THE VERDICT BY OLUSEGUN ADENIY

When first published in April 1994, I dedicated the original edition of my book, ‘POLITRICKS: National Assembly under Military Dictatorship’ to the late Chief Cornelius Olatunji Adebayo “as a token of appreciation for all that he has done for me.” That edition included a letter he wrote me less than a year before, precisely on 29 June 1993, under what I titled ‘The Home Truth’. There was a context to the published letter.

At that period, I was a Senior Staff Writer at the African Concord magazine (owned by the late Chief M.K.O Abiola) and living with him (Adebayo) at his rented three-bedroom apartment in Surulere, Lagos. This was a decade after his years as Senator and Governor in Kwara State, which tells a story of its own since he had no property outside Ilorin. Because he expressed a strong displeasure with the slant of a features report I wrote that week, I was very remorseful in explaining that I didn’t see the issues the way he saw them. The report was about political developments in the country at the time. 

The next morning, the late Adebayo gave me a hand-written letter as I was about leaving for the office. Before I get to the content, let me appreciate all those who have called or send messages since his passing. The family also appreciates the outpourings of genuine grief: From President Bola Tinubu’s personally signed tribute to the one by his friend and school ‘junior’, Professor Ibrahim Agboola Gambari (I always enjoyed watching the duo banter) and several others. But most people only knew C.O Adebayo, the politician, Afenifere/NADECO chieftain etc. They didn’t know the family man who mentored so many young men and women who are now successful in their own rights.

From the early eighties when I came under his wing, 23 AbdulRazaq Road, GRA, Ilorin (the street is named after the late AGF AbdulRazak, first Northern lawyer and father of the current governor) hosted so many people at different times. Cousins, nephews, nieces, and several others who had no blood ties. People like me! But we were all treated with so much affection by Adebayo and his late wife (Elizabeth Funmilayo) both of whom never discriminated between us and their wonderful children: Bukunola, Diekolola (now of blessed memory) Mosunmola, Abimbola, Oloruntoyosi and Cornelius Oluwasegun). In my own case, I was taken like their son and that much can be glimpsed from the letter under reference. Incidentally, last Sunday marked exactly 32 years that he wrote the letter now reproduced:

Dear Segun,

I have come this far in life sticking my neck out for what I see as the truth within the light of the Lord’s guiding. I haven’t much to show for it materially, but you know too well that I am contented. A little compromise now and again would have made may be a tycoon out me but then what?

With the intellect God has blessed you with and your blossoming faith in the Lord, you need more purposeful guidance. Between light and darkness there is no fence. Same between truth and falsehood. Perception of one or another is the problem of focus. ‘There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so’. Yes, thinking. What kind of thought, what perspective? Moralising politics or politicising morals? Big question!

All the above because I must not deceive you. I should never do that! People have ruled nations at your age and without your exposure. But my concern is that your intellect be properly channelled. That your work and achievements should reflect your faith. That you should adopt a character, a stance, a principled attitude that you will be known for.

I think of ‘Aiyekoto’, I think of ‘John West’, I think of ‘Allah De’, I think of ‘Candido’. I do not want to think of (name withheld) who could have been as great as any of the above. I told him so in 1973, and I reminded him last month. He is a bundle of intellect. Wasted genius. He has no abiding principle and no controlling ideal(s) or faith. A successful failure!

I do not want you to be a fantastic farm labourer who applies himself maximally on other people’s farms for a fee when the same energy on his own farm would have made a model farmer out of him. We have seen only snatches of what you are capable of. Nothing much yet! Improve yourself professionally–even on the job. Decide what kind of journalist you want to be and be it. No one can get you there or stop you from getting there. You have all it takes in Christ.

My desire for you is that you should be the best you are capable of being. Professor Sam Aluko and (name withheld) were two good friends, two economists who were associates of Papa Obafemi Awolowo. Both had the courage to defer with the master, when necessary. But each has come to assume a definite image outside the Awolowo shadow. Aluko is his own man. He is, as far as I am concerned, not more brilliant than…but the latter is everyone’s servant. A different master every time.

Be yourself. The seeds of greatness are in you. Let them flourish. The Lord will prosper you. He knows I love you. But you must match your growth with maturity.

