Since the death of Chief Ojo Maduekwe on June 29th, 2016, I have been trying to find the appropriate words to pay him a tribute that truly reflects how I feel, the depth of pain in my heart, my understanding of his many controversial comments about our national predicaments; and his interventions and direct roles in trying to find realistic solutions.
Let me start by saying that his death was a major loss to his family and friends and a monumental one to the nation.
When I heard reports of his sudden death at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport Abuja after a long haul flight from the United States, I knew Ojo, as usual, was determined to fight to his last breath. He fought death until he arrived in the country he loved with passion, a country he served well and defended to the last.
Ojo’s last national service was as Nigerian High Commissioner to Canada. He served in several ministerial and advisory capacities. He also distinguished himself as a social activist, a politician, a writer who wrote about his country with passion, without fear or favour.
When his death went viral on the social media, it was obvious that some commentators had not, in my view, fairly interpreted his comments within the context in which they were made. Perhaps, the most controversial comment was about the highly contentious issue of when and how to elect an Igbo as president of Nigeria which Ojo phrased as the Igbo presidency project; a project he criticized for not being properly conceptualized, articulated, packaged and sold. Ojo, not the one to run away from committing “heresy’’ dismissed the “anger driven’’ campaign as improper. His main argument was that the Igbo should campaign for a qualified president of Nigeria from the Igbo stock and not an Igbo president of Nigeria. The Igbo presidency project could not be sold to other Nigerians in Igbo language but a pan Nigeria language which appeals to all. To do otherwise, was to expect an unrealistic outcome and this according to him was “idiotic’’.
I believed the Igbo felt outraged because they expected Ojo to support the campaign no matter how it was framed. This choice of word created a storm. Ojo spent a greater part of his life trying to explain what was to him a straight forward argument. I believe Ojo misread the mood of his people. The devil was not in the words used but that the word or words came from a man of such cerebral mind who is widely admired by friends and foes alike. It was only to be expected at his death, that the controversy will erupt again.
A mutual friend, wasted no time in throwing an upper-cut. Another activist called him a traitor who betrayed the Igbo. I beg to disagree.
I knew Ojo well enough and intimately to plead his goodness as a man and as a “great and consistent friend”, the words he used to describe me. I am proud to say Ojo lived a great and consistent life.
On August 20th, Ojo was laid to rest at his ancestral home in Asaga-Ohafia in Abia State where he was born on May 6, 1945. I could not join his family to bid him good bye but I will never forget him. How can I forget my two visits to Asaga and several parts of Abia State with him? I felt at home in his home and in his community. As to be expected, the cream of the Nigerian society turned out in full force to celebrate a true Nigerian, a man who lives lasting impressions once you engage him. A man who will live forever.
According to Princeton Lyman former US Ambassador to Nigeria “Ojo provides a clear and forthright pathway to understanding the Nigerian community, he speaks first and foremost as a citizen of the country he loves. He speaks as a social and political critic and as an intellectual whose readings span political economics and literature. This exceptional combination gives his words a formidable character.”
Ojo was not afraid to stand alone firmly in his beliefs. He was never swayed even if the whole of humanity descended on him. Not vile language, spurious allegations or injurious innuendoes will sway him.
His singular passion was how to transform Nigeria, a country he loves passionately. Besides his immediate family, now headed by his Main Heart Ucha, whom he loved with deep passion, Ojo celebrated the “growing band of men and women who represented islands of integrity in a new Nigeria”
Ojo used the word “integrity” frequently but carefully. If you don’t have it, he would say it without apologies even if heaven falls. If you have it, he would praise you effusively and to high heavens. As a Nigerian, Ojo compared favourably with Awolowo. To be a better Nigerian, he was a good Igbo man as Awolowo was a good Yoruba man. Ojo was as comfortable in being an Igbo man as he was a Nigerian. I have many fond memories of him to say categorically that anytime an Igbo man fails to meet his expectation, he would take it personal. He believed the Igbo people have a special role in Nigeria and he yearned for the best of Igbo. With his cerebral mind, quick wit and a sheer force of intellect, Ojo would handle any issue with confidence or without emotions. Let me recall a few instances. At the Council on Foreign Relations in New York, Ojo defended the Abacha regime forcefully even though we had both campaigned together all over the US against the nullification of the June 12, 1983 election by the Military Regime. As a friend, I could not muster the courage to publicly fault or disagree with him. I seethed quietly with anger but I could not express it publicly, not in America anyway. However, Dr. Eddie Okparaji, also a friend of Ojo’s and prominent pro-democracy activist, had no such problem of intimacy.
“Ojo, you are a coward and a traitor, an apologist of military dictatorship,” Dr. Okparaji thundered. Ojo replied calmly: “Eddie my brother, I commend your courage, I am sincerely happy that you are a man with rare courage. However, I am too old to live in exile. I will rather live under a dictatorship than express the anger of a cripple here in America. There are many strategies you can use to end a dictatorship especially the type that is ready and willing to bring the down the roof over the heads of everybody. That is why I am campaigning not for Abacha but against another war, I have lived through one.’’
Shortly after this encounter, Eddie and Ojo were shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries outside the conference hall. “Jisike”, Eddie said, “Ka”, Ojo replied in Ohafia dialect. After this encounter, I approached him reluctantly. “Chief, I disagreed with you, but I could not raise my voice.” He replied “Abdul, my brother, you think I don’t know that? I saw your expression. Even though you didn’t say a word, your expression was more deadly than Eddie’s empty outburst.” We all laughed and moved on.
