Campus Politics

On the 21st of September, 1961, eleven days after my twenty-third birthday, I reported at the Nsukka Campus of the University of Nigeria to study for an honours degree in chemistry. I shall not bother the reader of these memoirs about normal university activities other than those which concerned my urge to a political revolution which is the final objective of this book.

Within a year, I had completed the intermediate studies and proceeded to the advanced courses.

In the second year I was awarded a government scholarship, and the third, saw me through the parts one and two of the bachelors degree in science. I was then left with the finals. I was fully launched into the quasi-political life of the university. The student body was controlled by a council called the Students Representative Council, the membership of which was determined by a general election. Every student population of not less than forty-one was represented by one member. Then a President was elected by general suffrage. A Speaker was also elected from the floor of the Representative Council from among its members.  Full parliamentary procedures were conceded to the Council and among the students, decisions taken had the effect of Law. There was normally a budget session and up till the time I left, the annual budget attained the height of over five thousand pounds.

In the first year I entered the University, there was almost no need for me to get interested in university politics. However, during the electioneering campaigns, there arose a controversy. The second year students who were the pioneers of the university were outnumbered by us, the freshers, by three to one. The fear that an ambitious freshman could spring up and whip sentiment among colleagues and oust the pioneer government gripped some of the second year undergraduates. If they had not taken any unorthodox steps to secure their safety, students like myself, just reviving from a shock would not have rejected the reason for allowing a responsible second year to ascend the Presidency. Through excitement, however, prior to the elections, they introduced a bill for the disenfranchisement of students who had not spent up to one academic year on the campus. Some of us could not bear this rape on democracy and we protested.

I had to stand, with the backing of the required twenty-five signatories, for the presidential elections. Nobody took me seriously, but I knew as time elapsed they would. Once foiled in the disenfranchisement bill, sabotage was their next move. I knew that if it meant talking alone, ofcourse, my tongue would take care of that. But I was mistaken, for I had entered a university which reflected the complexity of the Nigerian society where the Macheavalian principle of the end justifies the means was used in its extremities.

Planners came out with their political formula. Two of the second year students who were also contesting the presidency, Mr. Orisakwe and Kele Okereke, were Catholic and Protestant respectively. I was a Protestant too. When the campaigns heated up, the Catholics burst out with the slogan that it was all an_open warfare between. Catholics and Protestants. The Catholic faction miscalculated the fact that the Protestants were more and if both Protestant candidates as they called us decide to present a single front, they would be outnumbered. A delegation of the Protestant group approached me on the issue and I decided to withdraw.

Besides I was already overcome by the filth of the whole business. Religious politics in a university? What will become of the future? The elections came off and the Protestant candidate won.
His administration was not so bad, but those instruments which an ambitious student could use to topple the government, and Mr. Ogbuka used them, overthrew him. In three months, his government had been toppled and a caretaker committee was set up in which Mr. Ogbuka was chairman.

I In the first session the most important pressure brought to bear on the Nigerian government was the Anglo-Nigerian Defence Pact. Demonstrations were organised by the National Union of Nigerian Students. Consequently, the Pact was abrogated in 1961, barely a year after independence. During the second session, new elections were organised. Three candidates presented themselves: Mr. Chidika Ogbuka, Ikpoki and myself. This was the most important election and the turning point of electioneering campaign in the history of the university. Each candidate tried to present the best of manifestos dwelling, as it suited him most, either on the internal or external political concerns of the university. All the contestants of this session were Protestants, and towards the end of the campaigns, Ikpoki had the edge over both of us, with me trailing behind.

This was not because I could not keep up the pace but because many students during their long vacation had had more time to find out my background. They did not leave any stone unturned to achieve their aim. I brushed their activities aside, for everybody knew that I did not leave the Police Force because of corruption nor had I gone to jail. The campaign continued. Candidates for the lesser offices gave their public speeches and the Ogbuka group always organised an anti—speech disturbance either byentering into the grounds with tribal war songs or calculated throwing of stones or paper missiles at the speaker. This almost always happened when an opponent was addressing an audience. The climax of political jobbery came. Ogbuka was an Ibo and Ikpoki and myself were Ijaw.  All through the heat of the campaigns, there was a frequent innuendo by the Ogbuka faction that they would use a last minute strategy.

