The Nation Newspaper

Category: Femi Macaulay

  • Kleptocratic continuity

    Kleptocracy is in the news again through a March 10 note to the Federal Government by the United States (US) Department of Justice highlighting how the late General Sani Abacha who ruled the country dictatorially from 1993 to 1998 stole $2 billion from the treasury. No doubt, the unending tale of his mammoth loot stashed away in banks across the globe continues to stretch the imagination 16 years after his death in strange circumstances, which was a major premise of the popular condemnation of his posthumous centenary award on February 28, quite apart from his equally deplorable despotism.

    Preceding the revelation of Abacha’s methods, the department reportedly froze $458 million in corruption funds linked to him in secret bank accounts around the world. The action was described as “the largest kleptocracy forfeiture ever in the US”, and according to Acting Assistant Attorney General Mythili Raman of the US Justice Department’s Criminal Division, “Gen. Abacha was one of the most notorious kleptocrats in memory, who embezzled billions from the people of Nigeria while millions lived in poverty.”

    The greater tragedy is that the people are still tormented by poverty through apparently advanced kleptocratic behaviour by the country’s current political leaders who, ironically, impoverish millions on the platform of democracy. Abacha was a military dictator after all, which means that he was, by definition, not answerable to the people. Obviously, the same defence cannot apply in the case of democratically elected representatives who are meant to work in the interest of the people, which certainly shouldn’t include looting their resources.

    Although Abacha has earned the image of an iconic kleptocrat, the reality is that it may well be a mistake to judge him as the worst in the country’s political history. His unprecedented ruthlessness tended to attract far more attention, and encouraged a scrutiny of his leadership style, a process that inevitably uncovered the scandalously fraudulent underbelly of his reign.

    More subtle leaders, both military and civilian, have proved to be vastly superior managers of kleptocracy, and they are luxuriating in their loot.

    It is worthy of note that the US Department of Justice identified Abacha’s own style of stealing, which, interestingly, has not gone out of fashion. According to the report, “ The prosecutor believes Abacha and his associates conducted three fraudulent schemes during his time in office: (1) the “security votes” fraud, through which more than $2 billion was embezzled from the Central Bank of Nigeria; (2) the Ajaokuta Steel debt buy-back fraud which defrauded the Nigerian government of more than $200 million through overpayment of non-performing debt; and (3) extortion of Dumaz Group, a company operating in Nigeria, which was used to invest in Nigerian Par Bonds that were managed and traded in the United States.”

    This information shows that little has changed in the approach to amassing ill-gotten gains by the country’s public officials, especially those at the apex. It would appear that those who seek essentially status and personal gain at the expense of the governed think alike, irrespective of different epochs. The “security votes” camouflage is still in vogue, not only at the centre, but also at the level of state governments; and it is perhaps the least problematic path to illegal earnings. In elaboration, the report pointed out, “In order to execute this scheme, Gwarzo submitted letters to General Abacha in his capacity as National Security Advisor, requesting millions of US dollars, British pounds sterling, and/or Nigerian naira, to address unidentified ‘emergencies’ that threatened Nigeria’s national interest, General Abacha approved these requests and disbursed the requested funds.” It continued: “These funds, however, were not used to ensure national security or stability of the regime. Instead, these funds were diverted to shell companies and personal accounts created by Mohammed Sani Abacha or Bagudu.”

    Against the background of such appalling abuse of “security votes”, it is relevant, for instance, to reflect on the central administration’s counterterrorism; specifically, the fact that the economic cost of the engagement with Boko Haram, the Islamist rebel group, is in the realm of conjecture in the absence of authoritative official figures. It is also apt to note that there are grave allegations suggesting an anti-terror racket by which easy state funds for the campaign end up counterproductively in private pockets, which may partly explain the insignificant progress in achieving the desired objective of crushing the terrorists, even after a year-long emergency rule in the affected areas.

    As for the shady strategy of “overpayment of non-performing debt”, it is strongly reminiscent of the great 2012 multibillion dollar fuel subsidy sleaze, only that while the former was about the inflation of actual debt to make for overpayment, the latter involved primary fabrication of debt. In both cases, the goal was fraud and the effect was corrupt depletion of the treasury.

    More recently, the emotionally charged contention over the allegedly missing $20 billion dollars of the country’s oil revenues triggered by suspended Central Bank Governor Sanusi Lamido represents a continuation of the narrative of kleptocracy. The fact that the country’s petroleum exports revenue accounts for about 70 per cent of total exports revenue is indicative of the extent to which such official corruption undermines its socio-economic potential.

    Evidently, it is correct to observe that the repugnant entertainment has developed well beyond the standard of the Abacha era, and the new kleptocrats belong to a different class, particularly as their ruinous looting is carried out in an ostensibly democratic environment. The charge of stealing by muscle may not hold in this evolved category, but it is theft all the same, perhaps even more devious since it is done under the cover of representative government.

    What is lost to official corruption may not be quantifiable, but the tip of the iceberg can be glimpsed from the fact that Transparency International’s 2013 Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI), which is widely regarded as a reliable measurement of public-sector corruption, ranked Nigeria 144 out of 177 countries surveyed.  It is food for thought that in 2012 the country ranked 139 out of 177, indicating degeneration rather than change for the better.

    Tragically, the country may be far from redemption, given President Goodluck Jonathan’s remarkably pretentious remarks last week, which played down the height of corruption. During a meeting with the Nigerian community at the Country Club, Windhoek, Namibia, he said, “Corruption is everywhere but it is over-celebrated in the country to the extent that the nation and its people are stigmatised.” With the weight of contradictory evidence available, he sounded like a kleptocrat, or a friend of kleptocrats.

  • Obasanjo’s problematic age

    With the benefit of hindsight, the eyewitness account of ex-President Olusegun Obasanjo’s visit to Rivers State to inaugurate some of Governor Rotimi Amaechi’s projects on February 17 and 18 should prompt reflections. According to a report by Bisi Olaniyi of The Nation, “At the commissioning of the Ambassador Nne Furo Kurubo Model Secondary School, Ebubu-Eleme-Ogoni, Obasanjo staged a high drama that sent the audience reeling in laughter and amusement. The state-owned school was built on 21 hectares of land and managed by an Indian firm, named after Nne Furo, the first female Permanent Secretary in Rivers State and a former Nigerian Ambassador to Trinidad and Tobago, who was present at the commissioning.”

    He continued, “Both Governor Amaechi and Kurubo had used the steps to and from their seats to present their speeches, but when it was Obaanjo’s turn, instead of using the steps, he just lifted himself up and jumped up into the 4 to 5-feet podium to the thorough amazement of the audience! The funning ex-President, wearing a smirk, told Amaechi that he jumped into the podium to prove that even though he was older, he (Obasanjo) was stronger. He added that he decided not to inform his security team because they would have dissuaded him against it.”

