PART ONE:
It was like a dream. On October 1 1960 Nigeria gained her independence from British Colonial rule. Of course, in case you hadn’t realized, I wasn’t born then. Records of African history - from my primary school social studies class in Lagos to my graduate class discussion on decolonization in Africa in London, and of course the vivid and almost surreal anecdotes of parents and others - were enough to stir my imagination. You detected the hint of pride and nostalgia when they spoke about Nigerian leadership and leaders in those years; Obafemi Awolowo premier of the then-Western region; Ahmadu Bello premier of the Northern region and Nnamdi Azikiwe premier of the Eastern region. When Nigeria began self rule, with Tafawa Balewa as Nigeria's first and only prime minister and Azikiwe as president, hopes and aspirations were at an all time high. And yes, whilst our politics did fragment along regional and ethnic lines, very early on after independence, we knew we had a great sense of responsibility to ourselves and our nation.
In Africa, they say a name can tell a lot about a person, and can immediately establish the circumstances of one's birth and the influences in one's life. Contrary to popular belief, Nigeria wasn't named after the River Niger. It was Flora Shaw; the colonial officer's wife in 1898 joined together the words 'niger' meaning black, and the word 'area' to name Nigeria. At almost 150million today from a population of 35 million people at independence the weight of expectation from our name, Nigeria, as representatives of black people everywhere in the world, is still heavy. While we should celebrate our achievements thus far, we should also face square on the challenges that lie ahead.
Tafawa Balewa proclaimed that our country's 'great day' had arrived in his public declaration on 1 October, when he accepted constitutional instruments from the British colonial government. After that ‘great day’, how well have we done? Well the momentum of independence certainly propelled Nigeria to the world stage.
After we became a republic in 1963, nothing seemed impossible. Economically spurred by the oil boom, as sub-Saharan largest oil producer, and most populous country, we were blessed with a mandate for continental leadership. We championed Pan-Africanism, following Kwame Nkrumah's leading light. Our anti-colonial and anti-apartheid struggles were the hallmarks of our foreign policy for three decades. Nigeria has been at the forefront of the establishment of regional organisations, implementing the then-Organisation of African Union’s (OAU) (now African Union (AU)), strategy for de-colonisation. We championed regional brotherhood, providing financial support to liberation movements in Angola, in South Africa (ANC's anti-apartheid struggle) and Namibia's SWAPO. Under the leadership of General Yakubu Gowon, we pioneered the formation of 15-member regional integration body, ECOWAS, in 1975. As a nation we have made phenomenal contributions to Africa's economic prosperity and political independence. As a country, we adopted highly principled stances against white minority rule in places like South Africa and Rhodesia (present day Zimbabwe). Actually, Nigeria for many years chaired the UN’s anti-apartheid committee.
Our strong belief in self, and in the ‘responsibility to protect’ doctrine, informed our African and global peacekeeping missions, which have been exemplary, and have in many instances, cost the country dear in financial and human resources. In West Africa's troubled spots of Sierra Leone and Liberia we played leadership roles, helping to bring peace, so much so that till this day the head of Liberia's armed forces is a Nigerian. So was his predecessor. Some of my generation may not even be aware that Nigerian troops served in the Allied cause of the Second World War and have been contingents in peacekeeping missions, not just in Africa, but as far flung as Bosnia, and Lebanon. Of course these achievements haven't been without their shortcomings, but my goal today is to celebrate what has been good, great and positive about our country. We've never been one-dimensional as a nation, and the ways in which we've found to celebrate our cultural and social diversity has throughout our history created remarkable achievements, by equally remarkable people.
Our artistic and literary talents are too numerous to mention. We've been at the forefront of Africa's literary tradition for decades. Africa’s first Nobel laureate in Wole Soyinka, an Orange prize winner in Chimamanda Adichie and the author of Things Fall Apart; arguably Africa's greatest piece of post-colonial literature, Chinua Achebe, who won a Man Booker Prize International Prize for Fiction (2007). We’ve also had several winners of the Cain Prize for African writing, not to mention Ben Okri, Helen Oyeyemi, Adaobi Nwaubani, Segun Afolabi, Amos Tutuola, Elechi Amadi, Bola Agbaje etc.
CNN's fantastic piece earlier this week on new up and coming literary talent is another testament to our innate gift to tell moving stories about our history and culture and make that relevant to both to an Africa and global audience. Our musical artistes are world renowned. Africa's most famous tune, Sweet Mother, often called Africa's anthem was written by Prince Nico Mbarga a Nigerian-Cameroonian, who was born in Abakiliki in eastern Nigeria. The enigmatic Fela Kuti, his fiery spirit and politically charged invention Afro-beat, were deemed worthy of a Broadway production, called FELA, now coming to London's National Theatre in November. Then there's Sunny Ade, Victor Uwaifo, Bobby Benson and His Combo.
However modern Nigerian music has become today, it still hasn't lost the sense of cultural and African pride, from our Lagbaja's to our Nnekas and Asas, and yes, I cringe to say it, even our very own Tu face Idibia and D'banj. Nigerian music and Nigerian-inspired music are still trailblazers on the African continent today. How we've continually evolved, and innovated, always amaze me. Each time I go back home, there is always some new fad that's sprung up. Through all this we haven’t lost our pride. Africans often remark how Nigerian leaders are usually the only African leaders to don national attire on the world stage!
In the late 1980s my parents would often tell us amazing stories of the second Festival of Black & African Arts and Culture of 1977 (Festac 77), which took place in Nigeria. I would listen in awe and amazement that Nigeria could have played host to what was acknowledged as one of the greatest gatherings of African and black culture, so much so that an entire Lagos suburb – Festac - is still named after that festival! Yes, it happened on Nigerian soil. Earlier this year, I went to see the art exhibition - The Kingdom of Ife – at the British Museum, with a British colleague of mine and I remember the sense of overwhelming pride I felt at the time to be a Nigerian. From our highly-valued Benin Bronze sculptures ancient to our sophisticated Nok Terracotta. Many deemed so valuable by art historians that they continue to be the subject of repatriation tussles between western museums and Nigeria’s National Commission for Museums and Monuments. During the British museum Ife exhibition an art critic writing in the UK telegraph paper went so far as to comment that 'West African sculptors reveal an empathy with the 'other’ that you only find in the art of highly advanced cultures'.... had an understanding of the human body that would not be seen in European sculpture until Donatello and Lorenzo Ghiberti more than a century later'.
