The IBB Story.
A fascinating piece of history, well documented, properly researched, and great editing with maybe, minor oversights, (this is me trying to be civil until I finish the entire material). I have read the first 100 pages which I will be analyzing for our readers in this article. Over the next 4 weeks, I will analyze 100 pages every Monday.
This is not a typical book review, but more like an attempt to interrogate the story as presented by the writer through the eyes of a witness to history such as I am to some extent, having been born before independence.
The book is written in chronological order beginning from his early days, the history of his ancestry interlaced with the growth, and winding down of colonial history as it affected the North. I was impressed by the fact they had great teachers in Northern Nigeria like we did in the South. That’s the first surprise a typical reader from the South would encounter. The question that then goes through the reader’s mind would be: “If you all had great teachers like we did in the South, how did anyone come about the notion of educational backwardness of the North that gave rise to such accommodations as Federal character? Was that a political gimmick? If indeed the North is educationally backward, when did the backward slide begin? How can it be arrested?”
He was born Ibrahim Badamasi, and orphaned at 14. He added Babangida later on just to dispel any doubts as to his ancestry as according to him, people had a tendency to think that Badamasi was a corruption of Gbadamosi. I remember a headline from his days as Military President about his origins when he said, “I have no Southern blood flowing through my veins.” At the time, the rumor was thick that he may have had his origins in Ogbomosho.
As we all know, Nigeria is a rumor bearing country.
The characterization of Amebo in Village Headmaster was no stereotyping. It is who we are.
The trouble in the West that morphed into the Western regional crisis was glossed over largely. An in-depth research of the causes, and major actors in that crisis and the handling of it by the Balewa Federal Government would have been a useful addition.
Up to the counter-coup of July 29th, 1966, the story appeared to be heavily factual. There was no need to be economical with the truth, but truth began to be abbreviated as the author approached that coup. The writer made it appear that the counter coup had no organized planning, and that it was very much like a spontaneous combustion. Well over 200 Igbo officers do not get killed in one ‘night of long knives’ without effective, coordinated planning, and execution. That was the first fault line any discerning reader would notice.
It was also interesting to see how he treated the Aburi Accord with a wave of the hand—saying something to the effect that the actual transcripts of the event were not available. If we do not have them in Nigeria because it was convenient not to have it, what about the host country, Ghana? Have they lost their copy also? Could it be that there is a grand attempt to keep such a document ‘lost’ by people who do not want the truth to come out.
What about the Northern attempt to secede (Araba declaration), before Ojukwu’s own declaration of secession? Well again, let me keep my powder dry for now. Who knows? It may just pop up in his treatment of the remaining 340 pages that I am yet to read.
I do not believe sufficient treatment was given to the prosecution of the Civil War, especially the suffering on the Biafran side. Maybe we should wait for someone who fought on the Biafran side to give us their own truth.
I was also fascinated to see the author as a war hero in the way he helped to save a colleague who had suffered a gunshot wound. That effort is deserving of a medal in the spirit of the ‘no man left behind’ ethos of the United States Marines. Glad to know that it rings true with the Nigerian Army also.
Considering how enamored we all were with his classy wife, one was expecting some stories of Camelot. How did they meet? What did he say to her? When did they have their first kiss? What was that like? At what point did he know that “this definitely was my girl?”
I am surprised that he did not make any mention of the massacre that occurred in Asaba when innocent men were lined up and killed in cold blood. That is a well documented story. Thankfully, just like Obasanjo did in his book: “My Command,” he also stated that Murtala lost an obscene number of men in their attempt to take Onitsha. Obasanjo called that action an ‘act of irresponsibility’ on the part of Murtala Muhammad. I can understand IBB not wanting to say something so hurtful about his superior.
In a moment of cadence, the author tells the story of the-across-the board retirement of Civil Servants by the Murtala government, and how he believes that Nigeria has never recovered from that cruel era. Many historians point to that for the cavalier evolution that the Civil Service has witnessed since then.
As the author narrates the account of his encounter with Colonel Bukar Dimka, the reader was left with mouth wide open. How did Dimka manage to just walk away from the Radio station, and avoid capture? Did he get help? That part is a little fuzzy.
It was interesting to read about the mentoring culture that encouraged IBB, and many of his friends to join the Army at the time. I wonder if the equivalent culture existed in the South beyond our outsized, mad quest for Western education, the drive to excel, and become the next Professor Chike Obi, (a famous mathematician) of his day or the next Chief Justice like Teslim Elias or Ademola Adetokunboh.
Thus far, the author has done a good amount of work. Please journey with me to next week Monday when I will be bringing you the next 100 pages. Until then, goodbye, and Goodluck.
O’meekey O. Ovienmhada
