Nigeria's
presidential election
on Saturday won't resolve
the country's problems
By
Jonathan
Power
April 22, 2003
LONDON - Flying at 30,000 feet with President Olusegun
Obasanjo of Nigeria can be a nerve wracking experience -
nothing to do with the pilots from the Nigerian air
force. They are more than competent. No it was the man
himself, the gruff, ex-general, veteran of Nigeria's
terrible civil war when the emerging province of Biafra
was ruthlessly crushed. Now poised to win a second term
in Nigeria's return to democracy his campaigning relies
much on his natural warmth and good heartedness. But the
rough, tough side is also there.
"I will throw you out of this plane", he said in a
moment of anger at one of my questions. "That's what we
do in Africa with people who need to be punished." "Right
now!", he added, to make sure there was no question of
the plane landing first. Luckily I have known Obasanjo
for over 20 years and count him among one of my good
friends. Still we are not buddies. I am a journalist,
probing and getting under his skin. He is a politician,
trying to build consensus in a bitterly fragmented,
tormented society where corruption, poverty and
criminality all seethe in great overworked urban
agglomerations where tribal or religious differences can
escalate a minor quarrel in the market place over
overcharging into an all out tribal massacre with the
heavy-handed, poorly trained army called in to impose
order in its usual ham-fisted, often brutal, way.
Obasanjo can play the "Big Man", as these
authoritarian leaders, democratically elected or not, are
rightly called in Africa. He told me on this plane
journey, just after his first election victory, that he
was "going to crack the whip". And I knew instantly
exactly what he meant. Once when staying with him on his
farm I saw him react to one of his farm workers who had
started to argue with him. Obasanjo quickly stooped to
pick up a piece of thick steel wire that had dropped to
the floor to make as if to whip him. The man immediately
begged for mercy and changed his tune. It was all over in
a second, but I realized I now understood how he had
risen so quickly to the top of the military hierarchy
during the civil war.
But there is also another side of him, also a tough
one. When imprisoned by General Sani Abacha, the dictator
who died of a heart attack in the arms of three
prostitutes, Obasanjo wrote books on Christianity and
spiritual meditation. He also organized a productive farm
on prison wasteland, sufficient to give all the prisoners
a decent meal every day. He jogged every morning and
became the unofficial counsellor and religious advisor to
all who needed his help - from murderers awaiting
execution to men broken by torture.
His principals are deeply held and he lives them. At
the age of 42, having inherited the dictatorship from his
superior who was assassinated, he had walked away from
the presidential palace, turned the country back to
democracy, put on a pair of blue jeans and started a
chicken and vegetable farm. He wanted to show this oil
rich country that its real future laid on the land where
still many more than half its people live.
The first time I went to stay with him he apologized
for being five hours late. Driving home from his farm he
had come upon a long line of traffic halted by an
accident. He went to investigate and found six bodies on
the ground. There was a small group of onlookers and two
policemen standing idly by. No one was helping. The
policemen claimed it was not their responsibility; they
were en route to 'other business'. Obasanjo ordered the
crowd to help move the bodies to the roadside and
commandeered a car to rush one of the dead woman who was
obviously pregnant to the hospital, in the hope of saving
the baby. He then directed traffic for three hours until
the police arrived. The next day he learnt that the
hospital had refused admission to the woman because there
was no police certificate recording the accident. "I
should have done the Caesarean myself, by the roadside",
was his only comment.
Now Obasanjo appears to be about to win a third term
as president. The first time, a quarter a century ago,
was as military dictator. Then beginning four years ago
as a democratic strong man. Will his re-election solve
Nigeria's problems? Can this mixture of warm-heartedness,
generous spirit, military no nonsense, shaded with
undertones of violence, pull Nigeria out of its deeply
diseased state? I have often talked late at night with
Obasanjo about this question. For all his ebullience he
is not an optimist. The problems are even worse than he
thought before he was elected president. "I never knew
the corruption ran so deep. Or that the administration of
the power system could appear consciously designed so as
not to work."
Still, the Nigerians will re-elect him. They know he
at least is incorruptible. They know he wants a
God-fearing society where people do not murder and steal
and people work and are paid for their work. If I were a
Nigerian I might not fly with him, but I probably would
vote for him.
I can be reached by phone +44
7785 351172 and e-mail: JonatPower@aol.com
Copyright © 2003 By
JONATHAN POWER
Follow this
link to read about - and order - Jonathan Power's book
written for the
40th Anniversary of
Amnesty International
"Like
Water on Stone - The Story of Amnesty
International"
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