The Nation Newspaper

Category: Ogochukwu Ikeje

  • Chime’s hide and seek

    Chime’s hide and seek

    On Thursday, Enugu State Governor Sullivan Chime flew back to the country as quietly as he jetted out last September. His return brought relief on the one hand, and profound grief on the other.

    I explain. Chime’s departure was on medical grounds, as everyone later came to know; so his return is good news. In fact, as this piece shaped up, part of the story was that he was eager to pick up from where he left off. I rejoice in the governor’s recovery, knowing that life, even for the rich and privileged, is in the hands of God. But I am deeply troubled by the fact that Chime and his managers failed to use the opportunity of his return to correct the grave mistakes surrounding his departure over four months ago. One reason for this is that neither the governor nor his handlers realised they were in error in the first place.

    Leaving Enugu in the third week of September, the governor divulged little information beyond the fact that he was proceeding on his annual leave and that his deputy would govern the state in his absence. There was no indication of where he was headed. There was no word on how long he would be away. Neither was anything said about his real mission, his health. That was wrong and it brought Enugu people no joy, neither did it do Chime himself any good whether as governor or politician. Such executive silence was in utter disregard and disrespect of the people who voted him into power. Enugu people and the entire country were clueless as to the state of their governor’s well-being, just as they had no idea when he would be back home. Such behaviour of leaders suggests that the people they lead count for little and are not qualified to know their leaders’ health status. This is in spite of the fact that those neglected people provide the money with which the leaders feed and fund their privileges. It smacks of downright disregard.

    Chime’s silence created a vacuum filled only by rumours and speculation, both unhealthy for the people, their governor and their state.

    It was a grave error his administration failed to correct upon his return. The blunder of silence at departure would have been corrected on his return with full disclosure and a heart-felt apology. Such humility would have appeased the people and rallied them behind him with prayers and thanksgiving. Also, such humble dispositions have a way of not just winning the people over but also helping the leader to realise his immortality. For sometimes, leaders fall into error thinking they may possess some superhuman qualities. They imagine they cannot fall ill, but when they do, they think it best not to let lesser mortals know.

    This is erroneous and harmful, for we all have a headache or flu now and then. Our economic strengths may vary, as may also our options of where to seek remedy, but ailment is no respecter of persons or status. The sooner our leaders came to grips with this fact, the less secretive they would be about their state of well-being.

    “I have recently been told that I am one of the millions of Americans who will be afflicted with Alzheimer’s Disease… At the moment I feel just fine. I intend to live the remainder of the years God gives me on this earth doing the things I have always done…I now begin the journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life. I know that for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead. Thank you, my friends. May God always bless you.”

    President Ronald Reagan wrote those words in August 1994 as doctors diagnosed a disease without cure. Goodwill messages flooded his California home. He was aged 83 then, but lived for 10 more years before succumbing to pneumonia. Were Reagan a Nigerian, perhaps only his wife Nancy and one or two other people would have known what ailed one of America’s most memorable commanders-in-chief.

    All over the world, the health status of national leaders is not such top secret, except in old Communist and totalitarian regimes. Former United States Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s health challenges are public knowledge. She has spoken of her concussion and blood clot near her brain. Chelsea, her daughter, has not held anything back. Neither has her father, President Bill Clinton who, himself, has well-known health issues of his own.

    On these shores, things are remarkably different but Chime’s health secrets are nothing new. They only conform to an ugly standard set by even more powerful forces.

    On November 23, 2009, then President Umaru Yar’Adua was flown out of the country and did not return until February 24, 2010. In the period, everything that should not happen to a country, happened to Nigeria. Amid concerns over his well-being, there were agitations as to the direction of the country, considering that no handover instructions were left. In fact, Yar’Adua’s aides made such capital of the fact that the ailing president could run the country from anywhere in the world. When his condition was very bad, his minders said it was splendid.

    Late last year, the whole country was enveloped in a cloud of needless controversies surrounding the health and whereabouts of First Lady Dame Patience Jonathan.

    When will our leaders demystify themselves and learn to value the people they lead?

  • A heart to thrive

    A heart to thrive

    Everyone knows that you need more than wings to fly. More than anything else, you need a heart. To make a success of anything, you require more than tools or tutelage. You need a heart to fly, a fire to propel you.

    Only a few years ago, planes were falling off the Nigerian sky at an alarming frequency, plunging people to a most horrific death. It wasn’t that Nigerian pilots could not fly an aircraft. Nor was it that the planes were wingless or not altogether airworthy. The aircraft were crashing simply because there was no heart to ensure safety in the air. Without such a heart, therefore, no one prioritised the installation of obligatory flying aids. Nor was the right orientation in place for ground personnel. The result was the unforgettable catalogue of air tragedies of the Obasanjo years. The moment the right heart came the planes flew began to fly peacefully in the Nigerian air space.

    Hard-nosed football coaches look for this sort of heart in their players especially the strikers. A good pair of legs is not enough. Nor is ball control. Do you have enough push, an insatiable hunger to put the ball behind the opponent’s net? Attackers are rested if this fire is not in their belly.

