What a country!
By
Okey Ndibe (E-mail: okeyndibe@gmail.com)
I thought hard and long about a title for today’s column. In the end,
I decided to borrow the title of a forthcoming book by Kunle Ajibade, one of
the intrepid editors at The News magazine and a treasured colleague and friend
of mine.
What a country, indeed!
Some may not realise it, but a battle is raging for the soul of Nigeria. The
venerable Chinua Achebe has written that Nigeria is a country that manages to
snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
To read Achebe’s statements on Nigeria is to become aware of the depths
of a true patriot’s great expectations—and great disappointment.
The novelist, whose classic novel, Things Fall Apart, is being feted globally
on its fiftieth anniversary, loves his country so deeply he speaks about its
travails with a pained voice.
Nigeria is a country that breaks the heart of many citizens.
More than two decades ago, Wole Soyinka, another writer who has put Nigeria
on the global cultural map, lamented that his generation was wasted. That assessment
has been so oft quoted it has become part of Soyinka lore. What’s not
remembered is that since Soyinka spoke, another generation or two has followed
into the wasted bracket. Worse, our youth, who deserve to radiate confidence
and vibrancy, are consigned to watching helplessly as their fortunes are turned
into misfortune.
Our youth may not quite be wasted, but they are wasting away.
One has said it again, but it bears repeating: Nigeria is a country conceived
in hope but nurtured into hopelessness. It is a country that boasts some of
the most educated and enlightened people in the world, but a perennial member
of the world’s least desirable indices.
Nigeria’s shame is that on most social misery lists, it is grouped with—and
often below—such countries as the two Congos, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Mali,
Rwanda and Mali. Ghana, Uganda, Cote d’Ivoire, Libya and Botswana now
significantly dwarf Nigeria, which once parroted itself as the giant of Africa.
Nigeria is the portrait of an inexcusable laggard. It has an array and abundance
of natural resources—in fact, on such prodigious scale as to make it the
envy of other less endowed nations. It also has a complement of energetic, bright
men and women who can hold their own anywhere in the world.
Why then is Nigeria mired in this dispiriting state? What explains the gap between
a nation’s great promise and its paltry achievement?
One major answer lies in the quality of leadership that has run—ruined,
is the word—the country. Too many of us went to sleep and left the field
of public office to a confederacy of dunces, to invoke the title of John Kennedy
Toole’s novel.
Look at any list of Nigerians who have held exalted political office, and you’ll
notice a predominance of men and women of little or no moral mettle, little
or no vision, and little or no idea of what it takes to transform a polity.
Part of the tragedy is that even when some of these elements boast degrees,
they have lacked the moral insight that makes the critical difference between
possessing certificates and being enlightened.
Nigeria has been, and remains, ensnared in a cult of mediocrity. It is a country
burdened with rascals masquerading as leaders. These so-called leaders take
pride, not in acting as agents of positive change, but in the size of their
loot. Their primary organ is not the brain, but the guts. Gorging on gruel,
instead of mulling social policy, is their favourite preoccupation if not sole
pastime. They delight in reigning over, and ruining, the affairs of the collectivity.
And so we have quite a country! And we have a battle taking shape, a veritable
contest between those who profit from Nigeria’s tragic state and those
who insist that it is time a much-abused people shook off their yoke and realized
their potential. It is a fierce battle, even if the signs are not writ large
enough for all to see.
Depraved as it sounds, there are many who are invested in perpetuating the country’s
doldrums. As we have seen or read recently, there are Nigerians who don’t
mind at all that the country’s power supply deteriorates. The more erratic
the power supply, the more their private pockets bulge. But there are citizens
who are sick and tired of being played for fools, and who won’t stand
anymore for the greed of the mindless profiteers from misery.
What a country! Last week, Governors Liyel Imoke and Olusegun Agagu appeared
before the House of Representatives panel probing the $3.8 billion (or $10 billion
or $16 billion) scandal in the power sector. Before being shepherded into gubernatorial
seats, the two men had “served” in former President Olusegun Obasanjo’s
cabinet, specifically overseeing the power sector. In fact, part of the curriculum
vitae they took to their governorship posts was their vaunted achievements in
transforming the nation’s power industry.
Yet, here were the men before the legislative panel putting on a shameful puppet
show. Suddenly, Agagu did not know a thing about what transpired in his ministry
under his watch. Questioned about contracts that were awarded to unregistered,
even ghost, companies, he told the lawmakers that only the bureaucrats could
answer to that. He sought to leave the image of a totally disconnected, absentminded
boss who regarded the matter of contractors’ legal status as beneath his
ministerial attention.
