The Silence Precedent: ‘Doing a Yar’Adua’

Late President Yar’Adua: Laid the precedent

De mortuis nihil nisi bonum…. as I thought to write this piece, my first blog in months, this Latin expression (which translates ‘Speak no ill of the dead) sprung to mind, tempering what this post should originally have been – feisty, vociferous, judgmental. But then…..

Happy New Year. 2012 has been one very eventful year; starting from January with the #OccupyNigeria protests, to the back-and-forths of the resultant fuel subsidy probe, to the victories of Adams Oshiomhole and Segun Mimiko in the Edo and Ondo gubernatorial elections, to Nigeria qualifying for the Nations Cup in 2013 after a disgraceful absence in 2012 (I’m a football lover, I had to add that *shrugs*), to the plane crashes in Nigeria and Ghana as well as the helicopter crash that claimed Yakowa and Azazi, etc. It was a bittersweet year on the whole, but then, we are in Nigeria. Life has conditioned us to take the good with the bad, hope for the best and expect the worst….that kind of thing.

This post, unfortunately, is about one of the ‘worst’, if I can put it that way. When the colonial administrators promulgated the Official Secrets Act in 1911 in order to protect government’s secrets in the interest of ‘national security’, it did so, not in the most altruistic sense of the word. National security, as was defined by the colonial masters, was threatened by the nationalists’ onslaught, and there had to be an excuse to jail them ergo the Official Secrets Act and other press-repressing laws of the time. Independence created another form of enemies for the newly formed government, and in 1962, the ‘Nigerian’ version of the colonialists’ Official Secrets Act was passed. Result? Since that time till the present, Nigerian governments at all levels have been run, shrouded in a dark cloud of mystery and secrecy, thus festering all kinds of corruption, malfeasance and maladministration. A lot of talk has been made about the Freedom of information Act, which already has the record of being the bill with the longest-ever duration spent in the two legislative houses, and yet has turned out to be yet another toothless legislation, incapable of breaking the silence that has continued to hold sway in government.

November 2009 till the 5^th of May, 2010 marked one of the lowest periods in our recent return to democracy (I am deliberately avoiding the term, ‘nascent’). In that period, there was a vacuum in government, because the President was ill and out of the country, and no one (save a few members of the now infamous cabal – not the fuel subsidy cabal, just so we’re clear) knew of his whereabouts. The number one legal personnel in government, Oga Michael Kaase Aondoakaa mouthed off that the President could rule from anywhere, and yet failed to tell Nigerians where he was, how he was doing, if he was recuperating or not, etc. It was not long before rumours started to fly around that the President was dead – so much so that even a reputable news station carried the news, and got their (literal and figurative) fingers burnt as a result. Even after constitutional crisis had been averted by the National Assembly in February, the President was returned to the country reportedly in a commando-style reminiscent of the Israel conquest of Entebbe, and even the Acting President did not know about it. And while I cannot speak ill of the dead in the sense that it was not he who was the mastermind of the silence and the spin that characterised this dark (and silence-ridden) period, it is rather hard to remove Yar’Adua (God rest his soul) from the conundrum that a number of states of the Federation have had to deal with in the close of the year.

Imoke: Away since December

Chime: State of health unknown

 

First, it was the case of the First Lady; then it was the Executive Governor of Enugu State, Sullivan Chime; and then Liyel Imoke of Cross River State completed the cast. In each case, the government was mum about their whereabouts, or what ailed them. While the case of the First Lady is different in the sense that no constitutional chasm was created by her absence, it is still sad that her condition had to be interpreted by Nigerians in whatever direction their imagination led them, some of which were unprintable. It is heartbreaking for the First Lady to have been declared dead by the rumour mills, or that her condition became the subject of political exchanges between the government and the opposition, all because the government chose to ‘do a Yar’Adua’ with her condition.

In the case of Liyel Imoke and Chime Sullivan, constitutional procedures were followed to ensure that there was no vacuum in government as they handed over power to their deputies, but this has not totally left the governments of their respective states handicapped. News reports suggest that non-payment of salaries to teachers in Enugu State can be linked to the absence of the governor. However, that is not my main grouse. Rather, it is in the fact that the information managers of these states have refused to admit that their principals are sick, and that they are receiving treatment. They have been adamant that their principals are ‘on extended vacations’. I want to believe that. But what do I now do when the Internet is rife with all kinds of information, about them being sick and in foreign hospitals, or that they are dead? If the right sources of information do not tell me what to believe, will I be entirely wrong to base my knowledge of the impasse on the alternative sources of information available to me (and who are glad to push out any kind of information, true or not)? Is it too much to accept that these political officer holders are fallible and can fall sick, and if they do, that they require treatment (which unfortunately our health systems are not considered competent enough to provide)? Hillary Clinton of the United States was recently rushed to the hospital with a concussion-related problem. Even here in Nigeria, we got information on her condition, where and how she was being treated, and when she was likely to return to office. She won our sympathy and prayers as a result; which cannot be said of our own public office holders.