    We need such fire to successfully tackle every challenge facing this country, including insecurity. These days of Boko Haram bloodletting, we have read that virtually every world power has lent us their security and intelligence services to help tackle terrorism. The other day, we read again that the Jonathan administration appealed to Britain for help in this regard.

    If outsiders help, it is all well and good, considering that no nation is, or can be, an island. But as a people, we need a heart of our own to confront evil. External help is welcome but it may not endure. Beyond the obligation stirred by our common humanity, the West will only help us or anyone if the gesture will benefit its people one way or another. There are interests to protect, new grounds to break and virgin frontiers to explore. Beyond that, you are essentially on your own. We need a heart to survive before the helpers come. We need a heart to survive while they are here. And we definitely need a heart to stay alive after the helpers are gone.

    Such a heart has eluded the Nigerian leadership. In spite of assorted national mantra, slogans and other forms of rhetoric, leadership has perpetually failed the nation and its people. Why? No heart to swing things. No heart to fly.

    A few examples won’t go amiss. Our leadership has consistently expended a lot of energy and cash to project a polished Nigerian brand to the world. We have been urged to dress Nigerian and to love the local fabric. But what effort has been made to revive the abandoned indigenous textile industry that should spin out the fabric?

    The Ministry of Works takes a handsome cut of statutory funds from the federal purse but has failed to build roads or repair damaged ones on which our perish every day.

    Every government has trumpeted its iron-cast resolve to put corruption out of the Nigerian space, but the monster continues to grow in stature nevertheless. It continues to cripple everything we hold dear. Providing electricity, for instance, has since become an unsolvable puzzle essentially because of corruption.

    Some might say we lack most of the things we need to take off. No. We have everything we need. We do not lack resources, whether in human or natural form. If crude oil were for drinking, I believe we have enough of it to serve every family three times a day. But its abundance has ironically not always guaranteed its availability nor stopped us from importing fuel at a huge cost. Our human resources have also been helping to build overseas nations. But we cannot build ours. Why? We lack a heart to convert resources to assets, deployable to the common good.

    Boko Haram has set everyone’s teeth on edge. Last week our prized federal lawmakers were in an uncoordinated marathon race, beginning from their hallowed seats and terminating in the open space outside the legislative chambers where they felt safe. A security officer was later to dismiss the marathon as a needless product of an empty rumour. But you won’t blame the frightened lawmakers any more than you will chide a man who was robbed by someone wielding what he suspected was a toy gun. Who will wait to find out if a Boko Haram threat is a baseless rumour, or that a robber’s weapon is actually not made of iron?

    So bring in the British anti-terror experts, but we must bear in mind that we need much more than them to live peacefully in this country. We need a heart to protect our own, and a new order that puts premium on the human life, even that of a single individual.

     

    First published September 25, 2011

     

  • Floating corpses and the police

    Floating corpses and the police

    Shortly before dozens of corpses were seen floating on a river in Anambra State on January 19, President Goodluck Jonathan paid the police college in Ikeja, Lagos an impromptu visit. The visit, which rattled the college authorities as much as it disconcerted the august visitor himself, followed a TV report detailing the rot at the police institution. The decay and lack were said to worry the president, who may have ordered a probe. Such an investigation will help to resolve the issues that puzzled the commander-in-chief. But it must be comprehensive enough to cover other police colleges and outfits in the country and its findings must also be made public while appropriate action is taken to punish the guilty in order to correct such situations.

    Such an investigation, if conscientiously undertaken, may shed enough light on the decay in the entire police force itself, whose effectiveness continues to be hindered. Our law enforcement agents are not well kitted, equipped or housed? Nor are they adequately remunerated. The force needs retooling.

    If these needs are met and the men and officers better inspired and orientated, Nigerians can count on the police to answer when they call. The country will be better for everyone. Not only will lawlessness be curtailed; even those developments that deeply mystify us will be resolved with considerable ease.

    Take the floating corpses case on a river in Amansea, Anambra. Few things can rival that incident in mystery. Residents of the community near Awka, the state capital, “woke up”, to borrow a favourite local media phrase, to discover dead bodies floating on their river. In other words, when they woke up the previous day and went to the river, they saw no such thing travelling downstream.

    And there the mystery began. For it was not just one corpse or two or three. One report said over 15, which is horrifying enough. Another took the tally to 30, yet another to 40. One even said there were over 50 bodies sighted on Amansea river. There are concerns, too, that there may be more bodies held down by underwater structures and were yet to bob up to the surface. There is another problem. The river, the villagers’ only source of water, is polluted.

    Troubled as Amansea residents are, they have no clue as to the identities of the corpses. They are not at war with any of their neighbours. Nobody is missing in their community. So whose bodies were seen on their river? Who killed those people? Why? Where? When?

    The traditional ruler is just as distressed as the state governor Peter Obi who quickly returned from his overseas trip to tackle the matter. The police authorities in Anambra are also mystified, as are their counterparts in Enugu State whose people on both sides of their common border are at peace with one another. They say they will investigate.

