Stephen Adika Ereboh did not see anything spectacular about the fact that he once shook hands with Queen Elizabeth of England right inside Buckingham Palace, London. He didn’t think it a big deal either that he shook hands with her husband, Prince Phillip, at the same dinner party marking the end of the Commonwealth Day celebrations of that year.
‘He reminded me of Shakespeare’s Old Gobbo’, said Ereboh, speaking of Prince Phillip, and chuckling with the satisfaction of a man who took his lessons in literature seriously. He also shook hands with Prince Charles, Duke of Edinburgh, at the same occasion. The photos are there to tell the tale.
As far as Ereboh was concerned, it was just another handshake with one more human being upon the face of the earth, and it all happened in the past when he was a law maker. He stood in a neat row of fellow law makers from all the Commonwealth countries around the world.
He was one of two law makers representing Nigeria that year, 2004. The other representative was the Rt. Hon. Rotimi Chibuike Amaechi, Speaker of the Rivers State House of Assembly, who became the state governor in the next dispensation.
Ereboh smiled like everyone else when the royal twain moved around the hall before the start of dinner, the Queen dispensing her blessings with a generous sparkle of smiles. But Ereboh’s credentials go beyond a handshake with the British monarch. In fact, he had better things to think about, things that had to do with the present.
He had his eyes on the prime seat in Creek Haven. He believed he had the requisite qualification to occupy that exalted office, to say nothing of the required intellectual acumen, and an abiding love for the land of Bayelsa. He wanted to serve at the highest capacity in the state, as governor, no less. He believed he would make all the difference, if given a chance, and he had every right to aspire to his dreams.
Ereboh was a good time keeper. He believed in working with time. He was also a good record keeper. He was adept at keeping tag of every important milestone in his life. He had put together a vital photo album of every high point of his sojourn in England and America, brief as they may have been.
In each case, he is to be seen with prominent citizens of the world, celebrated American eggheads, and British gentry of every aristocratic description with whom he had taken repeated handshakes and put his personal charm, to say nothing of his professional savvy, on show.
Ereboh attended a course on Leadership Best Practices at the Harvard Business School, United States, in 2006. The following year, he went back for another stint in Marketing at the same prestigious institution. His first outing at the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association Conference in Bangladesh came in 2003 when he travelled alongside his colleague, Koru George, Clerk of the House.
Ereboh recalled with relish his meeting with the Speaker of the House of Commons, Westminster, London, and with the Mayor of Hertfordshire, United Kingdom. They were personal moments that spoke of a mutual concern for the most topical issues of the day. They were moments that nourished his sensibilities and refined his worldview.
Surely, Ereboh did some travelling in his own time. He had been to the north, south, east and west. Even so, he believed that home is the best place to be, and the best place to set things right. That was why he fixed his eyes on becoming the next Governor of Bayelsa State. That was the principal aspiration he was cultivating from day to day.
He lay easy on his couch that evening, having just returned from the final obsequies conducted in honour of his late colleague, Sammy Boy. On the large screen television before him, he watched Robert Ebizimor belting out some of his most popular tunes. Outside, the clouds appeared overcast and ready to drop one big haulage of rain, except a strong wind comes to blow it all away.
‘My first reaction at the passing of Sammy Boy was one of shock’, said Ereboh. ‘Why him? But then my spiritual background allows me see life as a school of experiences. You don’t have to live up to one hundred years before you transit. You don’t have to learn something celestial, or fulfil your divine purpose on earth, at age hundred. You could learn it at age one, 20, 50, before you transit to the inner world, when you finish your life experiences.
‘The Sammy Boy I got to know in 2003 was a full-fledged and ebullient democratic fighter. He knew what he wanted, and went for it. He stood for justice. He would tell you the truth, looking you straight in the eyeballs. He didn’t mince words. He didn’t cut corners to please anybody. He was blunt to a fault on any particular issue.
‘He was in the house before me. Robert Enogha replaced him. Over time, we were relating through business. When JTF was occupying my property, they wanted sector two. We got talking, and I linked him up. That’s how they took up his hotel. And he would say, Steve, well done. You brought JTF to Bayelsa, and now I’m also benefiting.