Ojo and I had gone to the United States in August 1983 to represent MKO and the pro-democracy movement respectively. We attended press conferences, granted radio interviews, attended congressional hearings and Nigerian-American events. We lobbied for sanctions against the Military dictatorship and called on the international community to respect the democratic wish of the Nigerian people. With Abiola back home after the fall of Babangida’s Administration, Ojo also returned home but was to join the Abacha regime as special adviser to Babagana Kingibe the new foreign minister who was Abiola’s vice-presidential candidate Shortly after MKO Abiola returned home from exile, he saw Ojo in an international flight to Lagos. Ojo related the encounter with MKO to me this way:
MKO: “Ojo I hope your new master (Abacha) is taking care of you?”
OJO: “Chief after you went into exile, only a few people had the courage to continue, those in exile and those underground. The rest are in prison or dead.”
MKO: “God will deliver us.”
OJO: “Amen”
The other incident I would like to recall which inspired the title of this piece came home to all Nigerians on August 20th. At Asaga-Ohafia Ojo was buried in a way befitting a statesman. At Ezigbo village, in Ihiala Local Government Area of Anambra State, Izuchukwu Ezinoha, 35, was buried by his family as a “hero’’ at his multimillion Naira country home. Professional mourners were hired as street bands played in what was clearly a street carnival.
Ojo as Minister of Foreign Affairs flew for over 24 hours to Jakarta to plead for the lives of the Nigerian drug lords who were sentenced to death in Indonesia. The South East Asian country and her immediate neighbours Malaysia and Singapore have zero-tolerance for drug trafficking. The penalty is death. Izuchukwu Ezimoha knew this. He chose the ignoble route to wealth even if it will cost him his life. He was convicted and publicly executed. His family repatriated his bullet riddled corpse home for burial. That was the right thing to do. However, they dishonoured Ojo and all Nigerians by turning the tragedy into celebration of a “life well lived.”
This drug lord, like many of his likes, were languishing in the same Indonesia prison which Ojo and his team visited. An experience that drove him to tears and humbled all of us, in Indonesia, over forty Nigerians had been tried, convicted were awaiting execution for drug related offences. Three had been executed before our arrival.
As Nigeria’s Foreign Minister in 2008, Ojo received a report about some Nigerians who were sentenced to death in Indonesia for drug related offences. The news created a storm at the National Assembly. Ojo felt the best approach was to intervene quietly without offending the national pride of the Indonesian Authorities. Nigeria and Indonesia enjoyed good diplomatic relations and trade between the two countries was growing. Both countries having just defeated military dictatorship, were working hard to deepen democracy. Coincidentally, both countries had retired generals as elected presidents and they both have the largest Muslim population in Asia and Africa respectively. A few days to his trip to Jakarta the Indonesian capital, Ojo called me and asked that I should join his team. Having left the National Assembly in 2007, I did not expect to be in an official delegation. Ojo thought differently, “I need your wise counsel,’’ he said. I felt flattered but I agreed to accompany him. Ojo as Minister of Foreign Affairs flew for over 24 hours to Jakarta to plead for the lives of the Nigerian drug lords who were sentenced to death in Indonesia. The South East Asian country and her immediate neighbours Malaysia and Singapore have zero-tolerance for drug trafficking. The penalty is death. Izuchukwu Ezimoha knew this. He chose the ignoble route to wealth even if it will cost him his life. He was convicted and publicly executed in Indonesia for drug related offences. His family repatriated his bullet riddled corpse home for burial. That was the right thing to do. However, they dishonoured all Nigerians by turning tragedy into celebration of a “life well lived.”
The Nigerian inmates were 90% Igbo, many of them carried fake passports from several African nations like Zimbabwe, Sierra Leone, Zambia, The Gambian and Equatorial Guinea. Because of this, the Nigerian High Commission had refused to extend consular support to them. Ojo’s intervention changed it all. Ojo told the inmates to provide proofs of their Nigerian origin through birth certificates or baptismal certificates. The kingpins had mobile phones. They called home and these documents were provided in a few days.
After series of meetings with Indonesian leaders starting with the vice president, minister of foreign affairs, minister of justice, speaker of parliament and civil society leaders, we were left in no doubt of the resolve of the Indonesia Authorities to enforce the laws prohibiting drugs in the country.
As we gathered in Ojo’s hotel suite to review our next moves, for the first time since I knew him, Ojo was lost for words. He broke down and cried. I joked with him that he had been broken. “No Abdul”, he replied, “I am crying for my people the N’digbo. Look, all these boys transited through Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, look at all the time and expenses, the risk involved. To gain what? To achieve what? I think Igbo need a new leadership that will imbibe a new set of values. We have failed to provide that leadership.”
I told Ojo that it was not his fault. It was a Nigerian problem and I blamed our common quest for materialism, fame and fortune no matter how acquired or the cost or consequences. “No” he ended the conversation. “I know what I am talking about. You want to make me feel good. This is a tragedy for the Igbo.”
As Ojo once said, “We must be one of the best in the world in managing personal guilt which perhaps explains why we have one of the lowest suicide rates in the world.’’ As I look back and recall these events, I conclude by saying Ojo is a national hero. The drug lord who got what was coming to him, all for wealth and fame and died in an ignoble way, a shame to his generation and his nation is not a hero but a villain. The people of Ezigbo should be ashamed of themselves, while those of Asaga-Ohafia should rightly be proud that a man from that community called Nigeria home and served her and N’digbo well.
