Reporting the judiciary for Champion newspapers brought me close to Chief Richard Akinjide, a very Senior Advocate of Nigeria, who exited mortal plains recently. He was a deeply engaging human. Like other reporters, I sat in a Federal High Court presided over by Justice Regina Nwodo (of blessed memory) at Ikoyi in Lagos State, watched and listened and took notes as Chief Akinjide squeezed Bernard Ojeifo Longe for answers during Longe’s trial for his alleged role in an ill-fated telecoms (IILL) funding deal that cost First Bank some princely sum. First Bank held Longe, its managing director at the time, responsible for the failed deal, thus, the commencement of a legal tussle that ended at the Supreme Court.
Longe was in the dock and was represented by Chief FRA Williams (SAN), now late too. The bank had Akinjide on its side. It was interesting watching those men square up, legally, in the court.
My report on the day’s proceedings, published in Champion Law column the next Wednesday, brought me closer to Chief Akinjide. We became friends. He read the report, liked it and sought to know the reporter. He even inquired about me from some of my colleagues. I did not know. As the court rose on the next adjourned date, Akinjide made to leave. Some of my colleagues said to him “Chief, see the Champion man.”
I did not know what it was about. I was pulling back thinking I had written something he was not happy with. He saw me and asked if I was the Champion reporter. I answered in the affirmative. He simply gave me a thumbs-up, entered his car and that was it. I turned to my colleagues and asked what the problem was. They told me it was about my report.
After several months, an editorial meeting of Panache, an insert of Saturday Champion, edited by Rose Moses, resolved to interview a very senior lawyer to boost the editorial content. The resolve was that it has to be Akinjide. The mandate to interview fell on me. Later that evening, I called him on the telephone and he picked. He was very warm at the other end. I introduced myself and made an oral application to interview him. He said: “Before we talk about that, there is somebody in Champion I want to meet; the person that reports judiciary for you.” I asked if there were any issues. He said, “No, I want to know him. There was a report he did some time ago, it was good report.”
When I told him that I did the report, Chief Akinjide said, “You can interview me any day any time. In fact, I am expecting you tomorrow.”
I kept the date, accompanied by Kingston Daniel, one of the best photojournalists around. Chief Akinjide was very lavish with his reception for us. He spoke freely and answered every question I asked him. He told me about his journey through life. He spoke about his days as a student. He talked about how he met his wife and how he built his first house in Ibadan and later leased it out to a tobacco company and went back to live in his father’s house, before he built a second house from the proceeds of the lease. By the time we were through, it was past 1:00pm. We got there before 10am. Interviewing him was like attending a business and politics school. He had a lot to offer. As he walked us to the door, he said, “You have become my friend, feel free to come around any day any time.”
Subsequently, each time I visited, he would spend time with me dissecting issues, from religion to politics. He would tell me stories of his foray into politics in the First Republic and point at the Tafawa Balewa Square through the window of his office and say “that’s where the Parliament was then.” The more stories he narrated about the evolution of Nigeria from the First Republic, the angrier I became. It was obvious that, as a nation, we lost bearing at a point. My anger made me ask more questions. I asked him how we could regain our country. He would always point to foundational mistakes made in 1914 and the further mistakes made in the process of evolving a working constitution for the country before Independence. He knew a lot and liked the company of young inquisitive minds. The stories he told left no hope for the future.
After a lengthy interaction with him one day, I said: “Chief, can I ask you a question?” He said go ahead. I said “don’t you think you are doing us a disservice?” “How,” he asked. I said, “Sir, you know a lot about this country and its political development. Why don’t you write a book and document all these for the future generation?” What he told me shocked me. He said, “If I write what I know, this country will be on fire. There is no need for that. It is better to go to your grave with all that you know than set your country on fire.” I refused to understand that. I pressed further. But he insisted that he would not write. And he did not write the story. He kept that vow till the end. He refused to tell the story. But is the story worth being told?
I would hear such comments again later in the line of duty. After Akinjide, I have also come across several other top players in the politics of Nigeria who would tell me tales about the evolution of our country. When I ask why they haven’t written their memoirs to narrate their role in Nigeria’s story, I get a similar response. And I go to bed wondering what exactly is in this story that won’t be told. What is this story that Akinjide refused to tell. What is this story that many also have refused to tell?
If you take a cursory look at book shelves around you, you’ll notice that most of the books on leadership and politics have American and British authors. And such books are written from the author’s perspective of leadership and politics in his own immediate environment. Their recommendations too are based on their own political developments. Many of such authors were active participants in the political and leadership development of their societies. So, when they write, they create narratives that help open up their governments and hold participants accountable to their actions and inactions. This helps to enhance transparency and accountability in government. In our clime, our political leaders and active participants in government go to their graves not leaving us with authoritative accounts of what they, and others, did.
This leaves everyone in the dark and creates room for conjectures and fake narratives that hide the actual facts. I recall a very senior official of the incumbent government telling me that “sometimes when we read some of the things you journalists write; we just know that you don’t know what is going on. We just read them and drop the papers because we know that you do not know.” This same official has held different leadership positions from the days of military rule. He has no single book about leadership, written from the perspective of one who is involved, on any bookshelf in the country. How do I expect this man to impart knowledge?
Fact is, the more we refuse to tell that narrative, which may open up our society, hold people accountable for their positive and negative roles in nation building and help point us to the right way forward, so shall we continue to drive in the dark, making the same mistakes that have kept this country down till now despite showing huge potentials at Independence in 1960.