is considered a hero in his Kogi West constituency. This should explain why he enjoys being the drama king of the National Assembly.

To politicians of his type, every kind of publicity is good publicity.  It is better to be heard and known, for whatever reason, than to be unknown and unsung.  In Melaye’s mind, he is obviously having fun. The kerfuffle over his academic qualification is probably as far as he is concerned, a joke, because afterall, he doesn’t need more than a secondary school certificate to be a member of the National Assembly. When we write about him, discuss his politics, interview him, project him in the media, we are actually promoting his politics and brand.

His kind of brand works in Nigeria. What was the value of Busari Adelakun’s politics or that of Lamidi Adedibu? But both men ended up being more prominent in their constituencies than other politicians of their time. Lamidi Adedibu, the exponent of Amala politics, was so powerful, when a certain Governor refused to pay him Godfather-rent, he got him removed from office and as they say, nothing happened. Adedibu derived his power from being close and loyal to a bigger man of power. He could sing too. And he could dance. And that is perhaps why Dino Melaye should be taken seriously when he breaks out into a song:

A je kun iya ni o je

A je kun iya ni o je

E ni ti o to ni na, to n dena de ni

A je kun iya ni oje

That song is now top of the charts in Nigeria today, with a remix and multiple parodies by other public figures. The only man who is probably yet to learn that song is Senator Ali Ndume, but it is a song that speaks to him directly and accounts for his six-month suspension from the Senate. It is also a song about power and dictatorship. There is nothing in it about values or fairness, or justice. It is a might-is-right composition, about the mighty punishing and oppressing the powerless. “A je kun iya” emphasizes the severity of punishment, “eni ti o to ni na” underscores the imbalance of weight, and the lack of equality in strength. It is a song of intimidation, threat and abuse, completely arrogant in tone and sense.

Dino Melaye knows how to taunt his critics. I visited his website: dinomelaye.com. There are nice photographs and links to other sites including his Facebook page, projecting him as a courageous and outspoken anti-corruption crusader and a political activist. We do not find any information about the bills and motions that he sponsored, or projects that he has embarked upon, or his relationship with his Kogi West Constituency. This may be an oversight on the part of those who manage the site for him, but their omission is perhaps in order, since Dino Melaye is better known for the drama that he creates. 

His Wikipedia profile offers nothing more impressive other than the notably juicy details about his marital life, his threat to “beat and impregnate another man’s wife”, and his monumental contribution to legislative debate about how Nigerian men should stop “importing” wives from foreign countries. To this should be added his promotion of the “aje kun iya” folk song into a quasi-national anthem. Elsewhere, a lawmaker’s profile online would refer to his or her electoral history, committee assignments and ideological positions on key national issues. What constitutes a lawmaker’s brand is what he stands for and how well he has served the people. 

Dino Melaye’s brand is peculiar: he can sing, dance, fight and speak out loud.  He is an artful master of form. But what exactly does he stand for? What is his position on national security, healthcare, federalism, social security or agriculture? I don’t know.  But I won’t condemn him, because he is a well-made product of Nigerian politics. It is after all, difficult to know what most contemporary Nigerian politicians stand for. He is in addition, probably much better than half of the National Assembly. He is more attentive at least than all those other Senators who don’t attend plenary, certainly better than those who have spent more time there dozing off, or the ones who have spent years in that Assembly and have never uttered a word, or sponsored a bill, support a motion or do anything of note. The pity is that many of such are now running up and down, seeking to become Governors in their states in 2019. So, why won’t Dino Melaye nurse the ambition of becoming President someday? A je kun iya ni o je…

I once wrote about Nigeria’s “children of anger”, but the country seems to have progressed from anger to clinical depression, resulting in a rise not merely in social aggressiveness, but a determination by certain individuals to escape from it all. 

The percentage of Nigerians seeking escape through suicide nonetheless remains small relative to the size of the population, but the sharp increase in the number and frequency of reported suicides in the last two years alone speaks to a certain dysfunctionality requiring closer inquiry.  

Suicide is an act of self-destruction, an escape from the self, an act of self-defeat. Whether the suicide is anomic or fatalistic, due to loss of job, broken relationships, dis-inhibition, economic deprivation, environmental factors, disability or psychosis, it usually arises from an awareness of the inadequacy of the self.  What Germans call “weltschmerz”, that is, a discrepancy between personal expectations and the reality of personal space, which for many may result in anger, aggressiveness, a feeling of rejection, isolation, inadequacy and ultimately a revolt against the self.

It is often assumed that poverty is synonymous with this resolve to deconstruct the self but the highest suicide rates are actually found in countries with wealth, and better environment, and all ten of the most popular spots for suicide in the world are in developed countries. 

What is certain however regardless of the place and time, is that human beings decide to abbreviate their own mortality when they resolve that they can no longer live with the discrepancy between what they are and what they would like to be, or what they have been and what they have suddenly become or what they expect and what happens to them eventually, all of this basically in the context of the imagined stigma, shame, disgrace or disappointment.

What is instructive in our own circumstance, however, is that suicide has always been frowned upon in our society: It is forbidden by law, religion, society and tradition, to the extent that in local communities, persons who commit suicide are not given any decent burial, they are thrown into the evil forest to serve as a deterrence to others, and the affected family is stigmatized. It is for this reason perhaps that suicide cases used to be very few in our land. Besides, Nigerians are known for their optimism and resilience.

We were once described as one of the happiest people on earth, and one Dictionary describes a segment of our population, the Yoruba as the “fun-loving people of the South West part of Nigeria.”  Nigerians love life so much they describe virtually every funeral as a “celebration of life” and every life, including the poorest is advertised in funeral posters as “a life well spent.” 

