IBB’s presidential jet was a castle in the clouds. It was luxury redefined. The kind of luxury that makes opulence look so ordinary as if it is not in the same league with affluence. The kind of jet that moves like the wings of angels. There are planes and there are planes. It was a plane with a plain mission: Move the President and his team to their destination as if they were flying on angel’s wings. We got into the plane. We were aware of the take-off at the Presidential wing of the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Ikeja, Lagos. But that was all we knew. While in the air, I was still expecting the President to move around and chat with us as he had done with some of my colleagues who had travelled with him before, when they welcomed us to Kotoka International Airport, Accra, Ghana. The jet was as fast as the speed of light. The trip was as quick as a flash. We were in Ghana just like that.
The State visit to Ghana by President Ibrahim Babangida was to reciprocate a similar visit made to Nigeria in April 1988 by President J. J. Rawlings. It was a kind of diplomatic shuttle by the two leaders to address the festering issue of repatriation which started in the 1970s between the two countries and reached a climax in 1984 when the Buhari-Idiagbon administration flushed out all illegal aliens in Nigeria.
During the Babangida administration, rumours were rife in Ghana that Nigerians were killing Ghanaians for rituals and sacrifice. This was diplomatically captured in one of the placards carried by the protesters who came to welcome the Nigerian President at the Airport: “IBB, we commit the lives of our brothers and sisters in Nigeria into your hands”. To reinforce the view that this message had the support of the Ghanaian government, President Rawlings told Babangida in a speech he read at the State banquet organized for the Nigerian team (including my humble self): “It is our hope that you would have experienced the solidarity of our people with the Nigerian people and the deep bonds of history as well as ethnic fellow feelings between our two countries. May I add, on a personal note, my appreciation of our personal friendship and my hope that, for the sake of our people, we will each be our brother’s keeper”. What really thrilled me during the trip was that unlike other presidential banquets I had attended as a Dodan Barracks Correspondent, the Ghana experience was different because the name, Dapo Thomas, like the names of other people that attended the banquet, was boldly written on the table. I quickly did a reflection of my past and humbly felt proud that, in whatever capacity I was attending the dinner, my name had featured (in an event) alongside the names of two famous African leaders like Ibrahim Babangida and J.J.Rawlings.
Fate has a way of creating imagery for human phantasies. Dramatically, while doing my reflection in Ghana on my dinner achievement, my mind was on my street in Surulere where I did my childhood pranks, bus conductor, thuggery and hooliganism. On arrival from Ghana at the presidential wing of the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Ikeja, Lagos, our convoy had to pass through Western Avenue on our way to Dodan Barracks, Ikoyi. Like General Yakubu Gowon, Babangida was another President of Nigeria who enjoyed the spectacle and glamour of convoy carnival. Since the 1950s, Western Avenue/Ojuelegba had been a major attraction for the convoys of leaders of the nation and leaders of other nations who had come visiting. Once the vehicle with the “Road Closed” inscription drove past, the entire humanity in that vicinity would troop to the road to feast their eyes on the personality that was arriving or leaving our great city. The roads would be in suspended animation till the President had passed. The throng of humanity would stretch into the horizon on both sides of the roads while waiting for the President to pass. I was among the throng in the 1960s till the early1980s. I was among the troop of onlookers forming the loop for our state leaders as they drove their cars with pride to the admiration of we, their followers. It was here they broke the coils I was selling when I was young and trying to have a peek of General Yakubu Gowon during one of his pleasure cruises which normally animated the penurious masses. On our way from the airport, people had lined the routes waiting anxiously to waive to the President. Acting on the standing instruction of the President, the convoy moved slowly, allowing the President to waive back to the cheering crowd. On getting to the Barracks side of Western Avenue, where my family house is located, I saw some of my neighbours among the crowd but there was no way they could have known that I was in any of the cars.
