How Did We Lose Our Mojo? Azubuike Ishiekwene — Sep 12, 2014 | 1 Comment The caption was clear but the picture left me confused. Former Borno State governor Modu Sheriff was there. President Idriss Deby of Chad was there. And right in the middle was President Goodluck Jonathan. What were these folks doing together in Ndjamena on Monday? The press reported that President Jonathan had gone to see the Chadian president, in company of Sheriff, to find a way of dealing with the worsening problem of Boko Haram. What was not reported was that the meeting was at the instance of Deby whose country has fallen on hard times as a result of the attacks of Boko Haram. Two things seemed odd about the trip. First, two weeks ago, the Australian and federal government’s negotiator with Boko Haram, Steven Davis, named Sheriff as one of the two sponsors of the sect. The former governor has denied any links with the group, as has former chief of army staff Azubuike Ihejirika. But the Department of State Services has said, publicly, that it would investigate the allegations against the former governor. Until that is done – and I honestly don’t see why it should not be done quickly — it doesn’t make sense for President Jonathan to wear Sheriff around like an apron. He might be an extremely valuable link in helping to end the violence in Borno and the north-east, but why is Jonathan behaving as if he needs Sheriff to introduce him to Deby? Sheriff had no business on a trip that excluded the serving governors of the three most affected states. The Ndjamena hangout can only send the message that the man enjoys the president’s protection and that the security services must tread carefully. That’s dangerous and confusing. It brings me to the second point. Was the trip to Ndjamena even necessary in the first place? I understand that we’re up against a totally different emoji of demons. The savagery of Boko Haram in the first six months of this year alone has claimed nearly 3,000 lives and rooted out thousands more from their homes and families. They have moved from spreading hate to mass kidnappings and are now claiming territory. Sure, we need help to contain and defeat Boko Haram. But Jonathan’s trip to Ndjamena less than two weeks after 480 Nigerian soldiers fled to Cameroun for refuge sends the message that we’re the region’s new laughing stock. At one point after the abduction of the Chibok girls, a top military source confided that rallying support from Cameroun had proved futile. President Paul Biya was not only playing hard to get, he turned down requests to meet with Jonathan either in Abuja, Yaoundé or anywhere else. It was only after pressure from France that Biya relented and agreed to a meeting in Paris. How did we get to this point? How did we get to the point where the president would be escorted to Chad, our soldiers would flee to Cameroun, and Biya would keep the president waiting? It wasn’t always so. Former President Olusegun Obasanjo once paid the salaries of the Ghanaian police to save that country from rebellion. Today, Ghana is offering to send help to recover the Chibok girls. Charles Taylor and Fonday Sankoh may never forgive us for their ignoble end, but generations of Liberians and Sierra Leoneans will never forget that we invested nearly $10billion and shed our blood to save their countries from ruin. And Chad? I insist that Jonathan didn’t have to go there. At another time, all he would have done was to ask Deby to come to Abuja. Isn’t this the same Chad that Nigerian soldiers rescued from Muammar Ghaddafi at a cost that Shehu Shagari said had left a hole in Nigeria’s budget? Surely, Deby has not forgotten that under his former president, Goukouni Queddei, the Chadian crisis was not big enough to be discussed in Lagos, then Nigeria’s capital. The parties to the dispute – Queddei and Hissene Habre – were happy to meet in Kano for peace talks on our watch. It may sound a bit crude, but if, today, Deby cannot run Jonathan’s errands, then we’re done for. In 2003, the president of Sao Tome and Principe, Fradique de Menezes, was visiting Obasanjo in Abuja when soldiers in that country seized power. Obasanjo gave them an ultimatum to leave, failing which he threatened to send in troops. He didn’t have to; the mutineers packed their bags and left. Twelve days after they struck, Obasanjo personally escorted de Menezes back to Sao Tome and extracted amnesty for the rebellious soldiers. And when Faure Gnassingbe, son of former Togolese president, wanted to assume power without elections, after his father’s death, Obasanjo pulled him back in line by the ear. You might like Nigeria or hate it, but you could not ignore it. What has changed? Some say we’re facing a far more complex situation. Not like anything we have seen before. And to make matters worse, we have either neglected or maliciously degraded the military for decades. In an article entitled “Failing State, Fading Peacekeepers”, published two years ago, former FCT minister Nasir el-Rufai narrated how corruption, poor accountability and incompetence had undermined the military’s fighting power. The piece reads like a prophecy. We’re not going to reclaim glory by looking to Ndjamena. Jonathan must wear his hat as commander-in-chief and roll up his sleeves for the slug. He has to announce a strategy to defeat Boko Haram and must be in front to lead any region-wide aspects of such a strategy. One small step would be for the military to give weekly public briefings on the war effort. Another would be to start the trial of all those linked with Boko Haram without further delay. The current blanket secrecy and foot-dragging on prosecution can only breed suspicion and despair. It’s not late to take back the country one town at a time.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 08:14:21 +0000
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