    Furthermore, the report highlighted Obasanjo’s display during “the commissioning of the Buguma Mega Fish Farm in Asari-Toru LGA in the old Port Harcourt Township, popularly called Town Guguma Fish Farm.” According to Olaniyi: “At a point, a member of the cultural troupe broke out and danced towards him (Obasanjo). And quite unexpectedly, the ex-President stood up and danced towards the dancer, obviously impressed by her dancing prowess. However, in the process, Obasanjo himself demonstrated a dancing agility belying a man of his age and status. He engaged the dancer in what looked like a dancing competition. The crowd yelled in ecstasy and awe. Shouts of Baba! Baba! rent the atmosphere. The thoroughly amused guests and hosts laughed to their fill!”

    This background proved useful in the context of Obasanjo’s “77th birthday” on March 5. It would appear that his earlier theatrics in Rivers State was a conscious statement on his vitality, particularly for the benefit of those who perhaps underrated his fitness. In other words, his exhibitionism, for that is what it amounted to, had the objective of projecting a sound body.

    Obasanjo’s apparent demonstration of vigour was significant, given the fact that his biological age is a subject of debate and the possibility that he could be much older than his publicised age. It is noteworthy that he admits that he does not know his true date of birth, a position he reiterated at his Olusegun Obasanjo Presidential Library in Abeokuta, Ogun State, during the latest celebration of his “birthday,” saying that he would make it known “sooner or later.”

    His words on the occasion: “There are some people, including me, who do not know their exact birthday. My mother told me that I was born on Ifo market day. According to her, in our village, she had prepared to go to Ifo market and Ifo market is every five days. She said as she was preparing, she fell into labour and before those who went to Ifo market returned, I was born. Don’t ask me what month or what year. Whether I know the exact date or not, I think God has made my path to be glorious.”

    Nevertheless, there is the inevitable question: Since there is no record of his birthday, how did he arrive at “March 5, 1938”? Interestingly, the issue was complicated by the contradictory assertion of the Olowu of Owu Kingdom, Oba Adegboyega Dosunmu, who described Obasanjo as his “close friend.” He reportedly declared at the event that the former president knew his actual date of birth, adding that a small circle of his friends also had the information. However, it was disappointing that there was no disclosure.

    Without doubt, Obasanjo has understandable reasons to express gratitude to the Almighty. Despite his disadvantageous beginning, the retired Nigerian Army general unprecedentedly became the country’s head of state twice. He was a military ruler from February 13, 1976 to October 1, 1979, and a democratically elected two-term president from May 29, 1999 to May 29, 2007.

    What is regrettable about his good fortune is the fact that his track record as a leader is not particularly complimentary. Indeed, he continues to battle the charge of “wasted years” which, sadly, may follow him to the grave. The truth is that he largely failed to demonstrate sufficient sensitivity to what Jeremy Bentham calls “the greatest happiness of the greatest number”, which is tragically ironic against the background of his own unremarkable, not to say impoverished, early years.

    In this connection, President Goodluck Jonathan’s story unavoidably comes up. His tale of initial poverty, which he made public, drips with touching emotion, particularly his claim that he was “shoeless”. However, again, as in Obasanjo’s case, it would appear that the experience of hardship brought little or no enlightenment on the overriding importance of people-focused service in the context of governance.

    Remarkably, Obasanjo’s official birthday had what can be considered a moment of illumination, when he said, “I have been very lucky for many things. On one occasion, I said God had never disappointed me and a journalist who thinks that he knows too much asked if I had disappointed God. I said ‘of course’. As long as I am living in flesh and blood, I am liable to be unworthy in what I have striven to meet the standard of what God expects of me.”

    He needs to be told that mere philosophising cannot be exculpatory. Being human, which is trite, is no excuse for lowering the standard of good governance. It is disturbing that, despite this admission of inadequacy, he does not extend it to his years in power. If there was any fog concerning his psychological condition, it was cleared by his remarks at the Fourth Annual Ibadan Sustainable Development Summit organised last year by the Centre for Sustainable Development, University of Ibadan, in collaboration with African Sustainable Development Network. He seized the platform for self-glorification, and by the time he was done, it was unmistakable that he desperately desired worship. His keynote address at the forum on “Leadership in Africa’s Quest for Sustainable Development” turned out to be an enthusiastic exercise in embroidering his over-dressed conceit. He projected the impossible image of a flawless hero, whereas quite a few would question the basis of his self-perceived greatness.

    Obasanjo argued baselessly that the “younger generation” was to blame for leadership failure in the country and, by extension, on the African continent. It is noteworthy that he was quoted as saying, “We had some people who were under 50 years in leadership.” Age, again! For a man who appears to be ignorant of his real age, his problematisation of age should not be surprising.

  • Marginalisation, or what?

    Surely, it must require a demanding leap of imagination to recognise the omission of two attention-grabbing characters deserving prominence in the controversial list of 100 centenary heroes and heroines, both living and dead, which was approved by President Goodluck Jonathan. The noisy February 28 conferment of “Centenary Honours Awards” on the collection of “Nigerians and friends of Nigeria” across 14 categories lost much of its lustre not only on account of the significant rejections by a number of illustrious personalities, but also because of the treatment of the noteworthy duo as inconsequential.

    On the contrary, there is no doubt that Major Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu, who announced Nigeria’s first military coup on Radio Nigeria, Kaduna, on January 15, 1966, and then Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu- Ojukwu, who on May 30, 1967, declared Eastern Nigeria a sovereign state to be known as Biafra, prompting a 30-month civil war, were undeniably men of striking consequence in the context of the country’s political evolution.

    It is pertinent to contemplate whether these actors have a place in any of the classes that informed the Centenary Award Ceremony at the Banquet Hall, State House, Abuja. These include: Contributors to the making of Nigeria; Heroes of the struggle for Nigeria’s independence/Pioneer political leaders; Pioneers in professional callings/ Careers; Pioneers in commerce and industry; Promoters of democratic transition in Nigeria; Heroes in global sports competitions; and Accomplished pioneer public servants.

    Others are: Accomplished contemporary entrepreneurs; Distinguished academics; Internationally acclaimed artists, literary icons and journalists; Outstanding contemporary public servants; Outstanding bravery and public spiritedness; Outstanding promoters of unity, patriotism and national development; and Exemplary service in the promotion of peace and moral excellence.

    It is food for thought that Nzeogwu, speaking for the country’s first coupists, said, “The aim of the Revolutionary Council is to establish a strong, united and prosperous nation, free from corruption and internal strife.” According to him, “Our enemies are the political profiteers, the swindlers, the men in high and low places that seek bribes and demand 10 percent; those that seek to keep the country divided permanently so that they can remain in office as ministers or VIPs at least, the tribalists, the nepotists, those that make the country look big for nothing before international circles, those that have corrupted our society and put the Nigerian political calendar back by their words and deeds.” His punch line was: “We promise that you will no more be ashamed to say that you are a Nigerian.”