Speak no ill of the dead…..and I do not. But it is hard to entirely blame the living, when it is clear that the dead taught them how. The Dame and the governors may have been wrong, but they are not. They followed the doctrine of judicial precedent, doing just what they had witnessed. And if a President could do it, so could they. I rest.

This our democracy; over ever nascent democracy

Sometime in April, I finally got the opportunity to go on leave. Since I graduated, I’ve spent about four years working, and the only times I didn’t go to work were during public holidays, or when I was sick. So when the chance to go on vacation came, to say I grabbed it would be an understatement. I travelled a bit, invested some time in my hobbies….let’s just say I enjoyed it. “What does this have to do with democracy?”, you might want to ask. Just hold on a bit, I’m getting there. Back to my reverie. It so happened that during my leave, I got an invite to attend a media lecture/workshop celebrating the World Press Freedom Day themed the role of the Nigerian media in protecting her nascent democracy. “Nascent? maybe they do not understand the meaning of the word”, I thought to myself. But then, the think tank that organized the event are seasoned lecturers of Mass Communication/Journalism. Surely, they would have an understanding of words and their meanings. So I decided to attend; to see what they wanted to achieve with that choice of  term. And then one of my lecturers, Pastor Popoola made mention of our nascency, making the same point that inspired this piece.

 

I took the liberty to look up the word, nascent. A rather interesting word, rather two-faced if you please, but the point it makes is that anything trend described as nascent is just starting, still developing. Apparently, applying that word to Nigeria as a whole would be in order, since economists still tag us as developing even though we’re 52 years old. Which would make us growth-deficient or growth-inefficient, which ever way you want to label the malaise – but that is not the point.

 

I have watched our dalliance with democracy from 1993, which was my first experience (I’ve kinda revealed my age, but again, I digress), and then again in 1999, and 13 years since then I watch on. And in that period, I have tried to match what I learnt in government/political sciences classes about democracy to what we are feigning to practice, and I’ve found out that we confound even the best of political theorists. It would either be that we are living in some form of military dictatorship hangover/denial or our democracy is nascent, and by that, I meant that our democracy is a 23-year old with stunted growth.  I said 23 because we have enjoyed about 23 years of democracy in our history; six under the British model, and 17 and counting under the American system, and yet we still say we’re nascent – and rightly so.

 

Democracy, in its ideal form, operates on the tenets of sovereignty of the constitution and the rule of law, free and fair elections, government accountability, and free press; all of which are essential in ensuring that sovereignty rests in the hands of the people. It is a harbinger of good things apparently, because it encourages capitalism and aids economic development, as is the case with most countries of the West. Democracy respects the devolution of powers amongst the constituent elements of the nation-state, and the presence of checks-and-balances measures among the three arms of government. When democracy stands, having these features, then we can say it is developed – a man, if you like.

 

So when the government uses kid gloves to handle corruption, using the anti-corruption body to target political enemies, while the ‘friends’ of government continue to pillage and loot; when the government is lopsided at the federal level, where the executive is clearly the biggest fish in the polity, where the legislature is a mere rubber stamp in most instances; where presidential fiat is used to ratify acts of parliament, where the legislature pass bills in recess; where the government cannot protect its citizens from insurgents, but then use force to coerce its unpopular decisions on its unprotected subjects – military style, when they just want reprieve from government’s continued drive to impoverish and pauperise them; when the government is too weak to fight a group of people, a cabal, to exact justice on them for a fraud so massive, it’s some countries’ annual budgets, just because that fraud helped them maintain their place in government; when the head of government leaves pressing issues of national security and posterity to meddle in the affairs of a state, campaigning for the gubernatorial candidate; when the government spends gazillions to set up probe and investigation panels, when at the end of the day, the panel report is swept under the carpet, because it does not represent the interests of a few cash cows; when the electorate themselves are poor students of history, selling their votes to perpetuate in power, a government that is uninterested in bettering their lives; when the electorate make decisions that will affect posterity based on mundane criteria such as regional and tribalistic sentiments, instead of merit, track record, etc; when the press cannot perform its functions for whatever reasons – clearly, these depict characteristics of children who do not know what they want, children who petulantly will demand what they want, regardless of who their action hurt; children who only see today with no interest whatsoever in tomorrow; children who still make decisions based on their ‘id’, the ‘ego’ and ‘superego’ are hardly consulted; children who run away from responsibility, hiding under their mother’s leg. Clearly, this aptly depicts nascency, but in the case of Nigeria’s democracy, it is a situation where the child has refused to grow – a state of self-induced stunted growth – an enduring nascency. Such is the pitiable state of our democracy; so help us God.

