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The day after the palace coup that ousted Buhari and Idiagbon from power, the airports in the country were reopened. They had been closed as part of the coup d’état operation. Everybody was now free to go back to work. People had actually celebrated on the streets of
Lagos
on the day of the coup. As I walked into the Crew Rest Room at the old (then new) local wing of the
Lagos
Airport
, I met the happy faces of my colleagues. We pumped hands in jubilation. Everybody in that room, including me, wore a smile reminiscent of the new man at the helms of affairs, General Ibrahim Babangida. The celebration continued until a colleague of blessed memory walked in. He seemed so surprised at our jubilations. One of us asked him; I do not remember who, ‘Aren’t you happy that the devilish duo has been swept aside? At least, we can all breathe again.’
The rest of us concurred and in unison we reiterated that people were being picked up and locked up indiscriminately. The whole population was under siege. We were being compelled to behave properly and decently. I am not sure we would have heeded the call for discipline by persuasion, in the first place. But, the whip, no! We were not animals. This standalone colleague said nothing for while; he only shook his head.
Eventually, he said, ‘Gentlemen, you all have been in this town and in this country for one and a half years since they came to power, yet nobody harassed any one of you as long as you did the right thing.’ What was he talking about? Those guys did not respect age or sex or status. Once you broke the law, you were in for it – they never cared whose ox was gored. There were of course some collateral damages – reports of innocent victims. These reports, however, were never corroborated. There was nobody I knew that was punished that did not do something wrong. It was me that injected though, ‘Those two trampled on the liberty of individuals and no civilised society would allow that.’ I was actually echoing the mood of the generality of the people at the time. Our colleague’s reply was simple. ‘No society can survive or prosper, if it allows the liberty of a few to weigh down on the interest of the majority.’ To him, whatever Buhari and Idiagbon did might not have been in the interest of a select-few, but it was for the good of the society at large. For all I cared at the time, it was the rambling of a frustrated man. We won, he lost. We got what we wanted. Thereafter, everybody could do whatever he likes and the interest of the collective society thus became second place.
In the last day of 1983, it was Nigeria Airways pilots that were called upon to move key military personnel in the thick of the coup against Shagari’s government. The coup plotters apparently could not trust the allegiance of the Air Force. Yet, four months later, the same pilots would be the first as a body that bore the brunt of the “brutality” of that regime; months before the medical doctors came next. It was apt for me at the time, still seething from that experience, to be jubilant at the ousting of Buhari and Idiagbon. I had judged that regime based on the experience of my group and had discountenanced their actions for the good of a larger society. Though I was not harassed, detained or jailed personally, I still condemned the duo. Most Nigerians at that time did not see the bigger picture only bits and pieces or what those who eventually derailed the Nigerian dream wanted us to see. Regrettably thereafter, I watched the
Nigeria
society slide deeper into a disorganised state year in and year out. Now, nothing works properly or decently. I always remember my late colleague who had a foreboding while we were jubilant. My ignorance at the time was that I saw the world through the tainted lens of a group. My late colleague appeared not to have lived in a world of greys like the rest of us; his was that of black and white and clashing colours.
There is something about human nature, particularly those of us who are less sincere. It does not matter whether we spent the whole nights in the church or the mosque. We always feel that those who are straightforward and arrogant would hurt us more. There is always less latitude to manoeuvre when you are with them. We sometimes say they are rigid. We, therefore, try not to associate with them. Everybody, they say, has a price but a deceitful person has a lower price we can negotiate with. That looks like a bargain and since we all love a bargain we would rather gravitate towards a not too forthright person. To justify our actions, we attack the person of a forthright-and-candid man because we are unable to attack the issues. To these arrogant and candid persons, the world is in black and white. That is too damned risky for us. We would rather live in a world of greys where if we want, we can mix any colour.
Talking about a world of greys, a recent argument I had with a friend comes to mind. It seems in our community, we cannot distinguish between the role of a leader and those of his followers. We tend to band the two together, but they have different set of rules. For a start, a leader is someone whom people follow. And people will only follow a selfless leader unless forced. Leadership is defined as the ability to guide, direct, or influence people. The moment one assumes the leadership role, one becomes the father of all within the group and one’s capacity to be impartial is reduced. A leader because of his office must be seen to be fair. That is a disadvantage but it goes with the job. Whereas ordinary member of the group could afford to be seen as being biased but not the leader. Even if in the real sense a leader is not a fair person, he must be perceived to be. How he is going to achieve being seen as fair, when he is not, is his problem. So from the beginning, a leader has a different code of conducts from the rest of us.
What could be judged as morally wrong for a leader may not be necessarily morally wrong for an ordinary member of a group! It is for this reason that a leader vacates his extolled position, in civilised society, the moment it becomes public knowledge that the he had violated this distinct moral code of leadership. If society permits, he could be allowed to melt into the membership of the group, whilst somebody else assumes the leadership position. To assume leadership or aspire to be a leader, you are already at a disadvantage on moral grounds. You have to operate above the mere mortals’ level. It is only when you have led vigorously with integrity and impartiality for the public good that you would then be described as a statesman or a stateswoman. Obasanjo, I think, missed that on the Third Term issue. While the
South Africa
’s President Mbeki, in a similar situation, came out early to declare that he was not going for the third term and charged anybody that suggested such as the enemy of
South Africa
, Obasanjo did the opposite.
