At the time I gained admission into Nembe National Grammar School in 1975, the school was virtually agog with the legend of three sons of the land who had just left Nenagram. I was overwhelmed by stories about the exploits of John Oruama (John O for short), Lionel Jonathan (Layo for short), and Kieriseiye Danfebo Derri (simply known as Danfebo). They were the most popular names on the lips of my seniors. They were talked about with reverence, and their exploits appeared to defy the limits of myth.
Layo and Danfebo, in particular, were venerated for their brilliance. They ran head to head in virtually all subjects, in a healthy competition that saw them at the top of the class all the time, in every exam, from form one to five. It was a wholesome rivalry that went beyond their college days. Many years later, Lionel qualified as a lawyer and went on to become a lecturer in Law at the University of Science and Technology, Port Harcourt.
On his part, Danfebo went on to earn a First Class degree in Chemistry from the University of Jos. As if to prove a point to his childhood friend, Danfebo switched over to read Law up to the doctorate level, and subsequently served as the Head of Department, Faculty of Law, Niger Delta University. He holds his staunch placement today as a professor of Law.
It so happened that when I visited Layo at Achievers Farm, Danfebo was visiting, and I had no choice but to give him his own copies of the two books from my pen. Inevitably, when news got to me that Lionel was dead, my mind went straight to Danfebo.
How would his bosom friend from childhood take this grief? How would he endure this great loss? But then, I reconsidered the matter. Layo’s death was not the grief of one man alone. It was the grief of the Nembe-speaking nation, the grief of the state of Bayelsa, the grief of the Niger Delta people in entirety.
That is partly because Layo operated at the highest level of governance in his days as a politician. He was integral to shaping the politics of the old Rivers State. He served in the cabinet of the first civilian government in Bayelsa State, holding portfolios as Commissioner for Environment and Commissioner for Agriculture at various times in the heydays of the Alamieyeseigha government. In my humble capacity as Speech Writer to the Governor, I was privy to the contributions of Layo to the progress of that government.
Whenever I am reminded about how Lionel Jonathan died, I get upset. He is reported to have felt dizzy while attempting to spit over a balcony without rails, tripped over the edge, and tumbled from the two-storey height of his house, hitting the ground with a thud that left him with a severe dislocation of the waist and a broken thigh.
He was alive to confirm what happened to him, and was taking treatment under a traditional bone doctor, with salutary results. Then came the suggestion that he would do better with surgery, and so he was moved to Braithwaite Memorial Hospital, Port Harcourt. He did not walk out of that hospital alive. His body was still recuperating from the surgery, when that great soul passed away.
I can only guess that Lionel Jonathan was probably reading up there, his mind taken up by some engaging theoretical proposition that might have become a conundrum in the popular imagination of mankind. I don’t put it past him. He placed great store on philosophical cogitations he could share with his followers the next day. He believed in refreshing his intellect by reading, and a book was always close by wherever Layo went.
Since he passed away, I have heard a lot of moaning and groaning in private corners, and my own personal remembrance of the man has been seeking full expression. In the words of the old hymnal, Layo can only be remembered by virtue of his works only. What exactly did he leave behind? What did he do, in specific terms? What really outlived him?
These questions come necessarily to mind. Let me attempt a few responses. To begin with, Layo’s popularity soared when he ventured into grassroot politics. In fact, any analysis of politics in Nembe can never be complete without a mention of Layo and the role he played in bringing about a new crop of politically conscious young men, even if some of them went astray. How is that so? I will tell you.
Layo was the patron saint of a group that came to be known as Isongu Furo. The group came about as a counter force to the hegemony of Agbara Furo, literally the Big Fish Family, the first political machine of its kind ever to exist in all of Nembe history. The machine was conceived by a vivacious young woman called Elizabeth Rosebud Kombo.
