Nigeria: the untold story

Africa’s most populous nation is, for much of the rest of the world, an enigma. Since independence, achieved in 1960, military rule has had only two brief interruptions. Nigeria is one of Africa’s richest countries, but corruption and poverty are still widespread

In November 1997, Nigerians headed to the polls to elect new officers into local government councils under the Return-to-Democracy program promoted by the country’s boxed-in military leader, General Sani Abacha. Meanwhile, the 1986 Nobel laureate for literature, Professor Wole Soyinka, a Nigerian citizen, was in Italy campaigning against his country while Nigeria’s military government, which thwarted democratic rule in 1993, was sending a reinforcement of its army to neighbouring Sierra-Leone in a continued offensive to compel the new coup leader in that country to return power to the civilian government it overthrew in May.

An international pariah

As these events eloquently demonstrate, Nigeria is a country that is jaggedly at odds with itself. It is the most populated black country in the world, stupendously rich in oil but, ironically, a large chunk of its citizens rank among the world’s most impoverished. In the 37 years of jaundiced freedom from colonial rule, Nigeria has produced ten leaders, only two of whom were elected democratically; still, it has a very loud voice against ‘coups d’état’ in Africa, as its activities in Sierra-Leone have shown.

Nigeria claims to have, not only the freest press, but also one of the most powerful media in the world; yet, over the years the world has heard more about the country from human rights groups than from Nigeria’s media. And this country of over a hundred million people boasts of more human rights activists than farmers, possibly the reason why even with its vast, uncultivated land, Nigeria still imports rice to feed its permanently hungry people.

These days, in many parts of the world, people shudder at the mention of the name of Nigeria. They shudder because in few countries on earth do you have such a huge number of citizens living in questionable luxury abroad and urging the world to help them hate their country. Although Nigeria was once rated as the giant of Africa it has become an international pariah state in recent years.

In many parts of the world, based on the hair-raising stories making the rounds, an average Nigerian is regarded as the personification of crime rackets including drug trafficking and prostitution. People shudder because in November 1995, against the international hue and cry, the Nigerian military king-pin, General Sani Abacha, went ahead and had a prominent writer and minority rights activist, Ken Saro-Wiwa, executed by hanging.

Nigeria stands suspended from the Commonwealth whose secretary-general, Emeka Anyaoku is, ironically, a Nigerian. The country remains decertified by the United States because the U.S. Drug Department does not feel that Nigeria is doing enough to combat the drug trade. The decertification means, among other things, that the U.S. would campaign against Nigeria in any international forum. It did, effectively, in 1995, against Nigeria’s candidate for the presidency of the African Development Bank, an important financial institution in which the U.S. and some European Union countries are minority shareholders and Nigeria is the major shareholder.

The United States also cut direct flight links with Nigeria and, along with the European Union, imposed limited sanctions on the country. In 1995, the world football governing body, FIFA, denied Nigeria the right to host the junior world cup tournament at the last minute, alleging security risks.

Democracy on hold

This sad saga began in June 1993 when, after years of stalling, the Nigerian military government organised a presidential election seen by international observers as free and fair. The election was contested by a millionaire publisher and business mogul, chief Moshood Abiola and another millionaire businessman, Alhaji Bashir Tofa, on the platforms of the Social Democratic Party, SDP and the National Republican Convention, NRC respectively. Both were military imposed and funded political parties.

When results from 14 out of Nigeria’s 30 states at the time were announced, it was clear that the SDP was heading for a landslide victory. But suddenly, a solemn voice on radio on the afternoon of June 23, 1993, announced the annulment of the presidential elections. This announcement seemed to have pushed Nigeria to the edge of the precipice. Palpable tension, rumours of war, a feeling of insecurity, international disdain and threats of secession all seemed to plunge the country into a keg of gunpowder.

It was alleged that the election was annulled because the then military ruler, Ibrahim Babangida, did not wish to hand over power and had not expected a clear winner to emerge. Meanwhile, Abiola, the presumed winner of the election, had read a speech to the press indicating that he intended to keep his (presidential) date with history. But that was not to be; and fearing that his life was in danger, he soon fled into self exile.

Back home, events had spiralled out of the control of the military government. General Babangida was forced to step aside and an all-civilian interim government was formed. The only military presence in it was General Sani Abacha who acted as defence minister. The decree establishing the interim government had a curious clause that said that in the event of death or resignation of the interim president, the most senior minister would take over.

Days later, the ‘most senior’ minister was defined by another decree as the defence minister. Quite coincidentally (?) the interim president, Ernest Shonekan, suddenly resigned only a few months into his tenure, and the ‘most senior’ minister, General Sani Abacha, took over. There were unconfirmed tales that Shonekan had been forced to resign at gun point, a rumour strengthened by Abacha’s first speech to the nation. He abolished the two political parties, disbanded the National Electoral Commission and sacked the two houses of parliament, along with all elected state governors.

‘Curiouser and curiouser’

Quite amazingly, the presumed winner of the June 1993 presidential elections, chief Moshood Abiola, returned triumphantly to Nigeria and was given red carpet treatment by the Abacha regime, all the way from the airport to his Lagos residence. Chief Abiola was rumoured to be behind the Abacha coup, it was alleged that his understanding with Abacha was that the latter would seize power from the interim government and hand it to him on a platter of gold.