THE IRONY OF TEARS IN A NATIONAL TRAGEDY

As I write this on my way to work (thanks to the Blackberry), I really am finding it difficult to place where my emotions stand exactly between anger, disgust, emptiness, helplessness, denial; especially when I think of those who met horror deaths on Sunday via the Dana Air crash. I read the papers, and as the writers try to provide insights into the victims when they were alive, as they talk of the fact that Mr. Ajuonuma bought a late ticket; that the Anyenes were a couple that exhibited how inter-religious marriages are not always a sob story, that Mrs. Dike just wanted to ensure that her son (who also died in the crash) gets all he needed to be better than her; all I can pick up is that, in the lines of Elton John, like candles in the wind, the lights of the 159 plus people who died from the crash had been blown out way too quickly, their destinies abruptly terminated, their stars burning out and fading like comets. I cannot exactly say I know what they feel – I have suffered the loss of someone close to me, but it was not in this same circumstance; we sort of knew it was coming – but one can imagine the horror, the pain, the sense of finality, and then, the anger that those left behind would be feeling, some of whom have now become widows, widowers, fatherless, orphans. Both high and low in society, they are now bound by a common cloak – black – occasioned by a common pain. My thoughts and prayers go out to them, for the good Lord to soothe their pain with His Balm in Gilead, and give them a reason to smile soon enough.

 

As we try to cope with this national tragedy, I have also witnessed something I’d like to think as sinister. Online and traditional media that have carried the story of the crash are now implying that these deaths were unnecessary and could have been avoided, had the management of the airline been more interested in the state of their planes and the lives of the passengers, than in turning a profit. Those 159 plus Nigerians would not have suffered such a horrible fate had the administration of our aviation industry been more interested in ensuring the safety of the hundreds of thousands of Nigerians who fly on a weekly basis, rather than in indulging in corruption and a lax monitoring of the extent of compliance of airline operators to international safety standards. Those 159 plus Nigerians would still be alive today had some people been more concerned with the public good than they were with keeping their jobs. It is sad and disheartening to know that we are more likely to declare days of mourning, fly the flag at half mast, and send consolation messages, than we are to conduct an inquest into the state of the aviation industry and weeding out the players who are not serious about safety. It is disgraceful that the Minister for Aviation still has a job, even though history serves her well, as her predecessor who ‘oversaw’ the ghastly Sosoliso and Bellview crashes in 2005 and 2006 still had a job in the midst of public outcry for his head. But ultimately, the buck stops at a certain doctor’s table, who unfortunately for himself – and can I dare say for many Nigerians as well – finds himself saddled with the title of President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

 

 

Mr. President mourns…but does it stop there?

 

 

 

 

It is easy, and hard at the same time, to feel sorry for Mr. President. On the surface, he appears to be the unassuming type, who didn’t want the spotlight, only to have it cast on him by circumstances which you can describe as acts of God – just as I pointed out in an earlier article. He cannot exactly be blamed for the failure of the aircraft to land safely, seeing that he is not skilled in aeronautics engineering. He is human after all, so maybe his tears as he visited the site of the crash on Monday may have been genuine as he was sordidly reminded of the brevity of life, regardless of position or status. But alas, this was not to be, as the report of his tears was met with cynicism from Nigerians, who scoffed at the genuineness of a man openly expressing his sympathy at the fact that lives were lost.

 

I want to feel sorry for him. It is sad to see that his every step is met with public disapproval and scepticism; that the electorate does not believe in his capacity or ability to help them or improve their lives. Arguably, with this rate of public dissent, one can even say that Abacha would beat him in a popularity poll if one was ever conducted, and considering the fact that many have opined that Abacha was Nigeria’s worst and most corrupt despot, it goes to show how low Mr. President’s stock has fallen – a fall which started from when he was installed as Acting President.

