Diepreye Alamieyeigha felt particularly honoured to have given the first ever Isaac Adaka Boro memorial lecture. The event took place at the auditorium of the Ministry of Women Affairs and Social Development, Yenagoa, on Saturday 20 May 2000.
He was elated that Boro’s memory would be kept alive through such a lecture series. It was the right and proper thing to do, to claim that which belonged to the Ijaw nation and give it all the prominence it deserved. And he was gloriously overjoyed that this was happening, at long last, in a state of the Izon people, a state for which Boro literally fought for, without living to see the eventuality.
Granted, he may not have conceived of Bayelsa State as it is today, but the vision he harboured for his people could be said to have changed only in matters of detail. The map of Bayelsa may not have been the way Boro configured it, but the concept of a state for the Ijaw people had manifested in the fullness of time.
The end of their tribulation was well in sight. It was gratifying to know that the people of the Niger Delta could still hold on to the faith that, some day, they would take control of their God-given resources and be accountable only to themselves. That was how the patriarch of the struggle, Boro, wanted it.
Alamieyeseigha gave credit to those who conceived of the initiative, in the first place. He had interacted with some of the key officers of the Ijaw National Alliance of the Americas (INAA), and he was glad that although they lived far away in the United States of America, they were following events at home with very keen interest. This was manifest in their recognition of deserving sons of the Izon nation.
He enjoined them to use their stay in the United States to link the Izon nation to well-meaning individuals and institutions, to propel the growth and development of the Ijaw people. He assured the INAA of his willingness to support them in the fight to improve the plight of the Izon man, wherever he may be and at all times.
A lecture like this was expected to be an intellectual trip. But, then, Alamieyeseigha was a politician. Either way, the bottom line of his response was that he was more concerned about devising practical ways to improve the fortunes of his people, an entire ethnic group which had been disabled economically through many years of unrelenting exploitation.
It was like Goliath, the giant whose appearance on the scene terrorized the children of Israel. Not a single man could look him in the face and remain the same. Fear of the giant ate deep into the average psyche. Goliath was big and muscular. He had biceps the way elephants had trunks.
But, in spite of his immense size and presence, David, by comparison a midget from the house of Jesse, humiliated the giant with just a pebble from his sling. The story of the small boy who became a giant of sorts, and the giant who was slain, has since become a ready analogy for every curious reversal of roles.
For the next half-hour, Alamieyeseigha expanded on this analogy, and attempted to lift the veil over the eventful life and times of a few good men of peace from Bayelsa State who had, through their works and commitment, demonstrated to the world that the forces of good would always triumph over the forces of evil.
Whatever station anyone would occupy in history was a function of the vision and foresight they brought into play. The world was one in which, as they say, only the fittest could survive. Alamieyeseigha was sure that the people of Ijaw land were fit enough, equipped as they are with economic power. The Ijaw nation was bound to survive.
Alamieyeseigha pointed to the fact that history was replete with stories of men who did not care so much about their own comfort and fitness, men who were only disposed to tend to the welfare of the dispossessed in society. It was a bracket into which Adaka Boro easily fell. He was the sort of benefactor and hero whose significance needed to be underscored for future generations.
As far as Alamieyeseigha was concerned, men like Boro lived a full, rounded life. For him, no amount of discourse could unravel or totally deconstruct the essential Isaac Boro. The basic currents of Boro’s march through life, namely equal rights and justice, to say nothing of the demand for resource control and non-violent change – these themes resonated with Alamieyeseigha all through his own life.
In fact, these themes had acquired a global dimension so that Boro belonged, not just to Bayelsa or the Izon race alone, but deservedly fitted squarely into the same pantheon as Martin Luther King Jr. of the American civil rights movement, Steven Bantu Biko, the South African activist who was beaten to death in prison at the height of his powers, and Ken Saro-Wiwa, the Nigerian writer and minority rights activist who was hanged under unfair judicial circumstances.
In the eyes of Alamieyeseigha, these were men to the memory of whom humanity should build monuments. Physical monuments may become shadows of themselves in the course of time, like the amusement park in Port Harcourt named after Isaac Boro. Efforts at refurbishing the park would always be a hollow ritual, an unqualified token of remembrance. But what has etched the name of Isaac Adaka Boro in the minds of the Niger Delta people, and his Ijaw brethren in particular, was the stature of his heroic fight for equity.
For Alamieyeseigha, nothing was more becoming in life than such heroism. That was why the ideas spawned by Boro continue to abide in the hearts of people. They took root in the mind of Saro-Wiwa, and they had taken root in the consciousness of uncountable young men who see themselves as fiery latter-day clones of Boro, seeking to express their discontent. The world could always accommodate more monuments for such activists. And that was why the spirit of Boro would rage through the land until justice was done in the interest of the Niger Delta people.