    That is one nasty thing about mystery. It sometimes accompanies tragedies and when it does, worsens the problem and makes it hurt more. Imagine a tragic death accompanied by the fact that the  corpse is not seen. The bereaved mourn the departed but are even more troubled by the fact that they cannot bury their dead. Such a situation leaves the bereaved with eternal questions. The mystery never ends.

    Anambra people and Nigerians in general are in a similar situation as we await the result of police investigations. We know we have lost people but we do not know who we lost yet or how many. We suspect that those people may have died in terrible circumstances but we have no assurances. We know we are not happy about the situation but we also know we are even more confused than sad. Mystery deepens a loss. The police should sort all that out.

    There is another major concern. One report initially listed the police as among those without a clue as to how to evacuate the dead. The police, local governments, ministry of health as well as the Anambra State Emergency Management Agency were said not to have facilities needed to evacuate the corpses.

    That is a big problem. Our police should be equipped for such eventualities. Their effectiveness demands it.

    Another account said when the police recovered the bodies from the water, a mass grave was quickly dug and the corpses buried there. Such a thing as autopsy was not heard, according to the report. That is even a bigger concern. Without an autopsy, that is, if it is not in their plans, how can any credible investigation be undertaken in the matter?

    Jonathan’s reported interest in probing the rot in police colleges should be extended to help the law enforcement agency perform better.

    The rot in the police, as in many other public institutions in the country, did not start during his tenure. But if he can correct the anomalies that preceded him, he will be remembered as the commander-in-chief that made history.

  • Nigeria a giant by 2050?

    Nigeria a giant by 2050?

    Forecasters are at it again. A projection has gone out that Nigeria may, by the year 2050, become one of the world’s leading economies, enjoying a handsome 13th position among 20 nations of the world. The forecast, published last week, came from PricewaterhouseCoopers, an accounting firm. It sounds good, doesn’t it? In fact, the report suggests that even lowly Vietnam could also join Nigeria in outpacing such developed economies as Australia in a mere 37 years. The reason for this, PwC economists believe, is that developed economies are still struggling to recover from the recession of 2008 and 2009, while emerging ones like Nigeria and Vietnam have been “relatively insulated despite the slowdown of 2011 and 2012.”

    According to the projection, the area Nigeria may out-muscle other economies is in purchasing power parity or PPP. Economists say PPP is a theory which states that “exchange rates between currencies are in equilibrium when their purchasing power is the same in each of the two countries.” They explain that this simply means “the exchange rate between two countries should equal the ratio of the two countries’ price level of a fixed basket of goods and services.”

    Non-economists, like this columnist, understand this to mean that by 2050, the naira could be strong enough to fetch Nigerians goods and services of appreciable value, not minding the geographical location. By this lay perspective, the miserable, flip-flop tale of our national currency would have since been forgotten, replaced by a respectable profile of power and value. By this same unsophisticated appreciation of the PPP forecast, I should hit the roof for the good times are not so far off.

    But I won’t, for this piece of projection hangs on nothing else but a mighty, big IF. Nigeria can become an economic giant in the world IF…Nigeria can be a giant in the world IF it can put a few things in place. Nigeria can overtake the leading economies, all things being equal.

    That is the language of economists; it is their stock-in-trade.

    The accounting firm’s forecast makes little sense to me, for obvious reasons. It reminds me of the 2020 mantra much trumpeted by the late President Umaru Yar’Adua administration. It was projected that by 2020, which is now only seven years away, Nigeria will be among 20 industrialised nations of the world.

    Industrialised nations are giants. As such, they have power and voice. As giants, they are reckoned with. When their leaders speak, no one pretends not to hear. That was the league our country was projected to join by the year 2020. But as everyone knows, no nation climbs to that platform merely by imagining it just because motivational speakers say whatever your mind can conceive you can achieve. Everyone knows that no nation attains giant status without stable electricity, good infrastructure and, crucially, a credible anti-corruption stance.

    PricewaterhouseCoopers even reckons, though, that nothing is easy. “Nigeria,” it said in that projection, “could be the fastest growing country in our sample due to its youthful and growing working population, but this does rely on using its oil wealth to develop a broader based economy with better infrastructure and institutions as regards rule of law and political governance and hence support long term productivity growth –the potential is there, but it remains to be realised in practice.”

    Now, that’s where the frustration of these forecasts lies. We all, including non-economists, know what the forecasters know. They know, like we do, that our oil should make us wealthy. The economists, like all of us, know that we have a young, schooled, skilled and energetic population, willing to work and turn their country around. We know that we have all it takes to join the big league.

    But just as all that is clear, so is it also beyond question that we are our own biggest enemies. It is paradoxical. Nigeria’s potentials have so far failed to enrich it. Its oil has not lubricated its engines. Rather it has remained a source of perpetual worry, eliciting a pile of questions. Why, for instance, have otherwise lowly nations, without oil, even in Africa, outpaced us in development? PricewaterhouseCoopers believes Nigeria’s oil can support “a broader-based economy” but why has that economy continued to elude us? We know that nothing can be impossible for us and that we can do all things with the riches God has lavishly given us. What we don’t know is why even the simplest of things seem too difficult to accomplish.