 

But I will not feel sorry for him. I join the ranks of millions of Nigerians who think that this is just another case of crocodile tears; a ploy to paint himself to Nigerians as a man who cares for them, when we are just about certain that he doesn’t; a cheap stunt to win public sympathy ahead of 2015 (especially since even the women who went with him to the site of the crash remained stoically dry-eyed). I will not feel sorry for him, because I am of the opinion that no sooner than he reaches Aso Rock, he’d forget he ever leaked water from his eyes; because in another few years, another mishap of this nature may well yet happen, due to corruption and maladministration, which have been hallmarks of this administration; because, besides the Dana Air crash, there was the crash in Ghana, and the continuing Boko Haram insurgency which has continued, unabated, to kill and maim in the North, which is contrary to what Mr. President had promised, where he assured Nigerians that by June, Boko Haram would have become history. We cannot believe him, because he has broken one promise after the other; has increased the sufferings of Nigeria through his stupid economic plans – top of which is subsidy and increased electricity tariffs, despite the economic disquiet from which the nation is suffering – and has failed in his duty as Chief Security Officer to either provide us with security, or at least create the impression that he is. Every day, a Nigerian somewhere loses the will to continue with the “e go beta” belief, because the system inherited and promoted by Mr. President has been rather ruthless in killing hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Rather, the exertions of Mr. President has been directed towards promoting debilitating economic policies, “condemning and commiserating” victims of Boko Haram attacks rather than coming out to tackle the problem; approving salaries for public officers which they clearly do not deserve, without care as to how it affects the spending power of the average man on the street, about 80 percent of whom already live below $1 a day.

 

 

I watched George W. Bush address the nation after 9/11. I saw the pain in his face and the conviction with which he promised Americans that Osama bin Laden would pay for the lives of the 2,907 who died that day. But he backed up the tears and the promise with action, and though it took 10 years and a different president to do it, he can rest assured that he took out another of America’s enemies, Saddam Hussein, while he was at it. I cannot say the same for President Jonathan. He fails every time to evoke public confidence, courts dissent with his every move, and shows that he really does not give two pence (or kobo, if you like) whether the public likes his decisions or not – as he displayed during the subsidy protests of January, and when he unilaterally changed UNILAG’s name. Maybe he is not solely to blame; maybe his paid advisers – and I’m not solely referring to some leftists in government who have conveniently abandoned their ideology (that is if they had one in the first place) – are not giving him counsel worthy of theimmoral and obscenely huge salaries they are getting, but he is still Mr. President, responsible for the safety and wellbeing of 150 million Nigerians, and with every life claimed by a Boko Haram attack, every accident on Lagos-Ibadan, Benin-Ore Expressway caused by the poor state of the roads, every life lost in electoral violence, etc, a modicum of public confidence in his ability to protect the populace is lost until it gets to the point where no one expects his government to do well by them – which is almost where we are now.

 

It would be important to let Mr. President know that a majority of Nigerians are wary when Nigerian public office holders shed tears over the state of the nation. They are not quick to forget that despite Mrs Allison-Maduekwe’s tears over the Benin-Ore Road, it has remained largely in a state of squalor, sending many to early graves; that after General Buhari ‘wept’ over the polity in the wake of the 2011 general elections, bloodletting characterised the aftermath of that same elections, which installed Mr. President.

Diezani: The tears have since dried up

 

The point being made is: we don’t want the tears. We want action. We want to see reforms in the aviation sector that will improve the safety of lives of passengers. We want to see action in bringing out the sponsors of Boko Haram, so that our countrymen and corpers who live and serve their can go about their businesses without fear of death or mutilation or both. We want to see corruption being fought, not the EFCC striking out cases before it. We want a revamped system that puts people in office on the basis of merit. Because until we have this, Mr. President’s tears is not worth its value in salt – and we will always fail to grab the import of a grown man – much less, a President of the most populous black nation and Giant of Africa – leaking salty water from his eyes.

 

Skillz just spoke

 

The Immortalisation Conundrum: UNILAG, Abiola, and the rest of them

The Immortalisation Conundrum: UNILAG, Abiola, and the rest of them.