Alamieyeseigha was all too ready to confront the testy question. If Boro were alive today, how would he feel about the plight of his people? What more could he have done to assuage the harrowing neglect of the Niger Delta and its people? Alamieyeseigha saw the memorial lecture as fitting enough for one and all to reflect on the ideals left behind by Isaac Adaka Boro. Was the Ijaw nation taking the right course of action? Was it morning yet on Creation Day?
Seated in the front row that day was Chief Timinipiri Samuel Owonaro. It was safe to say that Owonaro was Isaac Boro’s Man Friday, the executor of his will. But simply because Owonaro did not go the way of his close friend and confidant, simply because he did not die at the muzzle of a gun, it was easy for some to think that the man was not so great.
This was because death canonizes mortals who performed extraordinary feats in their lifetime, especially when they died in the course of duty. If the man died, everyone would sing his praises, but if he lived, honour came with restraint. Alamieyeseigha had never been able to come to terms with this paradox. As far as he could tell, that was not as it should be.
Owonaro, a retired captain of the Nigeria Army, was a key participant in the historic 12-day revolution. It was his bravery and intelligence that endeared him to Boro, and together they worked for the emancipation of the Ijaw race. Alamieyeseigha believed Owonaro was in a better position to tell the story just the way it was, devoid of embellishments, and equipped with facts.
It remains a fact of history that every great nation must pass through trials and conflict. And, more often than not, every conflict situation anywhere in the world took its origin from the desire for positive change by ordinary masses of the people. It may be the quest for better living standards, it may be the quest for territorial expansion and political supremacy, or it may simply be the hunger for knowledge.
Conflict also results from flagrant injustice, deprivation and insensitivity to the plight of others and the interests they represent. Motivated by the will to develop, to enthrone justice, to reverse the state of deprivation, the victim is often led to resist the oppressor. When there is a clash of interest between individuals, families or nations in their quest for progress, feuds and wars inevitably result. Boro knew this, and so did Alamieyeseigha.
The governor recounted Boro’s legacy in more personal terms. As a boy, Alamieyeseigha had known Boro one on one. They were neighbours living in the same tenement in Lagos. ‘Suffice it to say that Adaka Boro had everything going for him’, said Alamieyeseigha. ‘He was born into an elite family and grew up in need of very little material support. Yet, when he found himself at the crossroad of his people’s struggle for emancipation, he knew he had to pitch tent with his suffering and oppressed Izon brethren. He could have aligned himself with the oppressors, and enjoyed the best that life could give. But he chose to champion the struggle’.
How did he do that? What was his approach? As an undergraduate at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Boro attempted twice to be president of the Student’s Union. He lost on both occasions. Yet Boro did not resort to blackmail or character assassination. Instead he reviewed his strategies, re-organised himself, and contested the election a third time and won.
His tenure as the Students’ Union president was instructive. It opened his mind to understand clearly why his people were suffering so much neglect, despite the fact that they produce a commercially viable commodity like oil. He began a peaceful agitation for the regional autonomy of his people. Having waited in vain for a constitutional resolution of the minority question, he took up arms only as the very last option.
Like the very human field commander that he was, Boro’s war order to the 30-man army of the Niger Delta Volunteer Service under him was to ensure bloodless violence. And indeed his lieutenants kept to his marching orders throughout the 12-day revolution. Captain Samuel Owonaro, one of the sector commanders, could attest to that.
Adaka Boro also knew when to yield ground. So, even though he took up arms against the Federal Government, he later joined forces with the same Federal Government against secession when his Niger Delta Republic ambition came close to being achieved with the creation of Rivers State in May 1967.
What Alamieyeseigha discerned from this was that Adaka Boro left a legacy of dialogue as the best option for conflict resolution. The significance of his life was that, even though man can be pushed to the point of submission, there was little justifiable need to shed blood. This was the critical lesson for everyone to take home, and Alamieyeseigha underscored it. More than that, he saw good reason to develop Adaka Boro’s legacy into a philosophy of development for the Izon nation.
Like a good student of history, Alamieyeseigha cited a statement credited to Dr Joseph Adetoro, General Yakubu Gowon’s Commissioner for Industries in 1972, to the effect that: “Nigeria has no philosophy. All advanced nations in the world are based on a philosophy of life, but this is missing in Nigeria.” In the estimation of Alamieyeseigha, this statement applied in entirety to the Ijaw nation, and he challenged capable Izon intellectuals to improve upon Boro’s philosophy of development as an immediate imperative.