    Forecasters seem to wonder why our infrastructure is woeful. They worry about rule of law. They are concerned about governance, about accountability. They know that these things matter.

    Truth is, so do we. We have always known what they know. So, what use are their projections?

  • The road to Igbo presidency

    The road to Igbo presidency

    Southeast should prepare for the future

    A few things stand in the way of the Igbo man or woman on the road to the presidency. One of them is the taste of power. Its sweetness excites the taste buds, courses through to the brain and flows down the rest of the body. It blinds and deafens and blocks all rationality. From Nigeria’s birth in 1960 to its 53rd anniversary, the Hausa have had the best taste of power at the top, whatever the system of governance. From Tafawa Balewa to Gowon to Murtala to Shagari to Buhari down to all the generals that came after, the North has savoured the taste of federal power more than any other region in the country. But this fact, however, has not dissuaded politicians and power brokers in the region from agitating for another shot at the top in the immediate, even in 2015. There is no shortfall of arguments for the Northern quest, none of which I need go into here. Ndigbo must come to grips with this fact. Put differently, an Igbo man’s ascent to Aso Rock will not come without profound opposition.

    Coming a miserable second in the power scheme of things are the Yoruba, one of whom, Chief Olusegun Obasanjo, made it to the top first as an army general and then a civilian, giving him pride of place in power longevity. Still, the Obasanjo story does not seem to edify majority of readers from the region, largely because on both occasions of his ride to power, his kinsmen scarcely played any crucial part. The region will be happy to help send another of their own to Abuja in 2015. Ndigbo will do well, too, to note that.

    In the tripartite equation of the country, the Southeast brought up the rear. Since the dawn of the nation, they have had no candidate of their own at the top except the ceremonial presidency of Azikiwe. It hurts. So the Igbo quest for Aso Rock, even in 2015, is legitimate.

    Yet, Ndigbo are not the only ones with an eye on power at the centre. The so-called minorities desire the presidency as much as anyone. The Edo, for instance, will not turn down the opportunity if it presents itself. Nor will the Idoma.

    The quest for federal power is strong across the board, though it must be admitted that it is stronger in some parts than in others. But that is not the biggest hurdle in the way of Ndigbo. Their most telling challenge is internal, not external. It is not that other people want to snatch what they are reaching for. It is lame to continue to claim that certain people do not want the Igbo to govern; if any group of people can determine’ the fate of a nation till eternity without any challenge, they will do it. For as some have pointed out, no one relinquishes power easily or willingly. It is too sweet.

    The Igbo challenge is incoherence, a malady that is in no way domesticated in the Southeast, but which has continued to harm its people and their legitimate ambitions. There has always been a superabundance of national leadership material in the region, but at some point you begin to wonder if that is not in itself a problem. There is always the concern that where only one Igbo man is needed, with others backing him up, 10 or more may show up, each with scant support, and none getting the job. In this circumstance, there is no melody; only cacophony. In national politics, the best they get in this unflattering atmosphere is vice-president.

    To go beyond this point, Ndigbo must foster unity among themselves and put their best foot forward. While it is impossible for the entire Southeast to vote for one man (in fact it is even naive to hope for that) it is imperative for their candidate to garner overwhelming support from the region. But it does not end there, for all the votes in Igbo land and none from the other regions cannot take a Southeasterner to Aso Rock. The Igbo presidential aspirant needs appreciable ballots from other regions. To do that, he must reach out to them and quit posting the miserable, marginalised figure Nigerians are used to. The Igbo man must find his voice, his rhythm, his confidence. He must be bold again.

    The Igbo aspirant must have a vision for the country he wants to lead and present a well-thought-out plan for its growth. If others before him failed, he must not. His presidency must count, and not just make the statistics.

    The quest for federal power must start now but should target beyond 2015.

  • Nigeria now and beyond

    Nigeria now and beyond

    How to build a better nation

    As New Year resolutions go, those of President Goodluck Jonathan were not bad. On January 1, at an Anglican Church service in Abuja, he pledged to “provide employment for our people and encourage entrepreneurship”. Again, the President promised that 2013 will be better than last year.

    The year 2012 indeed left us brokenhearted, in the main. Better endowed writers and analysts have captured the grief of the floods, which devastated a substantial part of the country, forcing many from their homes and leaving them helpless and moody in the Yuletide, with questions as to what to eat. Space has also been given to the Boko Haram onslaught, which continues to leave blood and tears in its wake in spite of the best efforts of our security community. Our tragedies were not limited to the ground or waters, though; there were also fatalities in the air, throwing the nation into mourning. Thankfully, there was some relief amid the grief. In a year in which we lost former National Security Adviser General Andrew Azazi in an air crash, Governor Danbaba Suntai of Taraba State survived an ill-fated flight. He has been discharged from hospital, with two new bundles of joy in his wife’s arms. Suntai’s counterpart in Kogi, Idris Wada, has also left hospital after a crash in his SUV left him with a fractured leg.

