By Steve Onyeiwu
Buhari and I are in a
race of death. I hope and pray I win that race. As transient humans, we all
embark on the race to death right after sliding from our mother’s womb. How
long it takes to run that dreaded race depends largely on exogenous factors
beyond our control. Religious people believe that the more pious and
God-fearing you are, the higher the probability that your race to death would
be protracted. In other words, you’ll be competing head-to-head with the likes
of the famed and biblical Methuselah.
*Buhari |
But secular folks argue that the duration
of the race to death depends on a combination of factors that include genetics,
life-style and serendipity. The latter may be influenced by God, spirituality
and “providence.” For these reasons, I may well die before Buhari, though he is
far older than me. As an inherently unpredictable phenomenon, some of those who
have been overly obsessed with Buhari’s death may die before him. Death can
also be a biased umpire that fulfills some people’s wishes, but dashes other
people’s hopes. While some politicians who are prematurely positioning
themselves for 2019 have been cheering Buhari to run faster on the death track,
many other compassionate Nigerians pray for his quick recovery.
Right from when he began receiving treatment in London early this year,
endless news about Buhari’s death have been circulating around the world. Some
say he has a terminal disease. Quack doctors have looked at his photos and
conclude that he is chronically ill. Some medical doctors who should refrain
from diagnosing a disease by perusing a patient’s visual outlook, without
conducting blood, X-Ray, MRI, colonoscopy, physical and other vital tests, have
jumped into the fray, declaring that Buhari is a lost cause! But they forget
that even the best doctors in the world cannot look at photos and diagnose a
patient’s ailment, let alone provide a prognosis for the patient’s survival.
Some may wonder why I’m feverishly
praying that Buhari should not die before me. They might think that, by singing
Buhari’s praises, I would be appointed to a juicy position in his
administration. Perhaps I would be appointed to the board of a very lucrative
parastatal, like the Nigerian Ports Authority, NNPC, NDDC, or even become some
errand boy in Aso Rock. I’ve heard that being a “messenger” or ‘cleaner” in Aso
Rock is more lucrative than being a university professor. Perhaps I may be
awarded a N300 million contract to mow lawns around Aso Rock, or undertake
“surveillance of illegal activities” along the country’s coastline. It’s also
possible that I might hit a jackpot, and be asked to furnish the newly
established Fort Muhammadu Buhari Forward barracks in Daura for N5 billion. Oh,
there is also the possibility of a N200 million contract for pasting “Sai
Buhari 2019”
posters along major roads and boulevards in Abuja . I’m not that crazy about a N200 million
grass-cutting contract at the Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) camps in the
north, as I’m very petrified by a possible Boko Haram attack at one of the
camps.
Though I’m absolutely contented with my life-long
profession of teaching and research, I pray every day that Buhari should not
die before me. If Buhari dies before me, I’m very concerned that I would have
to live through years of monumental corruption, as I excruciatingly endured in
the past decades under various corrupt governments in Nigeria . I
absconded from Nigeria
in the early 1990s when the level of corruption and rot in the country became
extremely unbearable. I could not stand the stark realisation that $12.4
billion in Gulf War oil windfall was unaccounted for by the Babangida regime,
while at the same time the university where I was teaching could not provide
chalk and stationery for use by lecturers. I remember the perpetual blackouts,
acute water shortages and frequent late payment of salaries we endured on
university campuses in the 1990s. Those of us whose offices were proximate to
the toilets stayed away from our offices, as a result of the unbearable stench
from those toilets, due to lack of water. I have recently visited a couple of
Nigerian universities, and I’m very encouraged that things have slightly
improved from the gory days of the 1990s. I fear, however, that Buhari’s demise
might mean a return to those dark days.
I’m very perturbed that Buhari’s death would mean a return
to the days when, according to Chief Edwin Clark, some drivers in government
ministries owned expensive mansions in Abuja
and other parts of the country. It would mean a return to the era of slush
funds, when money meant to fight insurgent and militant groups would be shared
amongst those who are supposed to prosecute the war against terrorism and
insurgency.
Another reason I’m petrified by
any talk of Buhari’s death relates to the judiciary. I used to revere lawyers
and judges a lot, and I almost studied law as an undergraduate, instead of the
‘‘dismal science” known as Economics. I admired how erudite and oratorical
judges tended to be. I periodically spend time reading judgements on corruption
and election petition cases. I often marvel at the syllogistic, jurisprudent and
epistemological basis of those judgements, and applaud Nigerian judges for
their intellectual prowess. I was very proud of the Nigerian judiciary when one
particular judge courageously sent a very powerful politician in the southwest
to jail for corruption. Many considered that courageous act as unprecedented in
the annals of Nigeria ’s
judicial history. That is the kind of judge we want in Nigeria .
Unfortunately, I cannot recall any other courageous judge who has sent a
high-profile politician or elite to jail like this pace-setting judge, despite
the plethora of court cases instituted by the EFCC. Some well-meaning observers
worry that the EFCC and ICPC cases are becoming more of a charade and circus
show, and a waste of our resources. It now appears to these critics that EFCC’s
overarching strategy is to “name and shame,” rather than “prosecute, convict
and jail.” Well, some may argue that the mere act of naming and shaming corrupt
politicians and elites is better than sweeping corrupt practices under the rug,
as previous administrations had done.