As the Governor pointed out, the effects of philosophy on development, through the ages, has been salutary. Sparta and Athens, for instance, were two great Greek city-states. They were politically and geographically contiguous, but each was marked by a different philosophy of life. Sparta identified with a heavy regimentation of society and national control of human resource development as her philosophy for rapid national growth. That was the popular basis of the Spartan way of life, which was tantamount to discipline.
Athens, on the other hand, opted for a liberal philosophy of development, which encouraged the free and unfettered range of the human intellect. The Athenian heritage, therefore, was synonymous with art and culture, poetry, architecture, medicine, science and philosophy. It represented the height of civilized human conduct and inquiry.
Otto von Bismarch, in like manner, was revered till his last day as the man who founded the German education philosophy with its practical orientation to propel Germany to be among the foremost industrialised nations of the world, second perhaps to the United State of America.
Even the American Jewish nation worked with a grand philosophy never to dissipate its resources over the idea of a Jew occupying the White House. Instead, the Jews in America vowed to control whoever occupied what is today acclaimed as the world’s most influential seat of power, namely The Capitol. Indeed every keen observer of U.S. policy in the Middle East could see the heavy American Jewish input.
Nearer home, the Yoruba, led by a formidable array of visionaries ahead of which was Chief Obafemi Awolowo, cast their developmental philosophy on the education of man in a bid to make life more abundant. And even though Tanzania was ranked among the poorest nations of the world, majority of her citizens lived a more fulfilled and satisfying life. The credit still goes to Dr Julius Nyerere’s 1967 Arusha Declaration, which was formulated around the key concept of ujamaa. This concept of familyhood became a source of inspiration to developing countries around the world.
While not propounding a philosophy of life for the Izon nation, Alamieyeseigha thought it proper to take a cue from these examples, and called on Izons to redirect attention to the family unit. “Let us take a good second look at the breeding ground of a healthy Izon citizenry,” he said. “Let us refocus attention on our enviable but fading communal lifestyle. One Izon man dies and the whole community mourns. That is how it used to be. One Izon man is building a house, and the village partakes in the construction work. Or an Izon wrestling hero returns home from a contest and, before he enters his house, a heap of assorted foodstuff contributed by his joyous kith and kin, is laid at his doorpost. His pride was the pride of the village.
“Do we still share all that? Where are the loose ends of the cord that held us together? Why are we pulling the trigger or swinging the machete at the least provocation even over a tuber of yam? When has it become a heroic act to behead a fellow Izon, or any other Nigerian for that matter? Why have we buried the age-long virtue of referring our distresses to constituted authority? Why are we always ready to take the path of violence? Why would one family waste a whole generation to violence?
“Why should a king, a chief, a father watch idly while his offspring or subject takes up arms against his own cousin? Why should children who schooled and played together suddenly hate themselves to the point of spilling each other’s precious blood, while their parents not only watched but also urge them on?”
This unwholesome scenario, said Alamieyeseigha, was enough to call for special prayers for the Izon nation. In his own incomparable way, he said, Boro was a visionary. His relevance lay in the fact that what he foresaw over thirty years before that time had come to pass: that a people would be forcibly deprived of their resources on account of their being in the minority. And that, to keep the people divided, a wedge of discontent would be erected permanently between the people so that, even when the fruits of endurance began to ripen, brother would rise against brother. This was the ignominy the Izon people needed to transcend.
“The Izon nation has passed through a great deal of tribulation, injustice and deprivation,” declared Alamieyeseigha. “Our quest to correct these anomalies resulted in a series of clashes with our neighbours and with the Nigeria Establishment. In all, we have had to pay dearly for it.” He proceeded to identify the real problems of the people of this deprived area as follows:
i. Unfair allocation of the proceeds from the resources of Ijaw land
ii. Massive unemployment of the educated youth
iii. Non-economic empowerment of the people
iv. Absence of federal presence on our land, and
v. The flippant and nonchalant disposition of oil companies to community development.
“Our role as a government,” he maintained, “is not only to identify problem areas, but to seek meaningful solutions.“ And so saying, Alamieyeseigha proffered a few solutions to the perennial problems besetting the Ijaw people. In the area of unemployment, he believed the Federal Government and oil companies would do well to consciously develop small, medium and large-scale industries with the same raw materials harnessed from the area.
He was hard put to understand, for instance, why the blueprint for the Peremabiri and Isampou rice farms had remained on the drawing table of the Niger Delta Development Board since 1964. This was nothing short of scandalous. Studies had shown that these farms were capable of producing sufficient rice to feed a considerable population of the West African sub-region.