The case of the 52 or 53 suitcases at
Murtala
Mohammed
International
Airport
during the Buhari/Idiagbon regime helped prepare the minds of the followers, i.e. us, in the eventual downfall of that regime. I think it was arrogance that made Buhari not to defend his regime. He was arrogant and forthright, no doubt. It was a combination of traits that make some of us uncomfortable around people like him. To make matters worse, the keynote for that regime was high moral values. So when he slipped, even though we knew he did not personally benefit from those suitcases, we struck. Revenge was sweet. We could forgive Babangida, Abacha, Abdulsalam or Obasanjo for diverting billions of our money (public money) to their personal use, but we could not forgive Buhari for that singular act of impartiality as accused, which he did not even defend.
A leader must be seen to be impartial. Babangida was a student of history and learned very fast. Even though he was unfair to the core, because of his selective benevolence, he was, however, largely seen as fair. That was marvellous because he was perceived as a fair person even though he was not. If you were a noise maker during the reign of Babangida, you were most likely to enjoy the largesse doled out by the dictator. That was unfair to the rest of us who did not make noise. Sycophants, of course had the day. We saw nonentities in the society become millionaires overnight and that whetted our appetite for success. If it could happen to the nonentities, it would happen to us. So, we all waited and waited for our turn to make it. Babangida sure kept our hopes high, but he was stealing from us through SAP and was giving it to his lackeys and the noisemakers; and those thereafter shut up. Babangida was a reverse-Robin Hood. By the end of his regime, Babangida had created enough allegiance among the beneficiaries of his largesse to wield a formidable political power. This class would later dominate our political scene. It is from this class, unfortunately, that we have to choose our next leaders.
Nigeria
lost it finally in the mid eighties, because before then things were still ok. In 1977, which was Obasanjo 1, six of us (pilots) returned to
Nigeria
from the
UK
after a successful completion of the Flying Instructor’s Course. We were all in our early twenties and had been away from
Zaria
, where we graduated as commercial pilots six months before. We saw before we left for the
UK
, the foundations of our future quarters being laid at one of the staff quarters’ sites. Six months after, just before we came back, the houses were ready, fully furnished and fully serviced. Because of our new status in the civil service, we were also entitled to car loans. I remember ours was four thousand eight hundred naira (#4,800). The week we arrived back to
Zaria
, car dealers brought various new cars to the
Aviation
College
for these new senior civil servants, i.e. us, to test drive any of their cars for a week. You could buy a Volkswagen Beetle for #1,300; Passat was #4,740; Fiat Climatizatta was #5,100; Volvo was #7,800; Mercedes 200 was #8,000; Range Rover was #8,450, etc. All prices were for brand new models.
While my colleagues settled for varying models that were supplied by the five giant car dealers in Kaduna and Zaria at that time, I headed for Lagos with my own car loan. I had seen, in a magazine, a Mazda 121. I went to a company called Motorways on Ikorodu Road to deposit for the Mazda. I would need to pay more; I think it was #5,230. That was within my reach because of the accumulated backlog of salaries in my account while I was away in the
UK
. I also needed to wait for three to four months because of the backlog of orders for that model. The wait was, however, worth the while. It was the most beautiful two-door coupe of its class. The gist, however, was that two months after the delivery of my car and back to
Zaria
, I received a letter unsolicited. It came through the Nigerian Post from Motorways (the car company). It contained a cheque for #253.85 and a letter explaining that there was a discount from the Federal Government (Customs) for the batch my car came with. They were, therefore, returning the extra money that had been apportioned to us (those that bought from that batch). None of us knew about the discount.
People often asked, any time I told this story, if I was talking about the same
Nigeria
. They sometimes go away thinking that it was a fib, but it is true. Yes, it did happen and that was just a little less than thirty years ago. My elder son once asked, ‘Wait a minute dad! You mean some money you had no knowledge of and that was not solicited for was sent to you?’ I said yes. ‘And it came through the Nigerian Post to you in
Zaria
from
Lagos
?’ I said yes. ‘There was no appropriation of the said money by the dealer?’ I said, ‘
Son
,
Nigeria
was once a great country with honesty in the majority.’ He looked at me straight in the eyes for the first time and said, ‘Dad, our generation will never forgive your generation.’ He was right. My generation watched as mediocre took over our lives. From the chairman of the board to the driver on board they are all mediocre, but they are in charge.
Nigeria
must have the largest percentage of unintelligent people behind the wheels in the world. Whereas their counterparts from all over the world drive themselves back and forth in their countries,
Nigeria
’s elites surrender their lives to their less-intelligent drivers behind the wheels.
A friend once said, ‘What is the point of driving in
Lagos
when 95% of the drivers on the road are nitwits. …It’s better to employ a driver to drive your car that can match the intelligence of his likes and then hope for the best.’ We have once again advanced another half baked measure to solve a serious problem.