Abiola was shown on national television paying Abacha a visit at the state house to congratulate him on his success. More amazing was General Abacha’s first cabinet; it was full of Abiola’s staunch supporters and friends. Even his running mate in the June presidential elections, Alhaji Babagana Kingibe, became Abacha’s minister of foreign affairs. Many Nigerians who had supported Abiola during the elections were shocked and confused. Many of them had prepared to fight for Abiola when he said on the American television channel, CNN, while still in exile, that what had happened in Bosnia and Somalia would be child’s play to what would happen in Nigeria if he did not claim his presidential mandate.

Everyone, watched this curious drama as it unfolded with bated breath. Abiola’s strange romance with Sani Abacha suddenly hit the rocks when, as weeks dragged into months, it became obvious that the latter was not as ‘stupid’ as was first perceived – risking his neck to stage a coup only to hand over power to someone else.

Abiola’s frustration began to manifest itself in the outrageous stories that his Concord Group of newspapers were publishing. Owing mainly to his philanthropic record, Abiola has enormous influence over a wide range of journalists and media houses in Nigeria. So, when the press rallied furiously behind him as he made his bid for his lost mandate, General Abacha grew increasingly uneasy.

The turning point came when Abiola told a ‘Voice of America’ reporter in Lagos that he would declare himself president and name a cabinet and ‘let heavens fall’. He was immediately declared a wanted man by Abacha, and, just before heavens fell, he went into hiding, prompting the government to announce a fifty thousand Nigerian Naira reward for anyone with information leading to his capture. No one came forward.

Dramatically, two weeks later, chief Abiola emerged from hiding of his own volition and made a triumphant march with his supporters, chanting and singing through the streets of Lagos, Nigeria’s most important city. The government watched, nonplussed.

In a desolate area of Lagos Island, witnessed by a handful of his supporters and a few friendly journalists, Abiola read a short speech declaring himself president of the federal Republic of Nigeria. But just a few hours after his moment of glory, long after his supporters had departed and calm had returned to his residence, not less than two hundred armed policemen plucked Abiola from his house at 5.00 a.m., and spirited him away from luxury for a very long time.

He was charged with treasonable felony. There was a loud international outcry against his arrest. The country’s image suffered a further severe bashing. Internally, the press raged and many newspapers, including all those owned by Abiola, were closed down. Overnight, human rights activists and campaigners for democracy emerged in Nigeria and many were locked up. One critic of ‘human rights hypocrisy’ in Lagos, said it served them right.

Things continued to deteriorate and unknown elements started a bombing campaign of military targets which the government blamed on its so-called opposition, including Nobel laureate, Wole Soyinka. The law office of Nigeria’s foremost critic and government enemy number-one, Gani Fawehinmi, was attacked by unknown assailants who fired gunshots that critically wounded one of his security men.

Shifting the blame

Accusing fingers pointed at the military government for this and other such attacks just as the government blamed the opposition group for the bombing of military targets. Many had spoken of two-way acts of terrorism since the crises started. Perhaps none of these was more sensational than the hijack in November 1993 of a Nigeria Airways plane carrying passengers that included government officials, en route from Lagos to Abuja. The hijackers forced the plane to re-route to Niger Republic demanding, among other things, a transfer of political power to chief Abiola.

In 1995 the Abacha government said it had foiled a coup attempt and proceeded to arrest several prominent Nigerians including former Head of State, General Olusegun Obasanjo (the only Nigerian military leader to willingly hand power over to a democratically elected president in 1979) and his second-in-command, Shehu Musa Yar’Adua who had lately become a politician and was a leading member of the Constituent Assembly at the time of his arrest.

They were tried in a special military tribunal and sentenced to death, a sentence which was later commuted to life imprisonment. In early December 1997 Shehu Musa Yar’Adua died of an undisclosed ailment in prison. This death raised several questions for which the Abacha regime provided no answers. None of these things outraged the world like the hanging in 1995 of the minority rights activist, Ken Saro-Wiwa.

He, along with eight other indigents of Ogoni, a small oil-producing province in Rivers State, had been tried and condemned to death by hanging by a special tribunal for the murder of four pro-government Ogoni leaders. Leaking pipe lines, a destruction of the Ogoni farmland and many other evils were some of the things Saro-Wiwa decried. In a paper titled Genocide in Nigeria, he spoke extensively of the exploitation by oil companies operative in Ogoni, particularly Shell.

Saro-Wiwa had whipped up sufficient anti-establishment sentiments in his impoverished people that when an Ogoni mob attacked and killed the four pro-government, anti-Saro-Wiwa Ogoni leaders, accusing them of having sold out, the military government held Ken Saro-Wiwa and eight members of his Movement for the Survival of Ogoni People, MOSOP, fully responsible for the murders. Which just goes to show, you shouldn’t mess with Shell.

Next month, we will look at developments since the execution of Saro-Wiwa, the part played so far by Nigeria’s hard pressed population, and the country’s alternatives for the future.