One of the reasons I believe I should write a memoir at some point is to properly document the role the Adebayos played in my life. But that is not for today. Considering that ‘June 12’ and its aftermath has been in the news lately; it may also be useful to share tit bits of what led to what could be considered the first wave of ‘Japa’ to Canada by Nigerians. In his book, ‘Running for Dear Life: My Work in Exile (A NADECO Representative’s Report by Chief C. O. Adebayo’, the deceased recounted the circumstances under which he fled the country.

Published by Moremi Foundations, Washington DC, United States in 2000, the foreword was written by former Foreign Affairs Minister, Professor Bolaji Akinyemi, another NADECO exile who said Adebayo’s story was similar to his own. “We have had real accounts, partial accounts, tales by the moonlight and fairy tales. People who would not have been caught dead with NADECO before the death of Abacha, now proclaim themselves secret operatives of NADECO,” Akinyemi wrote in the foreword dated 13 February 2000, before he added: “C.O. (officially Cornelius Olatunji but Commanding Officer, to his intimate friends) Adebayo’s book falls into the category of accurate history and it shows by its being heavily documented.”

Written as a diary of events, Adebayo’s posting on Thursday 20 June 1996 sums up why he had to flee Nigeria for exile:

…Keeping a low profile was not enough. If you were not with General Sani Abacha, you were against him. We called ourselves NADECO. National Democratic Coalition. His friends and agents called us ‘Agbako’. The cream of our leadership and many of our supporters had been arrested and detained. I had to go into hiding. When I spoke with Senator Abraham Adesanya on Monday, just before he led other leaders who were then with him to the Police, I got sufficient hint that it was time to dive deeper down. They had been requested to report with a view to assisting the Police in the investigation of Alhaja Kudirat Abiola’s death. They ended up in detention.

I had experienced something of Abacha’s loving care before. I spent five months in detention without trial and was grateful to survive alive and with my sanity intact. I had declined a place in his government. It did not occur to him that anyone would be dumb enough to do that. Then, he personally apologised for my ‘unauthorised’ detention. So why should it come to this? But my confidential source of security information is absolutely dependable.

The timely warning was validated by security men in a position to know… Concerning Senator Adesanya and our other leaders, The Guardian newspaper subtly reported on page 5 the day before I had to disappear on Wednesday June 19: ‘Four of the five invited were said to have left Adesanya’s office for the Adeniji-Adele annex of the FIIB at 1.00pm on Monday. The last person on the list, who Adesanya told his family friends could not be reached, was the former governor of Kwara State, Chief Cornelius Adebayo.’

I got the message. I could not be reached. I should not be reached. And I was determined that I would not be reached…

Before returning to Jos on Monday, one man I encountered at the residence of the deceased almost every day is the president of the Middle Belt Forum, Dr Bitrus Poga. The late Adebayo used to host meetings of the group in Abuja, and I have no doubts he would be proud that I am now part of the efforts to resolve the perennial violence that defines the Middle Belt region with my membership of the fact-finding panel on the killings in Plateau State. On Tuesday, we were at the much-dreaded Mahanga to meet with the Fulani Ardo and his men for a very revealing engagement but that is just an aside. My real joy stems from what happened exactly three weeks ago in Abuja, on June 12, when some of us were gathered around him in his bedroom for more than three hours. His eldest daughter, Mrs Bukunola Ajayi, was joined by Mrs Mosunmola Jegede, her husband, Stanley and sister-in-law, Mrs Mope Akinrinmade as well as Oloruntoyosi Thomas and Segun whose initial fear (expressed the day before) turned out to be misplaced. The memory of that afternoon will linger as we all remember Chief C.O. Adebayo–a great Nigerian patriot and beloved father.

When Mallam Garba Shehu handed me a copy of his book, ‘According to the President: Lessons from a Presidential Spokesman Experience’ three weeks ago, I could not help but reflect on the peculiar fraternity to which we both belong: That small circle of Nigerian journalists who have had the privilege and burden of speaking for power at the highest level of government. Having served as spokesman to the late President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, I understand the weight of crafting words that carry the authority of the Nigerian state, and the delicate dance between loyalty to a principal and fidelity to truth that defines our calling.

The substance of Shehu’s memoir (which will be publicly presented next Wednesday in Abuja) lies in his candid exploration of the mechanics of presidential communication. His discussion of press statements, briefings, and the intricate choreography of government messaging provides readers with rare insights into how policy positions are translated into public discourse and the collaborative processes that shape presidential communications. I know from experience that the pressure to maintain consistency while responding to rapidly evolving political situations requires a kind of professional dexterity that few outside governments fully appreciate.