Our speech making day arrived and information through my espionage group told me that a plan had been made to disturb our speeches. Fine! This was what I always liked. I hired a loud speaker from a student musician, borrowed some high pitched symphony records from some music students and got my record changer overhauled to avoid any breakdown. In addition, I gave some of my best highlife records to my symphony group. In the evening, a two thousand audience had gathered in the university’s two hundred thousand pounds refectory.

Candidates were cheered in and I arrived just in time to acknowledge the full applause of the audience, some mocking, others appreciating. Another set back I had was that I was not in the good books of the female students. I had not summoned up courage to enter the sex politics, but nevertheless some of them who naturally admired fair features occasionally fell for me.

As we took our seats, I glanced round to see the thorough positioning of my anti—disturbance squad. Perfect! My name stood first in alphabetical order and so I was called up first to present my manifesto. A student, Ola Oyedeji, who had volunteered to be my political secretary, for a great many youths liked me for my courage, distributed my manifesto to the audience. It was to be a ten minute speech. The clock clicked and I started. You may think, in a society like that, responsibility was paramount. The direct opposite was the case, particularly when we were among ourselves.

As soon as I started my speech, as was expected, missiles began hitting my face from all angles.
"What have I done," I protested. I did not, however, get discouraged. I had been warned. "Ladies and gentlemen, my own fellow students," I said. Then there were cheers and boos together, more missiles. "I like that!" I said pretending to laugh, and continued, "We have a responsibility to the university and to ourselves. We have the pioneer duty of bringing the name of our institution to the topmost of the vast academic community!" There were cheers! "To do this, our internal organisation must be supersonic in the field of social relaxation, economic supplies, student-staff relation and the adequate and ready offer of vacation employment. In external issues, our views must be responsible and fall in line with the motto of the university: "T0 restore the dignity 0f man."

There was thundering applause. My opponents' became restive.

I continued, "As all of us . . ." More missiles and shouting of "No! No!" Chairs creaked and for the rest of the time, my voice was swallowed in the commotion. The time was up and I took my seat making a hand signal which my anti-disturbance squad understood.

As Ogbuka took the floor and tapped the microphone, without even speaking, there was applause. Let us see. After that police affair, I had pledged never to be cheated again. Let his tribal faction vote him in, but I must satisfy myself, I resolved. He opened his big mouth wide and said the usual "Ladies and gentlemen!"

The reply was a corresponding set of missiles and a highlife music accompaniment. It was one of Victor Olaiya’s best records and it attracted nearly al quarter of the audience into the unoccupied open space and they started rocking.

A little after, the music stopped; my dazed opponent spoke, but as he tried to hit a popular point, the music sprang from the background with a shrill. He had a naturally more upsettable disposition than myself and I was watching the reaction with pretended dismay. He continued "Ladies and gentlemen, I am embarrassed."

Since he was embarrassed more music would do him good, probably a jazz; and so it was. The presiding office, the Assistant Dean, sprang to his feet to calm the situation amidst jeering students. When he sat down, the music stopped. In the last three minutes my opponent was allowed to conclude. With storming rage he managed to round up.

Ikpoki took the floor. He was a good orator and, after overcoming a little nervousness, proceeded to outline his proposals. It was no use, the audience had already been reduced by a third and all attempts at advancing well constructed, thought—provoking sentences were met midway with missiles and boos from the Ogbuka faction.

Soon after, the Ogbuka faction sang war songs and staged a violent procession, Pellets of sand and pebbles found their way freely into the hall. The meeting ended in a fiasco.

