Commentary
By Ode Iweh, PhD.*
My cell phone rang one early morning in 2005, in Abidjan, Cote d’ivoire. At the other end of the line was the voice of a Nigerian diplomat then working at the Nigerian Embassy in that country. He was calling to inform me that General Muhammadu Buhari (pictured) would be arriving at the Felix Houphouet Boigny International airport and that he wanted to know if I would like to meet him. I replied saying it would indeed be something of joy for me to meet this man who had ruled my country, Nigeria from 1983 to 1985.
That phone call brought back some memories and I remembered that barely thirty days following my final return to Nigeria, having been away from home for more than 10 years to study in faraway France, there was a coup which ushered in Major General Muhammadu Buhari to power.
I could still remember that, at the various times I had come home on vacation, the general social and economic atmosphere in the country was increasingly subjugated under the yoke of one invisible and invincible enemy that was running the country aground while the masses looked on with uttermost helplessness. Uttermost helplessness that had driven quite a large number of people in the society, ranging from the unemployed youth to the retired civil servant to their early and untimely death.
I did remember still, that during those thirty days preceding the coup, I was on several occasions, plying the Benin-Lagos road to secure an import licence for the clearance of the car I brought with me from France. But what struck me and which apparently seemed normal to most of the passengers I travelled with, each time, was that there were corpses of varying sizes and shapes and degrees of decomposition littering the highway. Each time I asked why they were not taken away to be buried and someone was always ready to venture a response. All I learnt was that they were mad people’s corpses. I was totally unimpressed. The other passengers would turn and look at me as though I was an extra-terrestrial being. To some of the passengers who asked if I was a stranger to the country, I would explain that though I was a Nigerian, I left the country as a young man to study in France, from High School level to Ph.D. and had just returned to help develop my country. At that, they would cast their look back at me and chorus: Eiyaaaa!, but why didn’t you stay back in France?
All these indicators and eye-sores simply showed that there was no government in the country and no apparent signs of hope for a better tomorrow. Yet, looking at the front page of most national newspapers, you would see government functionaries attending lavish banquets. The contrast of high expression of opulence published in our dailies and the abject poverty that I saw everywhere I turned was far too much for me to bear.
But soon after the coup, while going through the same Benin-Lagos road, not only there were no more ‘mad people’s corpses’ on the road, there were no tyre peelings from refurbished tyres. The highways were clean. Following the introduction of environmental sanitation encapsulated in WAI (War Against Indiscipline), we soon discovered that Benin City was a well-planned city with gutters and a very effective water and waste drainage system. Those gutters had always been there, except that they were filled with sand, mud and filth.
Nigerians soon became conscious, once again, of the importance of cleanliness. Did I say once again? Yes, once again, because those who saw a bit of the epoch of Sanitary Inspectors would recall that those Sanitary Inspectors even had the right to go into our homes to inspect our drinking water-pots to certify that they contained safe drinking water. They went to houses and compounds to ensure that no empty tins and cans were left as litter, thereby providing safe havens for mosquitoes to breed. Nigerians of those times just as the Nigerians of today needed someone to direct them; a leader from the fore and not from behind.
General Muhammadu Buhari’s flight was scheduled to arrive at about 5pm local time. That would give me ample time, I said, to clear my desk at the African Development Bank, where I was a Consultant, before heading for Abidjan’s Felix Houphouet Boigny’s International Airport. Before 5 pm, I had already arrived at the VIP wing of the airport and had seated myself at the lounge to await the august visitor. I was promptly introduced to him, upon his entry into the lounge, by the then Nigerian Ambassador, H.E Kehinde Olisemeka. His luggage took quite some time to get to him, giving us time to talk. My first impression was his incredible simplicity. No panoply of bodyguards and no protocol. He could have passed unnoticed except for his lanky self which was further emphasized by the fact that most Ivorians are people of smaller frames.
My second impression was his readiness to freely discuss matters concerning Nigeria with me. I asked him about events that occurred during his tenure as a Head of State. Among others, I remember that when I asked him about the policies of the then Head of State, President Obasanjo, he was very eloquent especially on the latter’s policy on energy. He was optimistic that if Obasanjo complied with the energy policy as it was designed at that time, Nigeria would surely get on the path of rapid industrial growth. (Unfortunately, we needed to wait till the first quarter of 2007 to know that Obasanjo was not to implement his energy policy). General Buhari’s frankness pushed me to go further to ask to know the circumstances surrounding the death of his erstwhile second-in-command, General Tunde Idiagbon.
The third thing that struck me was that despite the fact that I was neither a journalist nor from any of the major groups in Nigeria who would help him disseminate his political philosophy, every word he spoke came from the depths of his intense love for the country, Nigeria. Even when I told him that I was from one of the voiceless minority groups that made up the Niger Delta, he went on unrestricted. Looking at him, I remembered that the only time I ever breathed pure and clean air in Nigeria, the only time I ever enjoyed uninterrupted power supply and the only time I truly felt safe and secure was during the 22 months he and Idiagbon were in power.
I remembered that Radio Bendel would interrupt its programmes to announce lost-and-found items ranging from ordinary pens and pencils to briefcases containing money. I remembered that the announcer would add: ‘Please come forward with proof of ownership’. Yes, WAI was as effective as that. Nigerians had domesticated the (d)evil called money. Yes, Nigerians returned briefcases containing money. Nigerians were sensitised to the danger of all sorts of pollution hazards including noise pollution. Music/record shops had to keep all their ear-splitting speakers inside their shops. There was silence and the feeling of responsibility filled the air. Ambulant and unauthorised medicine sellers sought other forms of trade. The streets were clean and tidy. Traders who had invaded and captured half of the streets with their wares had, without being told, quickly adopted a tactical retreat strategy which eventually returned our hitherto narrowed streets into dual-carriage ways. All old and unused or disused vehicles were towed away from the streets and the highways. Taxi and bus drivers had paper-baskets in their vehicles and took time to wash their vehicles as many times a day as it was necessary. The National Union of Road Transport Workers quickly got their acts together. Transport fares did not fluctuate with the seasons. Nigerians, including civil servants and soldiers, were encouraged to farm on any available space including uncompleted buildings both at their workplaces and at home. Food became abundant without the government necessarily spending billions of Naira to import fertilisers. Examples are legion. I felt extremely refreshed to see that there were others, like General Buhari and Colonel Idiagbon who were sharing the same dream as me, about how the country should be run.
