Akwa Ibom Deputy Governor Moses Ekpo turned 80 recently. The veteran journalist with a knack for successfully navigating whichever sphere he finds himself, has moved from journalism to the fight against indiscipline, copyright theft, politics, becoming a deputy governor. In this interview with EVELYN OSAGIE, Ekpo recounts his experience, his voyage into journalism battles and exploits.
The feeling of being 80
It feels young to be 80 because when you are young you appear to be vibrant. And if you get to 80 and God still gives you the ability to be vibrant, you’d feel as young as you were many years ago. I thank God that he has given me robust health all my life. There is no record except probably when I was a child that I spent one day in the hospital. So, that is to God’s glory. The theme of my birthday celebration is ‘Celebrating God’s favours’. And they are numerous in my life.
Influence of my background on the man I became
I come from a very humble background. I didn’t come from a family that could be spoken of in any form other than the rustic village people of my little village of Ikot Obiodo in Abak. My parents were not very rich but they were very rich in heart. I didn’t find them famous but they made their contributions in the little churches that they served and the community that they served.
My primary and secondary schools education were in the village – then Government School Abak and Holy Family College (Catholic school which I think has also shaped my entire life).
In other words, I came from a family that totally believed in God – that with Him everything is possible. I came from a background that cherishes a good name, what my parents used to tell me was ‘You must maintain the name of this family’. And I’ve tried to do so. So, I don’t mess it up. These are the things that provide joy for me at all times.
And then, I had an opportunity to embrace this profession, the ‘journalism profession’. I think from secondary school in what we call essay and composition writing. I think I translated that into making reports which the principal found useful to be put on the notice board. I was reporting football matches and boxing matches – as you can see in the photograph there.
My voyage into journalism
I had a good start in the profession of journalism. Right from secondary school, my reports were being published. Perhaps that also made the principal think I should be a staff of the school magazine, The Link, in which I eventually became the editor in my final year. This shaped where I was going. But we finished school and everybody in those days was thinking he would go to Customs or to the Central Bank of Nigeria. I tried all of those. I even tried being recruited into the army. But of course, my mother pulled me out at a point. They didn’t believe that soldiers were reasonable nor were they afraid of soldiers.
I found my way eventually into journalism, as a matter of fact, it is very interesting. I was standing in line to be interviewed for a job in the Central Bank at Tinubu Square in Lagos when I also heard that a newspaper was recruiting people on Apongbon Street. That newspaper was The Daily Service. And I went to try my luck. I was interviewed, those who did set me aside and asked that I see the Editor-in-Chief, then Lateef Jakande, the late governor of Lagos State. He and Bisi Onabanjo, the late governor of Ogun state, interviewed me and said they would have taken me but didn’t have a job for a reporter but had one for a proofreader. I didn’t know who a proofreader was or what proofreading was about but said I would take the job. And that was the beginning and how it all started.
Though Jakande and Onabanjo are late, they remain my models. They are fantastic people, good journalists, good managers and I probably would not have been who I am if I didn’t get into their office and thank God I did.
My ordeal as a prisoner of war in the hands of Biafran soldiers
Being 80 is God’s grace. He is the one that has the power to keep one alive and well. I have had a near death experience in which God kept and protected me. For example, I was a detainee. As a matter of fact, my kind of prison was very different: I didn’t have a number and I was listed in the detention camp. I was classified as a saboteur. Sabotage is another word for treason. Therefore, in 30 months of the war, I was hanging between life and death.
I was there for 30 months of the entire civil war. I was arrested in the newsroom. I remember it very vividly, the Eastern Nigeria Broadcasting Service (ENBC) newsroom on Ogui Road, Enugu. I was on morning duty and was preparing my bulletin for the 7 O’clock news when I was taken away. And from then on, I was moved from one prison to the other and charged before a court for treason, presided by the late Justice Nkemena, who was the judge. And whenever he handled a case, his judgement was either 100 years in jail or directly to the grave beyond. Interestingly, between all these, I appeared in his court nine times. Some days we would get to court – makeshift court and were told the investigating police officers were in the war front or the people who were to give evidence that one is a saboteur are not available. And I was in many prisons – Umuahia prison, Enugu prison, Awka prison, Aba prison, Ntueke prison in Orlu. As the war moved, prisoners were being moved as well. But no matter the prison, there were the makeshift courts in which I was arraigned. The last straw was the Ntueke prison where our prison was carved out from a primary school. And the meaning of Ntueke in English is “dust of the people.” In other words, it was a graveyard as it were, where there was brutality.