The cemetery is seen as a desolate, lonely, outside corner of the social space where no one is in a hurry to go.  But all that has changed; or appears to be changing, for in the last two years, suicide seems to have become fashionable among seemingly ordinary folks.

I use the phrase “seemingly ordinary folks” advisedly, because the other kind of suicide that is known to Nigerians remains even surprising, and I refer here to the terrorism, religious fundamentalism-inspired suicide attempts of the likes of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab and Boko Haram agents. When the news broke in 2009, that the former had been uncovered as a suicide bomber, Nigerians were shocked. 

The reaction then was that it was impossible for a Nigerian to willingly decide to die for, of all reasons, ideological or religious reasons. We were soon proven wrong when Boko Haram began to deploy both male and female, mature and teenage, suicide bombers who turned Nigeria into an extension of the killing fields of al-Qaeda. This trend continues, with the hope within the larger society, that it is something that would end someday.

What the emerging literature shows is that the conditions for every suicide vary in time and space, but in Nigeria, the reported cases point to too many cases of self-deconstruction on the basis of economic deprivation, loss of status, debt, helplessness. The responsibility of government is to ensure the security and welfare of the people. There has been a great failing in this regard, with the people driven further below their perceived reality, which reinforces the causative principle earlier defined. 

Some of the recently reported cases are as follows: a man ended it all because he could not give his wife “chop-money”, another woman chose to die because she could not pay off her debts, in one week in Lagos, a doctor, two women and an elderly man chose the Lagoon as their death-spot. With the way the Lagos Lagoon has suddenly become a popular spot for suicide in Nigeria, it may well  in due course, become one of the most popular suicide spots in the world.

It is noteworthy, if I must say so, that the ten most popular suicide spots on earth are associated with the sea, and bridges, with perhaps the sole exception of the Aokigahara Forest-Mount Fuji in Japan where suicide rate is as high as 100 per year. The Japanese may tolerate suicide and consider it supernatural, but here in Nigeria, it is a growing trend that should be discouraged.  Some priests have said the Lagos Lagoon is angry and that is why it has been attracting persons to jump into it: if indeed whatever spirit that controls the Lagoon is hungry, the Oba of Lagos and his chiefs should hurry up and feed that spirit with whatever it eats. I assume that this would be a more useful venture than the partisan declaration by the Oba of Lagos that nobody should contest against the incumbent Lagos State Governor in 2019! 

But how about the other unreported causes of suicide, far away from the Lagoon? This is where the dilemma lies and where our constructive social theory, and the admissibility of every piece of evidence, empirical and customary, meets a brick-wall.    

As a country, society and government, we would always have to deal with deviant behaviour, into which category suicide – the ultimate act of violence and rebellion against self and society falls in this particular context, what is crucial is society’s level of preparedness to reduce the scope and range. 

In Nigeria, we are not prepared at all. When people fall into depression in other countries, they visit counselors and psychiatrists. In Nigeria, a prominent leader once dismissed psychology as a useless course that should be removed from the curriculum. Graduates of psychology end up doing something else, or they end up offering pro bono counseling on social media like my in-law, Joro Olumofin, but with people dying for no just reasons and jumping into the river or hanging themselves or killing their spouses and family members, this is a country in urgent need of professional counselors. Psychiatry is another relevant discipline that has been utterly neglected.

I once gave a keynote address at the Psychiatric Hospital, Aro in Abeokuta and I was again Keynote Speaker at the 100th anniversary of Psychiatry in Nigeria. Nothing has changed since then. We don’t have enough psychiatric doctors or hospitals in Nigeria. The few psychiatric hospitals are poorly funded, psychiatric doctors are poorly treated, the discipline is disregarded, and yet this is a country of psychotic cases at all levels, the more serious cases are in government, making decisions that create more problems of bipolar disorder in the larger society. 

Nigeria is a victim, like many other developing countries, of a one-sided embrace of globalization and its gains and evils. People watch TV and they are socialized into a new form of thinking that is disconnected with local values and culture. They become anti-heroes in the process. Suicide or attempted suicide has not fetched any one or any family any kind of honour in our society.

Given this sociology, greater attention needs to be paid to the increasing incidence of suicide, in the North and the South particularly, with the most vulnerable states properly identified and strategic intervention measures put in place. A preliminary observation indicates that the most affected persons in the North are radical Islamic extremists used as pawns by the Boko Haram, while in the 10 most affected states in the South, the cause is basically existential.  This observation is based on reported cases, but with the increasing frequency, it is safe to hazard a guess that there are many more unreported cases, which may provide additional or different sociological conclusions.

Whatever the case may be, this rise of despair in the country needs to be managed. Suicide prevention hotlines have been announced, but the thought of suicide should be discouraged in the first place, through better governance, opportunities for professional counseling, and better management of mental health.  Most Nigerians don’t even know who to go to, or talk to when they are depressed! And if they know, they don’t want their private secrets to be known. When the suicide succeeds or fails, the relatives are in need of help: they will need counseling, to deal with the frustration and the shame.

I believe that suicide-related problems can be fixed. The challenge is to convert the people’s pessimism into optimism through people-centred governance and to deliver the much-expected, much-trumpeted change in their circumstances. Disappointment leads to frustration, to anger, to despondency, to losses, to despair and ultimately to self-destruction for the weak-hearted.  But suicide is not a solution. And to those who doubt this, Teebliz, Tiwa Savage’s husband is a living testimony.  Not too long ago, he wanted to jump into the Lagoon. He said his wife, the award- winning singer, had disappointed him. He accused her of many better-unmentioned-again-things. He could not take it anymore and he wanted to self-destruct.  