    2012 was largely a year many prayed would not repeat itself. It would have been proper for the President, in an end of year or January 1 speeches, to touch on these issues if only to seek lifting the people from their grief and get them to look forward to a better year. Still, Jonathan’s January efforts in the church did some good. He said the new year will be better. As president, that should boost morale. He also said our uniformed personnel were making some progress and that his administration will strengthen the security architecture, a favourite phrase of his. All of that is good.

    Yet there was something else the President said in Abuja on New Year’s Day that got me thinking. He spoke about worsening violence and a descent into shocking depths of criminality, of which Nigerians had a huge dose last year.

    He said: “It is the ambition to get rich overnight that leads to robbery, kidnapping and all sorts of crime…We have moved to another phase of terror, kidnapping and armed robbery but these are momentary challenges.”

    Clearly, Jonathan is as worried about our worsening crime record as he is about the motive: ambition to get rich overnight. The officiating priest of the day, Most Rev Nicholas Okoh was just as concerned and wasted no time to call for a change of heart. The clergy admonished every Nigerian, from the unscrupulous market woman to the greedy politician, to change their ways in the new year.

    Both Jonathan and the priest want a new and better Nigeria now and beyond. So do I and a substantial part of our 160m people. Most Nigerians desire a country of clean values, one where life and integrity count. But a tiny percentage of the population has negated our cravings, seeking to first satisfy their own lusts and imaginations. In this bracket are such people as armed robbers, kidnappers and those who commit “all sorts of crime” to which the President referred in the Anglican Church service.

    Still, one question remains: how do we evolve such a country? How do we kick out the get-rich-overnight ambition of which Jonathan has spoken? Our experience in these parts has shown that appeals and sermons have very little effect on criminals or even potential ones. If this were so, crime would be declining rather than increasing, given the number of people’s appeals or the frequency of clerics’ sermons.

    So if the word of mouth hardly deters criminals, what can be done? That’s tricky, but we can mount a more vigorous and transparent campaign against ostentatious tastes and such vanities, especially in high places. Our leaders have not been the most frugal people you hear about. People tend to learn more from what they see than what they hear. That is why it will be difficult to exorcise the spirit of SUVs, for instance, in this country. The rich and powerful flaunt them, leading humble folks to sell their modest cars to acquire Jeeps, even creaky ones. The lifestyles of our leaders have done little to curb criminal tendencies.

    In the run-up to the Yuletide, the cost of VP Namadi Sambo’s house caused not a little stir. The house valued at N7b in 2009 was now said to have attracted an extra N9b, making a total of N16b. What for? The N9b was needed, it was said, to incorporate the culture and religion of the Vice President into the building. Such behaviour hurts our finances and does little to discourage ostentation. Even the culture and religion argument falls flat. The house of the VP is supposed to be a national monument, not designed and built with a Christian, Muslim, atheist or freethinker in mind. If any of them should live there, surely, worship places should not be such a challenge warranting a huge appropriation of cash.

    Sambo’s tastes are not unique, though. Our leaders’ awkward preferences have caused quite a problem. If we want to see Nigeria of our dreams, we must clip such fancies. It is one way to check get-rich-overnight ambitions and build a country for today and the future.

  • Foundation for a great nation

    Foundation for a great nation

    Strong institutional structure will prevent our constant embarrassments

    A nation is like a house. It needs a strong foundation to stand. Lay a weak foundation and wait for the result. When the wind blows you will be embarrassed. If it is a whirlwind or a storm, you might find the eastern wing or the western half blown away. For all you care, the north side or southern part of your house might be detached. The entire structure, for that matter, could even come crashing down. At best, you are condemned to perpetual patch-work.

    It is an uncomfortable situation with a sinking feeling.

    Every now and again, this otherwise great nation, with a lot to intimidate the world, faces such situations. Only a strong institutional foundation will save us the embarrassments and frustrations those situations bring.

    Let us consider a few recent incidents. Even as Nigerians mourned former National Security Adviser Gen Andrew Azazi, erstwhile Kaduna State Governor Patrick Yakowa and four other Nigerians who died in penultimate weekend helicopter crash in Bayelsa State, the Presidency is said to be uncomfortable with the position of the state governors. The issue appears simple. President Goodluck Jonathan ordered a probe of the crash. But the governors, who lost one of their own, do not want to sit back and wait for the report; they would rather send an investigator of their own to participate in the investigations either directly or as an observer.

    The Presidency is feeling slighted, reasoning, according to reports, that the governors’ position amounts to lack of confidence in the probe. The Presidency is understandably embarrassed. For what good is its decision if state governors, crucial as they are, have nothing but scorn for it. But it is not just the Jonathan administration that is embarrassed; the entire country is equally humiliated. In a matter like this, the Jonathan Presidency and the state executives should sing a common tune. After all, the issue is the probe of a tragic death and a national loss.

    Still, we can all understand the governors’ gripe. For so long, probes have yielded little or nothing, much to the chagrin of every Nigerian. Our tragedies and disasters are often probed, but we have gained nothing from them because their results are shielded from the public. There is a sense of double tragedy because on the one hand there is profound grief from the disasters, and on the other, much-needed cash is mobilised to fund the investigations. No one can say how many billions or trillions we have lost to probes.

