BY HENRY AKUBUIRO
At 21, young Festus Porbeni ran away from home and boarded a boat to Lagos from Warri to join the Nigerian Defence Academy, having already sat for the examination before the Nigerian Civil War. It was a big gamble that paid off: one that saw him rising to the echelon of Nigerian Navy. Among others, he commanded Nigeria’s biggest warship, NNS Aradu in the 1990s, became the only Nigerian military man in service to be appointed an ambassador and served the country as a Minister of Transport. A sports lover, especially boating, Nigeria’s stake in boating globally. has increased because of his deft management. Saturday Sun chatted with him in Lagos on the eve of his 75th birthday on his naval career, life after retirement and his role as elder statesman.
You turned 75 on May 28. What has life taught you?
Life is basically such that you have successes and failures. If successes are more than failures, you have succeeded. If failures are more than successes, you have failed. Over the years, God has been kind enough to me. At least, I have some successes and some failures.
As a naval officer, you rose to become a commandant of Nigeria’s premium naval vessel. You also became an Ambassador and a Minister of Transport. Did you envision a career path in the Navy as a young boy?
I grew up in Ikoyi, Lagos, in the boy’s quarter of my uncle who was a cook and steward to a white man. I schooled in Ikoyi, too, where I trekked from Ereko to Ikoyi to and fro. Only white men were living in Ikoyi at that time. Blacks living there were just labourers. At that stage, I never thought about the navy, but I knew I was good in sports and academically sound. So my father programmed me based on my academic excellence to read medicine in the university. But, after my school certificate in Warri, I came to Lagos and told him I wanted to be a pilot, having been influenced by the planes I used to see flying over Kirikiri where they had a flying club. I returned to Government College, Ughelli, for my A levels. I did physics, chemistry and zoo, and I programmed myself for medicine.
But something happened along the line. I saw an advert for enrolment to the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA). I collected the form and filled it in. When I took it to my father in Warri to sign — a clause in it said, if your ward died in training, no compensation. My father was alarmed. He said, why should he sign his son’s death warrant? In those days, medicine and law were the only courses they knew. So his thought was that, if I wasn’t going to do medicine, I would study law. But here I was asking to go to NDA. Besides, it was 1966, and the civil war was growing. People from the North were running to the South and those from the South were running to the North. So my father couldn’t understand why I wanted to go for military training. Of course, he refused to sign. He even tried to discourage me by saying I wasn’t big enough to be in the military and that I would be rejected. He was bigger than me, and was conscripted to the military during the Second World War.
So a friend of mine at school had to sign it for me when he saw me grumbling and sad. Unknown to my parents, I wrote the exam for NDA and passed. In fact, we were writing the exam when the war broke out. After I was admitted, the civil war came in full force, and the Midwest was captured by the Biafrans then, and all borders were closed, by which time I couldn’t travel again. Nothing was happening.
So what did you do?
I told myself, “I can’t sit down again; my colleagues are training at NDA now.” So I paid for an outboard boat engine from Warri to Lagos. When we got to Atijere in the Ondo area, we were told there was a big fight at Okitipupa between the federal troops and the Biafrans. It was risky to continue the journey. Somebody told us, if we were caught by the federal troops or the Biafran Army, nobody would believe us to be innocent. We might be mistaken for spies. The boatman said he had come to the end of the journey, and moved back to Warri.
So I stayed at Atijere. I would sleep in a boat at night and, by daytime, I would walk round the town. I discovered that the town spoke both Yoruba and Ijaw. I am Ijaw. That was how I spent four nights before I got to Lagos with another boat. I was only 21 then. A movie has just been made on this bravery with the title Foray by Jane Gam-Dede.
You went on to serve the navy meritoriously for decades. What was the turning point in your Naval career?
At NDA, I came out the best student all-round in seven subjects in Third Course, which wasn’t an ordinary course. That Third Course produced eight military governors and three service chiefs. It produced so many GOCs and AOCs and one Field Commander in General Garuba. It also produced one Chief of Defence Staff in Mike Akhigbe and one Senate President, David Mark, during a civilian dispensation. The only thing we haven’t produced is a Nigerian president.