I was born in Ibadan, in Oyo state in south-western Nigeria, and so have always had strong affinity with the place, despite growing in Lagos. The University of Ibadan, like Ahmadu Bello University, or University of Nigeria at Nsukka in eastern Nigeria, and the great OAU in Ife, are still all emblems of Nigeria’s early record as host to first class educational institutions. My mother would tell us time and time again about how she turned down a very attractive scholarship to study at Baliol College in Oxford (I think) so she could study at Ibadan University instead. She told this story so many times with that same ‘things-have-since-changed’ air about her. It is quite true. The University of Ibadan in the 1970s was ranked the fifth best university in the British Commonwealth.
Nigerians are also innovators. The famous Nigerian scientist, Philip Emeagwali first entered the limelight in 1989 when he won the prestigious Gordon Bell Prize for his work with computers. He has submitted over 41 inventions to the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, and is still making waves in the IT industry today. It is that same spirit of innovation that birthed Nollywood, the third largest film industry in the world, according to a UNESCO report. Who can forget creative minds like Mohammed Abbah, the local teacher in Northern Nigeria, who earned his place in Time magazine’s best inventions of 2001, with a simple refrigeration device that solved a wastage problem helped revolutionise the lives of rural people in the north. Both Abbah’s invention and Nollywood are just one of hundreds of examples of how Nigeria's do consume what they produce. These creations are marketable worldwide. Nollywood these days is a household brand, even here in the UK. Our sporting legends are also well known worldwide. Who can forget the Kanu-generation that inspired Nigeria to Olympic football victory in Atlanta in 1996? And there was Hakeem Olajuwon in the NBA, of dream-team fame, and the Onyalis and Ezinwas that made up our very own Olympic dream teams.
But Nigerian achievement is not just rooted or anchored in the past. In the 21st we've tasted and seen glimpses of how political and economic reform can trigger change and accelerate economic growth, how committed and fearless leadership can help shift our sometimes non-chalant attitude towards corruption. We've seen how since the 1999 democratic transition, the determination of a few political leaders to create jobs for youth has instilled a greater sense of national pride. We've seen how brave individuals have practically laid down their lives in the war against counterfeit drugs in our country. We've been witness to how the judiciary has earned renewed respect and independence, insisting on the rule of law. This was reflected in a number of landmark decisions after the controversial 2007 elections. We’ve seen how a handful of reform-minded technocrats have helped break new grounds in policy, eventually brining Paris club debt relief in 2005.
When you travel these days, compared to the 1990s when I was at school, the flights are packed with expatriate business travellers looking to do business in Nigeria. One often wonders if the headlines that Nigeria was such a difficult business landscape were true, why there is such a rush to invest here? Perhaps the explanation is everyone wants to keep the good news to themselves and keep the competition out. I have always believed that if the earth, indeed, if Africa, had veins, Nigeria would be the blood that flows through it. If that blood was ever to be drained, the rest of the body would completely cease to function. It would just die. We should be proud of who we are and live up to our importance, strategic and cultural, to Africa and the world.
On a more personal level, what about this question of what it means to be Nigerian? What really is Nigerian identity? I'm sure ethnic affiliation and cultural identity come to mind; Igbo, Yoruba, Efik, Hausa, Fulani, Kanuri, Ibibio, Ijaw, Igala, Idoma, Igbirra, Efik, Urhobo, Tiv, Edo, Fulfulde, Itsekiri, Andoni, Nupe etc. But I think it is much more that ethnic identity, it is about the spirit, the drive and indeed the constant ray of hope that trails every disappointment we experience in Nigeria or as Nigerians. Many of the experiences I had as an African in Africa, made me realize just how many Africans, have a silent, often unspoken admiration for Nigerians and Nigeria, despite all the criticism we hear and often attract. And sometimes being Nigerian can just as much be about the reaction we get from others. I lived and worked as an intern for the International Crisi Group in Dakar, Senegal in 2004. I would often be walking down the street in my local Dakar neighbour hood, to a shop, and a local would chat to me in the Senegalese language of Wollof, on the assumption that I was Senegalese, because I looked like them, (The Senegalese are naturally tall, as I am). But I would then respond in French to say, sorry I don't speak Wollof, 'Je suis Nigeriane' (I am Nigerian), at which point conversation would immediately turn to the marvels of Nollywood, and popularity of Nigerian music and movies in those parts. You sensed a hint of admiration, that they'd met a Nigerian, and quickly a small crowd of 3 or more would gather to give their take on Nigeria, and what they knew about us. It was almost as if they took pride in the fact that they knew about Nigeria.
Then there's the Nigerian spirit, and sheer gusto and ‘can-do’ attitude of our people. In his book, The Education of a British Protected Child (it’s a great read by the way!) Chinua Achebe recounts an experience he had on a bus in 1961 in the British Colony of Northern Rhodesia (now present day Zambia). Achebe was asked by the driver of a bus in Northern Rhodesia, what he, Achebe, was doing sitting in the front of a bus (which then had segregated sitting based on race, pretty much like in America’s deep south), and the driver was amazed and asked Achebe where he was from to which he responded; 'Nigeria, if you must know, and by the way in Nigeria, we sit where we like in the bus'.