    These words, uttered almost 50 years ago, are as potent and correct today as they were then, which is a tragic statement on the country’s trajectory. It is disturbing that Nzeogwu’s indicting declaration sounds contemporary. Worse still, the incumbent government seems to be perpetuating the old order. The point about this specific military intervention is beyond the fact that the coup plotters disrupted a democratic arrangement; the overriding consideration should be whether the aberrant move had redemptive value.

    With due respect to the fashionable demonisation of military rule, the truth is that patriotism can be clothed in military uniform, which is not to say that benign dictatorship is preferable to democratic governance. Nzeogwu and his associates were apparently motivated by lofty objectives that reflected promotion of unity and corporate progress; they also seemed to care about peace and moral example.

    It stretches the mind to think that Nzeogwu was dumped in favour of an individual like General Sani Abacha, another coupist of a later era, whose reputation for unrepentant evil and mindless acquisition outlived him and remains a reference point. He was, ironically, honoured for patriotism and national development. Not surprisingly, five days after his widow, Maryam, received his posthumous centenary award, it was reported that the United States (US) Department of Justice had frozen $458 million in corruption funds hidden in bank accounts around the world by Abacha who ruled the country with an iron fist from 1993 to 1998 when he died in strange circumstances. The action, described as “the largest kleptocracy forfeiture ever in the US”, was a further demonstration of Abacha’s insensitive dominance, continuing the unending tale of his mammoth loot stashed away in banks across the globe. “Gen Abacha was one of the most notorious kleptocrats in memory, who embezzled billions from the people of Nigeria while millions lived in poverty,” said Acting Assistant Attorney General Mythili Raman of the US Justice Department’s Criminal Division.

    It is incomprehensible that this same monster, apart from the glory of a centennial honour, has his odious identity positively publicised in various places across the country, whether in the naming of streets or even hospitals, among other incredible monuments to savagery and rapacity. The fact that his family members showed up for the award is a sad commentary on their shamelessness, particularly when eminently qualified persons stayed away from the ceremony on grounds of impropriety.

    Paradoxically, in a case of reverse patriotism, Ojukwu who attempted a dismemberment of the country perhaps ultimately helped to advance the cause of unity, even if unknowingly. The civil war triggered by his spatial seizure underlined the intensity of a desire for togetherness by the rest of the country. The war slogan of the federal side, “To keep Nigeria one is a task that must be done”, mirrored the pursuit of unity in diversity.

    Furthermore, the apparent display of magnanimity by the federal side at the end of the war, encapsulated in the improbable expression, “No Victor, No Vanquished”, was of historical import in the country’s march to nationhood, which regrettably remains a mirage.

    It is worth highlighting Ojukwu’s naive insistence on fidelity to military hierarchy in the aftermath of the Northern counter-coup of July 29, 1966, which resulted in the killing of the Supreme Commander of the Nigerian Armed Forces and first military head of state, Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi, an easterner. In other words, he stood for order and appropriateness, which has a ring of virtue. Ojukwu had argued that the most senior army officer after Ironsi, Brigadier Babafemi Ogundipe, should take over leadership, not Colonel Yakubu Gowon who was favoured by the coup plotters. The complication that arose from this disagreement contributed to the degeneration of the situation.

    The official exclusion of these particular players from the centenary honours illustrates the extent of subjectivity that marred the show. What is the fundamental moral? The troubles of yesteryear are very much in the present.

  • ‘Till Death Do Us Part’

    In a profound sense, the ultimate casualty of the gripping murder case involving the convicted wife killer, 32-year-old Akolade Arowolo, must be the couple’s five-year-old daughter, Olamide. Not even her father, who is facing a death sentence for the crime committed on June 24, 2011, in their matrimonial home in Isolo, Lagos, could escape the thought that she was the greatest victim. His late awareness prompted what should now be considered as his famous last words; and the rhetorical question mirrored the knotty riddle that will haunt him until he is eventually hanged, according to the court verdict. He asked: “Jesus, what will happen to Olamide, my daughter?”

    It was the little girl’s grandfather, and father of the knifed banker, Titilayo, who gave the public a clue about the tormenting fate that most likely awaited her. George Oyakhire said: “When she comes of age and begins to ask questions and is reasonable enough, we will tell her everything that happened.” Tragically, it is certain that no one can be sure how she would take the news, or handle the information. How will her mother’s murder and her father’s punishment for the act affect her trajectory in life? For fatalists, this intriguing drama must have the fingerprint of destiny. But won’t such an interpretation be simplistic?

    Without doubt, the most chilling and unimaginable dimension of this particularly thought-provoking uxoricide was the expert testimony of the forensic pathologist, Prof John Obafunwa, who analysed each of the 76 stabs that mutilated the body of the deceased, stating that a sharp weapon applied with “tremendous force” must have been responsible for the horrifying injuries. According to Justice Lateefat Okunnu of the Lagos High Court, who sent Arowolo to the gallows, “The post-mortem was detailed. It gave report of every injury, both external and internal. It gave details for injuries to the eye, the chest, the breast, the lung, the stomach and diaphragm.” If murder was not the motive, what could have been the objective of the cornucopia of wounds? The sheer scale of the stabbing not only makes it difficult even to speculate about whatever could have been the trigger; it also strongly suggests that the attacker was not in his right mind, which cannot be a justification.

    It was perhaps a measure of his shame at the mindlessness of the killing that he couldn’t bring himself to admit his guilt, meaning that he sensed the indefensible extremity of his conduct, a realisation that led him to a ridiculous lie. How on earth did he expect anyone to believe his fantastic tale that the multiple cuts on his wife’s body were self-inflicted? It was the height of delusion, no doubt; it was also revealing of desperation for exoneration. Remarkably, the reality of his own brutal behaviour was simply overwhelming; and his out-of-this-world testimony further demonstrated his possible psychological sickness. However, his reported dependence on his late wife and consequent frustration, traumatic though the situation must have been for him, was no excuse for murderous madness. Despite the weight of evidence that convicted him, he curiously insisted on his alleged innocence, saying shortly after the judgment, “I am coming out soon in the name of Jesus. I can’t die. I did not kill her.”

    If Arowolo’s descent into the abyss of falsehood to save his neck was alarming, the defensive role of his parents, especially his mother, and their readiness to sacrifice the truth for parental loyalty, constituted a study in human nature. They proved to be biased and unreliable witnesses, a fact that the judge highlighted with unapologetic bluntness.