On getting to Dodan Barracks, I still waited at the press centre for about two hours thinking that I may still be needed. I decided to go home when others were also leaving. From Nigeria to Ghana and from Ghana back to Nigeria, there was no clue as to why I was put on that trip. I left it like that but the “Okon dilemma” still lingered. As far as I was concerned, it was a no issue because I had given my response to what he discussed with me. Okon had come to find out if I would like to join the PBGs or the Nigerian Intelligence Agency (NIA) and I didn’t hesitate to reject his proposal. I didn’t see it as any big deal because he presented it as if it was a personal initiative. It was not until Double Chief linked my Ghana trip to the discussion that I began to think that the President must have sent him. I knew they all loved the Maryam’s story but I never thought it could get to the level where I would be considered a good material for PBG or NIA. I have never in my life thought of doing any job that would make me to carry gun.
My wedding programme commenced on Thursday, 6 April 1989 with the family introduction. The engagement was fixed for Friday, 7 April. Both events took place in Adeoyo, Ibadan. The church wedding and the reception took place on Saturday, 8 April in Oke Ado, Ibadan while the night party was fixed for the same Saturday in Surulere, Lagos. It was an all night party. All the functions went well with dignitaries picking dates and events convenient for them to attend between 6 and 8 April. Some were in Ibadan with us while some attended the party in Lagos. Some found it convenient to attend all the functions. There were sufficient funds to provide everything that made the wedding a big fun. Senior made sure there were enough buses to pick and drop guests between Lagos and Ibadan during the three-day event. It was loud and loaded but was still decently modest. The reports and pictures of the wedding were lavishly splashed in the front, inside and back pages of some national dailies. All my journalist friends in various media houses in the country, particularly, the Dodan Barracks photographers, ensured that all the events received elaborate coverage. Two weeks after the wedding, precisely, 21 April, we had a bouncing baby boy named EbunOLUWA.
The following week, I was back at work. The President would be traveling to England on a State visit between 9 and 12 May 1989. At that time, Maryam Babangida was heavily pregnant and all eyes and attention were on her. She was aged 41 when she had the pregnancy. I didn’t want to miss any sensational stories that could be developing around the pregnancy. I must be at my beat and being the seat of power, Dodan Barracks was not a place you could cover casually. My publisher, Chris Okolie didn’t want to hear anything about me going on leave at such a critical time in Dodan Barracks. So, there was nothing like honeymoon after my wedding. In fact, one of my official assignments after the wedding, was on a Sunday, 7 May 1989. The moslems were celebrating the Eid Al-Fitr and there was heavy rainfall on that day. The President decided to observe the prayer in an open space in Dodan Barracks instead of going to Obalende Praying Ground. Only about ten of us (correspondents) were on ground. Some of the correspondents had gone to London as part of the advance team. The policy of “No more advance team” that was made in January 1989 had somersaulted in less than five months. Anyway, some of the correspondents also chose not to work on a Sunday. Since the new exco assumed office, we had made it compulsory that two or three exco members must be around everyday. Besides, when we realized that “Double Chief” was not forthcoming in helping us to secure an appointment with the President, we decided to do it ourselves. Fortunately for us, “Double Chief” had gone to London with the advance team. We were therefore determined to seize the opportunity to see the President before he could travel to London. While the prayer was going on, it was still raining but it was not as heavy as it was when it first started. The President saw us inside the rain and was full of appreciation and commendation for our commitment to work. He was very impressed with what we did that day. When he was leaving for his residence, we interviewed him as usual. After that, he said some of us should follow him to his residence. Myself and Muhammed Baba as the Secretary and the Chairman of the Press Corps, followed him, carrying nothing with us but by the time we came out, we had two bags with us given to us by U.K Bello (his ADC). Two bags that were full of “compensatory contents” (let’s call it CC) to “dry our wet clothes”. If you thought I was talking about steam irons, you must be a mischievous genius.