The Late Chief Justice of Nigeria, Bola Ige, once said 'if you know how to package shit you can sell it in Nigeria'. Being Nigerian is also just about our ability to be, and to do. Although I recounted to you my Senegal story, what I hadn't mentioned were the other slightly more uncomfortable encounters I had in places like Conakry, Guinea. On one occasion, when sitting in the back of a taxi, I started a conversation in French with the driver, and he figured, rightly, from my French accent that I wasn't local. When I told him I was Nigerian, he immediately launched into a tedious tirade about the dozens of Nigerian drug traffickers and peddlars operating in Conakry suburbs. So we really are a mixed bag. But the fact that we are talked about at all is indicative of the fact that we stand out.
During my preparation for this speech, I decided to compile a list of contradictions often used to describe Nigeria, or what it means to be Nigerian. And here are a few that so aptly capture the complexity and humour, and intensity of this great nation; the incompatibility of behaviour and aspirational rhetoric - abysmally frustrating and unbelievably exciting - like a child, gifted, enormously talented, prodigiously endowed, and incredibly wayward; it simply overwhelms the senses - Nigeria has proved to be the most confounding, frustrating and at the same time engaging place I have ever visited - it is work in progress, though no one is ever sure if it is being assembled or torn apart - Achebe said if he was re-incarnated he would still chose to come back as a Nigerian, but then in the same breadth, he said, while dismissing Nigerian travel advertisements, that only a tourist with a kinky addiction to self-flagellation would pick Nigeria for a holiday. I'm sure you can think of many more such contradictions from your own personal experiences and encounters. But somehow, these still lend a certain mystery to the concept of ‘Nigerianness’. Often times you hear people lament; “Why can’t Nigeria just be a ‘normal country’ like everywhere else?” Well the response in my head would probably go something like this: “How normal is 250 ethnic groups under one roof, with 300 or more distinct languages, in 36 states, and mostly relying on oil revenues from a small part of the country to keep the economy afloat. That’s just not normal!” I jest. Our diversity and complexity should never be an excuse. But what I think binds us all together as Nigerians in the diaspora, and at home, is our instinct for survival beyond the odds. It is much more than 'suffering and smiling' as Fela Kuti once put it, instead it's the sheer creativity and muscle that we dig deep to find when everything seems to be working against us. I recall the survey by the UK’s New Scientist magazine in 2003 which found that Nigerians where thee happiest people in the world!
I’m sure most of you will re-call the widely talked about BBC trilogy ‘Welcome to Lagos’, aired earlier in the year. Despite the criticism leveled at the BBC, I dare to say, that documentary has somehow done us more good than all our recent our recent re-branding efforts put together (I hope I don’t get in trouble for saying that). Only a Pharisee would have failed to have been moved by the story of Vocal Slender, the poor young man who lived and made his living honestly on a rubbish dump in a Lagos slum saving up every penny he made from selling recycled rubbish, to pursue his dreams of making it big in the music industry. He was by no means perfect, but was willing to learn from his mistakes. Within a year, Vocal Slender has already become one of the rising starts of Nigeria’s fast evolving music industry. What I saw portrayed in that BBC documentary was hard work, determination, humility, honesty, and the sheer grit of our people. However misleading the title may have been in terms of its portrayal of Lagos, at least this documentary wasn’t about the other darker side of Nigeria – the corruption, the fraud, 419, crime etc.
We have always been our own biggest critics, but let us at 50 years, in our journey as a nation, also be our biggest supporters and advocates, if for nothing at all, but for our resilience. Nigeria experienced over around 3 million deaths in the Biafra civil war, the assassination of two sitting heads of state, six successful military coups and four failed ones. In total thirty years of army rule. In fact between 1914 and 1967 there were eight attempts at secession. Yet, we, a nation, once called a 'mere geographical expression' by the British and our own nationalists (Awolowo), have managed to stay together. We've almost defy the logic of 'no house divide against itself can stand'! Even in the hair-raising years of Gen Sani Abacha’s stifling dictatorship, the fearlessness and courage of democracy activists and civil society groups was still apparent in places like Ogoniland in Rivers state, home to the late MOSOP activist Ken-Saro Wiwa.
Tuesday 5 October 2010
PART 2: Nigeria@50: My Keynote speech at City Hall, London. 1 October 2010
PART TWO:
As Nigerians we have always openly questioned whether our country should stay together and whether we should discard our colonial boundaries. Even Tafawa Balewa was reported to have once said that 'Nigerian unity is only a British intention in the country'. But I say to you that the hand that fate has dealt us is perhaps our greatest gift. From the arbitrariness of the 1884 - 1885 Berlin conference, when Africa was carved up, to the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorate in 1914 under Lord Lugard (which really marked the beginnings of Nigeria), perhaps fate, and God, has deemed us capable enough and resilient enough as a people to overcome our differences; each with our own distinct language, our cultural idiosyncrasies, and even mannerisms.
After he visited America in 1955 on a fact finding mission, the once-skeptical Tafawa Balewa would later say, and I quote, “In less than 200 years, this great country [America] was welded together by people of so many different backgrounds. They built a mighty nation and had forgotten where they came from and who their ancestors were. They had pride in only one thing —their American citizenship… I am a changed man from today. Until now I never really believed Nigeria could be one united country. But if the Americans could do it, so can we. “ When Biafra surrendered in 1970, after the bloodiness and ravages of the civil war in Nigeria the hope for unity was aptly captured in the Gowon's post-war declaration of 'no victors, no vanquished' a remarkable achievement that has played a great role in keeping us united to date.