    It is striking that Arowolo’s death sentence has not generated any controversy about the appropriateness of capital punishment, which has come under criticism in certain quarters in the country in recent times. Interestingly, pro-life human rights activists have not reacted against the judgment, which suggests that punishing murder with death may not be altogether lacking in rationality. Indeed, it would appear that, given the publicised details of the killing, any verdict short of the death penalty would have been generally unacceptable, if not condemnable.

    For a process that started in July 2011, the conclusion of the trial on February 21 means that it took under three years to determine the guilty party and deliver a verdict. It is apt to reflect on this apparent promptness, and to wonder why so many other murder cases in the land never reach the same stage of resolution. Is it that the Arolowo murder case was more straightforward? It is instructive that he was convicted based on circumstantial evidence, and the lack of eyewitnesses proved not to be a hindrance to justice.

    Not surprisingly, perhaps, religion was visible, particularly in the image of the Bible-clutching Arowolo who seemed to have had a spiritual experience in the period of his trial, which he spent in detention. It is predictable that people will seek divine intervention when things go awry, even when the situation is self-inflicted and a consequence of godlessness. It is difficult to see Arowolo as God-fearing; and his projection of Christianity when faced with the result of his evil deed was an absurd spectacle. He evidently missed the message in this guiding question: “When you do what pleases you, does what you do please God?”

    Oddly enough, love gave birth to death at the home of the Arowolos; and this was not the type of sacrificial death popularised by Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. In this case, the husband gave a negative spin to the phrase, “Till Death Do Us Part.” Their two-year marriage was a tempest, according to the testimonies of those who knew them; and the worst happened, paradoxically, on the husband’s birthday. It is a pathetic story of wasted lives, particularly of the young couple, if not their innocent daughter who could still enjoy redemption.

    The reality that love can indeed grow cold is at the heart of this morality play, which has lessons to teach on the nature of anger and hate, the destructive quality of frustration, the fickleness of relationships, and even the impermanence of emotion.

    Will Arowolo appeal, if only to prolong the wait for the noose? He may wish to exhaust every avenue to stay alive, the very chance he denied his victim. However, there is no doubt that, with the death sentence hanging over his head, he is likely to die many times before his death.

  • Homosexual desire

    Let me begin by recounting a near-homosexual experience I had in the 1970s. I was in my early teens and a student at the Methodist Boys’ High School in Broad Street, Lagos. Opposite the school was the First Baptist Church, where I was member of the choir; and Sheila Cinema, where I sneakily saw Chinese films, which were popular at the time. Somehow, I became friends with a bouncer at the film house, a muscular man who was far older and who I regarded as an elder brother in a cultural sense. He seemed to like me, and would occasionally demonstrate generosity towards me.

    Then, one day, he asked me to come around on a Saturday morning. When I got to the cinema, he took me to an inner room and appeared to be tense. He was incoherent, and I couldn’t really make out why he wanted to see me. While I was still trying to understand his puzzling behaviour, I noticed he had a big bulge in the crotch. He was clearly in a state of sexual arousal. Instinctively, I sensed what he was up to and felt a deep awkwardness. He offered money, which I refused, saying that I would come back later as I was being expected at home. I was a bit fearful, but he didn’t try to force me, perhaps conscious of the fact that such a move could result in a loud resistance, which would attract the attention of the people around.

    He let me go, and that was how I escaped being sexually abused by a male. Of course, I consequently broke my connection with him. I couldn’t fathom why he found me sexually attractive, despite the fact that I was the same sex as him. What if he had forced me into the act? Whatever he desired, would it have involved penetration, or invasion, of my anal orifice? Would I have been physically hurt? Or psychologically tortured? Would I have been consequentially converted to homosexuality? How would such an experience have influenced my sexuality, which was decidedly heterosexual?

    This background is significant in the context of my reflections on the current emotionally charged gay debate, particularly hostile Western reaction to the country’s anti-gay law and the local defenders of the legislation. The country’s criminalisation of homosexuality, which means that anyone in a same-sex marriage or union would face up to 14 years in prison, also makes it illegal for anyone to operate or participate in gay clubs, societies and organisations, or to officiate, witness, abet or aid the solemnisation of same-sex marriage, which attract a 10-year jail term. In addition, such partnerships concretised overseas are considered void in Nigeria. Fundamentally, the law states that “Only a marriage contract between a man and a woman shall be recognised in Nigeria.”

    I wonder whether there are aspects of the new law that cover happenings such as my encounter with the bouncer. In that particular instance, a scheming adult attempted to take advantage of a vulnerable minor, which was definitely reprehensible. However, supposing the situation involves two consenting male adults fully conscious of the import of their relationship? Should such a couple be blocked?

    Interestingly, mirroring the storm is the fact that notable Western nations, the United States of America (USA) and Canada, as well as the European Union (EU), have separately criticised the new law, with a common thread alleging a violation of “fundamental human rights.” It was UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Navi Pillay who wrapped up the opposition, saying that rarely has there been legislation “that in so few paragraphs directly violates so many basic, universal human rights.”

    The government’s defence, which forms the kernel of local protest against perceived meddlesomeness of the foreign voices, was supplied by presidential spokesman Reuben Abati who said, “We have received enquiries from some foreign embassies on why the bill was signed into law and told them our cultural values do not tolerate same-sex marriage.” He added: “More than 90 per cent of Nigerians are opposed to same-sex marriage. So the law is in line with our culture and religious beliefs as a people. And I think that this law is made for a people and what the government has done is consistent with the preference of its environment.”

    Actually, this appeal to religion and culture is not as conclusive as it is perhaps intended to be. For instance, Pope Francis, head of the world’s largest Christian church with an estimated 1.2 billion Catholics, at least 19 million of them Nigerians, reportedly said that he couldn’t “judge” homosexuals. More specifically, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, representing the Church of England, in a joint letter addressed to Jonathan, made it clear that “The victimisation or diminishment of human beings, whose affections happen to be ordered towards people of the same sex, is anathema to us.” They emphasised that homosexual people “are children of God, loved and valued by Him and deserving the best we can give – pastoral care and friendship.”

    Ironically, in a striking demonstration of reverse evangelism, the West is now on the receiving end as beneficiaries of its proselytism seek to re-educate it. Are Nigerians, therefore, better Christians than those who introduced the faith to them? Defenders of the anti-gay law have also projected an Islamic point of view, which they insist is intolerant of homosexuality. Intriguingly, however, devotees of indigenous religions have not been as expressive of distaste for same-sex relationships. It is noteworthy that local stories abound of people who allegedly indulge in sodomy, particularly for occult purposes, including acquisition of supernatural power and riches.

    From the cultural perspective, it would appear that the official view of culture is rather inelastic. There is no doubt that human culture is always work in progress; it is even more so given the reality of increasing globalisation, which is not to endorse domineering moves by the West. When all is said and done, the world is far from an agreement on homosexuality, and no one should assume the authority of forcing it down the throats of people who have different values.