His suicide attempt was more or less televised, because it was everywhere on social media - it is not every suicide that is so televised- eventually he was prevented from taking the plunge, and he raved and ranted afterwards and then went quiet. Months later, he has been shown taking photographs with the same woman for whom he wanted to play a Romeo without a Juliet.  In their most recent outings, they have been shown with their son, Jamil who looks like his father’s twin, and last weekend, the boy had his Christening at a church in Lekki. Teebliz has been pictured bonding with his son and beaming with fatherly pride.

If he had jumped into the Lagoon when he wanted to do so, he would have been long dead and forgotten. But Teebliz looks much happier now, and deep within him, he must be grateful to the persons who did not allow him to jump.  He must be particularly happy seeing his son growing up into a fine young kid. There is nothing in this life that cannot be fixed and there lies the futility of suicide.  

A fortnight ago, I was in Ondo state to attend an event; that was the day the heavens chose to open up. The rainy season seems to have started early this year, and whenever it rains, even mother earth opens up to drink water from the skies, the heat wave of the dry season abates, a certain balance is restored to the environment, man, animal and nature are re-united in a silent cosmic communion. 

It didn’t just rain on this particular day. It rained cats and dogs. On the first leg of the journey, I had travelled to Akure through the Ibadan-Ilesha route and I felt this was a particularly stressful road. By the time we got to Ikeji-Arakeji, my stomach was tied in knots. I was so distressed I felt I needed sleeping tablets to survive the rest of the journey. My limbs ached after more than five hours of a journey that had become a trial and error experiment on crazily damaged roads.

I resolved that I would not take that route back. I also sympathized with my friends from that part of the country who have to endure so much punishment to travel from Lagos or wherever to their homes in the Northern part of Yorubaland. Navigating one bump after another, jumping from one pothole into another and having to manage all the dangers that lie in wait on the long road to one’s destination is absolute nightmare. 

The Ife-Ilesha bypass, which used to be so smooth has become really bad, it has fallen into shameful disrepair, a signpost of poor maintenance and the poor quality of road construction, with the contractors, gaining more than the people in the long run.  

I decided that the return journey would be through Ondo, Ore all the way to Ijebu Ode and further down. A straight line, we are all told, is a shorter distance between two points. I also felt we could save time having arrived at our destination, rather late.  So, on the return leg of the journey we headed towards Ondo. And the rainfall began. 

It was so heavy it rained all the way from that axis down to Ibadan and Ore, and many houses in Ibadan, I later learnt, lost their aged, brownish, zinc roofs to the accompanying storm and turbulence.  If you have ever travelled between Akure and Ore, you’d recall many parts of the road that are so bushy, the trees and shrubs cantilever onto the road. In places, trees even cast a shadow upon the road on both sides, evoking images and feelings of rustic naturalness. On this day, nature was no longer an aesthetic luxury, but a hindrance and a threat.  

As the rains fell and the storms raged, many trees were uprooted and they fell across the road.  The rainfall had disturbed visibility and slowed down our movement and as time passed, I became restless. I didn’t want us to travel at night, but we were already on our way back and it looked like nature was going to delay us. We eventually had to stop. Very heavy traffic had built up ahead and for a while, we kept wondering what the situation was all about.

 In the midst of that rainfall, some people stepped out of their vehicles and started walking ahead to find out the cause of the gridlock.  They soon returned one by one, in twos and threes, and as they did, some of them went to the boot of their vehicles and brought out machetes: shining, well-sharpened, glistening machetes. 

In a matter of minutes, more machetes had surfaced, with young, able men, wielding the machetes and moving forward in the direction of the source of the gridlock.  Three trees had fallen across the road, with the branches turning the entire road into a wall.

About twenty minutes later, the men with the machetes began to return to their vehicles, soaked wet from head to toe, but looking excited and pleased. They had taken care of the nuisance of the fallen trees. With their machetes, they reduced the trees to moveable parts, severed the branches and created enough space for traffic to flow again. My driver was happy. He engaged some of the machete-wielding men in paced conversation and they assured him they had taken care of the problem. I watched as they returned their machetes to whence they took them from. Gradually, the traffic began to flow again. It continued to rain.

We got to Ondo, and moved towards the Ondo-Ore road, about two hours of travel time. We had done less than an hour when again we ran into another traffic gridlock. Again, trees had fallen across the road and blocked movement.  I wondered aloud if we would ever get home.

“Oga, e ma worry. People will sort it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry.”

And just as had happened previously, drivers started opening up parts of their vehicles and brought out machetes. The bus driver directly in front of us walked briskly to the boot of the vehicle and pulled out about six machetes, which he gave out to some volunteers, and together they marched, along with other machete-wielding folks, towards the front as if they were going to war. I didn’t find it funny. I complained.

“Egunje, the way these people are bringing out machetes, this road is very dangerous. Look at how people are brandishing machetes.”

“E jo sir, e ma fi iyen sile. Leave that matter, Oga. If these people don’t carry machetes, we would still be stranded between Akure and Ondo.  Which government is going to help anybody cut any tree in this forest? But with those machetes, we’d soon be free.”

“But a machete is a dangerous weapon.”

“But they have not used it to cut anybody’s flesh. They are using it to make the road motorable. May we not see something bad. What if somebody travels on this road at night and runs into a fallen tree on the road? People have learnt to protect themselves.”

“The police should not allow people to carry machetes.”

“It’s like you don’t know what is going on sir. People carry guns. They carry other things. Ilu le. Country hard.”

“So, all those checkpoints. The policemen don’t look out for dangerous weapons.”