We should be under no illusions as to the economic and social that lie ahead in the next 50 years. They are too numerous to list here. But here a few ones to highlight the immensity of the task ahead, and, these should, perhaps help keep our Jubilee celebrations in perspective. A decline in the quantity and reliability of electricity has been one of Nigeria’s greatest obstacles to economic growth. Although there's a relative peace in the oil producing Niger delta following the late Yaradua's June 2009 amnesty, the millions who live in squalor and poverty, ironically, on top of considerable oil wealth and immense natural resource abundance, should not be forgotten. Their pain and daily struggles should move us as individuals our leaders into action. Unemployment is still a problem, with up to 5,000 people applying for any one vacancy in Nigeria today. The north, which has Nigeria’s worst poverty rates, is facing the scourge of desertification from the Sahara. Our socio-economic indicators are still near the bottom of UN league tables, and the the economic growth we’ve witnessed in recent years, the banking boom, growth in FDI, hasn’t always trickled down to the ordinary man on the street. The never-ending cycle of ethnic and sectarian violence that periodically flares in central Nigeria continues to highlight the teething problems of our emerging democracy. I could go on and on about our challenges.
Our greatest challenge in the near-term: In 2011, Africa and the world will watch closely how we handle yet another election cycle. Will it be make or break, as we try to get right democratic transitions through the ballet box? I hope it will be a success, and a finger-up to the doomsday scenarios so often predicted by Western governments about Nigeria. We demonstrated in 1993 that relatively free and fair elections were possible even in the midst of complexity. (Although the outcome of those elections, was, sadly, never realised). There's no reason why that feat can't be achieved again. But we will be judged more by what we do, than what we promise. As Nigerians we have come to accept that our nation will always pull back from the brink through compromise amongst our elite class. But still I believe that Nigeria needs more than the deal-brokering that has underpinned our survival as nation, but have left us largely under fulfilled in our potential.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
As Nigerians we have always openly questioned whether our country should stay together and whether we should discard our colonial boundaries. Even Tafawa Balewa was reported to have once said that 'Nigerian unity is only a British intention in the country'. But I say to you that the hand that fate has dealt us is perhaps our greatest gift. From the arbitrariness of the 1884 - 1885 Berlin conference, when Africa was carved up, to the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorate in 1914 under Lord Lugard (which really marked the beginnings of Nigeria), perhaps fate, and God, has deemed us capable enough and resilient enough as a people to overcome our differences; each with our own distinct language, our cultural idiosyncrasies, and even mannerisms.
After he visited America in 1955 on a fact finding mission, the once-skeptical Tafawa Balewa would later say, and I quote, “In less than 200 years, this great country [America] was welded together by people of so many different backgrounds. They built a mighty nation and had forgotten where they came from and who their ancestors were. They had pride in only one thing —their American citizenship… I am a changed man from today. Until now I never really believed Nigeria could be one united country. But if the Americans could do it, so can we. “ When Biafra surrendered in 1970, after the bloodiness and ravages of the civil war in Nigeria the hope for unity was aptly captured in the Gowon's post-war declaration of 'no victors, no vanquished' a remarkable achievement that has played a great role in keeping us united to date.
We should be under no illusions as to the economic and social that lie ahead in the next 50 years. They are too numerous to list here. But here a few ones to highlight the immensity of the task ahead, and, these should, perhaps help keep our Jubilee celebrations in perspective. A decline in the quantity and reliability of electricity has been one of Nigeria’s greatest obstacles to economic growth. Although there's a relative peace in the oil producing Niger delta following the late Yaradua's June 2009 amnesty, the millions who live in squalor and poverty, ironically, on top of considerable oil wealth and immense natural resource abundance, should not be forgotten. Their pain and daily struggles should move us as individuals our leaders into action. Unemployment is still a problem, with up to 5,000 people applying for any one vacancy in Nigeria today. The north, which has Nigeria’s worst poverty rates, is facing the scourge of desertification from the Sahara. Our socio-economic indicators are still near the bottom of UN league tables, and the the economic growth we’ve witnessed in recent years, the banking boom, growth in FDI, hasn’t always trickled down to the ordinary man on the street. The never-ending cycle of ethnic and sectarian violence that periodically flares in central Nigeria continues to highlight the teething problems of our emerging democracy. I could go on and on about our challenges.
Our greatest challenge in the near-term: In 2011, Africa and the world will watch closely how we handle yet another election cycle. Will it be make or break, as we try to get right democratic transitions through the ballet box? I hope it will be a success, and a finger-up to the doomsday scenarios so often predicted by Western governments about Nigeria. We demonstrated in 1993 that relatively free and fair elections were possible even in the midst of complexity. (Although the outcome of those elections, was, sadly, never realised). There's no reason why that feat can't be achieved again. But we will be judged more by what we do, than what we promise. As Nigerians we have come to accept that our nation will always pull back from the brink through compromise amongst our elite class. But still I believe that Nigeria needs more than the deal-brokering that has underpinned our survival as nation, but have left us largely under fulfilled in our potential.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
NIgeria@50: My Keynote speech at City Hall, London. 1 October 2010
FINAL PART:
So where are we going as a nation you ask? Well we have to know from whence we come. Does my generation know our history? They say a good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children. Our mother, fathers, and elders have a role to play, but I'd like to say to my generation of Nigerians, get to know your history and your past. Get to know the legacy of our past visionaries; those like King Jaja of Opobo who was exiled by the British in the 19th century; the inspirational legend (perhaps also partly a real hero) of Queen Amina of Zaria who fought bravely, to prevent a slave revolt; or learn about Bishop Ajayi Crowther who brought indigenous education to Nigeria; or Sir Herbert Macaulay, whose visionary politics helped create constitutional leadership in our country after 1914; or indeed Awolowo, whose achievement in making free education and health available between 1979 and 1983 in western Nigeria has beneficiaries in our parents, and perhaps some of you here today; these people were human, not without fault, but they were able to achieve.
But we shouldn’t forget the unsung heroes of Nigeria too; those who fell and continue to fall victim to the state’s failures, or the millions who died in Biafra, or the hundreds that die from extra-judicial killings yearly or those who continue to meet untimely deaths because of our healthcare system failures. I say get to know the whole story about Nigeria, learn from out past errors. To young people; take personal responsibility for and pride in your country for all its shortcomings. At the risk of sounding clichéd, be the change you want to see. We all know that leadership is a sacred trust, but so is citizenship! We haven't even begun to scratch the surface of our potential yet, and the limited historical glimpse I have given of our past and present achievements is but a drop in an ocean of future possibilities.