Thanks to Buhari, we now know there are cash-and-carry
judges who sacrifice their judicial integrity at the altar of US dollars, the
Euro, British Pounds, Rolex watches, stripe suits and exotic cars. To put it bluntly,
I’m scared that Buhari’s death would mean an institutionalization of a judicial
culture whereby the granting of bail by judges would become a quid pro quo
affair, in favor of only those able to grease the palm of judges. Don’t get me
wrong; every profession has its own bad apples. My own profession has had its
fair share of very disgraceful lecturers and professors who request sexual or
pecuniary gratifications in exchange for inflated grades. Some of them
unabashedly force indigent students to purchase second-rate, and mostly
plagiarized handouts as a precondition for passing a course. But the point is
that Buhari has succeeded in putting corrupt judges on notice. This is very
important because, as Professor Itse Sagay often reminds us, a compromised
judiciary spells ominous doom for our entire society. The poor, innocent,
downtrodden and the oppressed will not have any succor under a corrupt judicial
system. As one of the few most important institutions in society, we cannot
allow bad apples to spread their rot to the entire judicial system.
I’m very concerned that Buhari’s demise would mean that we
will become oblivious of the unorthodox ways by which corrupt Nigerians hide
their illicit wealth. Before Buhari, we only knew of secret Swiss bank accounts.
Under Abacha, we started hearing about new havens for illicit wealth, including
countries that are difficult to locate on the Atlas map, such as Liechtenstein and the Island of Jersey .
But no one ever knew millions of U.S. dollars and other foreign currencies
could be hidden in decrepit houses, slums, bathrooms, water tanks, wells, false
walls, posh apartments, etc.
All of a sudden, we began hearing about abandoned
money at airports; and unclaimed money lodged in mysterious bank accounts. On a
recent visit to Abuja ,
my host drove me around the city and showed me several unoccupied expensive and
exquisite mansions whose owners are unknown. Of course, official real-estate
documents would show some sort of ownerships, but these are mainly fronts for
the real owners. I said to my host: “why can’t the EFCC announce in major
newspapers and media outlets that the owners of these mansions should show up
at the building sites on a particular date and time, failure of which the
houses will be forfeited permanently to the Federal Government? It’s as simple
as that!” The same rule can also be applied to mysterious mansions in other
parts of the country. It is possible we’ll begin to see teenagers with no jobs
showing up at the sites to claim ownership, or even housemaids and messengers
laying claim on those assets. It is also possible that no owner would ever show
up.
As a Nigerian in the Diaspora, I
worry about what would become of Nigeria ’s international image,
should Buhari die before me. In the past, Nigerians were disparaged and often
humiliated abroad. No sooner had one introduced himself or herself as a
Nigerian than the following remarks would ensue: “Oh, I just received an email
from a Nigerian asking me to wire so and so amount to his bank account.” “A
Nigerian whom I’ve never met before is proposing to me a business deal worth
millions of dollars.” Yes, there are several variants of these ridiculous 419
scams, for which Nigeria
became a poster child globally. In those days, you were judged a criminal and
the onus was on you to prove otherwise. In anger, some of us would counter: “Do
you know that the first African Nobel laureate in literature is a Nigerian? “Do
you know that the doctor who found a link between American football and brain
damage is a Nigerian, a path-breaking finding that spurred the award-winning
movie, Concussion? “Do you know that the majority of skilled Africans
(engineers, lawyers, doctors, artistes, professors, IT specialists, financial
experts, etc.) in the Diaspora are Nigerians?” “Do you know (at least at that
time) that the Managing Director, as well as the Vice President of the World Bank,
are Nigerians?
When Buhari was elected in 2015, the international
community began to set the refresh button for Nigeria . They began to view Nigeria more
positively. In fact, less than one month after his election, he was invited to
the White House to meet with President Obama. I cannot recall any African Head
of State who was invited to the White House shortly after their election. Newly
elected foreign leaders who get invited to the White House are usually from
strategically important countries like Israel ,
China , Turkey , India ,
Egypt , Mexico and Ukraine . When Buhari came to Washington DC
in July 2015, the atmosphere was electric. Nigerians in Diaspora began to feel
proud again, as we had always been prior to the era of prolonged military
dictatorship and corruption. I’m worried that the international and diplomatic
refresh button may disappear if Buhari dies.
In conclusion, while Nigeria has
leaders who could step into Buhari’s big shoes, it is doubtful that any of
those leaders would fight corruption with Buhari’s level of credibility,
sagacity, sincerity and integrity. The fight against corruption under Buhari
has certainly not been perfect, and will never be under any leader. But for the
first time since the regime of General Murtala Muhammed, the fight against
corruption has become real under Buhari. This is why I continue to pray that
Buhari should not die before me, thus saving me and many others the agony of
reliving Nigeria ’s
inglorious past.
*Onyeiwu
is a Professor and chair of Economics Department, Allegheny College, Meadville , Pennsylvania ,
USA .
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