One of your highs included commanding the biggest Nigerian warship at a time, NNS Aradu. How did you feel?
It was the biggest warship in Nigeria, and, to command it meant they trusted you. That ship had enormous power, very expensive, with helicopters and submarines, torpedoes, and anti-aircraft missiles. Commanding it meant you had powers in your hands.
Before then, you were Nigeria’s Ambassador to Equatorial Guinea. It was rare to have a military man as a diplomat, wasn’t it?
The military uses force to get what it wants, while the diplomat uses tact to get what he wants. When I go to the Ministry of Defence, I will say I am Captain Porbeni. When I go to the Ministry of External Affairs, I am Ambassador Porbeni. I play the two roles, and I am the first and only Nigerian to be appointed an ambassador while in service. Normally, you retire before you are appointed an ambassador.
What was your greatest takeaway from Equatorial Guinea?
I was one of those who canvassed for Nelson Mandela’s release. The South African government wrote to us that it would like to release Nelson Mandela, but didn’t want to release him into the streets of Johannesburg because, if anything happened to him, Nigeria would complain the government had killed him. Nigeria was at the forefront of the campaign against apartheid, and South Africa was so scared of Nigeria.
So I wrote my dispatch to the president, General Babangida, and he agreed. Before then, I used to have businessmen under me going to South Africa to negotiate Mandela’s release. I was coordinating the whole thing. But after making all the arrangements, Mandela said he wasn’t going into exile. So he was released to South Africans.
You went on to become the Minister of Transport between 1998 and 99. What do you remember most about that?
I got to the office, and, typical of me, I wanted to make a change. I ensured trains were moving. At that time, I struggled to make sure that petroleum products were conveyed by rail. All efforts were made. All of a sudden, tanker drivers threatened to go on strike for fear that they might go out of job if trains started carrying their products.
I called a meeting with the owners of the tankers, and I told them that, no matter how the trains carried petroleum products, tanker drivers would still be relevant; they could still take the fuel from the railway and supply it to the filling stations. They never agreed with me. Today, we are still struggling with tankers on the roads, causing spillage and havoc. As the transport minister, I made sure there was an express train from Lagos to Abuja, but, today, anybody who wants to go to Abuja either goes by road or by air. But a train journey is the best means of transportation. Overnight, you can get to Abuja on a train journey. In express, there is a direct route without the usual stops and curves. Everything was ready. The Canadian government was ready to do it on BOT (Bill Operate On Transfer).
So what happened to that vision?
I was the minister for nine months during the tenure of Abdusaklam Abubakar. By the time I left office, somebody who succeeded me killed it. Till today, it’s been bothering me. People are dying on the roads because of tanker drivers. If the rail were to be carrying fuel, you wouldn’t have these problems. One wagon can take up to 32 trucks off the road. Imagine 32 tankers out of the road!
Going back to your navy career, did you ever come to a situation where you wanted to quit?
Yes. On three occasions, I put in my letter of resignation, and it wasn’t accepted. The first was when I joined the Navy from NDA as the best all-round student, only to come to the Navy and found it was a different criteria. I was to go to Britain for training, but, because of the war, Britain refused to take us. Also, there was a time I left Naval College, Onne, and went to Aradu. While at Aradu, some cadets came from NDA for training at Onne —you had to come where there is water. Unfortunately, 13 of them drowned in a boat, and it became a noisy affair. And they called me, who had left two weeks ago, to be part of the court martial for getting the cadets drowned.
I went to the office of the Chief of Naval Staff, Nyako, to plead my innocence. In the office, I had started pulling my dress. They asked me who my defence lawyer was, and I mentioned Gani Fawehinmi, though I hadn’t spoken to him before (laughs). Eventually, I went for the case, and I was discharged and acquitted.
You are also a businessman. Were you influenced by your dad who was also a businessman?
When you are a pensioner, something must come up. When I was in service, they would give you a housing loan of N40, 000 and also a car loan. N40, 000 could build a house. Luckily for me, I bought my house in Port Harcourt for N27, 000 and the remaining amount of money was used to renovate it. When I finished renovating it, NTA rented the house for N7,000 per annum for two years. So I was N14,000 richer. From that N14,000, I now bought another land. That led me into real estate.