At the time in question, Rosebud was the wife of Colonel Chris Garba, a son of Benue State, and a one-time Military Governor of Bauchi State. In the days leading up to the return to civilian rule, Her Excellency had used her popular clout to form a new generation of power brokers that would decide the political fortunes of Nembe land.
Layo took offence at the ascendancy of a woman who appeared set to wrap all of Nembe around her thumb and thimble, and he could not stand it. If Agbara, the big fish known for its capacious appetite could be so reckoned with, Lionel was out to prove that every big fish started small.
And so, he named his group Isongu Furo, after fish fingerlings. Before long, Isongu Furo had multiplied in excess of Agbara Furo, in number and in strength. Layo soon saw himself at the head of a brand new pressure group that could boast of its own formidable political muscle.
It turned out that Isongu Furo became a fearsome group, one that was also known for the excessive profligacy of its members. The pittance from the oil companies turned out to be a great largess in the estimation of the community. Layo’s boys soon went wild with the successes they had recorded in the short time they practically took control of the political apparatchik of Nembe. Even Layo could not quite put a leash on his wards any longer.
At the height of its popularity, the leadership of Isongu Furo became slack, and a new political grouping woke up to take Layo’s boys by surprise. That group was led by Senator Nimi Barigha-Amange, and its composition was limited to a tight nine-man squad called Isein-Asawo.
The modus operandi of this new group was so clandestine and their operations so swift and unpredictable that they were likened to spirits, and that’s how they came to be known by the alternative name, Teme. In the end, Teme drove every remnant of Isongu Furo into exile.
The rivalry would have continued if not that a new king rose to fill up the two-decade long interregnum, and established an appreciable level of stability in the ancient city-state. From the ascendancy of Agbara Furo to the twilight of Teme, Nembe paid a huge price. There was condemnable bloodletting and a naked display of corrupt enrichment.
I find it remarkable that Lionel Jonathan’s last major public engagement came to him on Saturday, 27 January 2018, when he played host to three traditional rulers from the Nembe nation at his famous Achievers Farm. He played host to HRH Iyerite Chiefson Awululu-Atubu, Ibenyanaowei of Oluasiri kingdom, graciously received HRH S. K Dorgu-Benibo, king of Igbeta-Ewoama, and sat next to HRH Walter Samuel, king of Agrisaba.
Layo’s reason for hosting the meeting stemmed from his concern about the political future of the Nembe-speaking people in the light of the forthcoming elections. He was anxious for tomorrow’s sake, knowing his own political antecedents. He was out to press for peace and unity across board, in the overall interest of the community he loved so much.
More than anything else, Chief Lionel Jonathan-Omo will be remembered by the words he articulated and the words he wrote down. He will be remembered for what may jolly well count as his good works, his passionate attempt to be of help to his neighbour, and his neighbours were many. His everyday conversation was spiced with verses from Ecclesiastes and Proverbs and the psalms of David. He left no one in doubt that he read the Bible with devotional solicitude.
If Layo lived in the times of Jesus Christ, he might have been a disciple of the Master. He might have walked alongside Peter, the famous fisherman of Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee. He would have followed the call of the voice he heard in the silence of his heart, the voice resounding over the mountains and across the valleys, the voice speaking of redemption for the sins of mankind. He would have been glad to walk all the way to the foot of the cross on Calvary Hill.
I am glad that, in his heart of hearts, Layo loved Jesus Christ until his last day. He did the things that Rabbi told him to do. He loved his neighbours as himself. He chose to do good in the last generation. He chose to help people in the end-time generation. And he had a good number of converts, people who were simply glad to hear the sound of his voice, people who left their houses in the morning just to hear what new words Oziriki would throw at them in the deep groves of Achievers Farm.
The least honour that the Nembe people can give the memory of Chief Lionel Ebinyo Jonathan-Omo is to be civil in the face of the next elections, and to eschew the proverbial cloak and dagger politics for which the community has become known in the recent past. Layo was all set to make peace. His brave spirit will rest easy if indeed peace would reign supreme in all of Nembe clan.