    Be that as it may, central to the controversy is the nature of homosexual desire in human beings. Is it biologically driven or socially acquired? Fascinatingly, there is evidence of homosexual behaviour in certain animals, including mammals, birds and fish. Is its condemnation a question of human morality, then? According to modern research, homosexuality relates to all sexual behaviour between animals of the same sex, that is to say, “copulation, genital stimulation, mating games and sexual display behaviour.” It is curious that more attention is apparently being given to males than females in this matter, for lesbians have relationships too.

    It is apt to ask: Can the anti-gay law succeed in preventing people of homosexual orientation from expressing their sexuality, if they cannot behave otherwise? Welcome to the world of closet gays! The difficulty of the heterosexual imagination is that it cannot accommodate other possibilities of sexual manifestation, which itself is cause for wonder.

  • Operation Totality

    With about two months to the April terminal date of the six-month extension of emergency rule in Adamawa, Borno and Yobe states from November last year, the central government will need to stop pussyfooting in the anti-terror campaign against relentless and remorseless Islamic fundamentalism represented by Boko Haram. By that date, if there is no news of success, which is likely, it would mean that a mere militia has defied the country’s armed forces in a virtual war for one year, given that the emergency introduced in May 2013, initially for six months, was extended for the same period.

    It is noteworthy that the newly-appointed Chief of Defence Staff (CDS), Air Marshall Alex Badeh, in his inaugural statement, indicated the complication that would arise by the end of the extension, if the precarious security situation remained. He said: “I was telling my colleagues that we must bring it to a stop by April 2014 so that we do not have constitutional problems in our hands. We do not want to go back to the Senate and start begging and lobbying.” Referring to the equally new Chief of Army Staff, he added, “If we do our work cohesively, I can say that General Minimah will finish that thing in no time.” It is interesting that he suggested a possible failure of integration. Certainly, glossing over such a critical factor cannot be in the best interest of the operation. Furthermore, lack of cohesion in this context sends a negative message about the professionalism of the forces.

    The questions are: Will the presidency seek further extension of emergency rule? Will it toughen the conditions of the emergency? Can it do so without considering the possible political disadvantage to the governing party, especially in view of the approaching 2015 general elections? How will the legislature treat such a development? Can the country afford to have demilitarisation of the troubled areas?

    To go by the course of the conflict so far, there is no question that victory against the insurgents within what is left of the emergency period will be a miracle. Evidence of the apparent deadlock was perhaps provided, last week, by the invasion of Konduga, Borno State, with Boko Haram fighters killing 51 residents and abducting 20 girls. Eyewitness accounts said the rebels numbered about 400 and some of them were dressed in military camouflage; they stormed the town in army trucks led by an Armoured Personnel Carrier (APC); they unleashed destruction on the community for four hours, and fled around 10pm when a military aircraft intervened. It is instructive that the state governor, Kashim Shettima, who visited the scene, said the attackers “are better armed and better motivated.”

    Against this background, the government ought to finally come to the realisation that its counter-terrorism measures are not only ineffectively limited; its approach is also hopelessly inadequate. It is apt to contemplate whether the restrained emergency, with the retention of democratic structures, specifically, elected executive and legislative institutions, which was a politically correct move by President Goodluck Jonathan, is itself not a drawback. In other words, is the theatre of war sufficiently militarised for the purpose?

    From the signs, it is illusory to regard this confrontation in terms other than warfare. Therefore, it is important that the armed forces must not pull their punches if indeed they desire to drive home the point that the Islamist group is punching above its weight. This situation calls for a multiplication of force, pure and simple.

    In connection with the advocacy of all-out aggression, there is a puzzling paradox in the expected counter-argument, which is based on so-called human rights grounds. The April 2013 incident in Baga, Borno State, which saw the military facing harsh criticism for alleged deployment of excessive firepower in an encounter with Boko Haram, reportedly resulting in high fatalities and structural damage particularly on the part of the civilian populace and the vulnerable, is a good example of how defenders of human rights tend to lose focus of what is really important. Quick to jump to conclusions, devoted antagonists of the administration seized the opportunity to level charges of human rights abuse and crimes against humanity at the army. Indeed, international observers, notably the United Nations (UN), Britain, USA and Human Rights Watch (HRW), understandably expressed concern about the alleged atrocities and called for a probe.

    Remarkably, the controversy failed to settle the issue of just how much force is acceptable in this battle. Boko Haram has been on the rampage since 2009, and the rather belated imposition of emergency rule only served to acknowledge the mind-boggling scale of the crisis which has been extremely costly in terms of loss of lives as well as property, not to mention developmental atrophy. For instance, and revealing of the group’s apparent contempt for Badeh’s time-table, not long after he spoke of ending the carnage, the rebels carried out devastating attacks in Adamawa and Borno, which claimed 138 lives.

    The truth is that warfare, which is what this is all about, must necessarily come at a price; and the fear of recording unfortunate non-combatant casualties must not be a basis for frowning upon the option of maximum belligerence. What is important, and must be emphasised, is a thoroughly professional approach by the enforcers of the emergency.

    Interestingly, the role of the volunteer youths who constitute the Civilian JTF (Joint Task Force), specifically, their selfless informal contribution to the government’s anti-terrorism efforts, not only demonstrates the undeniable value of effective intelligence, which will prove crucial in winning the war; it also underlines the support of the locals for the cause of the armed forces.

    Regrettably, there are grave allegations, maybe not unfounded, of an anti-terror racket that is working against the goal of crushing Boko Haram, which would mean a loss of easy state funds for the campaign that end up in private pockets. In addition, it is believed that there are political undercurrents which may have little to do with the supposed religious impulse of the rebels. There is no doubt that these possibilities also hinder progress, just as the limited military operation.

    The tragedy of defeat, for that is what the under-performance of the military represents in this case, is that it may likely spur other nonconformists as well reinforce general insecurity across the land. “The war against terror must be won,” Jonathan reiterated while decorating the new military chiefs. However, talk cannot be enough. The seriousness of the situation must be addressed with a sense of totality.

     

     

  • Acrobatic Atiku

    It’s a season of spectacular somersaults, and spectators are in for enlightening entertainment. Since it’s a free show, many eyes will be glued to the arena of political acrobatics, particularly with the striking entry of former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar, 67, whose separation from the ruling Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) represents possibly the biggest endorsement of the rival All Progressives Congress (APC) by a politician from the other side.

    There is no denying the fact that this latest divorce, a gripping sequel to similar moves by five former PDP bigwigs and incumbent governors, Chibuike Amaechi (Rivers), Ahmed Abdulfatah (Kwara), Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso (Kano), Murtala Nyako (Adamawa) and Aliyu Wamakko (Sokoto) in November last year, mirrors a certain inconstancy, which apologists have laboured to define from the perspective of realpolitik. Expectedly, Atiku must have been conscious of the burden of fickleness as he offered a rationalisation for this specific review of his relationship with PDP.