    For decades, we have not laid a good foundation or set a standard in resolving our tragedies through probes. The disenchantment of the governors and embarrassment of the Presidency are a direct fall-out of that profound national error.

    Before the Bayelsa crash, a school Principal Rev Olufunke Oladeojobi of Ajuwon Senior High School in Ogun State was reported to have conducted a virginity test on some 10 pupils of the institution. The examination was said to have been conducted on the floor of Rev Oladeojobi’s office, with a guest nurse in action and a number of in-house staff observing the proceedings. Outsiders would probably have missed the event but for the bleeding incident reported by one of the tested pupils. That reportedly sent parents rushing to Ajuwon Senior, and the Principal to a panel of police questioners. Oladeojobi denied testing the girls, according to one report, but admitted doing so in another, saying the exam was “to help them”. Everyone is horrified. The doctors say she dared to do what even medical personnel are not allowed to contemplate. Lawyers say the test is “actionable”, meaning she can be sued. The Ogun State government has justifiably suspended her pending the conclusion of investigations (that word again).

    A good foundation would have prevented all that. Standards jealously protected will keep a school principal, whether a Reverend or a senior atheist, from contemplating such a horrible, criminal act, let alone executing it.

    Last week, it was also reported that Nigeria has a critical shortfall of 144,000 health workers. Professor Boluwaji Fajemilehin of the Department of Nursing Science, College of Medicine, University of Lagos, said World Health Organisation (WHO) identified the country as lacking that crucial number of health workers.

    Six years ago, according to the report, WHO said any country with fewer than 2.3 doctors, nurses, and midwives per 1,000 people was in danger of facing a critical shortage of health workers. Now with a deficit of 144,000 personnel in our health facilities, Nigeria is the seventh highest among 57 countries facing such crisis in our health sector.

    That is instructive. We have not yet set a foundation for our health sector. That explains why the few health workers we can find are easily irritated at patients’ inquiry. Quarrels ensue often. Queues are insufferably long at the hospitals. Midwives dispense insults, even slaps, in the labour room. Such unprofessional conduct may not derive from natural traits but from numerical shortfall at the workplace. It explains why we the rich fly away to foreign hospitals.

    It is clear. There are no foundations. Can we begin to lay them now?

  • We’ve lost a crucial war

    We’ve lost a crucial war

    For five whole days last week, a battle was afoot in Ogwashi-Uku, Delta State, as it still is in Ibadan, Oyo State and who knows where else in the country. It is a struggle against crime, against abomination and indecency.

    Until Friday, the security community was trying to locate and rescue an octogenarian queen in Ogwashi-Uku kingdom, Prof Kamene Okonjo, from kidnappers. Two policemen were detained for not being on duty at the palace when the queen was abducted. Questions were also asked as to why the traditional palace guards were either not around when the kidnappers came or, if they were, why they failed to protect the queen. On Friday, we learnt that 63 suspects had been arrested over the incident. This was followed the same day by reports that the queen and professor of sociology had been freed. Her release coming five days after her abduction, brought a huge relief to the Ogwashi monarchy. Seeing Prof Kamene again put the king, Prof Chukwuka Okonjo and their children, among who is Finance Minister Prof Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, out of their torment. It also eased tension, somewhat, on the entire state, which is fast notching up a notoriety for kidnap, and whose governor Dr Emmanuel Uduaghan did his utmost to assure agitated Deltans and Nigerians that the woman would be found. Her assailants were to review downwards a billion dollar ransom placed on her to N200m.

    In Oyo State, unfortunately, the wife of a former governor of Western Region Brig Gen Oluwole Rotimi, kidnapped also in the week, was still not found as this column took shape on Friday. As in Delta, security personnel also deployed to battle, and with a bit luck, she too will be found unharmed.

    Still, the worrying fact remains that we have lost a crucial war. The police, detectives and military may win the battle of freeing abducted grandmothers from their kidnappers, aided in some cases by a huge pile of cash payout, but it is clear that the country has since lost the moral war, one that perpetually fights to keep its values intact.

    Every society, no matter how remote, has in-built mechanisms and sanctions to keep itself sane. Age, for instance, is valued in traditional societies. Hard work is a thousand times better than cheap fame or fortune. A title is earned, not bought. Africa’s literary pride Prof Chinua Achebe captured this eminently in his Things Fall Apart. Okonkwo amounted to something because by dint of hard work he defied his ineffectual background to make himself heard. The hero of TFA is a self-made man, not one who stole to become a chief or a layabout who slipped into the fortunes of his father. In Okonkwo’s case, his father left him nothing except perhaps debts and an unflattering lifestyle of palmwine drinking and daylong melodies.

    In the sane societies with which Nigeria was once richly blessed across its landscape, crime was decisively punished. In some places, a thief was made to wear a garb and crown of shame while dancing round the community in the hope that he will be mortified. A murderer paid dearly for his crime; in some cases, he was even banished. While hard work was encouraged, becoming wealthy was not a do-or-die. The end did not justify the means.

