Nigeria: A Nation Of Cowards And Docile Citizens

By Nnanna Ijomah

It is said that “a nation of sheep is governed by wolves”. Nigerians have not only become sheepish and docile but also whiners and cowards. Docility has become our middle name and we have come to display it on our chests as badges of honor. I don’t know when we became this way but I’m sure it’s been long in the making. Over the years it has become more evident that we have become a very timid and spineless people, with a high degree of acceptance and tolerance of whatever mistreatment our leaders, both at the local, State, and Federal levels mete out to us. There is a popular saying, “the future belongs to those who change it”.

In Nigeria today, we have as its citizens, though ethnically, linguistically and culturally diverse, a people who are scared or reluctant to effectively bring about real change and not the fake change promised by the APC. A people who continuously elect and re-elect people whose past track records does not show any evidence of any real effort in terms of policies or actions to improve their lives or their standard of living. This is what Aribisala said not long ago about the President on this issue.

“He, Buhari commanded the support of a significant number of the Northern poor, in spite of the fact that there is absolutely nothing in his curriculum Vitae about advancing the interest of the poor.”

Here he, the President is not alone. The same can be said of most of our Governors and national Assembly members. The reality of our situation in Nigeria today is that we wallow in the status quo and seem to be content with it. We whine and complain daily about our leaders and the deplorable state of our existence but fail to acknowledge our role in electing them or the courage to hold them accountable.

The more I read about events in Nigeria or the state of the nation, the alarming scope of corruption despite the war against it, the ineffective or none -existent economic policies and its aftermath, the increasing poverty rate in the country especially in the North, the complicity of INEC and our security officials in rigging elections, the non-payment of worker’s salaries both at the state and federal levels, the religious massacres by herdsmen and the lack of a tough response or arrests by federal government officials and the financial appeasement by a state governor, the instability in the Niger Delta, the agitation for Biafra by the Igbo’s, the unending blame campaign of the President of his predecessor, etc. etc., the more I feel morbidly entranced like a homicide detective gazing into a pool of freshly spilled blood. I use the phrase freshly spilled blood literally because that’s what each new unfortunate event looks like. If I may borrow the words of Pat Utomi in a recent comment he made, “Nigeria is a paradox of progressive degradation, where every Government is worse than the one that preceded it”. As the new year begins this month I have become more apocalyptic about the future of the country and its political stability.

The Emeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu I Knew

By Nnanna Ijomah
On this day the 26th of November three years ago Chief Emeka Ojukwu passed away, and on this third anniversary of his death, I want to join millions of Nigerians to honor and celebrate his life. In 1988, I was an unemployed young Political Science graduate, resident in Lagos, when I first met Chief Emeka Ojukwu, by way of recommendation and introduction by some mutual friends, one of whom was my cousin, who had informed me that he, the Ikemba was looking to employ a Personal Assistant.

The odds of my getting the job was further enhanced and I would say virtually assured when during the interview at his Villaska lodge residence, the late Dr Chuba Okadigbo walked in and practically vouched for my intellectual ability and competence to do the job for which I was about to be hired. For those who might be wondering how Dr Okadigbo came into the picture. It so happened that a few years earlier during the commencement ceremony of the University of Benin, the late Dr Okadigbo had taken note of me when I was presented with an award, as the best Political Science student in the degree exams.

On that fateful sunny afternoon, 22 years ago, I found myself standing before the Ikemba, a larger than life figure, whom I'd heard so much about all through my teenage years during the civil war. But now in my early twenties, standing before him, I was not only scared and nervous, but also full of admiration and respect, while at the same time experiencing an overwhelming feeling of excitement, just for being in his presence. As I gazed at those bulging eyes, each time he made a point of emphasis, I could not but feel a sense of accomplishment, just for achieving this great feat of being there. At that moment in time as I remember it today, whether I ended up getting the job or not, I was going to savor this once in a life-time opportunity for all it was worth. After a few pointed questions and a detailed explanation of what the job entailed, he proceeded to ask me if I was ready to start work right away. Thus began my association with the Ikemba. A job which I can truthfully say afforded me the most learning experience of my life.

During the period I worked for him, Ikemba was more than just my boss. He was a father figure in the sense that he treated me like a son. He was my mentor and was very protective of me. When I decided to leave for the United States, he did not try to dissuade me from doing so. Rather he encouraged me to leave, since at that point in time some government officials were snooping around, making inquiries regarding the contents of the book we were working on. The general impression at the time was that he the Ikemba was writing a book about the Civil war. 

The book generated so much concern in certain quarters that he, Ikemba got worried about my safety, and in his own words, said to me " they can never do anything to me, but they can come after you in their attempt to know what the book is all about and I would not want you to get into any kind of trouble on my account'. Months later in 1989, he sent me an autographed copy in New York.