You have a soft spot for boating, which has also brought you into national reckoning….
It started with a boating race for Admiral Porbeni, and then the Navy decided that I should take care of its boating facilities in the country. Some other people gave theirs to the navy to handle and the navy, in turn, invited me to handle everything.
When I got to the Ministry of Sports, there was virtually nothing for boating. In fact, when I got to Tunisia for a sporting tournament, my boys were coming last repeatedly. There were no boats for the sport in Nigeria. Apparently, boats were given to us by an international body, and they were in the wharf for 11 years, uncleared, due to bureaucracy and lack of interest. After that Tunisia outing, I asked my security man, “Where are our boats? Go and look for them wherever they are!” I got to learn they were taken from the port to Ikorodu, and abandoned. They even wanted to auction them, and nobody wanted to buy them.
If I have a challenge, I always find a way to solve it. My mentor, Admiral Augustus Aikohmu —I worked under him for many years as second in command on board NS Nigeria, would tell you, “I don’t know how this job would be done, but it must be done.”
Back to the boat, I went to meet the Director of Customs. He told me he could wave the Customs bill but not the shipping bills. So it came down to about N800, 000. We paid and took the boats, and the boys started practising. Before then, they were rolling theoretically without practicals. You can’t learn football theoretically.
When we went to the next All African Games, after some practice, we won silver and bronze medals. Right now, we have three people going to the Tokyo Olympics. Before now, at the London and Rio Olympics, we had foreign based Nigerians (Jonathan and Koko) representing us.
The last one we had in Morocco, one of our girls won four medals. But this time, our athletes are going from home. I achieved that by picking people from all over the place and taught them, as long as you could row and swim. Today, we have three people raised and trained here going to the Olympics.
This is the era of tourism globally, how can we maximise the tourism potential of boating via regattas and regular competitions, especially in a place like Lagos?
We have written to the Lagos State Government to use Lagos State University as our base for tourism and ensure also that people can pay, because, if you choose (Lekki Peninsula), people would be watching for free from the bridge.
The amazing thing about your life story is that of a young boy of 21 taking your destiny into your own hands by defying your parents, journeying to Lagos at the outbreak of the civil war to train as a naval officer. Today, most of our youths are not thinking in that direction. What is your recipe for success?
Basically, upbringing, determination and training in the individual matter. There are some children, if you put a pillow in front of them, one would crawl to that pillow, try to climb over it or go by the left or right. That’s the one who has determination. The other would get to that pillow and begin to cry, and the mummy would help out. That’s how you know a lazy child.
Today, I make sure all my children work hard. There was a time when I wanted to buy land in Port Harcourt, and some people said, “Why should I buy land when my father had land?” I told them my father’s land wasn’t mine. I had to buy mine. That’s why I tell my children: you must work hard if you want to eat. I am glad it has sunk in. Today Bics Garden, Lekki, is being run by my daughter. She has an MSc in chemical engineering from London University, but she is out there in the sun every day. To succeed, you must work hard.
You don’t have to provide everything for your children. Though I can afford to, I make sure it’s difficult for you to get it. It’s true there are limited opportunities for youths today, but you have to be creative. I have a son with a masters, but he is clearing dirt on the road with trucks. If you wait for employment, you may not get it. So he had knowledge, and created something with that knowledge. What I am trying to say is that you must find a way to survive legally. Davido and co didn’t wait for anybody to give them a job. They went into music. Look at your environment, and create something out of it.
Nigeria has been grappling with insecurity for some time now. As a seasoned military officer, how do we solve this problem?
The first is governance. It depends on how you are handling the people guiding you. Every nation gets the armed forces and police it deserves. For me, I still believe in the devolution of powers from the centre to the state level, and from state to the local government.
What’s your take about regionalism, federalism or the balkanisation of the country as a lasting solution?
True federalism will sort everything out. Unitary government is not the best.
At 75, what’s your vision for Nigeria?
I want Nigeria to be united. I don’t want any part to be separated. That’s weakening it. Nigeria should be united, and we should work towards improving it.