The Immortalisation Conundrum: UNILAG, Abiola, and the rest of them

Public holidays in Nigeria used to be very welcome. It afforded the majority of the populace, who work like elephants and eat like ants, a rather rare opportunity to rest and spend some time with their family and friends, or pursue their personal business to improve their already inadequate take-home. It also provides an opportunity for the government to wax political, preaching messages of peace and unity, and other noble stuff they do not really mean. We have kinda gotten used to the ritual. But since January 1st 2012, public holidays in Nigeria appear to now have a Sword of Damocles hanging over them – simply because the President has cultivated a new and rather damning pastime: to deliver killer blows in his speeches that both reflect his insensitivity to the feelings of Nigeria, and show that he’s a rather poor drama queen who craves public vilification.

 

And so it was that on the 29th of May, we got another sharp taste of the President’s pills (he’s not a medical doctor, just in case you were wondering), when he, amongst other things, unilaterally ill-affected the destinies and reputation of all products of the University of Lagos, past, present, and future, when he unequally yoked us with the MKO Abiola legacy, all in a bid to immortalise the martyr who, despite winning the best elections ever conducted in Nigeria, was killed as he fought to actualise his June 12 mandate. However, it would appear that that declaration was yet another in a long list of gaffes by Mr. President as it was met by protests of discontent by students of Nigeria’s University of First Choice and Pride of the Nation, who flooded the streets and the online space with vitriolic outbursts demanding an immediate reversal of the name.

 

And oh, have they been upbraided, reprimanded, abused, insulted, cursed even, because they exercised their right to demand that they be named by a name of their choosing, and not having a name foisted on them, all in a bid to score cheap political points. They have been accused of being children of yesterday who have no knowledge or regard for Abiola’s sacrifice. They have been misrepresented by students of other schools who secretly crave a UNILAG status (some of my friends will kill me for this) as being selfish, thinking only of ‘swag’ when the government is trying to honour someone whose blood was the manure for the ‘democracy?’ that is enjoyed today. They have been told that their protests should stop because Abiola deserves the honour, that the Abiola name is bigger than UNILAG, and that UNILAG should consider itself privileged to carry the Abiola name. They have been accused of causing public disturbance, and not protesting for more deserving causes such as government lethargy in dealing with the Boko Haram scourge. They have been accused of being inconsiderate of the Abiola family who suffered during the incarceration of their patriarch, and who deserve this attempt at immortalizing his name, which is the least that the polity can do for them .

 

I have read several articles on traditional news media and online platforms, and I have seen the enormity of the animosity towards this new ‘act’ of the federal government, and just as well, I have read the opinions of a few who hailed the move, stating that the legacy of Abiola should rightly be preserved and honoured, and that it is the right decision for all concerned. A few others try to play both sides. They say that while the decision is best in the long term interest of democracy, the way and manner of its execution by presidential fiat falls short of the tenets of rule of law. I am a logical man, and I have tried to weigh the pros and cons of these people’s postulations, but alas, I have yet to be convinced that this decision is in the best interest of all parties concerned, including the products of the UNILAG, past, present, and future.

 

First and foremost, before I take my stand, I would like to apologise to the Abiola clan. I think it is rather unfortunate that the government of the day always contrives to put them out the spotlight with negative shades; consciously or unconsciously trying to discredit them (not that the media has not helped in this regard); or worse, condemn them to oblivion, with no references made to them. Whichever it is, they clearly do not deserve it, and while I hope they get some form of closure, I fear it may not happen anytime soon, and I clearly do not want my school to be used to achieve that.

 

Now my position. First, I think that there’s more to a name than just an appellation or a means of identification. It is a reputation, sometimes even, it could be the difference between who gets what and who doesn’t. And when care has been taken over a period of 50 years to associate a name with distinction, industry, and excellence, something that people the world over fall over themselves to associate themselves with, it is only imperative to note that it has become a tradition, a culture, a way of life and means of livelihood; that is what the UNILAG has come to mean. It has become the collective destinies of all its products, past, present, and future, their ‘surname’ in a way and changing it in the atrocious way the President did is tantamount to a man waking up one morning and finding out that his father was never his father – nobody takes that with a smile, even if he was told that his true father is Abiola!