Incidentally, Shehu’s ‘missionary journey’ to the Villa was in two phases. The first was during the Olusegun Obasanjo presidency as spokesman to then Vice President Atiku Abubakar. That stewardship was marked by intrigues and eventual sack, not by his boss but by the president! His return between 2015 and 2023 was with President Muhammadu Buhari. Both stints in Aso Rock Villa offer valuable comparative insights and the author was candid in his perspectives. But he also offers glimpses on his personal journey as the son of a driver from Dutse, Jigawa State, who struggled to support his family. But the significance of the book lies in its disquisition of presidential communication in Nigeria. 

Shehu’s institutional memory allows him to trace the evolution of presidential communication across different administrations, highlighting both continuities and innovations. His frank assessment of working within the Buhari administration demonstrates a mature understanding of how personality and policy intersect in political communication. Without breaching confidentiality or crossing the lines of loyalty, he manages to provide glimpses into the decision-making processes that shaped one of Nigeria’s most polarizing presidencies.

The book’s treatment of record-keeping and relationship management reveals sophisticated understanding of how modern governments must balance transparency with effectiveness. Shehu’s emphasis on maintaining friendships across political divides while executing partisan duties speaks to a maturity that transcends the zero-sum mentality often displayed by those who are not smart enough to understand that there is always a tomorrow after public office. His ability to navigate these relationships while maintaining professional credibility offers valuable lessons for journalists who may want to take public appointments, especially in the area of media management.

Perhaps most importantly, Shehu’s memoir arrives at a moment when Nigerian democracy faces significant challenges around transparency, accountability, and effective communication between leaders and citizens. His insights into the Buhari administration’s communication strategies provide crucial primary source material for understanding this pivotal period in our political development. While his loyalty to the administration he served sometimes constrains his analysis, discerning readers will still get a glimpse of some of the dysfunctionalities that dogged the Buhari presidency.

Meanwhile, the Buhari administration introduced the novelty of dual spokesmen. How did Shehu and Femi Adesina manage that delicate relationship? It would have been helpful if Shehu had shared insights on that. Besides, those who seek to know more about the acrimonious relationship between Obasanjo and Atiku would be disappointed, even though he shared his own ordeals of arrest, detention and prosecution. Those who seek to know more about how Shehu managed the 2019 presidential election in which his new boss, Buhari squared it off against his former boss, Atiku will also have to wait for another memoir. But even these obvious gaps do not diminish the work’s essential contributions.

All factors considered, Shehu has produced a political memoir that serves multiple audiences without compromising its core value. Practitioners will gain insights into the craft of political communication. Scholars will receive primary source material about a significant period in Nigerian governance. Interested citizens will get a window into how their government communicates with them. Each audience finds value without the author having to pander to any constituency. The accessibility of Shehu’s prose also deserves mention here. Despite dealing with complex subjects, political communication theory, government process, media dynamics, he maintains a conversational tone that never condescends to readers. This reflects both his journalistic training and his understanding that effective communication must always serve its audience rather than displaying the communicator’s cleverness.

On the whole, this is a substantive contribution to our understanding of political communication in contemporary Nigeria. Shehu writes with the confidence of someone who lived through the experiences he describes yet maintains enough analytical distance to offer insights valuable to both practitioners and scholars. His narrative demonstrates that effective political communication requires not just technical skills but emotional intelligence, cultural sensitivity, and an understanding of how power operates in democratic societies.

For future generations of communicators and public servants, Shehu’s book offers a roadmap for navigating the intersection of journalism, politics, and public service. At the end, ‘According to the President’ succeeds because it reveals the deeply human dimensions of speaking for power, the weight of representing not just an individual leader but the authority of the Nigerian state.  In an age of increasing polarization and decreasing trust in public institutions, Shehu’s memoir reminds us that behind every carefully crafted statement and strategic communication decision are professionals wrestling with the challenge of serving both power and the people.

For anyone seeking to understand the complexities of democratic governance in Nigeria, Garba Shehu has given us more than a memoir; he has provided meditation on power, loyalty, and a portrait of public service as both a calling and a craft for the professional journalist.