“Police. Which police? Nigeria police? Well, if they had checked and seized all these machetes, we would probably end up sleeping in this jungle.”

“There are very serious security implications,” I said.

“There is nothing. When people travel on Nigerian roads regularly, they are prepared for anything, especially these motorists. They know all the dangers that lie ahead and they are tired of expecting government to perform any miracle.”

While we chatted, the volunteers again sorted out the problem.  Four young men returning to their vehicles at the back, scratched the road with their machetes, and attempted a mock dance as they raised the machetes above their heads and crossed them mid-air.  The traffic moved. Our journey continued. I was uncomfortable still with the number of machetes on the road.

We had two more such delays before we got to a village close to Ore, and at each point, the same story, but certainly not the same vehicles or motorists, but as it were, it was as if every vehicle or motorist was armed with machetes, to be called to service at the moment of need.  I felt this was wrong.  

The least that either the state government or the Federal government, even the affected local governments can do is to clear any thick bush along this particular road, create necessary setbacks, make the shoulders of the road less of a hindrance, and trim or remove all trees cantilevering onto the road. The road between Akure and Ore is old, broken, dilapidated, narrow, and even as the rainy season begins, nature poses an even more serious threat.    

As we got closer to the next village, we encountered a few speed breakers, and the driver slowed down to cross them.  As he did, first, second, we suddenly heard a loud crashing sound from behind.  The driver and I were pushed forcefully towards the windscreen, but the seat belts pulled us back, the books I had kept on the back seat flew in all directions, the vehicle itself was propelled forward. Another vehicle, running at high speed, and ignoring the speed bumps had crashed into our vehicle. The accident didn’t make any sense whatsoever.   

It wasn’t yet dark, so the other motorist could not have claimed he didn’t see the speed breakers. But it was as if something stood between that other vehicle and ours to reduce the impact. The vehicle lost its entire front, from the radiator, close to the windscreen. 

Water dripped from its radiator, broken vehicle parts and glass shards littered the floor.  Seeing the extent of the damage, I pitied the motorist. He was travelling with his son and they both made a show of apologizing and pretending to be sober by patting our vehicle and the damaged bumper as if they were caressing a woman.

We picked whatever pieces we could match together. I didn’t utter a word, even as Tony Tetuila’s “You don hit my car…” played in my head. But other motorists on both sides of the road who came along did not spare the man at all.

“What is this now, Mr Man? Were you sleeping?”

“Is this man drunk? How can you run into any vehicle with all these speed bumps here?”

“Stupid man!”

“Ki le le yi. You must make sure he repairs your car for you.”

The man kept pacing up and down. I said nothing, as my driver started giving the man an ad-hoc driving lesson. I thought it was pointless. Many Nigerians driving on our roads never bothered to learn how to drive. It is in fact a thing of pride for someone to tell you: “Nobody taught me how to drive. I never went to any driving school.  I just took a car one day and I started driving it.”  Ask the same person if he has a driver’s licence, he will produce a valid one! There is also the large population of those who drink and drive and nobody arrests them, those who have no regard for speed limits or traffic regulations and the utterly impossible ones who refuse to maintain their vehicles.

I looked up; something crossed my mind. A friend once told me that armed robbers and kidnappers on Nigerian roads use all kinds of tricks to stop you and carry out their evil plan. They could deliberately run into your vehicle from behind, knowing you’d come out of the vehicle. They could throw an egg targeting your windscreen and as the yolk spills onto your windscreen, you may lose visibility if you try to clean it off, or an object with nails can be placed on the road, to burst your tyres… I looked at the man and his son…they didn’t look like kidnappers and armed robbers.  But how do kidnappers and armed robbers look? What if they had machetes in their boot? 

I kept my eyes on the man. As each passing motorist hurled expletives at him, I watched. Then someone suddenly called out my name from the other side of the road. I saw the man who had hit our vehicle now moving towards the back of his car… The image of people fetching machetes from their boots flashed through my mind. I quickly jumped into the car and asked Egunje to move.      

We got home very late. As we parked the car, the entire exhaust pipe suddenly dropped onto the floor. The driver screamed and held his head with both hands.

As someone who has been in that corridor recently, I do not share the view of those who insist that President Muhammadu Buhari’s recent 50-day medical vacation was mismanaged by his  handlers, up to this point. I said this much during a recent interview on Channels TV’s Politics Today with Seun Okinbaloye.

In the face of the people’s rising and insatiable expectations, it is often an uphill task to balance so many considerations in a country that is so divided on all fronts.  The duty of the President’s handlers is to prevent such unnecessary news that could destabilize the polity, or create a national security crisis.

The President occupies the most important office in a democracy such as ours because the people look up to that office and its occupier for strength, inspiration and confidence.  When a President suddenly takes ill, the implications for politics, power play and national security are far-reaching. I have already dealt with the manner in which this is so, in an earlier article online, titled  “From London to Abuja in 50 days: Buhari’s return”.

What is the general complaint? It is this: that the nature and the seriousness of whatever ails the President is deliberately shielded from the public. This has resulted in a lot of speculations, and anxiety. A Professor of Medicine, Femi Williams, became so concerned he began to diagnose the President’s ailment by just looking at commonplace photographs. His latest contribution is that looking at the President since he arrived, he seems to be suffering from anaemia.

I don’t know what branch of medicine allows professional doctors to do diagnosis based on ordinary photographs, but Professor Williams’ interest in the matter reflects the manner in which the general populace is curious about the health of the President. This can also be traced to the President Umaru Yar’Adua experience, who died long after the Presidency had kept the people in the dark and refused to respect Constitutional obligations - the outcome of which was a national crisis.  