I go back to Balewa's speech at independence. He said: “This is a wonderful day, and it is all the more wonderful because we have awaited it with increasing impatience compelled to watch one country after another overtaking us on the road when we had so nearly reached our goal. But now we have acquired our rightful status and I feel sure that history will show that the building of our nation proceeded at the wisest pace: It has been thorough, and Nigeria now stands well built upon firm foundations”. At Nigeria’s centennial anniversary in 50 years, how sweet would those words be if they were to be declared in light of the economic development and political transformation that would have taken place in our beloved country by then?
My parents and their parents would often refer to the 'good old days' when highlighting our country's past achievements, but surely I would have failed in my responsibility if I were to speak to my children and grandchildren future and still talk about the 'good old days'. Our best years as a nation should still be ahead of us, not behind us.
In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I must say to you that I look forward to the day, when every holder of that green passport, wherever he or she goes in the world, will be accorded with the immense respect and admiration that we not only deserve but would have lived up to. Azikiwe once talked about the ‘historical and manifest destiny of Nigeria on the African continent’, but I say why not the world!
Nigeria’s is often compared with Malaysia, whose economic transformation has far outstripped us despite being on equal footing with us at independence. A Nigerian friend of mine would often tell me that when she failed to come top of the class, even when she did well, her parents would often ask whether the person who beat her to first position had two heads, to which she would of course reply no. I put it to you then, and firmly, that Nigeria can change, and we all have a part to play. In my young life, I’ve seen already too many glimpses of goodness and greatness in Nigeria to ever abandon hope altogether.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
So where are we going as a nation you ask? Well we have to know from whence we come. Does my generation know our history? They say a good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children. Our mother, fathers, and elders have a role to play, but I'd like to say to my generation of Nigerians, get to know your history and your past. Get to know the legacy of our past visionaries; those like King Jaja of Opobo who was exiled by the British in the 19th century; the inspirational legend (perhaps also partly a real hero) of Queen Amina of Zaria who fought bravely, to prevent a slave revolt; or learn about Bishop Ajayi Crowther who brought indigenous education to Nigeria; or Sir Herbert Macaulay, whose visionary politics helped create constitutional leadership in our country after 1914; or indeed Awolowo, whose achievement in making free education and health available between 1979 and 1983 in western Nigeria has beneficiaries in our parents, and perhaps some of you here today; these people were human, not without fault, but they were able to achieve.
But we shouldn’t forget the unsung heroes of Nigeria too; those who fell and continue to fall victim to the state’s failures, or the millions who died in Biafra, or the hundreds that die from extra-judicial killings yearly or those who continue to meet untimely deaths because of our healthcare system failures. I say get to know the whole story about Nigeria, learn from out past errors. To young people; take personal responsibility for and pride in your country for all its shortcomings. At the risk of sounding clichéd, be the change you want to see. We all know that leadership is a sacred trust, but so is citizenship! We haven't even begun to scratch the surface of our potential yet, and the limited historical glimpse I have given of our past and present achievements is but a drop in an ocean of future possibilities.
I go back to Balewa's speech at independence. He said: “This is a wonderful day, and it is all the more wonderful because we have awaited it with increasing impatience compelled to watch one country after another overtaking us on the road when we had so nearly reached our goal. But now we have acquired our rightful status and I feel sure that history will show that the building of our nation proceeded at the wisest pace: It has been thorough, and Nigeria now stands well built upon firm foundations”. At Nigeria’s centennial anniversary in 50 years, how sweet would those words be if they were to be declared in light of the economic development and political transformation that would have taken place in our beloved country by then?
My parents and their parents would often refer to the 'good old days' when highlighting our country's past achievements, but surely I would have failed in my responsibility if I were to speak to my children and grandchildren future and still talk about the 'good old days'. Our best years as a nation should still be ahead of us, not behind us.
In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I must say to you that I look forward to the day, when every holder of that green passport, wherever he or she goes in the world, will be accorded with the immense respect and admiration that we not only deserve but would have lived up to. Azikiwe once talked about the ‘historical and manifest destiny of Nigeria on the African continent’, but I say why not the world!
Nigeria’s is often compared with Malaysia, whose economic transformation has far outstripped us despite being on equal footing with us at independence. A Nigerian friend of mine would often tell me that when she failed to come top of the class, even when she did well, her parents would often ask whether the person who beat her to first position had two heads, to which she would of course reply no. I put it to you then, and firmly, that Nigeria can change, and we all have a part to play. In my young life, I’ve seen already too many glimpses of goodness and greatness in Nigeria to ever abandon hope altogether.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
Wednesday 15 September 2010
E-governance in Africa: Goodluck Jonathan and the politics of facebook and social media in Africa
This morning Nigeria’s President, the aptly-named Goodluck Jonathan, declared his intention to seek the presidential nomination of the incumbent People’s Democratic Party (PDP).
And the platform he chose to make this declaration? Facebook! We all knew he would declare - it was always a matter of when, not, if. But clearly, Mark Zuckerberg should be given brownie-points for the cross-generational appeal his social media invention now has. The last time I checked, Goodluck (I choose to call him by his first name, because of the lucky-charmish ring to it) had 209,558 facebook fans; even Obama’s PR gurus would blush – well, almost. But Goodluck’s much more modest twitter following of 1,203 is still laudable for a man I’ve now come to call the accidental president. One of his declared presidential rivals, the enigmatic Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida (IBB), for all his campaign cash flows, has only 2,690 fans. So question is why have African leaders jumped on the social media bandwagon to proselytize their politics and programs? A BBC news online article from June 2008, cited the internet as key to Obama’s presidential victories. The web has always been mainstream in America political life, while historically the ordinary African villager would have grown up welded to that old British institution known as the BBC World Service radio.