I retired to my chalet asking all my men not to join in the clashes which had now become open. Open announcements were made by the Ogbuka faction that the people should consider their stand once and for all. The announcement continued from hall to hall, that if his people would have a stranger as their president even in their university, then they should stand eliminated in the Nigerian society from then.

This last minute strategy had its effect, for, during the polls, Ogbuka won with his tribal majority. One indelible mark, however, had been made on me. If two Ijaws would be regarded in their region as strangers, it was conclusive that we were the detached members of an ethnocentric society.

Two months after the elections, there was a violent student demonstration. The reasons for the disturbance were both remote and immediate. The remote causes were that the caretaker committee of which Ogbuka was chairman was being accused of misappropriation of funds, squander mania and other official vices by some students, facts which the university authorities viewed with great concern and had taken prompt steps to investigate. The President knew of the ultimate dangers. In fact, his treasurer was already under fire for certain irregularities in the canteen accounts.

The immediate causes were that students diets had deteriorated to wayside inn standards. Also a social demarcation was already setting in between staff and students, and the basic freedom in an academic society began to be endangered, a right which means everything in the academic world. The President promptly used the mounting tension arising from the issues of the moment to cover his face. It worked.

Another factor which came to bear on this disaster which hit the university on its third year was that the same Ogbuka had ousted the previous student government and when he selected the Tactical Committee, he made an error in selecting the ousted members to form the committee.

The result was that the Committee hit back by recommending a state of emergency to be declared and a boycott of the refectory and lectures until conditions were improved. A demonstration was organised and speeches were made, most of them emphasising what students had done in Latin America, the overthrow of the government of Sigman Ree by the students of the University of Seoul, South Korea. Freedom songs beamed and a Freedom flag was hoisted. Most of us were really ignorant of the remote causes, but the immediate causes sufficed.

Before the demonstrations were half—way, havoc was laughing heartily. A local police unit arrived which we rendered harmless and sent for more reinforcements. However, before the reinforcements arrived we had already retired to our rooms to evaluate the implications of the demonstrations. Barely twenty-four hours later, the university was closed down and all of us rusticated. The Students Union was proscribed and the Executive retaliated by announcing a government in exile.

A month later, all students were recalled except twelve scapegoats including the President and the Secretary. The union remained proscribed until a new constitution was drafted. As it is usual with Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, then the Chancellor of the University, he hit with the one hand and forgave with the other; the dismissed students were recalled after appeals from the public. A committee of students and lecturers was set up to make a draft constitution which was to be approved by a two thirds majority of the students population. Most of the veteran student politicians were included in this committee but, as it happened, I was not there.

The main anomalies which were to be corrected included the clauses for deposing the President by one hundred signatories i.e. one third of the students population or two third majority vote of no confidence by parliament. The former clause was introduced into the constitution when the population was three hundred. The second important amendment was that the Registrar of the university would be the treasurer of the union. Again, executive powers were vested in the President.  An upper house was also to be set up, called the Supreme Council.   Also, the President at Nsukka Campus was to be the overall president of both Nsukka and Enugu campuses.

I read through the draft constitution with satisfaction and it was really commendable that such an expert work could come from a student’s society. Three days to the general referendum, a vicious campaign was raised by the Ogbuka faction with himself again leading. Their argument was that if the Registrar was made treasurer, a free union could not exist.

There was nothing wrong with their argument on the surface, but then when suspicion had been cast on the use of student funds, the university had a right to press on the point. I investigated the affair and found that personal interest was involved in the argument. Certain persons wished to cover their dirty foot prints while they were still in the university so that the misappropriations alleged might not be discovered. If this was not so, why should he, the ex-President, be one of the signatories to the draft? My temper rose and I decided to campaign for the approval of the constitution.

My position with the student body was cordial. I was President and founder of the Undergraduate Vacation Employment Association which, in spite of difficulties, had done appreciable work even when the students’ union was proscribed. It did not cater for only students from the University of Nigeria, but also became a negotiating body for Nigerian students in all other West African Universities. With this good work to back me, I succeeded in persuading most of the students to go and vote. Consequently, the constitution was passed despite the boycott organised by the opponents.