The people have the right to be inquisitive, but one of the things I learnt as Presidential Spokesperson interfacing with our country’s security agencies and agents (that is another complex and professional territory) is that there is a sharp line between the right to know and the need to know. As someone who needed information, I always insisted on the right to know, but the intelligence community on many occasions drew the blankets, and spoke about the need to know. Their argument as I understand it is that if the people are allowed to know everything then the state would be jeopardized, and national security subverted, but the grey boundary is this: whose security is more important in the long run, the people’s security or the security of power?

It would seem that if President Buhari’s handlers have committed any sin, it is that they were more concerned about the security of power and office. But I argued on Channels TV that this is nothing unusual, and has been the case in other jurisdictions in Europe and the United States. The most celebrated example is that of President Grover Cleveland of the United States, a case study on Presidential illness and the politics of power that is well reported in a book tilted “The President is A Sick Man” by Matthew Algeo. Cleveland, the 22nd and the 24th President of the United States, was one of the most popular politicians of his time. He was an orator who knew how to get the crowds excited. When he returned to power for a second time in 1893, he was regarded as a messiah of sorts.

He boasted about getting America out of recession, the first recession in American history, and setting the economy on a good path. He also boasted about dealing with corruption. He would fight corruption and run a transparent government! The people cheered. But then one morning, Cleveland discovered a swelling on the roof of his mouth. It got worse. It was diagnosed as cancer. He had just taken over power. Everyone looked up to him to do the magic. It was politically inexpedient to tell the public that Cleveland was down with cancer. But the cancer was benign. But the public could not even be so informed.

Cancer was a plague in those days as it is now.  To undergo surgery, Cleveland’s handlers sold a dummy to the public that he was going on a vacation cruise, on a friend’s yacht for six days. A team of surgeons was put together and they performed the miracle of removing Cleveland’s cancer in 90 minutes while the yacht cruised on high seas. So important was power and Presidential appearance that they had to ensure the President’s trademark moustache was not tampered with in any way. The President returned. Nobody knew what actually happened while he was on a cruise. He wasn’t seen in public for 4 weeks. 

But as in Nigeria, people talk, human beings are human beings, so the story leaked and one journalist E. J. Edwards leaked the story. The White House descended on him. He was dismissed as a writer of “fake news,” and a “disgrace to American journalism.” The truth came out about 12 years later, long after Cleveland was no longer President.

Several American Presidents died in office due to ill-health. William Harrison, of pneumonia, Zachary Taylor of cholera, Franklin Delano Roosevelt of heart disease, George Washington served two terms struggling with malaria, smallpox, tuberculosis, dysentery, before finally succumbing to epiglottitis. In 1919, Woodrow Wilson had stroke for the remaining part of his presidency. The left side of his body was paralyzed, he was blind in his left eye, and was bedridden for two years. By 1920, he had lost his memory and mental health. His wife, Edith Wilson took charge and all of that was hidden from the public.  

Franklin Delano Roosevelt ran for President in 1932 on a wheelchair, which was conveniently downplayed by the press. By the time he ran for a fourth time in 1944, he had heart disease. Harry Truman, his Vice President didn’t see him for a whole year! Calvin Coolidge was known as the do-nothing President. After the death of his son, Calvin Jnr., he lost interest in the affairs of state and slept for 11 hours a day! In 1955, Dwight Eisenhower had a heart attack, an abdominal operation in 1956, and a stroke in 1957. 

John F. Kennedy took steroids twice a day to treat Addison’s disease. Bob Woodward reports in his book, Veil, that after the 1981 assassination attempt, Ronald Reagan was only alert for one hour a day!  George W. Bush transferred power to Dick Cheney twice to undergo colonoscopy surgeries.  In France, in 1981, Francois Mitterrand, who had promised that he would run “an open Presidency”, suddenly discovered that he had prostate cancer, which had already spread to his bones. He called his doctor aside and told him, this must be treated as “state secret”.  He spent the rest of his Presidency battling with prostate cancer.

Far from justifying Presidential illness, the salient point is that Presidents are human beings and their immune systems can also fail, but the politics of managing Presidential illness wherever has always been a matter of optics and power. Every President wants to be loved by his people. No President imagines that he would occupy the highest office in the land and be disliked by the same people who voted him into office. Many Presidents even consider themselves supermen, and even when they are ill, they still want to be loved. 

Human beings can fall ill at any time, but the lesson of the Yar’Adua experience and now, Buhari’s, whose medical condition had been long announced by the PDP during the campaigns, teaches us that the medical condition of every aspiring public office holder should now and in the future be given special attention.

I stand by the point that President Buhari’s spin-doctors however did the best they could. They managed the optics: telephone calls, high profile visits. And when they saw power was beginning to shift base, they brought him back. Since his return, they have managed the optics even better. On Monday, he resumed in his office, informed the National Assembly and met with his Vice President who had acted while he was away. No one should be under any doubt that the people who manage the President would allow him to be projected as sick and incapacitated.

I recall a day in London. President Goodluck Jonathan suddenly had a stomach upset and he had to be rushed to the hospital. I was part of his Main Body, that is what we were called, that special team that he never travelled or went anywhere without and I am grateful for that special privilege. 

I was summoned shortly after to join him in the hospital because he wanted to issue a statement to inform Nigerians that he was indisposed and had been hospitalized. When I got to the hospital, I was received by a team of powerful players who delivered Oga’s message at the reception and asked me to do a draft there and then for all of us to consider and approve.