Imoke was even more pathetic. Nigerians regard him, understandably, as the central
figure in the scandal. He was both the chairman of a so-called technical team
that was supposed to usher Nigeria into a season of regular, uninterrupted power
supply and later, a minister of power. Far from witnessing any improvement,
power supply dipped during his ministerial run.
You’d expect that a man with such an unimpressive profile would show up
in a somber fashion. Not Imoke. Affecting the swagger of a well-to-do man, he
strutted into the parliamentary session with a retinue of cheerleaders in tow.
The legislators and Nigerians no doubt looked to Imoke to provide illuminating
answers about contractors who were almost wholly paid for work that was at rudimentary
levels of execution. Imoke had other plans. He played to the gallery.
His manner suggested a man chagrined about the hullabaloo over the (possibly)
$16 billion Obasanjo frittered away in power contracts. Imoke pointed the legislators
to South Africa’s expenditure of $25 billion on energy needs. The point
was that he and Obasanjo did not squander as much as they might have. To complete
the farce, his presentation was punctuated by intermittent applause by his cheerleaders!
What a country! Nigerians heard testimony about the power scandal that only
a novelist with an extravagant imagination could have conjured up.
It was said that the former president commissioned power projects that did not
exist anywhere in Nigeria! We heard about presidential orders that circumvented
due process to withdraw huge caches of cash. There were accounts of a president
who seemed set on awarding contracts to companies that seemed least likely to
do the job at all—and then hastening the payment process.
What a country! In the last week, Nigerians were treated to a tale of two electoral
tribunal verdicts. In Oyo, the tribunal split four to one in favour of upholding
the “election” of Governor Adebayo Alao-Akala. In Edo, Justice Peter
Umeadi led a panel that unanimously declared Dr. Oserheimen Osunbor a gubernatorial
impostor. In a six-hour judgment that many lawyers have lauded as a model of
judicial thoroughness, the tribunal declared Adams Oshiomhole, a former labour
leader, as the winner of last April’s governorship election. The verdict
in Oyo elicited a mournful public reaction. In Edo, the verdict aroused widespread
celebration.
In Oyo, the public’s funereal mood told an eloquent story. In its quietly
powerful way, the people of Oyo scolded the four judges who opted to go the
Ogebe way, even though the truth—as the author of the impressive minority
report demonstrated—was clear. In Edo, the mass of dancers indicated their
admiration for a tribunal that refused to be blinded to the truth. Oyo and Edo:
Battlegrounds in the contest between judicial cowardice and judicial courage.
One verdict showcased judicial blight; the other was a bright, proud moment
that has done credit to the judiciary, buoyed the nation and boosted democracy.
What a country! Umar Yar’Adua, whose “election” owed to Obasanjo’s
do-or-die mindset, has taken to mimicking his despised predecessor’s rhetoric.
Last week, Yar’Adua visited Adamawa, a state already tense from the build-up
to a judicially mandated new election. Speaking in a tone that revealed his
despotic impulse, Yar’Adua served notice that he regarded the coming election
as “war.”
Like Obasanjo before him, Yar’Adua is quick to turn every election into
a war. It is as if the object is the acquisition of power. Like his predecessor,
Yar’Adua does not seem to have figured out how to use his power to lift
his nation up. Last week, in his Easter and Eid-el-Maulud message, he implored
Nigerians to maintain patience with his slow style, as if slowness were a prized
statecraft.
Through forty-eight years of national life, Nigerians have done nothing but
wait in patience. They have waited patiently for dependable electricity, good
roads, jobs upon graduation, security, credible elections, water, streets that
are not clogged up with dirt, even for hope. A people who have waited so long,
and whose waiting has been rewarded only with disappointment and entreaties
to wait some more, have every right to demand that their leaders take a turn
waiting.
Why can’t Yar’Adua and other Nigerian leaders be less hasty in voting
themselves scandalous perks and privileges? Why can’t the political leadership
patiently refrain from looting the nation’s treasury and aborting its
dreams? Why not retreat from a policy of shielding Obasanjo and other serving
and past government functionaries who committed manifold economic crimes against
their nation? Why not abandon the policy of narcotising the citizenry with false
hope whenever they voice demands for policies that would make their nation fit
for human habitation? Why not disavow the temptation to rig elections and usurp
power not freely given by Nigerians? Why not stop the habit of approaching each
election as a war? Yes, why not?
• For more on Ndibe, visit www.okeyndibe.com