Soon after, fresh elections based on the new constitution were arranged. I presented myself again and there was a general acceptance that I had proved myself sufficiently worthy of the presidential post. There was clearly no worthwhile opponent to challenge the qualities of leadership I demonstrated. But in the middle of the campaign, the restive tribalistic elements held a meeting and agreed that it would be an assault on their tribe if I was left to have my way. They therefore fielded a candidate, Ejiogu, who was a powerful orator. But he did not possess even an iota of students’ social and political yearnings. Because of this blatant intrigue I won the sympathy of the Yoruba, Mid-Western, Ijaw and Calabar students`some of whom felt that, should the intrigue continue, it would be necessary to split the union into two.

During my speech making, I was not allowed to speak at all. My voice was overwhelmed by shouts from the other faction echoing thunderously through the University’s quarter of a million pounds Princess Alexandria Auditorium. They continued shouting: "You cannot speak; allow us to hear our orator."

Thereupon I asked the presiding officer, the Dean of Students, to intervene otherwise I would not allow anybody else to speak. My supporters had arrived at the switch gears of the main electricity controls and an off and on signal indicated the impending danger. The shouts subsided and unruffled I presented my fifty-four clause manifesto. In front of the astounded students and staff I glided on, only interrupted at times by applauses, telling of my untiring efforts to be of greatest use to the society to which destiny made me belong. I promised to introduce a student bus service and a bursary system for destitute students. Graphical representations of my plans by a fine art student were also displayed. 

My opponent, Ejiogu, took the floor when I had finished, and what did he say? "Ladies and gentleman, this is a crucial time in Nigeria when we should not allow a vocal minority to
rule an obvious majority."

These words still ring in my memory because, as my opponent put it, they are crucial not only to me but to my people, the Ijaws. Most of the alien students walked out of the hall and it seemed as if a spell was cast on the atmosphere. The campaigns ended solemnly and the result of the election was again one way. Ejiogu won with his majority. The last minute strategy. A Cameroonian friend of mine, John Ngole, promptly resigned his secretaryship of the Historical Society in protest.

The Ejiogu student government was endured for six months with a barrage of subtle articles of discontent based on suspected misappropriation of squander mania.

It happened that during the long vacation of that year, 1964, I undertook with one of my compatriots, Samuel Owonaru, a tour of some West African countries. The details of the tour form part of an exciting chapter later in these memoirs. I returned two weeks late in my fourth session in the University. Already another election tension was mounting. The usual hue and cry for me started, and bitter comments on the previous government became subjects of private articles on the notice boards accompanied by tributes to me in articles such as "This man Boro" and "The young indomitable". I did not even pass a wink at them.

Meanwhile, pressures came, but I had had enough. When I was pondering on these tempting requests, one factor became decisive. Two students from the majority tribe had fielded themselves. I calculated their strength and found that, all things being equal they would split their votes and with some of these votes slipping into my box from friends because of my previous personal favours or their being sincere advocates of truth, I would win by a slim majority. Determined to shame the degenerates at whatever expense even if it be at my career, I made up my mind to stand again.

Before then, I had been endeared to some students with a singular initiative I took. The new students were housed in the Nnamdi Azikiwe Foundations which had no light or water. I was living in a self-contained chalet in the continental Hostel which adjoined the Foundations. When I arrived from the vacation, without any desire to stand the elections, I had led the delegation to the Vice Chancellor for the speedy improvement of conditions in the Foundations. The students in the Foundations. numbered about three hundred and as was vested with powers to interpret the constitution. The life of the Judicial Committee was to end with the government
bound to be grateful to me.

The campaigns heightened and my two opponents were allowed to lurk horns. The usual addresses were made. There was again a last minute strategy from my main opponent, Jude Emezie, for the other, Okole, was from Atikpo and they tried to label him a non-Ibo for the purpose of the election. I won by a slim majority of eleven.