    His argument : “In 2006, as a result of my firm stand in defence of our constitution and our democracy, my supporters and I were pushed out of our party, the Peoples Democratic Party, a party that we worked tirelessly with other compatriots to build as a vehicle to restore democracy to our country. We later returned to that party in 2009 when a new leadership of the party and the country promised a new direction of inclusiveness, of internal democracy, of an end to impunity, adherence to the rule of law and respect for the dignity of members and Nigerians. Sadly, however, these promises have not been kept.”

    It is unclear why Atiku, the country’s second in command from 1999 to 2007, had apparently unreserved faith in those he has now charged with unfaithfulness, and returned to the party’s embrace after his alleged ejection and subsequent unsuccessful 2006 presidential run as the candidate of the former Action Congress (AC). Against the background of his embarrassing loss at the PDP’s primary for the 2011 presidential election and his subsequent alleged informal exclusion from its leadership structures, it was understandable that he felt claustrophobic and needed a new space for political expression. Interestingly, the fresh breathing space he found has turned out to be APC, which has a strong AC content, suggesting a return to familiar turf. His statement on his resignation from PDP described APC as “a party of change committed to the improvement of the lives of our people and to the continued existence and development of Nigeria as one indivisible country.” The questions are: Has he come to stay? Will he stay?

    Although he called his move “the right decision”, his destination was intriguing, especially because he bypassed the Peoples Democratic Movement (PDM), the party he claimed to have co-founded and which he is believed to have financed heavily. This seems to corroborate the view that maybe his overriding inspiration was situational wisdom, even fair-weather logic, although he emphasised that “this is not about me”; no doubt, conscious of such damaging interpretation of his new association.

    It is this possibility of unprincipled changeability that darkens the integrity of his expressed purpose and, not surprisingly, the party he has dumped twice treated his departure not only with cynicism but also farcical contempt. PDP’s Deputy National Chairman, Prince Uche Secondus, said,” We are waiting for Atiku to go on this voyage and to come back. He has done it before. This is not the first time and we will welcome him back when he comes, because APC cannot win election.” In a significant sense, Information Minister Labaran Maku stretched the metaphor of travel, likening him to a peripatetic migrant. “They keep migrating from one place to another,” he said, adding, “A party is not just a market for people to stand for elections.”

    There is no question that the issue of likely presidential aspiration is central to the pros and cons of Atiku’s defection, particularly as he has never veiled his desire to be president. It is probable that he was only being diplomatic when he declared, “ I will do all within my God-given powers to help the APC win elections all over Nigeria and bring true change to our country and its long-suffering people.” Whether in the unlikely event that he chooses to sacrifice his predictable ambition, or in the context of his possible failure to win the party ticket, all eyes will be on Atiku. The unfolding drama, with the twists and turns that are to be expected, will be interesting to follow.

    Being a political acrobat must come with its own difficulties, and it would appear that even Atiku must appreciate the fact that his latest flip puts him in a tough position. It certainly won’t enhance his image, if he continues to indulge in spins, which is not to say that he should become undynamic. Indeed, the concept of perpetual motion may be without virtue in this case. It is noteworthy that Atiku was a prominent member of the defunct Social Democratic Party (SDP) in the Third Republic, apart from his two-time membership of PDP, his time in AC and link with PDM.

    Given the diverse ideological strands suggested by these platforms, it is important to consider whether Atiku’s political trajectory is informed by any firm philosophy. It is too easy and unconvincing merely to appeal to a self-righteous interest in working for thoroughgoing socio-political change and advancement, without any demonstration of a fundamental guiding principle. Talk is cheap!

    According to him, “The process of building a nation, of securing and deepening democracy is indeed difficult. And it is not a lineal process. There would be alignment and realignment of political forces. There would be ups and downs and zigzags, triumphs and challenges. Amidst all that, patriots must remain focused and do what has to be done to save and build the country and serve our people better.”

    In other words, perhaps more acrobatic displays should be expected, and even Atiku should not be ruled out. The poet Christopher Okigbo wrote of “a going and coming that goes on forever.” In this specific context, the going and coming cannot go on forever.

  • Okotie’s carnal crown

    Perhaps Pastor Chris Okotie of the Household of God Church International Ministries, Lagos, deserves congratulations on its 27th anniversary this month. He has been the church shepherd for that long, following his regeneration as a “born again Christian” three years earlier. Strikingly, his pastoral life has been coloured by controversies that prompt reflections on spiritual existence as well as priestly integrity.

    It would appear that, with his spectacular background as a pop music star, the entertainer never quite left him. He continues to exude an unmistakable show-business quality decades after his stardom in the 1980s, raising perplexing questions about the extent of his temperance under the supposed influence of spirituality.

    The latest manifestation of the glitzy gospeler was the news of his vehicular indulgences. Enjoy Okotie’s account of his eye-popping splurge and his sophistic rhetoric: “My life is a trajectory of faith and commitment to divine servitude. It is proof that the veracity of scripture cannot be impeached, that God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him. That is why 27 years ago I had nothing, but through a progressive application of the word of God, I have appropriated soul prosperity and material blessings. That is why I was able to pay N33m for the Range Rover Autobiography 2014 Executive and just over N120m for the Rolls Royce Phantom Coupe 2014 bespoke edition; to mark the occasion of 30 years of being a Christian and 27 years of being a pastor of the Household of God Church.”

    According to him in the published interview, “30 years is symbolic because it is reminiscent of the baptism of the Lord Jesus at the River Jordan at the age of 30. Prosperity is an integral part of the gospel. It is not an end in itself. It is the authentication and validation of the Melchizedek priesthood of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

    The most profound aspect of this tragicomedy is the apparent fact that Okotie’s reasoning reflected unbelievable trivialisation of the egregious exhibitionism and vainglory. “Buying an expensive car is a choice,” Okotie said defensively and accurately. But the argument is self-serving and subtly deceptive. The unarguable point is that, in this instance, the expression of choice is unexemplary. It should be noted that he also said, “You know I bought those cars for a purpose…These cars are part of the event.”

    Unsurprisingly, he responded to a question on whether he owned a private jet, saying, “No, I do not have a jet now. But I will if it becomes necessary in the prosecution of my ecclesiastical responsibilities.” In another breath, he declared, perhaps in unintentional self-contradiction, “All that I require, I already have.” This was followed by a blunt statement significant for its revelation of his attention-seeking aspiration. “I am already prosperous and famous,” he told the interviewer.

    It is relevant to wonder about the flock he leads, not only in demographic terms but also in the particular area of their understanding of piety and how they rate their pastor in this context. Perhaps they find him inspiring in a material sense, given his acquisitions. Or maybe he transports them to another realm with his musical skill. Or possibly he enchants them with his grandiloquence. Or the sheer magnetism of his personality captivates them.