    Not anymore. Our moral fabric has since been ripped to shreds and tossed out the window. Hard work has taken the back seat. Leadership grandstanding has taken over, as have trickery, subterfuge, thievery in high places, opulence, contract inflation and what have you. Things we once cherished no longer count. They do not make sense anymore.

    When this new, ugly order crept in us is hard for me to determine. But I know that things are no longer the way they used to be. As the economy continues to slump and the naira weakens and more jobless youths roam the street, some bizarre opulence flaunts itself still. More SUVs or Jeeps, as we prefer, cruise our pothole-ridden roads. Mansions continue to spring up in swanky neighbourhoods, leaving lesser mortals in subdued protest. It is news if in a day or week the dailies do not lead with high profile fraud or something similar.

    I believe that is why the youths seem to have lost patience with everything. Many now risk all to own their own Jeeps and their own mansions. Many take to violent crime such as piracy and kidnapping, their sights set on the millions that will accrue after each operation. They are emboldened, as one arrested pirate inferred last week, by their highly placed sponsors.

    Some are no longer interested in merely watching their peers, even subordinates, cruise around in sleek cars simply because those rich dudes are leaders. The poor are taking their fate in their own hands by simply joining the bandwagon of vice, of kidnapping, piracy, contract fraud, robbery and the like no matter the cost.

    That is why kidnappers no longer care if their target is old enough to be their grandmothers. Or perhaps, that is why they care. The older and more connected to cash, the better. That was why they swooped on 82-year-old Prof Kamene, never minding her grey hair or weak frame. That was why they seized the equally aged wife of Gen Rotimi and took her away. That was also why gunmen shot and killed a soldier in Delta and abducted a Lebanese construction worker.

    Nothing matters anymore. All care is gone. Sanctity is lost. So is integrity.

    It is not hard to explain. We have since lost the most crucial war of defeating forces and tendencies that snatch our sanity. We are now grappling with problems of different kinds.

  • Does hunger loom after the deluge?

    Does hunger loom after the deluge?

    Travelling last month through Delta State, I missed the flood at its peak. But I saw enough to move me and offer a nasty hint of an unforgettable disaster. The waters had appreciably receded, yet parts of the dual-carriage way connecting Asaba, the state capital, to the Anioma area of the state remained flooded and impassable. Residents of nearby communities laid their fishnets in the probable hope that if they lost their farmlands and crops, they should at least catch some fish that came with the flood.

    At a primary school where the displaced were quartered in Ndokwa-East Local Government Area, life offered little excitement beyond food provided by the state and donors.

    In those two wet months, Nigerians felt the power of water, life’s otherwise precious liquid. No one was comfortable with that encounter. A persistent downpour swelled the Niger River and other rivers and tributaries, causing them to overflow their banks. The result has been utter devastation. Over two million people were reported to be displaced in Kogi and Edo states. Hundreds of houses collapsed under the impact of water. Displaced residents found temporary perching spots on the rooftops of surviving houses, waiting to be evacuated. Women clutched their babies, hoping something would happen to put them out of their nightmare. In Delta and Anambra, misery was widespread, as homes and farmlands were washed away.

    In Ndokwa-East, reports suggested no flood ever wreaked such havoc in its history. It left about 22 clans under water, their people in sheer torment, displaced and with little to eat and little to wear, in makeshift shelters, and unsure of what tomorrow would bring. In Onuaboh, for instance, a clan of three quarters, this year’s flooding will be a watershed. No dry grounds at all. Inyi, where I spent two formative years, was a vast body of water. 2012 will be the year of the Great Floods. Discounting the services of wall calendars, the year will help to set off one event from another. It was an unsavoury encounter with one of man’s most cherished resources.

    There has been some response from government. The Emmanuel Uduaghan administration in Delta State has sent relief to the displaced residents, as have individuals and organisations.

    But there is need for more work. There is need for the authorities, including the federal government, to assess the situation and ascertain the magnitude of damage. Next, it will help to determine what assistance is required. Plus, no one should forget that whatever relief is sent should be appropriate, targeted and monitored.

    There are reasons for these suggestions. Disaster management can easily be bungled if not properly thought-out, just as relief efforts can be misapplied and wasted if not clearly conceived and monitored. If the right things are not done at the right time, people needing help become hopeless. And that deepens the initial crisis.

    For some of the flood victims, their plight has a traumatising impact. Their farmlands may have been flooded in the past, but not their houses or entire communities, as is the case in Ndokwa-East and parts of Isoko in Delta State. These people are struggling with not just economic loss; they are also grappling with psychological shock and need help in that area as well. They need encouragement now, some sort of psychological therapy.

    They need comprehensive relief consisting of, but not limited to, food, medicine, water, clothing, and, of course, sleeping places, till the water recedes. They will also be happy to see that assistance meant for them actually gets to them, and not to some opportunistic dealers or people far removed from the floods. But beyond all that, they need something permanent, something to start and sustain them after the great waters. They need cash to buy new seedlings and begin all over again.

    It is in the interest of everyone if this crisis is well managed. For one, it will show that we can learn from past blunders in disaster management, and that our governments really care for the people they govern.