 After preparing the statement, I insisted on seeing the President for approval. They told me the doctors were busy with him and they wanted him to rest. I protested that I could not issue a statement without his direct approval. They told me not to worry that this was an emergency situation, and I could see the President later. It was a short, harmless statement, informing Nigerians that the President was indisposed but it was nothing to worry about.  

About an hour later, I went up to see the President. First, he asked why I didn’t come up to see him to issue the statement he wanted. I told him I already did so, because I had been told what he wanted me to say.  He asked to see a copy of the statement I issued. I handed it over. He read it.  He was upset.

“This press release does not disclose that I am here just because of a stomach upset. You have to tell the people what the exact ailment is to prevent any speculation. If you don’t state it as it is, you will allow people to start guessing.”

The powerful players who told me what the President wanted and that it was an emergency were by my side. I just muttered: “Sorry sir.”

“Anytime I am ill, just tell Nigerians what exactly is wrong with me.  That is why I sent for you. Nobody knows tomorrow, but whatever is related to my health as President, you must inform Nigerians fully.”  

When President Jonathan is interested in a conversation with you, he will look directly into your eyes. But the moment he looks away and starts fidgeting or he is busy trying to attend to something else, it means he has dismissed you.  I got the message. “Sorry sir”.  I left his bedside.  

The people who talked to me, followed me. One of them said:

“Abati, don’t worry yourself, that is a very good statement. Don’t mind him. He wants you to tell Nigerians that he has stomach upset. Before you know it now, the papers tomorrow will report that the President has lost the stomach for the job, and our enemies will start using that against us.”  

The job of a Presidential spokesman is definitely the second most difficult job in the Presidency. We were told for 50 days that President Buhari was hale and hearty, but he came back and said: “I have never been so sick!” He also gave the impression that his treatment is still inconclusive.

The cities of Daura -President Muhammadu Buhari’s home town, Kano - his political base, and Kaduna -where he has a home, and where the aircraft that brought him from London landed early Friday, March 10, as well as other parts of the North saw the people trooping out to jubilate and thank God for his safe return. 

I noticed that there was no such jubilation in the entire South West, the East, the Middle Belt and the South South. This is understandable.

Too many cynics and mischief-makers in these other parts of the country had expected the worst and they had been busy promoting the Acting President Yemi Osinbajo as a better man in the President’s seat. 

The manner in which President Buhari’s absence from the country seemed to have divided the country emotionally is perhaps one of the saddest outcomes of that experience. It was the longest period any sitting President in Nigeria would stay away from office. But the really sad news is that it again projected the ethnic differences within the country.

The fact that Buhari’s absence was due to illness raised anxieties on all fronts about the economy and the country’s political prospects. Whereas President Buhari had dutifully and lawfully excused himself and delegated power to Vice President Yemi Osinbajo who became Acting President, this created fresh and troubling problems on the political front. Mischief-makers began to promote Osinbajo: comments appeared in the social and traditional media, praising every step he took while his boss was away.

Meanwhile, his boss received more bashing than was the case at any other time since he assumed office. Whoever managed or instigated that mischievous media messaging process did Osinbajo a bad turn. One of the golden rules of power is this: Never outshine the master! It is in fact the first law of power.

While Buhari was away, Osinbajo did, wittingly or unwittingly, and how serious that was became obvious when a Buhari aide had to inform Nigerians that there is a single Presidency and that Osinbajo, as Acting President took instructions from his boss in London. It was a sorry moment, with the President’s men trying to pull back the Acting President’s men, and struggling so hard to preserve the President’s image and hold on to power.

This is why Sai Baba’s return is a game changer, and it probably explains why his kinsmen trooped onto the streets in joy.  I wouldn’t know if he has returned against doctor’s advice, but we all know that he may still have to go to back to London for further tests as he himself has announced in a statement, but coming back at this time is a deft political move. 

Things were beginning to get so bad, power was beginning to slip out of Buhari’s hands. As the Osinbajo persona gained traction, Buhari’s ratings further nosedived.  When Buhari arrived this morning, he changed the narrative. And watch every step that he took: he met with the Executive Council of the Federation: a smart way of re-asserting control. He shook hands with some Governors.

He also issued a statement, which he personally signed. Within a few hours of his return, he took steps that left no one in doubt that he intends to remain in charge. I have seen power-game upfront at the highest level. Nobody should be deceived. 

If there is any cabal in that Aso Villa at this time, its members must be walking with a special bounce. There was even a smiling competition among Buhari’s men in the Villa today. Look at the photos. Some people smiled so much if their teeth had fallen off in the process, they would have gladly attributed it to occupational hazard.

One of the laws of power is that you don’t take power and then allow other people to seize the advantages. Buhari’s return has served one strong purpose: to hold power and keep it where it belongs. But in another strategic move, the man of power has made it clear that his Vice President will continue to act while he recuperates. That is brilliant: Looks like these guys in the Villa are beginning to learn how to play chess. 

With Buhari inside the Villa, even for just two weeks, before he returns to London if he does, he would have enough time to change the calculus of power, including the traffic that may have built up in another direction in his absence.

But Sai Baba don spoil business for prayer warriors oh! I am actually wondering why I did not listen to those friends who advised that we should also organize a get-well prayer session for Buhari. You know-you get-you-understand what I mean…that kind of prayer session that is an investment, with a well-thought-out proposal. You get sponsors, make some money on God’s behalf, publicise the prayer programme so well every important Government official will notice.

 I thought this was thoroughly opportunistic, making money and enjoying privileges off another man’s illness! But may be when Baba goes back to London, I will weigh the options differently. More so as I can see with my own eyes that those prayers may have worked. 