‘He left the house under controversial circumstances. What I recall then in 2003, after the primaries, inside Government House was this. He drove with speed and almost knocked down the Governor. If not that Alamieyeseigha was pulled out of the way in good time, it might have been a different story. I don’t know what transpired in his constituency, but he was that upset when he lost out’.
Merely reminiscing about Sammy Boy was enough to bring awake memories of his own. Ereboh served for one full term at the Bayelsa State House of Assembly, from 2003 to 2007. He was Majority Leader of the House, and a staunch member of several key committees. He was glad to recount his outstanding achievements within that four year bracket.
‘My membership of the House exposed me to a lot of experiences. I came to understand the intricacies of government, the dynamics of politics, and more than that I came to appreciate what it means to be of service to my people, precisely because I had a chance to do so.
‘In my time, I gave out scholarships to two hundred and fifty beneficiaries. My constituency projects still speak for themselves. A befitting secondary school, Ogboin Grammar School, in Amatolo, is still there to be seen. So I consider those four years as a lifetime lesson in maturity. It taught me what it entails to be a politician. It afforded me a lot, getting to know human nature. It taught me the importance of service’.
With the benefit of hindsight, Stephen Ereboh was in good stead to say whether or not the Bayelsa State House of Assembly was making progress, regressing, or standing still. He could only speak for himself.
‘For me, the point depends on whose tune the members are dancing to. What’s the motivation? Why did you vie for the office, in the first place? What did you go there to do? To be a yes-man, or to make an input? Every member should do what’s right. This crop of assembly members, like their predecessors, should do what they know best.
‘In my time, it was a vibrant house. We debated issues and came to clear-cut conclusions, and accosted the Governor with clear facts. There were no issues we didn’t x-ray. We came out with the finest ideas, and put it all together as one family. We told the Governor what we thought, and I felt fulfilled with the results.
‘The only time I felt really bad was during the crisis of 2005. As Majority Leader, everything was on my head. A lot was expected of me. I was in the thick of every controversy. Alamieyeseigha was from my place, Amassoma, and he was my in-law. People had a lot to talk about. A lot of falsehood was also spread around. Those were trying times, but I stood the test’.
In 2005, Alamieyeseigha had just returned from the UK to face an impeachment move against him. A petition against the Governor was in the air. Ereboh was privileged to see the letter from the EFCC ahead of many of his colleagues during an impromptu session, after the PDP zonal meeting.
‘I was on my way back from Port Harcourt when my phone rang. Boyelayefa Debekeme, then Speaker of the House, was calling for an urgent meeting in the Governor’s Lodge. So I said it was not official. There’s a procedure. Let’s follow procedure. It’s not a private correspondence.
‘At that time when the crisis was brewing, the gladiators had infiltrated the House, virtually to mastermind the impeachment of Alams. Alaibe wanted to unseat the Governor by all means. I opposed the impeachment motion along with five others, including Nadu Karibo and Nelson Belief who described themselves as non-aligned. So we had that meeting, and it was very stormy’.
Many years later, Stephen Ereboh thought he acted in the best interest of the state. As far as the progress of Bayelsa was concerned, Ereboh believed that government had not quite made a remarkable tangent away from the efforts of the first civilian Governor. Most structures in the state, he declared, were enduring legacies from Alamieyeseigha that are still begging to be built upon.
With particular regard to electricity supply, Ereboh believed that the government of Sylva deserved the biggest plus. As he put it, ‘Sylva lit up Yenagoa, and constructed a good number of internal roads that created access for citizens to explore’.
By Ereboh’s assessment, Dickson did well with specific regard to education. The former Majority Leader gave the thumbs-up for the College of Education, Sagbama, the Ijaw National Academy, Kaiama, and the public-private partnership University of Africa in Toru-Orua. On the contrary, Ereboh maintained that government had not done enough to sustain the Niger Delta University, NDU, which stands in dire need of durable infrastructure.