In Africa, you may not have a TV set, but it is more likely, Mr. ‘Subsistence Farmer’ in the remote hinterland of Somaliland’s Puntland region would only be around 1,000 metres away from a communal radio set transmitting world news in his local Somali or Arabic language, however badly tuned the frequency. But with an estimated 1.5million plus – and growing – facebook users in Nigeria, Goodluck’s strategy may not be so naïve in the longer-term, when we’ll all probably be e-junkies. Only problem is that in a country of 140million, those users are still in the minority and the majority of the population still live in abject poverty with no access to any form of communication technology. Domestically, Goodluck’s use of facebook as the first public declaration of his bid, will stir up a political storm, and certainly not in a teacup. PDP officials will fume at what they see as the president’s attempt to pre-empt a party decision on the nomination. The press may also rue the lack of any official press conference. Indeed most domestic and international media outlets only found out about his move on facebook. Some have cited his move as an attempt to steal the shine from IBB. But if the next leadership contest for Nigeria is going to be played out on-line, then it’s only fair that; he who blogs most, wins most!
Or is it? Kenyan civil society activist, Ory Okolloh reckons we’re still some way off from seeing online media or technology helping politicians get elected or toppling governments. In many parts of Africa, there is even less connectivity. In Sierra Leone for instance, less than 3 out of every 1,000 people have internet access. In some countries general government suspicion about the agenda of e-bloggers, e-journalists mirrors politicians’ love-hate relationship with the media. In fact, judging by the continuous hounding of journalists in Africa, and curtailing of press freedom, it’s little wonder that Africa’s techno-bloggers are still a tad paranoid. But facebook and other social technology could change the way Africa does politics, potentially altering the relationship between citizen and state in Africa. Ordinary Africans have been the trend-setters and governments are just only playing catch up. And it’s not just the continent’s middle-class who are in the fold; witness the equal enthusiasm for information your average Kiberia (a Nairobi slum) slum-dweller displays even when he/she has to share the internet café PC with 4 or 5 other users. Information is power, and those who control information are some of the most powerful people on earth. Just ask George Soros how he came into his billions. That’s why it still surprises me how much more enthusiasm for social media, ICT etc you find in Africa’s private sector, than in its public bureaucracy where die-hard civil servants are still loathe to give-up their endless paper trails and internal memos decades after colonial rule. Governments could literally change the way they function by e-migrating.
It’s true that some recent e-governance experiments in Africa have failed; Mozambique for instance tried to collate the results of its 2004 elections online but failed, while the PDP’s attempt to introduce a relatively simple online registration process for party membership has stalled. But it shows that Africa is modernizing and at least trying to adapt. Moreover, Africa’s on-line revolution, it would seem, doesn’t have to be revolutionary. To be sure, not every blogger or e-analyst is anti-government or anti-establishment. Goodluck’s move essentially paves the way for our typically reticent African leaders to cross the generational divide, and follow in Obama’s footsteps. There is currently a lot of government content online in Africa. But I always wince when I go in search of information on a website in or on Africa and realize that the website was last updated in 1806! Some like Goodluck are mastering the art of e-communication; others have only just learnt how to send emails as septuagenarians. But if projections are that by 2050 young people aged 15 – 25 years will account for one person in five in Sub-Saharan Africa, and most will have mobile phones or internet access by then, then Africa’s politicians had better start e-talking.
And the platform he chose to make this declaration? Facebook! We all knew he would declare - it was always a matter of when, not, if. But clearly, Mark Zuckerberg should be given brownie-points for the cross-generational appeal his social media invention now has. The last time I checked, Goodluck (I choose to call him by his first name, because of the lucky-charmish ring to it) had 209,558 facebook fans; even Obama’s PR gurus would blush – well, almost. But Goodluck’s much more modest twitter following of 1,203 is still laudable for a man I’ve now come to call the accidental president. One of his declared presidential rivals, the enigmatic Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida (IBB), for all his campaign cash flows, has only 2,690 fans. So question is why have African leaders jumped on the social media bandwagon to proselytize their politics and programs? A BBC news online article from June 2008, cited the internet as key to Obama’s presidential victories. The web has always been mainstream in America political life, while historically the ordinary African villager would have grown up welded to that old British institution known as the BBC World Service radio.
In Africa, you may not have a TV set, but it is more likely, Mr. ‘Subsistence Farmer’ in the remote hinterland of Somaliland’s Puntland region would only be around 1,000 metres away from a communal radio set transmitting world news in his local Somali or Arabic language, however badly tuned the frequency. But with an estimated 1.5million plus – and growing – facebook users in Nigeria, Goodluck’s strategy may not be so naïve in the longer-term, when we’ll all probably be e-junkies. Only problem is that in a country of 140million, those users are still in the minority and the majority of the population still live in abject poverty with no access to any form of communication technology. Domestically, Goodluck’s use of facebook as the first public declaration of his bid, will stir up a political storm, and certainly not in a teacup. PDP officials will fume at what they see as the president’s attempt to pre-empt a party decision on the nomination. The press may also rue the lack of any official press conference. Indeed most domestic and international media outlets only found out about his move on facebook. Some have cited his move as an attempt to steal the shine from IBB. But if the next leadership contest for Nigeria is going to be played out on-line, then it’s only fair that; he who blogs most, wins most!
Or is it? Kenyan civil society activist, Ory Okolloh reckons we’re still some way off from seeing online media or technology helping politicians get elected or toppling governments. In many parts of Africa, there is even less connectivity. In Sierra Leone for instance, less than 3 out of every 1,000 people have internet access. In some countries general government suspicion about the agenda of e-bloggers, e-journalists mirrors politicians’ love-hate relationship with the media. In fact, judging by the continuous hounding of journalists in Africa, and curtailing of press freedom, it’s little wonder that Africa’s techno-bloggers are still a tad paranoid. But facebook and other social technology could change the way Africa does politics, potentially altering the relationship between citizen and state in Africa. Ordinary Africans have been the trend-setters and governments are just only playing catch up. And it’s not just the continent’s middle-class who are in the fold; witness the equal enthusiasm for information your average Kiberia (a Nairobi slum) slum-dweller displays even when he/she has to share the internet café PC with 4 or 5 other users. Information is power, and those who control information are some of the most powerful people on earth. Just ask George Soros how he came into his billions. That’s why it still surprises me how much more enthusiasm for social media, ICT etc you find in Africa’s private sector, than in its public bureaucracy where die-hard civil servants are still loathe to give-up their endless paper trails and internal memos decades after colonial rule. Governments could literally change the way they function by e-migrating.