Buhari’s return, in this heavily spiritual country, is probably clear evidence that God answers prayers! And let us not blame those who think so, because there are indeed people in this same country who wanted Sai Baba to remain in medical exile. But at least, now that the President is back, the prayer investors and their notice-me sponsors and those whose political careers depended on the-President-phoned-me-from-London moments will get off our back.  

President Buhari has told everyone who may be planning a trip to Aso Villa on a welcome-back visit to please stay off. Hi-an! Thank you, sir. Let people stay where they are, I beg, and do their work instead of trooping to Aso Villa to do eye service. And nobody should send gifts: in our tradition, when a man is recuperating, it is normal to send packs of tea (and Baba likes his tea!), cartons of milk and fruit juice and biscuits, to ease the recuperation process. I beg make una keep una tea, and other Greek gifts, Baba no want. And I think people should be told not to place any adverts in the newspapers welcoming President Buhari back to Nigeria.

The man I sympathise with is Professor Yemi Osinbajo. He will now have to tone down, roll back and generally stay in the shadows, even with his boss saying he can carry on while he is still recuperating. How can he carry on when the boss is back and on his feet? Can he possibly bear the title of Acting President when the President is back in the Villa? He and his team would have to do a quick re-set, both inside the Villa and in the media. Right now, I do not envy them…as they manage the banana peels of power.

And now that President Buhari is back, it would be most appropriate to draw his attention to many things that happened in his absence. Baba, while you were away…some Ministers were busy making noise, some Nigerians were busy wailing, some of them said you…you… the recession got worse, the Naira effectively became a yo-yo, one actress left her husband and started grumbling about STD, one house-boy in Big Brother Naija tried to get fresh with TBoss and got booted out, there was two- fighting in the PDP…

No, I think I should let you enjoy your first day back home in 50 days. Here is a Yoruba song, which the wailers of the South West refused to sing to welcome you back. Enjoy it:    

Kabo o o,  kaa-aa-bo.

Kaaabo ooo, kaabo

Sai baba to t’ajo de o,

Kaa bo o

Baba wa to t’ajo de o, kaabo

I conclude: The fire next time…  

This is about Stephen Nyitse, the young man who on the day of the coronation of the new Tor Tiv managed to beat security and went straight to where the king’s coronation seat, stool, throne had been placed and sat on it. We are told this caused a stir, and not a few in the crowd must have shouted: “abomination!”. 

Even the President of the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria, Benue branch, Bishop Mike Angou considered Nyitse’s action sacrilegious. He went to the seat, to anoint and rededicate it. Bishop Angou’s intervention obviously was meant to cast out whatever demons Nyitse must have inflicted on the already consecrated kingship throne. 

It is possible also that the ordinary people in attendance and the chiefs of Tivland interpreted it as a bad omen. Africans including the educated live in a world of spirits, demons and magic. Every act or gesture among them, is considered spiritual or religious.

The other side of it has to do with social hierarchy and customs. Our social life is heavily stratified. People are expected to know their place. Young persons are not supposed to disrespect or question elders.  Wisdom is necessarily attached to old age, even if that is definitely untrue. Women are expected to submit to men, and that remains the case for all women in many of our communities. The poor are expected to worship the rich. Employees are expected to be loyal obedient servants.

 This is the content of our socialization in traditional communities, during the colonial period and even long after colonialism. When we were growing up, there were many things that were taken as normal that would today look absolutely ridiculous to our children.  Children were not expected to talk back to their parents: if you did that, you could earn many strokes of the cane.  In many families, whenever the father of the house was at home, nobody would try to be assertive, and any news that Daddy was returning from work would send both the children and their mother scampering in all directions.

Thus, in every home, there were boundaries. You were told never to start a meal by eating meat.  That had to be the last routine. Children nowadays eat the meat or fish and just pick at the main dish. Parents even take their children to eateries and buy them roasted chickens. In those days, there was Daddy’s cup: you would never be caught drinking out of that cup. Daddy’s chair: you were not allowed to sit on it! Daddy’s Radio: Ha, of course, you would not go near that miserable transistor radio. 

In those families where they had television sets, a rarity in those days, with the most popular being the black and white Grundig, usually securely locked, nobody was expected to touch that screaming evidence of family wealth!

It was black and white TV of course, but it only came alive whenever the father of the house, special custodian of the key to that box, opened it for viewing. If this was the custom in ordinary homes, imagine what crisis would have erupted in the larger community if a commoner were to sit on a king’s throne!

The times may be changing, but our communities are still governed by many codes and rules into which every family is expected to socialize their children and members. There is also something called protocol. In formal situations, it is considered rude to go and occupy a seat that has been reserved either for elders or special guests not to talk of the king. This can be seen even in the arrangement of official protocol in government. This is why the Vice President, for example would refuse to sit on the President’s seat, even when the President is on leave and he, the Deputy is acting as President.

 In many states, nobody would dare sit physically on any seat reserved for the Governor. At the VIP lounge at our various airports, I have seen ordinary VIPs, occupying seats reserved for the President or for a special official of high rank. I have had to ask one or two persons to vacate that seat. How do you know a seat meant for the President? Usually, there would be a flag behind it, usually two flags: the Nigerian flag and the flag of the Commander-in-Chief.  Can you imagine a civil servant sitting in front of those two flags? If he is caught, he would be chased out of that seat as if he had committed an abomination.

So, on all fronts, Stephen Nyitse behaved badly. His excuse that he wanted to “anoint” the King’s seat is stupid, because nobody gave him that assignment. Who is he?: A pastor or a demonic agent, driven by the spirits?  In these days of Boko Haram and suicide bombing, the security agents did well by arresting him and whisking him away for interrogation.  