    No one should lose sight of the imperatives of mitigating the unpleasantness of life in a relief camp. Still, it must not be forgotten that tiding victims over the flood season is only one step, requiring another. That second step is even more fundamental. It should resolve the issues of life after the floods. What will the farmer-victims eat when the waters recede? And since these farmers also feed the society, what will we all eat when dry grounds appear?

    Minister of Agriculture and Rural Development Dr Akinwumi Adesina has gone to great lengths to assure Nigerians that famine is out of the question. He said there is food and that Nigerians will not starve. Considering that some hefty sums have been raised by billionaires and other donors, perhaps the Jonathan administration is confident that all is well.

    The proof of that confidence will however lie in the judicious use and equitable distribution of what is provided. Only that will stave off hunger.

    This article was adapted from the one published in October entitled “Life after the floods.”

  • Nigeria after Boko Haram

    Nigeria after Boko Haram

    Given its rage and capacity to cause maximum damage, not to mention the tough talk of its leaders, will there ever be Nigeria without Boko Haram? Is there any chance that one day the guns of the Islamist sect will stop booming and its bombs silent, the energies of its leaders and suicide bombers channelled to healthier ventures?

    My answer is yes.

    True, the group has terrorised the country enough for everyone to take it very seriously. Tons of blood is continuously spilled. The dead victims are gone, never to contribute anymore to the growth of their families or country.  For survivors, life will never be the same again after their encounter with the sect.  Many may never walk again. As for property lost, it can only be measured in billions, perhaps, trillions. Boko Haram has also caused all sorts of problems for government across the board, the security community and virtually everyone else. Relentless terror has taught public officials to have a healthy fear of the group, just as day-to-day life has substantially changed, especially in the North.

    Still, a post-Boko Haram era is possible, whether government succeeds in crushing it or the group, by itself, refrains from its acts.

    But I have an enduring worry: are we preparing for that peacetime? You can grapple with the tensions and challenges of the moment, even manage to contain them (as the military do), but there is more work to be done. Preventing a repeat scenario of those tensions and challenges is where the ultimate victory lies. That is the peace era, defined not merely by momentary cessation of violence but by the sustenance of law and order and mutual respect for one another. Peace era stimulates creativity, productivity and growth. Is the Jonathan administration merely working towards the end of Boko Haram, or is it looking to evolve sustained peace?

    Niger Delta militancy in the last decade is a relevant scenario. Like Boko Haram, it started with isolated cases of disorder before it got everybody in the region and beyond worried. Before we knew it, not only oil facilities were being blown up, nor were expatriate workers the only targets and victims of kidnappers; local chiefs, grandpas and grandmas and their grandkids were being taken too, to be ransomed at handsome fees. Naturally, business activities declined in the region, to take root beyond our national borders. And then President Umaru Yar’Adua came along, succeeding to get the region’s fighters to lay down their arms and embrace amnesty. It worked. Tensions cooled and, to boot, some of the former militants have been trained in entrepreneurship skills to help them get a life worth the name.

    Yet, and this is my major concern, I do not think government has really come to grips with the issues that remotely caused or precipitated the militancy in the first place. Life in the oil-rich delta is still pretty much unflattering. Several communities are left without power, clean water or any viable means of livelihood. Many areas lack schools of any kind, and where they are available, are not worthy of the name. Regional soils and waters are despoiled, leaving residents with few sustenance options. The Jonathan administration can look beyond the amnesty-induced peace and work towards evolving enduring harmony propelled by capacity-building and growth. The rehabilitated ex-militants represent a tiny fraction of the Niger Delta population, much of which live in abject poverty. Resolving infrastructural challenges will help to check gloom in the region. In other words, the government merely looked to contain the militancy, which it did, but has failed to create an environment that will be sustained on growth based on needs met, not on fires put out.

    The Boko Haram matter should be approached from a wider, more comprehensive perspective. So far, government’s response is not flattering. Predominant assessment is that it is not doing enough to halt the sect. The move by the Jonathan administration to stop the United States government from designating Boko Haram as a terrorist group has also worsened matters. But I think that, one way or another, the terror reign will end someday; how that will happen is beyond me. Yet, one question remains: what happens after the guns and bombs of the sect cease? Beyond politics and rhetoric, has the Jonathan administration assessed the factors that gave rise to the emergence, and ferocity, of the sect and mapped out strategies to contain them? Is neglect of the people one of the reasons? Is infrastructural challenge another? What about youth unemployment?

    I have argued in this space that the federal government does not need to create a Ministry for the North to pacify Boko Haram, my position being that such creations are largely political and have very little positive effect, anyhow. The Niger Delta Ministry has changed little in the region. Still, there is a lot a federal government can do to solve problems and stimulate growth in the states. Apart from initiating and executing its developmental programmes, it can inspire the state governments to drive growth and put their people out of misery. To inspire, it must shed party toga. Its intentions must also be transparently genuine and the president must be fatherly and above board. He must be courageous, with an eye on enduring legacy.

    That is one way to prepare for a post-violence era and make way for the emergence of a new Nigeria.

    First published on August 19 under the title ‘Are we preparing for post-Boko Haram era?’