It’s true that some recent e-governance experiments in Africa have failed; Mozambique for instance tried to collate the results of its 2004 elections online but failed, while the PDP’s attempt to introduce a relatively simple online registration process for party membership has stalled. But it shows that Africa is modernizing and at least trying to adapt. Moreover, Africa’s on-line revolution, it would seem, doesn’t have to be revolutionary. To be sure, not every blogger or e-analyst is anti-government or anti-establishment. Goodluck’s move essentially paves the way for our typically reticent African leaders to cross the generational divide, and follow in Obama’s footsteps. There is currently a lot of government content online in Africa. But I always wince when I go in search of information on a website in or on Africa and realize that the website was last updated in 1806! Some like Goodluck are mastering the art of e-communication; others have only just learnt how to send emails as septuagenarians. But if projections are that by 2050 young people aged 15 – 25 years will account for one person in five in Sub-Saharan Africa, and most will have mobile phones or internet access by then, then Africa’s politicians had better start e-talking.
Wednesday 2 June 2010
First stop Mali: An African Journey with Jonathan Dimbebly
Suffice it to say that the first tranche of Dimbebly's African Journey documentary on BBC 2 on Sunday 30 May was satisfactory, at times delightful. No controversial or patronising talk about Africans. People talked, Mr Dimbleby listened. There didn’t seem to any presumptions, assumptions or suppositions. And thankfully there was just enough contrast and diversity in the choice of stories and themes covering Mali, Ghana, Nigeria. And that had been my hope all along; that the continent would be portrayed as a diverse and complex (in a positive way) place. The opening scenes began in Bamako, Mali’s capital, and a city I love and respect very much. (See my posts from 2008 for more about my travels in Mali). Mopeds are a way of life for ordinary Malians in the city. JD bravely hitched a ride on one such taxi Moped, and was the true professional trying to talk into the camera, maintain poise and journalistic composure, knowing full well that ride could well be his last! The fond realisation that the purchase of a Moped by an ambitious young had elevated his status amongst his kith and kin was further testament to how so little can go a long way in Africa. Next is the Moped spare part, assembly and repair shop. Magician mechanics work repairs in no more than 15mins, a feat that would make a UK repair garage here blush. And these Mopeds are completely affordable. Why? You ask. Well you guessed it; they are Chinese imports and cost a third of the price of Japanese and Western models. The anti-China in Africa bandwagon can grind to a halt now.
At a Bamako wedding he’s been invited to, JD becomes the centre of female attention. Malian women are strong and are not modest about their make up and hair dos. Some of it can seem over the top, but for some reason, theirs are much easier on the eye than made-up faces I’ve seen else where in the sub-region, not least including my very own Nigeria. A well known local musician is singing and wooing the slightly embarrassed JD, who according to local custom has to ‘spray’ (very African term denoting the giving of money to a praise singer) the singer. The scene had all the recipes of a cringe moment, but JD wasn’t that rhythmically challenge, and I was quite relieved that the documentary quickly moved on the next scene in Segou, which is around 150km north-east of Bamako. Segou is a mesmerising place. Not for any fancy architecture, but for the mystic River Niger. The 4,180 km-long River Niger begins in the highlands of Guinea, and passes through Mali, Niger, and northern Benin before finally ending in Nigeria. It is the lifeblood and source of livelihood for many West Africans - pastoralists, nomadic herders, farmers, fishermen and pirogue makers (pirogues are slim fishing boats). Segou (see one of my previous blogs from 2008 for more about Segou) is a great spot for seeing how the River Niger really comes through life. The Niger is on the edge of the city. JD gets on a pirogue on the Niger to see the tasking work done by Segou’s Sand Diggers. These men essentially bring sand up from the River bed. Up to 20 metres below the water’s surface. There’s no breeding apparatus, goggles or swimming gear. It’s all shear grit, there’s no glamour in this, only about £0.50 a day for the sand digger who has to work up to 7 hours everyday in the scorching heat.
A few hundred kilometres up north, JD’s in Djenne, and fairly ancient and picturesque city, at least in the Sahelian, rather than Florentine sense. Djenne’s main centre piece here is the Djenne mosque with its Sudano-Sahelian style. The first structure was built in the 13th century and the most recent building we see dates back to 1907. The wonder of this building is that it’s made entirely of mud brick, like many other structures in Djenne. And its local architects are fiercely proud of this heritage. So much so that its considered an exclusive privilege to build and refurbish such ancient mud brick (aka adobe ) buildings. Those guardians of this ancient practice are extremely weary of new more modern concrete buildings springing up in the city, which they see as threatening to erode tradition. Mali is so vast, I wished Mr Dimblebly had carried on his expedition. One such unexplored place, and quite popular with Western tourists is the ancient and famous city of Timbuktu, as well Gao, both in the land of the ethnic and stunningly beautiful Tuaregs (who can also be found in parts in northern Niger, and parts of north-eastern Burkina Faso). Still, this 20min glimpse of Mali had enough passion and realism, without being overly sentimental.