There was renaissance all over the whole country, at least for those of us who had no skeletons in our cupboards. Landlords were encouraged to cement from the front of their houses to the road. This single act had the double effect of protecting the roads and protecting the houses while at the same time controlling erosion and dust. Beef and meat sellers knew that they had to sell their raw meet in show-glasses. We were constantly informed on how much Nigeria was paying back to the international financial institutions on a quarterly basis. We were told how much we had in our external reserves, on a quarterly basis as well. We all remember what General Buhari said in his maiden speech to the nation. He said: ‘We are here to satisfy your need but not your greed’. Yes, greed is indeed, the bane of our people. And where there is greed, there is bound to be corruption or outright stealing of the people’s resources. We are all aware of what happened thereafter when his government was toppled by his third-in-command (General Babangida) who took the whole nation on an incredible debate, spanning several months, on whether or not Nigeria should subscribe to an IMF Loan. Thereafter, Babangida’s government and subsequent governments have, at best, squandered the nation’s wealth while putting up some sporadic semblance of a sense of direction, with no clear-cut development policies, programmes and projects.
The General and I also talked extensively about the over-congestion of our cities and how to reverse the trend. The former Head of State termed it ‘the city-trap phenomenon’, where people abandon their villages on a quest for better for a life but get trapped with no means to go back to their villages. He said such could be checked if there were good energy and empowerment policies targeting the rural people throughout the country.
Looking back again, I recall an incident that occurred during a brief visit I paid at one time to a friend of mine at the Nigerian embassy in Paris. He had woken up very early one Saturday morning to go to receive a Nigerian delegation due to arrive before ten that morning. Before leaving for the airport, he told me he was not likely to return till very late as the delegation would be treated to some special reception, courtesy of the Nigerian embassy. To my greatest surprise, he came back home by midday and when I asked him if the delegation did not arrive, as usual, he said they had arrived, had completed their assignment and had returned home to Nigeria. It sounded like a fairy tale to me but he insisted with great joy that the delegation frowned seriously at the idea of a “special reception” in their honour. And that, indeed there was no room for waste of the tax payer’s money in the new government (Buhari and Idiagbon’s government. My friend concluded by saying that there was hope now for our country, Nigeria. That was under Buhari.
When the General’s luggage finally arrived he promptly asked for permission to leave but sought to see me again at Hotel Ivoire in Abidjan, upon his return from Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, where he was going to attend a workshop on animal husbandry. And added that he was a cattle rearer.
Our second encounter took place as arranged at Hotel Ivoire. This time around, I went with my ‘Doubting Thomas’, my spouse, who did not believe that a man of Buhari’s calibre would readily receive and even have a long talk with me, her humble husband.
At Hotel Ivoire, I was ushered in like some head of state and his first lady. And when his suite door was opened, the General rose to his feet to receive us. I could hear my spouse murmur to herself: “Oh, yes, he is truly the one”. He did not sit down until he was sure we were well seated. But before then, I had naturally introduced my spouse to him in the presence of the Nigerian Ambassador, who did not need any further introduction, and who on the contrary was entirely delighted to see us once again.
In the middle of the sitting area, there was a basket of assorted fruits. The General was the first to reach out for a banana, which he peeled off gradually with great care as though the act of peeling the banana would hurt the fruit itself. To our greatest surprise, he gave it to my spouse and went for a second one for me. As discussions went on, he kept feeding us with various fruits. He even went through the rigours of peeling oranges for us even though they were Moroccan oranges, which peel off much more easily than the Nigerian oranges. This might sound banal to you but not to me. A Nigerian Head of State, whether former or current, would simply not think of serving food or drink to a fellow countryman known or unknown. Rather, he would say ‘please my boy, peel out some bananas for me, and when you finish, also peel out some oranges. I love oranges, you know’.
I have had the opportunity of meeting several other Nigerian Heads of State in other circumstances either in my capacity as Political and Diplomatic Adviser to the ECOWAS’ Peace Mission in Cote d’Ivoire or otherwise. But, I must say that not many have truly inspired me as much, neither on the basis of their stewardship nor even for their character and carriage to reveal the depth of love for and the commitment to our country Nigeria.
* The author, Dr. Ode Iweh (shown in photo above), a Nigerian, studied in France from High School to Ph.D. level and on his return home taught French and African Linguistics at the University of Benin in his native Nigeria. He later headed the Translation Department of the Nigerian Embassy in Cote d’Ivoire (where he successfully conducted the transhumance of seven Nigerian Herdsmen and families with their 5000 herds of cattle from Cote d’Ivoire back to Nigeria) and worked as Linguistics Consultant with the African Development Bank, the UNDP, IMF and the World Bank in Abidjan. Dr. Ode Iweh currently resides in Vancouver,Canada, where he partnered with the Government of Canada on Youth Employment and Orientation Programmes through Educacentre College. He co-founded the first Black Television (Africar Canada Television) in British Columbia and was chair and co-founder of the Africar Canada Community Development Foundation. He has also taught, recently, at Delta State University, Abraka, Delta State in Nigeria.
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