    What is evidently missing in all these possibilities is the centrality of Jesus, Christianity’s undisputed exemplar. Flaunting possessions was certainly not the style of Jesus. Indeed, the well-known Biblical story about Jesus and the rich young man (also called Jesus and the rich young ruler) is a metaphor for his perspective on the matter. A man approached Jesus and asked, “”Teacher, what good thing must I do to have eternal life?” He got an unexpected answer: “If you want to be perfect, go sell everything you own!  Give the money to the poor, and you will have riches in heaven.  Then come and be my follower.”

    Of course, it is possible that Okotie, despite his clerical status, does not dream of perfection from the viewpoint of Jesus. Consequently, he probably would not subscribe to such counsel. It is interesting that he interpreted his “material blessings” as a “reward” from God. However, it is apt to ask whether his showiness is also a divine gift.

    There is the unavoidable question of the source of this prosperity as well as the profitability of the church enterprise. This must explain why there are advocates of church taxation, which remains a contentious argument even in the face of the reality that pastors have become entrepreneurs and entrepreneurs have become pastors. The absurd result of this topsy-turvy actuality is that the church has become a place where money reigns.

    To speak the language of the corporate world, Okotie’s church also has Corporate Social Responsibility programmes, which he mentioned probably as a way of establishing equilibrium. According to him, “In our church, we are involved in a lot of charitable events, like our annual GRACE programme, amongst other charitable things we do to bless our members.” Even without the details of the reported charity, it is easy to conclude, given the information available about the scope of the pastor’s wealth, that such perfunctory arrangements amount to no more than mere tokenism.

    This is the kind of drama that gives not only Christianity, but also religion, a negative name. With the invasion of supposed spiritual spheres by mercantile forces, sacredness is violated and the human spirit suffers.

    Interestingly, Okotie, 55, still habours political dreams despite past failures in the arena. After a first attempt at presidential office under the banner of the Justice Party in 2003, and another shot in 2007 as a member of the Fresh Democratic Party, performing abysmally on both occasions, it titillates the imagination that Okotie is once again in the race. “I will run in 2015, God willing,” he declared, adding, “God spoke to me about my participation in the political process, which was why I took the step in the first place. He has not said anything contrary.”

    God again! The things men say, and do, in the name of God! It is amusing that Okotie, with his baggage, thinks that he could be acceptable to the people. The kind of insensitive, not to say sneering, display of unpriestly behaviour cannot recommend him for governance. Sadly, he comes across as a champion of carnality.

  • Amalgamation menu

    Ironically, Nigeria’s formal celebration of the centenary of its1914 Amalgamation, scheduled to run throughout 2014, is happening at a time of mounting discontent over the very composition of the union. However, this cannot be a good reason for non-recognition of the anniversary, or a perfunctory acknowledgement of the historical juncture.

    To employ a biological metaphor, a centenarian is a newsmaker any day; and by the same token, a 100-year milestone in a country’s affairs cannot be un-newsworthy. When all is said and done, there is no doubt that the amalgamation was both historically significant and historically consequential.

    It is notable that the ultimate merger followed earlier combinations that were similarly of historical import and consequence. While the Protectorate of Northern Nigeria, which comprised the pre-colonial states of the Sokoto Caliphate, the Bornu Empire and the Kano Emirate, took shape in 1890, the Colony and Protectorate of Southern Nigeria, made up of the Niger Coast Protectorate and the colony of Lagos, was concretised in 1900. It was these northern and southern protectorates that became the Colony and Protectorate of Nigeria in 1914 by the creative licence of Sir Frederick Lugard who became the country’s first Governor General and ruled in the name of colonial Britain until 1919.

    In reality, therefore, the name “Nigeria” even predated the amalgamation, which is a point to ponder in the divisive debate over the nationhood of the political entity that resulted from the merger. If the name was shared by the northern and southern protectorates before the union, it implied that they were already notionally linked, meaning that an actual combination was always a possibility. Questions: Could the amalgamation have been avoided? If so, would the different protectorates have retained their common identity? How would the issue of independence have been tackled in the separate protectorates?

    Interestingly, the name is a coinage credited to Dame Flora Louise Shaw, who became Lady Lugard by marriage to the man who welded the mix. A British journalist and writer who reportedly had an abiding interest in imperialism, Shaw provided an argument for the name in The Times of 8 January, 1897. According to her: “The name Nigeria applying to no other part of Africa may without offence to any neighbours be accepted as co-extensive with the territories over which the Royal Niger Company has extended British influence, and may serve to differentiate them equally from the colonies of Lagos and the Niger Protectorate on the coast and from the French territories of the Upper Niger.” In other words, the name, which was adopted in 1898, was conceived as a novel brand.

    It is remarkable that the thought of a change of name did not come up in the boiling build-up to the country’s independence from Britain in 1960, and even in the post-colonial era, which is perhaps a statement about its local acceptance, despite the fact that it was a foreign creation and imposition.

    It is food for thought that the singular instance of nomenclatural rejection had devastating implications for the union, speaking of the Nigerian Civil War of 1967 to 1970 following the declaration of the independent Republic of Biafra by the then Eastern Region headed by the military governor Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu. The rest of Nigeria, which was then under military rule, firmly rejected the secession, and the ensuing conflict reportedly consumed over 1 million lives before the secessionists surrendered. For both sides, it was a huge price indeed to pay for preserving the union as well as the integrity of territorial designation.

    In the context of alternative history, it is interesting to contemplate the consequence of a victory for the rebels, the sovereignty of Biafra and the redefinition of Nigeria’s political space. Forty four years after the war, it is apparent that wounds have not fully healed and the spectre of dissolution is alive with the campaign by the Movement for the Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra (MASSOB), which continues to remind the country of the failure of the union.

    Certainly, there are other faces of centrifugal energy. What about the threat by Boko Haram, which is pursuing an Islamic theocracy in direct contradiction to the constitutional secularity of the state? What about militants in the oil-rich Niger Delta, who have not been tamed by official amnesty, and insist on resource control or hell for the country? Or, excuse the reduction to absurdity, what about Ijaw loudmouths who continue to shout that President Goodluck Jonathan’s re-election is non-negotiable, even if the electorate says “No”?

    The union is obviously disunited. Perhaps the most symptomatic element of the disharmony is the contentious idea of a conference to reimagine the country. The pros and cons of such confab, its character, its reliability, its acceptability and its practicability, among other critical aspects, are nowhere near any conclusion. It is a sign of foundational dysfunction that the fundamental issues of nationhood are yet unsettled after a century of blurred togetherness.