The Niger Delta area is also known to possess a wide timber forest belt waiting to be exploited. The area is saturated with clay pits that will sustain a burnt brick industry. And, of course, there is an inexhaustible supply of sand that would make a glass industry shimmer. Alamieyeseigha was sure that these areas were bound to generate quantum employment for the idle youth, if sufficiently cultivated.
“Allow me to also reiterate the point that education is paramount to the development matrix of any nation. Specialized schools and assorted facilities for training must be provided for skills acquisition to be a realistic undertaking, preparatory to gainful employment. And I believe that there are a thousand Henry Fords in our midst, inventors and entrepreneurs who are merely awaiting a little propulsion for them to surprise the rest of the world. These entrepreneurs do not need to attend the Harvard School of Business to discover their potential. All they need is to be absorbed into the managerial apparatus at the commanding heights of the oil and gas industry.”
As a solution to the numerous problems in Ijaw territory, Alamieyeseigha called on the oil companies to change their operational policy from that of community assistance to community development. As far as he could tell, the disparity between these two policy positions was what accounted for the poor infrastructural outlay of communities in Bayelsa. While the oil companies set out to redress this situation, he encouraged them to truly begin repair work on the terrain by putting into effect a thorough-going environmental control initiative that would not only reclaim the substrate of the soil, but restore the substance of the land as well.
“Isaac Adaka Boro was a lover of peace,” said Alamieyeseigha. “This quality was recognized even by the government against which he pitched his forces. Far from being a rebel, the Federal Government saw the need to incorporate him into their plan of reconciliation, which in fact led to the strategic capture of Bonny, an action that was a precursor to ending the Nigerian Civil War.
One of the lessons to be learnt from Boro’s crusade was that force does not solve problems. It clearly demonstrated also that much of the violence in the Niger Delta would have been averted if the Federal Government had given ear to the demands made by Boro. It was therefore important that, if there was a problem, no true leader should sweep it under the carpet. The wild incidence of youth restiveness in the Niger Delta could be curtailed if the mistake of insensitivity displayed by the Federal Government was checked.
For Alamieyeseigha, it was instructive that Chief Olusegun Obasanjo was at the helm of Nigerian affairs at that crucial point in the nation’s history. In 1978, Obasanjo introduced what has turned out to be the most terrible blight on the conscience of the nation when he promulgated the Land Use Act.
Ironically, at a presentation to the Earth Summit in Brazil, Obasanjo highlighted the problems of the Niger Delta and foresaw crises if concrete solutions were not found. His predictions have since come to pass. “In the best interest of the country, said Alamieyeseigha, “the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria should therefore see it as a divine responsibility to resolve the problems he so willfully created in spite of foreseeable danger.”
Just before concluding his presentation, Alamieyeseigha further reminded the audience that conflict was part of human nature. But violence was the nature of animals, and it was not proper to endorse it with parental silence. The sons of the land who were inflicting violence on the Bayelsa polity were the same babies who were nurtured to maturity with the milk of the land.
Alamieyeseigha had in mind the words of Sir Winston Churchill, the charismatic British Prime Minister who, while rolling out his four-year plan for Britain on May 21, 1943, said: “There is no finer investment for any community than putting milk into babies. Healthy citizens are the greatest assets any country can have.”
The analogy could not be missed. Izon parents cannot afford to drip poisoned milk into the mouth of their babies and watch helplessly as these babies grew into vipers terrorizing the land with abandon. This had to stop. There was an urgent need for peace to prevail in Bayelsa State, and in Izon land. In pursuance of the noble ideas to which Boro dedicated his life, Alamieyeseigha announced that the state government would institute a chair on Niger Delta Studies at the Niger Delta Institute of the Niger Delta University, Wilberforce Island.
To this end, he announced a donation of half a million naira to ensure that the next edition of the Isaac Adaka Boro Memorial Lecture took a national dimension. In addition, Alamieyeseigha proclaimed the establishment of the Isaac Boro Foundation with a three million naira contribution from the Bayelsa State Government. A board of trustees would be appointed in due course to administer the funds.
“Let us, with one decisive effort, eliminate violence from our lives. Let us remember the legacy of Isaac Boro. Let us always resort to dialogue. Let us reach out to our neighbours. Let us reach out with the olive branch to the Itsekiris, Urhobos and the Ilajes. Let us release the dove of peace from the glory of all lands, so that it can roam the open skies and fly to all lands with our message of peace.”
In response to that rhetoric, the ovation that broke out among the audience rang in the ears for a long time afterwards.