Passionate about working with the Yenagoa Masterplan, Ereboh’s big dream for Bayelsa lay in the full materialization of that plan. With such a plan in place, he saw a safer Bayelsa ahead. He foresaw what he called ‘a 247-economy’, an economy that is alive twenty-four hours of the day every week, active because it depends on an unfailing power supply system.
His own government, as he put it, would be known for bringing back the light, and the evidence would be seen all over Bayelsa, starting with the state capital, Yenagoa. He also anticipated a Bayelsa where community policing would hold sway, like private detectives at work. Ereboh placed great store on the imperative of a sea school where basic seamanship training will be imparted to able young men and women of Bayelsa, in a bid to raise the manpower profile of the state with respect to maritime endeavours.
Besides, such a specialized school would help to improve the fortunes of sports in the state with particular regard to swimming. ‘Bayelsa used to be tops in swimming competitions, but not so anymore. A sea school will correct that anomaly’, he said. In a government where he took the lead, Ereboh said he would engage the multinational oil companies more closely. ‘They still do not have offices in Bayelsa, and that’s a great minus’.
He was all for the idea of a New Yenagoa across Ekoli Creek, but there must be timelines to development, and a conscious implementation of the master plan. He was also happy about the long-standing dream of an international cargo airport, and its materialization under the Dickson government.
‘I must commend Dickson for the new governor’s castle’, he said. ‘I believe it is best to take the best of every administration and build on it. The airport will be one cardinal project for which the Dickson government would be remembered. My only wish is that the same could be said for a viable shipping industry in Bayelsa alongside the potential benefits of oil and gas as represented by the Brass LNG project.
‘Ultimately, we should have our priorities right. We have no reason to celebrate payment of salaries. That is frontline charge. There’s nothing to crow about that. Any government that spends one billion naira has three billion in its coffers’.
Stephen Adika Ereboh was the fifth of twelve children born to his parents. His dad, Meshack Ereboh, worked with Westminster Dredging Company. His mum, Mitchell Ereboh, is a daughter of the famous Dikibo family of Okrika. Ereboh spoke Yoruba, English, and Ijaw fluently. Having lived in Abuja for a while, he also picked up some passable Hausa. He was that good with languages. ‘But if I’m with my Yoruba friends, you can’t pick me out’.
Stephen Ereboh was frank enough to underscore what he considered the greatest setback of Bayelsa. ‘There are too many divisions’, he said. ‘We celebrate our differences, and talk less of the bigger picture. We are yet to think as one. After the elections, a good leader should shed every partisan interest, and become everybody’s governor or president, as the case may be’.
Ereboh’s grouses, with specific regard to the short-comings of his home state, were quite many. As far as he could tell, the Bayelsa economy was not in the hands of sons and daughters of Bayelsa. ‘In all areas, we have competences, but strangers have taken over the economy. Even indomie sellers are from outside’.
Born on Tuesday 18 February 1969, Stephen Adika Ereboh was overjoyed when he turned fifty. Like every golden jubilee anniversary, it was worth celebrating. Even so, he still prided himself as a confident salesman, the first product he always had to sell being himself.
That reservoir of self-confidence had been a source of strength all his life. It had been of great advantage to him at home, in school, and at the work place. That same assurance in his potentials led him to emerge as the best salesman many years ago when he worked for the international courier company, DHL Worldwide Express.
The recognition confirmed for him the validity of the first and second degrees he earned in Business Administration, with a stress on Marketing, from the Rivers State University of Science & Technology, Port Harcourt.
Stephen Erebo believed that, in the future, the same quality of character, that dogged determination to win against all odds, would lead him to emerge triumphant among his peers, and compel society to reckon with him as a leader to watch.
In January 2004, Stephen Ereboh and I were fellow pilgrims to Israel. For two weeks, we traversed the holy land, and I didn’t even know him well then. It was only after we came back home and bumped into each other repeatedly along the road that I took special notice of him, and I did so because he called me Rabbi. He is the only man I know who called me Rabbi whenever he saw me or spoke with me over the phone.
A few weeks ago, news got to me that he’s no more. Stephen Ereboh is no more. The man who called me Rabbi is no more.