I remember my prison mate, Prof. Chike Obi said to me when I returned to the cell after the ninth appearance, “You are a cat. You have nine lives. I don’t think you can die in this prison.” And how did it happen? That morning I was dropped by the prison lorry to face my trial. Although I didn’t have the luxury of a watch, I think it was about 7 o’clock. The lorry was going somewhere to drop off other prisoners on its way to Arochukwu to evacuate some people.
From court to the morning of freedom
And for the first time, everybody that was supposed to give evidence against me was in court. I was put into the dock, swore the oath, and shortly after there was an air raid. We didn’t know that the war was coming to an end. The Nigerian Air Force raided that whole area: people were killed, strafed, others ran for cover. Those who knew where they could go went. But, I didn’t know where to go from there because I was in the middle of the Igbo land. So, I had to wait at the court premises till the raid was over. I remember that Arochukwu front was in distress. And they were ferrying people out of Arochukwu, including the soldiers. I really didn’t know what to do. I speak a bit of Igbo language. People were looking at me and saying in Igbo, ‘Why is that man standing there, doesn’t he know that people are running’. But I was asking myself where do I run to and what route do I take.
From prison to freedom
But one significant thing happened. That same morning, Joseph Achuzia, a top commander whom they used to call “Hannibal” in the Biafran Army, was also running from his command. He was in an entourage of trucks loaded with soldiers. He was carrying his wife and his children (I think it was two of them). They saw me standing: I was barely clad; I just had the prison singlet and a pant. They may have thought, ‘This man must be a straggler or something’. And Achuzia, who was famous at dispatching people at sight, came down from his car and pulled his revolver, and his boys came down with him. But it was his wife who restrained him. I remember her, telling him in Igbo, ‘You are running away from trouble there. This person you see standing while others are running do you think he’s a human being! I heard her, ‘Please, come back to the car and let us move from this place!’ And that was how he ended up not doing anything to me. A short while after then, the driver of the prison lorry that dropped me off on its back, saw me and asked what I was doing there. ‘Everybody has run and you are here’, he said. I told him I don’t have where to run to. And he said, ‘You couldn’t have run into the bush, out of this place. I told him I don’t know my way out of there. He asked what I wanted. I told him to take me back to the prison (Laughs.) Because that was the only place I knew and that was safe. I remember him crying and asking me ‘Why return to prison when everybody is running away’. Anyway, he took me back to the prison. It took us about six hours. We got back, I was signed in, and that was when Prof. Obi said, ‘Aah, and you came back the ninth time? You are a cat: you have nine lives and will not die. The war ended that morning.
From journalism to the fight against copyright infringements
When I finished at the War Against Indiscipline (WAI), I was asked to try my hand at the Nigerian Copyright Council, which was also then in the Ministry of Information.
That was how I met the current Director-General of Nigerian Copyright Commission (NCC), Dr. John Asein, who I asked to join me.
I was not a lawyer and even though the copyright industry has to do with law, I think it also had to do with mobilisation – since I had done so well at other positions like WAI. We did our best using our mobilising power and our ability to communicate.
We started the Nigerian Copyright Council then with so many difficulties. And I praise and celebrate those pioneer staff of mine. We were just 11 of which Asein is one. I think we lost one of them, but they were so committed. They had no facility. They had no offices. They had no seats, but they persevered.
I remember the Nigerian content creators: writers, musicians, artists, and everyone, used to have tough times. They had no idea that you could earn a living from the works they produced for 70 years. For example, then the musicians could only earn money from their songs produced in an album or when they were hired to sing. And pirates were feasting off their works. We went on a huge awareness drive across the country to educate the content providers, while kicking against piracy. And the result is we now have a copyright industry that is reeking in tons of money both in foreign exchange and foreign currency into the economy of the nation.
And what NCC has come to be is also a testament of what perseverance and hard work can do. In fact, the Nigerian Copyright law, which we helped put into place that has since protected the rights of owners, was an eye-opener for the creators. But more should be done by the government to provide more funding for the NCC; and to build for them befitting buildings of their own across the states and especially in Federal Capital Territory.