But that is where it should end, more so as the police seem to have confirmed that he is not mentally ill, even if he is, that would be the more reason he should be helped and not punished. Stephen Nyitse has also not committed any offence known to law. He sat on the seat that would become a throne. He did not kill anybody. He did not disrupt the ceremony. Nobody was injured as a result of his action. He did not resist arrest.  He could probably have said he acted out of love like that other man who named his dog Buhari!  

This is one case that we should all probably have laughed off as a comic relief from Benue State. But it is nothing titillating, because of the final decision taken by the Tiv Traditional Council to banish Stephen Nyitse from Tivland, with strict instructions that no Tiv son or daughter must ever relate with him or help him.  He is thus now, officially an outcast among his people. 

There is no evidence that Nyitse was invited and interrogated by the Traditional Council. For sitting on the King’s chair, the traditional rulers of Tivland have taken away in one fell swoop, Stephen Nyitse’s right to fair hearing and human dignity, and his freedoms of movement, belief, choice, association and assembly. If this was 1840, perhaps the Traditional Council would have ordered his execution. But this is 2017, and under the Nigerian Constitution, no man can be punished except in accordance with the laws of the country. The new Tor Tiv who is a Professor should know that.  

The pronouncement that no Tiv indigene should ever relate with Nyitse obviously includes his wife, if he is married to a Tiv, and of course his children, if he has.  So, he loses his family, and his property if he has any in Tivland, his identity is taken away from him, he is declared a non-person, just because he sat on someone else’s chair? If at the coronation ceremony in question, one of the Tor Tiv’s grandchildren had been the person who walked across to that chair and sat on it, the crowd would have cheered. 

They would have proclaimed that kingship runs in the veins of the new Tor Tiv’s sons. This same Tiv Traditional Council would have said with delight that while coronating one Tor Tiv, the gods showed them a future one! What is called African tradition can oftentimes be that hypocritical. The poor are the victims of the world; oppressed by the rich, the privileged and the local gods of our various villages, and the other gods that sit on thrones.  

If that seat was so important, there should have been someone guarding it. In some traditional communities in this country, such a special seat would have some local chiefs and cult members protecting it, long before the new king is brought to sit on it. If that is not so, a policeman standing behind that seat would have been enough.  

For the Tiv Traditional Council to react so harshly, they must have concluded that Stephen Nyitse offended the gods of their land. That was the context in which persons were banished from communities in the past. But I refer the new Tor Tiv, who is a Christian, to Judges 6: 28-31.  “If Baal really is a god, he can defend himself when someone breaks down his altar.”  

The Tor Tiv, who is obviously the chair of the Tiv Traditional Council should free Stephen Nyitse. If the traditional gods are angry, let them collect goats, kolanuts, and bottles of palm oil.  On his coronation day, the Tor Tiv promised to fight injustice, and defend the interest of all sons and daughters of Tivland. He should not begin his reign on a note of harshness and highhanded-ness. He should begin his reign as a king who forgives…

Onukaba Adinoyi-Ojo (1960-2017)

Onukaba Adinoyi-Ojo, thespian, journalist, playwright, administrator, politician and our friend and colleague died on Sunday on one of Nigeria’s impossibly treacherous roads, fleeing from armed robbers. If armed robbers knew who he was, may be they would have spared him.

He was a true man of talent, a gifted professional and a man who will always be remembered for the quality of his art and person.

 He was not your ordinary journalist. He was an intellectual. He had gravitas and he deployed his polyvalent understanding with ease without going out of his way to intimidate less gifted persons.

 There is so much cant in this country and so much emptiness. But I never caught Onukaba flogging people with his brilliance. He was a very friendly, accommodating and understanding fellow who made many friends because he easily masked his superiority. This was the secret of his success as Managing Director of the Daily Times. In better-organized countries, a man like him will still be alive and not be chased to death by armed robbers. But here we are: another sad story. Nigeria easily kills off its best. 

Onukaba is probably the best airport correspondent Nigeria ever produced. He made his mark at the airport, hunting for stories, interviewing the prominent and the influential, and it was at the airport that he met General Olusegun Obasanjo who changed his life for good.

When I arrived at the University of Ibadan for graduate studies in Theatre Arts, I found myself in a class that had been carefully selected including smart persons from virtually every part of the country: UNN, ABU, Jos, Calabar, Ibadan, Ilorin, Benin, Port Harcourt.  Shuaibu Ojo, as he then was, was one of the three persons from the home department, Ibadan. 

We all knew each other more or less, because theatre students in Nigeria usually meet at an annual festival called NUTAF. The Ibadan students wouldn’t allow me rest: they told me they had Shuaibu in my class and he would show me that Ibadan’s Second Class Upper was superior to my Calabar First Class. I had my head in the clouds in those days. I told them I was waiting for their Shuaibu and that I would not only beat him, but I would also make history in the entire university.

Shuaibu didn’t take up the Ibadan offer. He later went to the United States, where he did a Masters in Journalism and a Ph.D in Performance Studies. I admired him. He is the only Nigerian I knew for a long time with a Ph.D in Performance Studies, the conjunction point of theatre studies, and under Richard Schechner, the scholar who developed that field into a defining medley of theatre, art and politics. Onukaba and I shared many paths over the years- through UI, The Guardian, Africa Leadership Forum, OBJ, Baba or Obas as we call him, journalism, spokesmanship, writing... His death diminishes us. 

The flag should fly at half-mast at all Departments of Theatre, Dramatic, Media and Creative Arts in Nigeria because he was one of the best advertisements of the multi-disciplinary quality of their curriculum. Choo-bo-i, my brother!