    Curiously, there are allegations that it was on account of British machinations that the northern part of the country enjoyed political dominance in the immediate post-colonial era and well beyond. However, the undeniable fact is that those who continue on such a slippery path of reasoning may be guilty of scapegoating. One especially striking strand of this argument is that the North has been the weak link in the country’s development chain, and that the rest of the nation space could do without the drawback. Evidently, such superficiality tends to shrink the wider picture and, perhaps unwittingly, provides a cover for general elite misrule, which no one can pin on the long-gone colonialists.

    The theme of the Nigerian Centenary Project, One Nigeria, Great Promise, positively insists on oneness, which, however, cannot be taken for granted. According to the organisers, the 12-month long festivity will “highlight the key concepts of unity, indivisibility, virility, progress and the promise of the Nigerian federation.” The vision is “to project a united, vibrant and progressive nation that is ready to be a world leader;” while the mission is “to re-inspire a sense of unity in all Nigerians.” Among the objectives of the project, one important aspiration holds a promise for future generations, specifically, to “institute legacy projects that will serve as a lasting reference for the Centenary.”

    More importantly, with the country’s decisive 2015 general elections ahead, and the political class already playing with dangerous fireworks, the historic celebration should be accompanied by sufficient sobriety. The leaders must keep their heads on their shoulders, and ensure that it does not turn out to be a merriment that precedes disaster.

  • ‘You must find your own way’

    Five years after culture phenomenon Susanne Wenger passed away on January 12, 2009, at age 93, her life remains an intriguing signpost. Although she was Austrian by nativity, she ended up living among the Yoruba in Nigeria for almost 60 years before her death. This was unforeseen when she arrived in the country in 1950 with her then husband Ulli Beier, a German. “She came, she saw, and was conquered,” Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka said of her eventual enchantment in a posthumous tribute. Interestingly, it was Osogbo, land of the mystic River Osun, now in Osun State, that provided the milieu for what Wenger described as her “total immersion.”

    She was an engaging personality well known for her remarkable devotion to Yoruba indigenous gods and goddesses, which earned her the Yoruba moniker Adunni Olorisa as a mark of her acceptance in the traditional society. An olorisa is a devotee of the ancient Yoruba pantheon. According to a fascinating anecdote by European photojournalist Gert Chesi, a co-writer of her 1983 autobiographical work, A life with the gods in their Yoruba homeland: “At a congress of the European Forum at Alpbach, Austria, took place a meeting between ‘Black Africa and Western Europe’. Susanne Wenger was attacked and nearly prevented from reading her paper, by black missionaries and Church dignitaries from all over Africa, although the view of a Belgian Catholic Bishop ultimately prevailed that she be allowed to speak. Those who denied her credibility – since she is European – did not think to question themselves as African Christians.”

    She was also famous for her innovative New Sacred Art group and for her selfless dedication to the preservation of the sacred Osun Osogbo Grove, listed as a World Heritage Site by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) shortly after her 90th birthday in 2005- this was an interesting coincidence and the icing on the cake for Wenger. Long before it became correct to be environment-friendly, Wenger had championed a crusade for the conservation of nature in the Osun Grove, albeit based on a religious premise and her conviction that it was the abode of the gods. Inspired by her philosophy that “Art is ritual”, she created a stunning range of majestic “architectural sculptures” in the grove as symbols of reverence, working with talented locals whom she inspired to discover their artistic gift. Her professional training as a sculptor in Austria equipped her for the experience of using art to glorify nature.

    Remarkably, her most ambitious “sculpture as abode for the living gods”, the Odu Sculpture Complex, was uncompleted before her death, even after many years of work. This is perhaps understandable, considering the fact that it was conceived as an open-ended sculpture representing the multitude of gods or orisa that make up the Yoruba pantheon.

    It is to her credit that after her long-drawn-out battle with various interest groups that failed to see the need to guard the grove, the political authorities in Nigeria eventually saw her point and stepped in to protect it, and then, UNESCO followed. The Osun Osogbo Grove is the site of Nigeria’s star tourist attraction, the Osun Osogbo Festival, celebrated in honour of a river goddess and possibly the country’s pre-eminent indigenous religious festival, which draws yearly a high number of visitors from within Nigeria as well as from the wider Yoruba Diaspora and beyond.

    Notably, Yoruba religion, in which Wenger also played the mystical role of priestess, has achieved global recognition, particularly with the UNESCO 2005 listing of the Ifa Divination system as a “Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.” Ifa is the oracular mouthpiece of the religion.

    The 2013 10th Orisa World Congress held at the Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU) in Ile-Ife, Osun State, was an eye-opener with the variegated gathering that included participants from the United States of America (USA), Brazil, Cuba, Venezuela, and Mexico, which demonstrated the appeal of the religion beyond its local provenance. An all-male family of four from Cuba, a Chinese couple who live in Venezuela and a densely bearded white American were among the alluring sights.

    Wenger’s story would be incomplete without Lasisi Alarape, the Yoruba traditional master drummer who swept her off her feet. That was sensational! It was class suicide of sorts, particularly in those days. Not only did she, a European immigrant, submit to this local man who, by her own account, “could not speak or understand a word of English language”; she also readily accepted his polygamous reality. However, the astounding wedlock following Wenger’s split with Beier turned out to be short-lived and ended on a sour note.

    One publicised incident involving Wenger and her art certainly provided food for thought. In a drama of colliding perspectives, she ironically faced a high-profile trial over her interpretation of the nature of a particular traditional deity and her consequent artistic representation of the same. This came up, interestingly, despite the apparent depth of her connection with the local culture and, therefore, brought to the fore divergences that mirrored her delicate situation as both “insider” and “outsider”. This occurrence, perhaps like no other, revealed the creative tension she probably had to live with, in the context of putting her art at the service of traditional gods. Also, the intensity of the opposition she faced on this occasion spoke volumes about the changing situation of traditional society.

    Imagine my shock when she told me, during an interview in her twilight, that the Susanne Wenger Foundation, Krems, Austria, had already “collected all what they can get hold of, what I did and what is said about me.” She said: “I have agreed with Krems. They have better reasons to be interested than our people here. Our people here have nothing against me, but they have no reason why they should back what I do, what I say.”

    Tragically, then, it seems that, in the end, her movable body of work and her essence were better appreciated by foreigners than the local people whose culture and tradition largely informed her creative vitality, and who provided the ambience for her spiritual expression. Her story reflects the reality of a global village of multiple faiths, a few of which have generally come to be accepted as the dominant religions of the time; it also shows the challenges of devotion to indigenous faith in a world of internationalised religions.

    In a fundamental sense, Wenger’s involvement in traditional Yoruba spiritual life had an evangelistic value, although she ironically rejected any suggestion of proselytisation. She was, fascinatingly, accommodating of all paths that led to divinity. Contemplate this statement by her: “There are innumerable ways to get spiritually involved. But you must find your own way.”