By Matthew Hassan Kukah
Now that the great man has been laid to rest, I would like to add a tiny voice of sympathy to the immediate family of Chief Ernest Shonekan, our former Head of State, who died last month. I thought it was best to allow those who knew the man well to have their way and have their say before I wrote my own little drop to an ocean of tributes that are bound to follow his exit. I cannot claim to have known him very well. However, the little contact I had with him left me with some memories which I would like to share.
Shortly after the installation of Chief Shonekan as the Head of Interim National Government on August 26, 1993, I got a call from the then Nuncio to Nigeria, His Grace, Archbishop Carlo Mario Vigano, asking if I could join him the following day to pay a courtesy call on the new Head of State. We arrived at the State House to a very warm reception by his Secretary, who led us into the waiting room. In less than 10 minutes, we were ushered into the Head of State’s office. He greeted the Nuncio very warmly and turned to me with a much wider smile: Fr Kukah, he said as he shook my hand; It is a great pleasure to finally meet you. I had always looked forward for a chance to meet you. Then he turned to the Nuncio and said, pointing at me as if I were an accused: This young man has done a lot for our country. He is a great man and he writes very well. I literally squirmed at the unexpected attention I was getting.
He ushered us to seats but I held back because I thought they needed privacy and, in any case, I was only a bag carrier, but he quickly said: Fr. Kukah, please sit here, as he pointed at a seat beside the Nuncio. Not feeling confident, I literally perched on the seat. They talked for about 20 minutes. He had presence, poise and stature befitting his office. I really liked him. He wore his corporate culture well and spoke with finesse. We rose to leave and he gently lead us all the way to the exit door where we shook hands and bade goodbye. I never had any further contact with him in his very short three-month stint as Head of State. I will return to this later.
My next meeting with him was towards the end of the public sitting of the Human Rights Violation Commission, known as the Oputa Panel. As the reader might already know, our work at the Commission became very controversial when we got to the issues of the military testimonies during the public hearings. A good part of the stories and the intrigues are captured in my book, Witness to Justice. The meeting with Chief Shonekan was one of the last items in the work of the Commission. But let me digress a little.
Recently, when I saw a video of a reconciliation between the Kenyan president, Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga, his opponent, along with their deputies during a Prayer Breakfast, my mind raced back to what we had tried to do towards the end of the work of our Commission in 2001, as a way of bringing some level of closure to our situation. The video showed the men tendering apologies, hugging one another and promising to put their animosity behind them for the sake of their country. As metaphors of reconciliation go, this was impressive. I felt sad because I thought of what might have been in our dear country.
As we rounded up our work, I had suggested to Justice Oputa that we needed to develop a strategy that would make our work at reconciliation go beyond those who had petitioned the Commission and whose cases had been heard. I told him that I felt that the country was severely wounded and needed real healing. To do this, I suggested to him that we needed to bring those past leaders who were being vilified today into the loop of reconciliation. When he asked how this was to happen, I offered to send him a memo the following day.
In the two-page memo, I had suggested that despite the character assassination that had followed the testimonies of some of the military men during the public hearings, it was important that we gave the generals a chance to clear their names, in an informal sense, not through the podium. My efforts in this regard are all documented in my book. However, my proposal was to the effect that on the final day of the Commission’s sitting, we should invite all the former heads of state to come as a group to what would be like the closing ceremony of our work. Before then, we would plan private confidence building meetings, with all of them individually, to seek their wise counsel on the way forward for national reconciliation. Then, if they agreed, on live television, I proposed that we could have the Chairman deliver a short speech urging forgiveness and the need for our country to move forward.
I proposed that after the speech, General Gowon would deliver a short speech on behalf of his colleagues, former heads of state. Essentially, the speech would say that they were all thankful to God and to Nigerians that they had had a chance to govern our country. In the course, they had all done their best in running the affairs of the country. However, if in the course of doing their best, Nigerians felt their best had not been good enough and they had hurt anyone, then, he on behalf of his colleagues was requesting forgiveness from Nigerians. He would then conclude by appealing to Nigerians to unite so that we could build our dear country in a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation. I was, as I said in my memo to Justice Oputa, convinced that Nigerians, teary-eyed, would be ready to answer this call.
One week later, Justice Oputa asked me to see him. He said, I have looked at your memo and reflected on it. I think it makes sense, but how should we proceed with it? I told him that moving forward was the easy part if he thought the memo made sense. Let me, I said, reach out to some of them, but in the end, we have to draft a letter inviting all of them and selling the idea to them. I know that they can be persuaded to see sense in this move, despite the hurt that some of them feel by the way their integrity has been publicly called to question. Once we agreed, he sold the idea to other members of the Commission during our meeting. Everyone saw sense in the decision.
We decided to take the first step by sending out letters inviting all the former heads of state to private meetings with the members of the Commission. We were to use this session to pick their brains and also build confidence in what we were trying to do by answering any questions or doubts that they may have had and finally having their buy in to the idea of ending our proceeding with a public event. All the letters went out and the first response we got was from Chief Shonekan who asked for a date, venue and time for the meeting.
On the agreed date, as I arrived at the Transcorp Hilton entrance, I saw a headline announcing our meeting boldly on the front page of ThisDay newspaper. I bought the paper, read the story but tried to ensure that Justice Oputa did not see it. Someone had leaked our letter and it was too late for us to do anything. I was in a state of shock and confusion, especially as that was the morning we had planned to receive Chief Shonekan. All of a sudden as I stood outside not knowing what to expect, there was some movement as the great man stepped out of a car. I quickly alerted the Chairman and we all received him and took him upstairs, where we had planned our private meeting in. I think Kaduna Hall. There was no media presence because we had planned this with the utmost secrecy.