 

Furthermore, the concept of immortalising someone is supposed to be considered strategic. It is ideal to do so, when it is directly linked to the cause/course the person to be immortalised is associated with during his lifetime, not that I’m implying that people have to die before their legacy is preserved. Which begs the question, what is Abiola’s enduring legacy? His business success? His massive philanthropic activities? His media empire – Concord of blessed memory? His contribution to sports development in Africa? Or June 12 and his denied mandate? Many people do not know Abiola beyond June 12. Rightly so even, especially since his businesses have whittled down, Concord is defunct, and his title of “Pillar of Sports in Nigeria” has since been given to Orji Uzor Kalu (who by the way has back-pedalled  on making contributions to sports since he was removed as Governor of Abia State). What is remembered of the great man is his dogged fight to restore his stolen mandate, a torturous journey which took him to exile, then to prison, and finally to the cold, welcoming hands of death when it seemed that victory was near. Many were never beneficiaries of his largesse, but almost everyone has heard of June 12 and attached Abiola’s name to it, almost in the same way that our Lord Jesus Christ is attached to December 25 – before most things went south. What Abiola is known for is true democracy, the one which features free, fair and peaceful elections, alongside the observance of the rule of law. What Abiola represents is the unity of Nigerians linked by a common goal – to determine the best way by which they will be governed. What Abiola stands for is the determination to ensure that democracy, which is good fodder for improved living standards, is gotten at all costs appropriately necessary – including the ultimate sacrifice. And with every election since 1999, we have consistently failed to fittingly honour the man’s memory through our penchant for rigged and bloody elections, governments that rule through brigandry and a flagrant abuse of the rule of law, government officials who are conspicuously corrupt and inept, and the list goes on. How the man must turn in his grave when the government says they are immortalising him, when even the President casts aspersions on the veracity of the June 12 mandate by saying Abiola was the “presumed winner” of that election. This shows that renaming UNILAG after Abiola as a way of immortalising the man is clearly a tongue-in-cheek move, a political stunt that is designed to endear the President to the South-West as we head towards 2015, which is why Soyinka warns that it is a gift horse, a Greek gift which cannot be taken on face value alone. It is shameful therefore that Abiola’s legacy has been reduced to a mere pawn on Nigeria’s political chessboard, which can be moved by the powers that be whichever way they please. However, that UNILAG is brought into this political charade is unacceptable, and must not be allowed to stand because of the numerous long-term implications.

 

Some have scoffed at this argument of the “long-term implications”. They have cited examples of the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ife, and the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, which both have had their names changed in the past. They however failed to realise that it is likely that the kind of reputation those schools have now would have been better enhanced if the original names were left as were. They also failed to put into perspective the regional interests which formed the establishment of these universities in the first instance, which is different from the UNILAG situation, in which an Act of Parliament was invoked to establish the school. Nduka Obiagbena, owner of ThisDay newspapers cited the examples of John Hopkins University, Princeton, Yale, and Harvard, who also at some point in their history had changed their names. These are not exactly similar situations compared to the UNILAG. In the first instance, these American universities are private establishments, without any political undertones or affiliations. They are run by a Board whose members would have no doubt been conducted before the new names were adopted. More so, the beneficiaries of the name change are known philanthropists, who in their lifetime had assisted the schools with endowments, and in their wills, ensured that the contributions continued well after their passage. UNILAG’s case is different. It was set up by an Act of Parliament, the first ever university to be so set up. Changing it via presidential fiat, without consort to the National Assembly, and consultations with the Governing Council and Senate of the UNILAG is a clear attempt at rubbishing the ideals of the rule of law, which demeans the legacy of Abiola.

 

 I am a brand person, and so my argument will also take a branding perspective on the issue. For all its 100+ years of existence, Coca Cola dare not consider changing its name. If it dares, it risks heavy losses on the value of the brand, which is worth about $67.5 billion. Same applies for Nigeria. The standard of education at the school is sustained by its name, as currently is. The name UNILAG is a strong market platform for its revenue generating mechanisms such as its Diploma programmes, UNILAG Consult, UNILAG Ventures, UNILAG FM, etc, and the revenue these avenues generate help to supplement the meagre federal allocation that the school gets. It is the name, UNILAG, that helps endear it to companies, foreign universities, international donor institutions and agencies, as well as local philanthropists, who then aid through grants, cash donations, infrastructure support, exchange programmes, etc. It is the name that foreign universities know and respect, which is a key factor in assessing applications for Masters programmes and scholarships, and determining which would be successful and otherwise. It is also that name that gives its products an edge in the labour market, often proving the difference between those who have jobs and those who don’t go past the first stage of an interview. Changing the name puts the school in jeopardy of losing these income streams and other opportunities for its products, which have negative implications for the standard of education, especially in the light of the fact that government spending on education has consistently reduced since the Obasanjo era. Mr Obiagbena in his article points to the fact that the late ‘President’ donated N100 million to UNILAG in the 80s. I believe this is because the name had come to represent excellence, and worthy of an investment of that nature, as there were other schools in the country at the same time who he could donated that money to. That is the power of the brand. Respected as Abiola is, he may not be liked in all quarters from a sponsorship/brand association perspective, and therefore it reduces the value of the UNILAG entity. Besides, marketing experts have placed, by implication, the value of the UNILAG brand as N1 billion. I say it is undervalued at that price – which begs the question: Is the Abiola brand worth that much? Can it help UNILAG to continue to sustain itself, albeit partially?