Ghana and Nigeria were his next destination. Watch this space for my blogging commments on Dimbebly's Kumasi, Accra and Lagos travels
At a Bamako wedding he’s been invited to, JD becomes the centre of female attention. Malian women are strong and are not modest about their make up and hair dos. Some of it can seem over the top, but for some reason, theirs are much easier on the eye than made-up faces I’ve seen else where in the sub-region, not least including my very own Nigeria. A well known local musician is singing and wooing the slightly embarrassed JD, who according to local custom has to ‘spray’ (very African term denoting the giving of money to a praise singer) the singer. The scene had all the recipes of a cringe moment, but JD wasn’t that rhythmically challenge, and I was quite relieved that the documentary quickly moved on the next scene in Segou, which is around 150km north-east of Bamako. Segou is a mesmerising place. Not for any fancy architecture, but for the mystic River Niger. The 4,180 km-long River Niger begins in the highlands of Guinea, and passes through Mali, Niger, and northern Benin before finally ending in Nigeria. It is the lifeblood and source of livelihood for many West Africans - pastoralists, nomadic herders, farmers, fishermen and pirogue makers (pirogues are slim fishing boats). Segou (see one of my previous blogs from 2008 for more about Segou) is a great spot for seeing how the River Niger really comes through life. The Niger is on the edge of the city. JD gets on a pirogue on the Niger to see the tasking work done by Segou’s Sand Diggers. These men essentially bring sand up from the River bed. Up to 20 metres below the water’s surface. There’s no breeding apparatus, goggles or swimming gear. It’s all shear grit, there’s no glamour in this, only about £0.50 a day for the sand digger who has to work up to 7 hours everyday in the scorching heat.
A few hundred kilometres up north, JD’s in Djenne, and fairly ancient and picturesque city, at least in the Sahelian, rather than Florentine sense. Djenne’s main centre piece here is the Djenne mosque with its Sudano-Sahelian style. The first structure was built in the 13th century and the most recent building we see dates back to 1907. The wonder of this building is that it’s made entirely of mud brick, like many other structures in Djenne. And its local architects are fiercely proud of this heritage. So much so that its considered an exclusive privilege to build and refurbish such ancient mud brick (aka adobe ) buildings. Those guardians of this ancient practice are extremely weary of new more modern concrete buildings springing up in the city, which they see as threatening to erode tradition. Mali is so vast, I wished Mr Dimblebly had carried on his expedition. One such unexplored place, and quite popular with Western tourists is the ancient and famous city of Timbuktu, as well Gao, both in the land of the ethnic and stunningly beautiful Tuaregs (who can also be found in parts in northern Niger, and parts of north-eastern Burkina Faso). Still, this 20min glimpse of Mali had enough passion and realism, without being overly sentimental.
Ghana and Nigeria were his next destination. Watch this space for my blogging commments on Dimbebly's Kumasi, Accra and Lagos travels
Saturday 29 May 2010
The BBC's Africa Obsession
Thank goodness for Freeview. Otherwise, I would never have realised the extent of BBC Africa coverage. BBC 3 and BBC 4 are probably the main culprits. From the Lost Kingdoms of Africa, shown on BBC4, to BBC 3's coverage of the African Cup of Nations, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was the colonial era. But the jury's still out on whether balance and objectivity have triumphed over condescension and neo-colonialism. The BBC has some brilliant and truly gifted journalists and documentary makers who, over the years, have managed to make some very complex and highly emotive African issues more accessible to the mainstream UK audience; young and old. You only need to see the manner in which the much-talked about Welcome to Lagos program was produced - modern (and at times hilariously quirky) music juxtaposed against African shanty town-smoky slum - to realise how the very best documentaries are increasingly unconventional. And perhaps they sometimes have to be controversial to pull an otherwise apathetic audience. This post is not intended to pass judgement or critique the content of the BBC's Africa documentaries. Instead it seeks to shed light on why the BBC 'Africa Obsession' (that's what I call it), however controversial, is still better viewing than the revolting Murdoch empire. I'm not sure many Sky News journalists can locate Africa on a world map. Ok that may be exaggeration. But the point remains. So long as we Africans ourselves have not figured out the most effective and far-reaching means to tell our own stories (good and bad), others will do it for us. And when they do, and do it well, we will applaud and emphasise the fact that it was the Africans being potrayed that made the story good, not the producers. When the producers do it badly, we will also be quick to take snipes at their patronising and 'empiristic' state of mind (Sorry Jay-Z and Alicia Keys, I had to!). So I wait with baited breathe for the first episode of 'An African Journey with Jonathan Dimbleby', airing on BBC2 on 30 May at 9pm. Those who criticised the potrayal of Lagos in Welcome to Lagos will be hypocrites if they believe that Mr Dimbebly's sojourn with Aliko Dangote, Nigeria's wealthiest business mogul and his private jet, is a more accurate reflection of the country. The point is both documentaries will only ever be half-truths, however seemingly accurate in their own right. The truth is, there are fewer Nigerians who are Aliko Dangotes than there are Nigerians who leave in slums like the Vocal Slenders of this world, in Welcome to Lagos. My interest in BBC Africa docu coverage is not whether I think the content is always right or not. Africa is so diverse and colourful that any documentary, however hard it may try, will almost always be slightly skewed in its accuracy. The real BBC obsession with Africa is an obsession of balance. Sometimes documentaries try too hard.
PS: The irony of the Welcome to Lagos documentary controversy is that Vocal Slender has now become a household name in Nigeria's music industry. It's fair to say that if his story of struggle against all the odds hadn't been aired on the BBC we probably wouldn't have heard of him today. Yet another brilliant instance of when the intended impact of a situation or condition results in an accidental, almost 'Divinic', outcome.
Watch this space for my commentary on Dimbebly's Africa travel series.
PS: The irony of the Welcome to Lagos documentary controversy is that Vocal Slender has now become a household name in Nigeria's music industry. It's fair to say that if his story of struggle against all the odds hadn't been aired on the BBC we probably wouldn't have heard of him today. Yet another brilliant instance of when the intended impact of a situation or condition results in an accidental, almost 'Divinic', outcome.
Watch this space for my commentary on Dimbebly's Africa travel series.
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