He sat down and was formally welcomed by the Chairman, Justice Oputa. Chief Shonekan told us that he had decided to honour our invitation because he thought it was a good opportunity to share his experience with us. He commended our work and proceeded to regale us with some very intriguing accounts of his experiences as a Head of State. He spoke about honour, patriotism, answering the call to duty and insisted that he considered it an honour to have been asked to serve. He said he really had no regrets and had no quarrels with the military. Almost rhetorically, he asked: Have you ever seen anywhere that the victim of a coup turned around to serve those who overthrew him? I worked with General Abacha despite his having staged a coup against the government that I headed for the good of our country. He regaled us with stories but one of my favourites was the one he told about trying to order the release of the late Ransome Beko Kuti.
He said that when he became Head of State, the first thing he wanted to do was to buy a lot of good will. He said he had been following developments in the country leading to the arrest and detentions of human rights and labour activists. He decided to order the release of Beko Kuti because he knew it would excite civil society. He called the Director of the State Security Services (SSS) as they were there for a meeting. After discussing what he considered the futility of arresting activists with the Director, he ordered the immediate release of Beko because, he said, we needed the goodwill of Nigerians.
Next day, he excitedly scanned through the papers over breakfast expecting to see banner headlines of the release of Beko, but there was nothing. Again, the second day, he looked through the newspapers, but found no story about Beko. He summoned the Director of the SSS immediately. When he arrived, Chief Shonekan said he asked him rather angrily why he had not effected the release of Beko as he ordered him, the Director said: You did not put it in writing Sir! That was, he said to us, his early lesson with the Nigerian civil service!
Our paths did not cross again until early August 2011 when I visited his Ikoyi residence. He had shocked me by calling to congratulate me on my appointment as the Bishop of Sokoto Diocese. I therefore decided to personally visit and present an invitation to my ordination and installation to him. Surprisingly, he was alone in the sitting room when he received me. Over coffee and biscuits, we talked as if we had been friends for a while. His almost self-effacing charm was engaging. He spoke about frustrations with Nigeria’s seeming lack of progress but faith in the power of God. I have fond memories of Sokoto, he said to me. My eyes lit up because I was hoping I could glean some insights from him. He could see that I was all ears and he continued.
As the Head of State, he said to me: I was on a State visit to Sokoto. I was very well received and His Eminence, Sultan Ibrahim Dasuki, hosted me to a sumptuous lunch. I was served a soup that was peculiar to only my Egba people, a soup which only my mother knew how to make. My mother had taught my wife how to make that soup, but she really had not grasped its intricacies. Now, here I was having the same soup, with the same taste as only my mother would have made it in what I thought was a strange, far away land from my Egbaland. So, after the meal, I asked His Eminence how he came about the soup. The Sultan smiled and said to me; Come back in the evening and we can talk about the soup and its origins. I left and of course returned to the palace in the evening. He received me and, there, beside him seated on the floor was a woman who was in her hijab and whom I could not see well. He turned to her and said: This is my wife, your sister from Egbaland. She made the soup for you. At this point, even I was shocked and moved in my chair, as if to hear more. Then, Chief Shonekan said to me: Fr Kukah, that incident showed me the greatness of our complex country. I thought back and wondered about the prospects of a Prince with Egba blood becoming the Sultan of Sokoto!
We chatted about other small issues and our dear country. I thanked him for the warm reception and reminded him that I had brought the invitation just for information. As I got up to leave, he said: I want to assure you of my best wishes and prayers in Sokoto. I believe you will enjoy your stay there, especially with the new Sultan who is a modern and very pleasant person. You are right, I may not be able to join you but our prayers will be with you. I nodded in deep appreciation. He then picked an envelope from a side table and handed to me: Here, it is a little token of my appreciation for your inviting me. What is inside is very little. Please pray for us and our dear country. I thanked him profusely and said to him: Sir, this envelope means much to me because of what it represents. The symbolism is more than the contents. He then led me to my car and stood until we drove off. I was really touched.
We had a few other brief encounters over time. I admired this great man because he always glowed even in old age. I have read many commentaries about this great nationalist, corporate mogul, bureaucrat and devout Christian. Many ideologues have continued to see this great man, one of the nation’s most decent and honourable men from the severely narrow prism of navel gazing politics and the ideological disputations around the June 12th elections and their aftermath, the military intrigues and all of that. None of this can tarnish this great man’s legacy. Sadly, the real and true story of this phase of our nation’s life has not yet been unraveled, thanks to a nation where academics have abandoned their duty posts.
Our country had more to gain from him than he from the country. What did he need? Money, fame, power or what? Nigeria should thank God that men of honour like him were able to step up when it mattered. Those who criticise him accuse him of having been naïve or that he was betrayed by his military friends. Yet, every genuine, honest and trusting individual is liable to betrayal. It is the betrayer, not the betrayed, who deserves to be pitied. Unless we are to blame Jesus for giving Judas a seat at the table. The Chief lived and served well. May God be merciful to him and console his wife, children, family, Egbaland and Nigeria.
- Matthew Hassan Kukah is the Catholic archbishop of Sokoto Diocese