From the word go, my government was besieged by tribal onslaught, by both students and members of staff. At a point, it appeared that I would not last even a fortnight. In my Executive Council, my opponents were there and their efforts were backed by the presence of a Judicial Committee which was vested with powers to interpret the constitution. The life of the Judicial Committee was to end with the government that appointed it but they insisted on sitting tight. I acted promptly by dissolving it and setting up my own judicial committee. The next move I took to break this barrier of ethnocentric intrigue was to relieve the legal adviser of his office after a calculated effort by some members of the students parliament to undermine the government by attempting to throw out the first budget bill.

The budget was passed and I proceeded on the five and a half thousand pounds administration. I broke the avaricious clique by setting up committees to which I set every member of the parliament to work. This occurred at a time when the National Union of Nigerian Students was forced by sharp leadership conflicts to split into the Nsukka and Ibadan factions. I gave the leadership of my faction to Jude Emezie, my closest opponent, with the control of finance under my authority. This kept all hands on deck and, without flattering myself, won me the respect of all the students. My influence in the university was boundless and even when I was absent
from the campus, my ghost roamed the premises. This was the secret of my twelve months’ reign, which was the longest tenure of office in the history of the Union.

Among my main achievements was the introduction of the students’ bus service, first of its kind in Africa to be run and administered entirely by students. It consisted of a fourteen seater Taunus Omnibus and a Mercedes—Benz twenty-two seater ultra modern bus which was launched at a total cost of three thousand six hundred pounds. An overseas exchange programme was arranged also with the International Farm Camp in London, an achievement I owe to one of my erstwhile supporters, Yekini Sanusi, now a graduate in journalism. Our external influence was increased tremendously, and the nucleus of a student bursary scheme also was introduced and launched by Dr. Glem Targart, the Vice Chancellor of the University. Throughout the twelve months, no offence was recorded among the students unlike in previous sessions. Tribal and sectional unions were banned and unity existed.

Political life has a gizzard. The gizzard in mine seems to be the most hazardously stuffed. This may appear an overstatement now, but by the time these memoirs are fully examined, it would be found an understatement. I shall end this chapter now by recording one of the pebbles in the gizzard.

It happened that the students of the university under my leadership had demonstrated in Enugu, the Eastern Region Capital, against the conduct of the 1964 Federal Elections. During the different rallies, we had in unbiased terms wished that the validity of the elections should be tested in court. When sentiments had died down and, in fact, aggrieved parties had decided to partake in the Federal Government, a surprising thing happened. One quiet evening, a Peugeot 404 car was parked in front of my chalet, and the student president of the National Council of Nigerian Citizens approached me and pleaded the desire of his party to have me proceed to Lagos to file a suit to dissolve the elections. He said he was billed for the business but later his bosses
considered that party taint would be undesirable and party leaders would be accused of double dealing now that they were already involved in the broad based government. If I refused the duty, an alternative plaintiff would be sought.

I strictly belonged to no political party, but my internal sympathy and affiliation was entirely pro-North. The reason was obvious. The North-controlled Federal Government meant everything to my people. The North was our benefactor: there was the Niger Delta Development Board, a Statutory Board to which the East refused to contribute even a mite; there were the Niger Delta Special Area Scholarships, and the encouraging prospects of our having our own state to cater for our long standing needs. Nevertheless, I was on an Eastern Region Government scholarship.

These two loyalties faced me, but the former would be ultimate. I decided to take up the case and allow my final session to lapse so that midway between, I could withdraw the suit. Fifty pounds were handed over to me with the car as a token to expedite action. With this anti—conscience party life wire in my hand, I had access to many quarters which would have at best required weeks of protocol. In one of the interviews with the then Eastern Premier, I was able to find out that a state for the Ijaws was an impossibility. Having been taken into confidence, I learnt a lot about things which conclusively led to the first revolution in search of a state ever recorded in Nigerian history. I shall expatiate on this later. However, by the time I withdrew the suit, I had almost lost my grip on my career in the university.

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