Normally, meaning, before our exco took over, those who were not on ground when any largesse was given would not partake in the sharing. We decided to be different. Therefore, in the spirit of our revolution, we shared the CC according to the number of Correspondents on the official list of the Press Corps. We shared it in a way that those who were in the rain got the lion share while those who were not at work on that day and those who had travelled with the advance team still got something reasonable that made them smile after collection. They were so excited that some of them had started recommending a second term for us when we had not spent one year of our first term. What money cannot do does not exist. On the whole, thirty six of us benefitted from the compensatory contents packaged for us by the President to celebrate the Eid Al-Fitr. Even if I didn’t recover all I had spent during the wedding, what I received was sufficient to take care of part of my spendings. To most of us, it was the first time we were knowing the real definition of “generosity” in Dodan Barracks lexicon. When “Double Chief” returned , we told him about the miracle that we received in his absence. His response; “I am happy for you guys”, was a study in psychology . If one could not interrogate the manner the response was given, one could do a comparative study of the politics of yawning dichotomies in “compensatory contents” in the Barracks of power.
Talking about politics in Dodan Barracks. When Maryam Babangida gave birth to a baby girl, some of the President’s friends from the North and from the South began the politics of betrothment on the very day she was born. All of them wanted her betrothed at birth to their sons whose ages ranged between 3 months and 10 years. It was said that this was a popular practice among powerful and influential Northerners. Though IBB was aware of this practice, he pretended as if he was not enthusiastic about the antics. One of my sources told me that when IBB fixed the naming ceremony at 5:30 am, those lobbying for their sons did not know that the competition had already started. All those who didn’t make it to Dodan Barracks that early morning were struck of the list leaving the President to consider the sons of the following people who made it to the ceremony: Lt. Gen Domkat Bali, Air Marshall Ibrahim Alfa, Bashorun M.K.O. Abiola, Chief Alex Ibru, Alhaji Waziri Ibrahim, Chief Chris Okolie, Chief Obi Okoli, Sunday Adewusi, Alhaji Muhammed Gambo and Rear Admiral Tunde Elegbede.
The baby that was eventually named Halimat, was nine months old when Major Gideon Orkar and his men stormed Dodan Barracks in the wee hours of Sunday, 22 April 1990 to remove, arrest or kill the President and his family. However, the President and his family escaped through a bunker constructed by Julius Berger, while his ADC, the same U.K Bello that gave us the two bags containing the “compensatory contents” was killed . On Saturday, 21 April, a day before the violent coup, EbunOLUWA was one year old. I decided to throw a big party for him. It was an all night party that started from 7 pm after the children’s segment had been concluded. We all had fun all through the night till about 6 am when all the guests had left. I had only slept for about an hour when I had a desperate knock on my door. From my sleep, I could feel the anger in me towards that person banging my door and disturbing my sleep and that of my neighbours. Behold, it was my sister living with my mother. I was about asking her what happened to my mum when she gave me the message: “Alhaja said I should come and tell you not to go out because there has been a coup against the government of Babangida”. If my mother really knew what journalism was all about, she won’t send that kind of message to me. As soon as I received the message, I asked my sister how she got to my house in Ikeja from Surulere if there was a coup. She said she came through public transport. I instinctively concluded that if indeed there was a coup, it was not likely to succeed. I didn’t bother to have my bathe. I got my clothes and left the house immediately warning my sister never to leave the house until my return. My wife was expressively worried and my son, the birthday boy, was still snoring.
I didn’t bother to take my car. I could see vehicles moving around. I was able to get a taxi to Normal Williams Street, Ikoyi. From there, I could hear gun shots. Those who saw me walking towards the Dodan Barracks gate were warning me that soldiers were killing themselves inside Dodan Barracks. By this time, I had started recording my conversations with people. I had my bag on my neck. I didn’t take the main gate. I went through a “strategic gate” I stumbled on long ago while roaming around the Barracks “intuitively” and “curiously”. It was one of the areas they called “Forbidden Corridor”. I was caught by some of the IBB’s boys but I was allowed to go because they were convinced I was a harmless and innocent journalist. It was through this corridor that I got into Dodan Barracks on that day. By the time I got inside, the shooting had shifted from where I was to the inner part of the Barracks. The shooting was intense and fierce in that direction. There was no point going through the direction. However, it was very shocking to discover that not a single soldier was in sight. The whole place looked bloody and deserted but deep inside the Barracks I could still hear gun shots. I was still thinking of how to get close to the battle front when someone tapped me on the right shoulder. As I turned to see the person, it was…….
(TO BE CONTINUED).