 

I admire, respect and aspire to the Abiola legacy. But I believe that there are better ways to honour the dead that does not inconvenience the living. Immortalising Abiola is best served be ensuring his legacy is not forgotten and merely naming places after him only ensures that people remember the name and not the man. Is Abiola taught in our schools at all levels? No! I made mention of the fact that I am not too aware of his business success, which is no direct fault of mine. We idolise our heroes best when we know what made them tick. Immortalising Abiola will really start when we start to teach about Abiola in schools, the way American universities teach about Fela. We need to include in our curricula, subjects that will introduce people to Abiola the man, Abiola the mogul, Abiola the philanthropist, Abiola the politician, and Abiola the martyr. Our social studies, government, political science, and mass communication textbooks should have chapters on Abiola, treating his philosophies, just as is done in Ghana with Kwame Nkrumah. We need to officially recognise June 12, not as Democracy Day, but as MKO Abiola Day, a national holiday complete with the rallies and jamborees which will be themed after Abiola. An MKO Centre for Political Studies can be set up in any one or more of our universities to encourage research into political and electoral trends in the country, and therefore serve as a breeding ground for the re-orientation of Nigerians as we hope for a time when politics will not be termed “a dirty game”. These are just some options which may serve to better immortalise Abiola than ruining the heritage of an illustrious institution which has served admirably to put Nigeria on the map positively for the last 50 years through the outstanding contributions and achievements of its products such as Taslim Elias, Dele Olojede, etc.

 

Like one of my friend put up on his Blackberry display picture: we love Abiola, but we love UNILAG more! It’s UNILAG or nothing. And based on my position, I think the status quo better serves the Abiola legacy, the UNILAG, and Nigeria as a whole – and the Alumni Association of my school seem to think so as well.

 

God bless MKO Abiola!

God bless the University of First Choice, Pride of the Nation, and Home of Aquatic Splendour – the University of Lagos!!

Greatest Akokite!!!

 

Skillz just spoke!

Ijebu’s father….no, not the town(s)

Ibukun. Where I live in the heart of Mushin, that name is very popular. And no, he’s no politician, or fuji musician, or street lord (yeah, those are the household or street-wise – if you like – kinds of people around here), oh no. That name is popular instead, because apparently, some two months ago, he assumed the toga of Paul the very dead but now legendary octopus and correctly predicted the winning numbers for the local lottery ring and made a number of people very, very rich. And has, in that one decisive swoop, altered the fortunes of Mushin for better and worse….irrespective of how you look at it.

 

Welcome to the vicious circle called ‘Baba Ijebu’. And while I know it runs through all the slums of Lagos, I’m a Mushin boy, and in street parlance, ‘na only there I know’, so I would take it from here. You can’t have a reliable history of the incursion of Baba Ijebu into the landscape of my community, but all you need do to know its seeming indispensable is to walk around and at every street turn, you find what used to be kiosks for GSM recharge card dealers now serving as shelter for agents of the local lottery, and a congregating point for all; men, women, boys, girls, old, young, able, physically challenged, single, married, employed, unemployed….name them, you’ll find them there, standing with a pen and paper, and staring at a board containing seemingly meaningless numbers. But don’t be fooled. In that mass of asymmetrical numbers lies a pattern (or at least those who play the lottery think it exists) which if gotten right, can ensure instant wealth. So, unlike what you may think of them, these adherents subscribe to a form of statistical analysis and permutations that may confound the brightest of mathematicians and statisticians. So they stand there, gazing at the numbers, and making their picks; and when they leave, the glint in their eyes is unmistakeable, with their talk centred around how they would ‘declare’ once they win. But unfortunately, while their brand of ‘maths’ would bring good fortune for some, for others, it will only blow ill wind, and literally, blow their money away.