Back to the issue of the search for a leader – I, for one, do not need anything from a leader other than a promise to bring back sanity to this madhouse. He should forget about giving us amenities that would be poorly executed in the first place if there is no sanity. Whoever does promise orderliness is guaranteed my vote and maybe that of my family. Without spending a dime, if such leader emerges, everything will begin to work again. You do not need rocket science to know that. But, it needs the commitment and a good example by such leader. Those who have travelled outside
Nigeria
, even across the border, will appreciate what it is to live in an organised State. Even crime, as undesirable as it is, has to be organised for it to stand the test of time. Unless we are organised, we can as well forget it. Nigerians are governable but they must see impartiality in whoever is leading them before they will be willing to follow.
During the fuel crises in
Lagos
in mid January 2007, I demonstrated to a friend, who had just got into the country, how easy it is to organise Nigerians. We were on Mobolaji Bank Anthony (
Airport Road) heading towards the airport from Maryland . The tailgate of traffic stretched from Total petrol station just before Sheraton Hotel to Maryland . The cause was the long line of cars queuing up for fuel that had spilled onto the major road and the unruliness of those of us driving through. Each wing of the dual carriageway was designed for two vehicles abreast and not more. The spillage of the fuel line onto the road, however, created a bottleneck on that stretch from the Traffic Light abeam NITEL, all the way to Total. Movement was slow because there were now three vehicles abreast instead of two, and side mirrors of vehicles were touching each other as we crawled along. I told my friend before we got to the bottleneck that the moment we occupy the beginning of the bottleneck, I will straighten things out. He wondered how.
When we got abeam the last vehicle on the fuel line, I manoeuvred our vehicle to the middle of the available space so that the spaces remaining on both sides of our vehicle were not big enough for any other vehicle. I had turned it into a single lane. There were immediate reactions from the vehicles behind us. And they hooted relentlessly, but I stuck to my guns. Even when one of the lanes in front of us started to move faster than the other, I did not take advantage of the openings. When the drivers ahead of us noticed that I did not struggle to occupy the opening, they quickly readjusted themselves and formed a single file and we began to move faster. The drivers behind us also noticed that I was not selfish and they also formed a single file behind us. I saw the single file behind us through the rear view mirror and told my friend to look back. He was left in admiration and had since called to say he had been trying it and it had worked all the time. That showed that given the right attitude by a leader, Nigerians will follow.
We did not hang around to find out what happened afterwards, but I am sure some mad selfish cheat would have scattered that arrangement later. It goes to show the importance of a leader, particularly an unselfish one. I know my other friends would chew me to pieces when they hear about this demonstration that proves the role of a good leader, because I have always argued that
Nigeria
’s problem is more of bad followers than that of good leader. Notwithstanding, I still hold on to my belief for a reason.
Obasanjo might have meant well in the beginning, but we, the followers, let him down. The first criticism that could have set a precedence to check him and the executive was scuttled by us. It was a lost opportunity. You remember Senator Waku, who had criticised Obasanjo for signing a cheque of eleven billion naira to Julius Berger two weeks after Obasanjo became the President? The story was, however, turned around that the senator wanted the military back in government. It invited our wrath and it never really bothered me that the senator was meted adequate punishment by the Senate for allegedly wishing the military back. The senator, however, denied ever calling for the return of the military but that the military did not sign cheques that fast. What bothered me was that we, the followers, never revisited that allegation. At least we should have asked, ‘OBJ, why did you have to sign the cheque that fast?’ The Labour Union, The Press and the Opposition did not. That senator if he still alive would be the poorest ex-senator in
Nigeria
today. His colleagues would have made sure of that by sideling him. The damage to the nation caused by our inaction to revisit that issue has hurt the nation dearly. Had we, the later days’ squabbling between the President and his vice over “You’re a thief… No, I’m not a thief” probably would not have happened. For that, we, the followers, failed in our civic duty.
Obansanjo must have indirectly and silently pleaded with us on several occasions to save him from him and the people around him. We did not take heed. Much to our dismay, we watched as the embattled Obasanjo faced, alone, the issue of Sharia. Instead of smelling a rat or a diversionary tact by the political manipulators, we got ourselves busy debating. Because we did not come to his aid, he would have been presented with more suspect cheques that he had no choice but to sign. We saw the embattled President fight alone to ward off the threat of impeachment. Yet we still did not come to his aid. To survive, it would not be out of character as a Nigerian to join them if he could not beat them. We, the people, were supposed to be his support, but we did not provide it. When Governor Ngige of
Anambra
State
was abducted, it was a breach of the Constitution of Nigeria. The Yoruba, Hausa or other Ibo did not see it as a breach of our collective Constitution that all of us have subscribed to; instead we explained it as a squabbling between a governor and his political godfather. We could heed a call by the Labour Unions to close shop for ordinary fuel price hikes, but we could not stop work while the Constitution of Nigeria was being blatantly breached by the power that be. We sure have started this democracy on a bad foot. These and other more are my reasons for calling us bad followers.
Samuel Akinyele Caulcrick, the author of The Devil Must Be Laughing.
Lagos
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Authors 
Posted by Robot| 12.02.2007 07:41