 

In this lies the problem. Mushin is not exactly known for its opulence or high living standards. The roads are largely untarred, the buildings are one step away from being labelled shanties, the schools are densely populated with students with tattered uniforms, who are hardly in classes – in simple terms, some of the residents of the area are among the dregs of the earth, and yet, they enrich a cartel of men who have successfully exploited the need to get out of a life of squalor by providing an escape route that is, in truth, no escape at all. Instead, it is an addiction, a diabolical tradition, which offers only glimpses of a non-existent promise of wealth to that bus driver who wants to expand his fleet, to that market woman who wants to do more than sell pepper and tomatoes to get only paltry profits, to that young aspiring footballer who wants to raise money to buy a ticket to travel for that trial abroad, and even to that drunk/drug slave who just wants to get a fix. All these people, regardless of their intentions, are sucked into the vortex, and while they continue in penury, some man is getting round and indulging in constant foreign trips at their expense. But you can’t tell them this; they’ve won N1,200, N12,000, etc a number of times to believe that what they need is to play that “two-sure” or “three-direct” or “pamming” that will catapult them into fame and fortune. But in any case, Baba Ijebu, whose money must always return (Owo Baba’jebu, da pada – return Ijebu’s father’s money) has ensured (diabolically as some of them argue) that their fortune is only enough to have them keep faith, while the scam keeps running.

 

I guess before I can get them to listen, the now infamous Ibukun must work his magic again, but then with Baba Ijebu, lightening never strikes in the same place twice.

 

Skillz just spoke! 

BUK, BH, and my pain

Happy new month people. Yeah, it has been a long break, but I doubt if I can pin that down to writer’s block, or too little time, or a number of reasons that I want to come up with but can’t at the moment, but it is particularly humbling that the eventual reason for this post is that I cannot sleep. And no, I do not have insomnia (Lord knows that the closest I’ve come to experiencing it was when I went to a night club bearing the same name…..I guess that was pun intended – no porn intended though), but somehow, I elected to sleep at 10, and now at 2am, PHCN have done what they alone are adroit at doing, and voila, I seek sleep like it’s the Crown Jewels, and I can’t find it.

 

So basically, this is a ‘vent-your-spleen’ post. And justifiably so. I’m pissed that circumstances beyond my control is costing me much beloved sleep. I’m pissed that I pay bills for services I hardly enjoy. I’m equally pissed that people who are supposed to provide me with this service actually believe that it’s normal for me not to enjoy the services that they are supposed to provide, and that they’re doing me a huge favour whenever they provide such services. I’m pissed at our political philosophy (or lack of it) that foists air-brained, halfwits to run the country, people who boast grandiose degrees and practically no brains (I just called them air-brained, right?) – and that is in the case where they actually thought it necessary to have such degrees. I’m pissed at the sore lack of values in the system which permits us to have leftists in government who apparently suffer from a rare form of selective amnesia (they know themselves). I’m pissed because I am expected to support a government who are either uninterested in my welfare, or don’t know how to go about it at all, just because I (actually, my parents – I’m from Lagos) hail from the same geopolitical zone as the head of that insensitive or clueless government. And just for the sake of being pissed, I’m pissed that the English FA appointed Hodgson at England manager…..seriously?! O_o

 

I nearly teared up when I heard about the disaster at Bayero University. It is sad because in my belief, those people, like the over 1000 people who have died by way of Boko Haram bombs and gun attacks, have died in vain. There is little indication that this government is going to do more about bringing their killers to book than the usual ‘come on telly – NTA – and condemn the action’ routine. We (I speak for myself sha) have seen too much of this government to believe that it is not interested in removing its ‘unpopular’ tag, neither is it concerned about what happens to its people, nor does it have another agenda besides replicating itself in 2015 by crook and vile crook. I believe that the insurgency and this attack on an intellectual breeding ground is a clear indication that the intention is to kill the soul of development – enlightenment – and to dim the light, so that the system that has permitted the breeding of these agents of darkness (and their principals) can continue to thrive. I genuinely fear for this country. I have faith in God’s ability to work and walk us through this, but I am just one of a few who think so, and therein lies another problem. The majority have given up hope of getting anything better, while a disgruntled few have indicated no qualms in taking up arms to protect themselves. As is, not that it bothers the government. For them, it provides perfect diversion from the oily matters of missing fuel subsidy trillions for which a report have been provided, and will soon be carpeted like many of its predecessors.

 

I have still not titled this post, and no, PHCN has still not restored power, not that I expect them to. I round off with a one-minute silence for those whose blood is on the head of this government, and can only pray for fortitude for the ones left behind to bear the loss. 

 

Skillz just spoke