Chief Onyema Ugochukwu, a journalist and politician, schooled in his region – the South-East, including the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN), where he started in 1966, but the civil war interrupted and he was obliged to serve in the Biafran army, where he rose to become a captain. He later completed his education in Economics and became a staff of the Central Bank of Nigeria, from where he made a surprising switch to journalism in 1975. He was in Business Times, where he quickly became the editor. He also became the editor of the largest Nigerian newspaper then, the Daily Times. After his stint in Daily Times, when the time for politics came in the late 1990s, he joined the Obasanjo campaign as director of publicity. When the ticket was won, he became the senior special assistant to the president until 2007. He also became the pioneer chairman of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC). In this interview, he spoke on his political project to run as governor in Abia, his home state in 2007 and how he has remained active in the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), where he is a member of the Board of Trustees.

You were a young man when the civil war started; tell us about it and how it influenced your schooling.

I was born in a village called Umule in Umuahia. I attended school up to what was then known as Standard Three in my village before I went to live with my uncle in what is now known as Ikot Abasi, Akwa Ibom State. That was where I completed my primary education in 1958 and passed into Methodist College, Uzokoli. It was one of our top schools, so one was excited to go there. I spent almost eight years there, earning School Certificate in 1963 and Higher School Certificate in 1965. I was forced to teach in the school for eight months before going to university. By then, we had crisis in the country.

Did you start reading Economics in Nsukka?

Yes. Actually, initially I took Economics because I wanted to go to the University of Ibadan.

How was your experience of the war? How did it disrupt your education and how did you actually survive?

It was a very terrible experience. It was unreal. People were making noise about freedom but very few people had experienced war before then. Things were happening.

I went to live in Port Harcourt with my elder brother. Initially, people thought the invading army would come in the night and you should report if you were in the area. We had no idea what war was.

My best friend, who joined the army immediately the session ended in Nsukka, was killed and I said I had to get into the army. That was how I went to the School of Infantry. The training was only six weeks and we were in the warfront, and things like that.

So from being a student and fun-loving young man you suddenly found yourself as a soldier?

Yeah; that’s what happened. I was in 40 battalion after six weeks of training.

Were you terrified?

No. Actually, it was exciting in its own way. I had a command of Platoon 7 of C Company, 40 battalion, 55 Brigade at the Afikpo area. That was where I started.

The truth of the matter is that we didn’t really have the equipment to withstand the federal troops. Sometimes I found that in a platoon of 30 persons, there were only 10 guns. And some of the guns were antiquated from the first and second world wars – the Mark 3 and Mark 4 rifles and things like that.

And you would be leading people who had no weapon. Some would have rattles they would be waving. Of course a rattle would not confuse a soldier, but we imagined that the sound could give the opponent the impression that there was a gun. Things like that.

Some of those young people were waiting for one of their colleagues to fall so that they would take his gun, or they would wait for a gun from the enemy side. That was the kind of situation we had. We didn’t have the equipment.

You rose to become a captain, which suggests that you acquainted yourself well; is that correct?

Yes, but I also got injured. I had not been up for three months in the warfront when I got promoted. I had a double promotion from under-officer to full lieutenant, which was quite exceptional. I got shot and my thumb was cut off. I had a bullet through my leg.

Did that take you out of action for a while?

Yes; but even before I fully recovered, I was appointed the adjutant of 40 battalion, so I had to go back. The position of an adjutant was more administrative, but it could also give you some function in the forward lines.

You hear people talk about the country – whether we would survive or we have to fight over certain things. What has war experience taught you?

People should not look for war because anything could happen to anybody. Some of the shocking scenes would be a mother leaving her child and running. In DR Congo now, people are carrying their loads and walking; and quite often, they don’t know where they are going.

Do you think we have not learnt enough lessons from this terrible war experience you personally went through?

We have not learnt from it because most parts of the country were not really affected, such as the North and the South-West. And for some people, it was a good time to become rich.

The war also helped to create a new environment of corruption. There were military contracts and so on and people suddenly became rich and started throwing lavish parties and so on.

Were the parties thrown at the warfront?

No; parts of Nigeria where there was peace, such as Lagos. There were military contractors because the army needed food and all kinds of things. So emergency contractors came alive and it helped to create a new culture of corruption.

The point is that there were those who benefitted and made money. For them, the war was a good thing; it was those who were inside the war that actually experienced the horrors, the rest of the country didn’t. That is why you often hear people say they will do this and that. They don’t know the consequences.

Those of us in the South-East surrendered at the end of the war. Most of our young men now who were born in 1970 when the war ended would have become old men, but they didn’t see the war; they didn’t know what happened.

What really happened was that young people in the East felt that it wasn’t they that were defeated. There was resentment towards the older generation over their leadership and they decided to take off on their own, a rejectionist kind of attitude.

People abandoned the old culture and stopped respecting the elders the way they used to because they saw that we lost the war. They took off on their own to make a success of their lives to become rich. There was an abandonment of the value system in the East, which is also reflecting on how they do things.

Do you think the agitation by the Movement for the Actualisation of the Sovereign State of Biafra (MASSOB) and the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) is as a result of what you mentioned?

To some extent, yes. They had no experience. They reject the surrender and want to hype things. If they actually looked at the realities of that war, they won’t be threatening violence.

Initially, the IPOB was a lot of hype; it wasn’t violent until we made it violent. The repression was what turned it into a violent agitation.

Do you think there is a way to calm the situation down? Are the elders working on that or it is something beyond you?

The elders have talked. There are very few elders who want to encourage a violent situation. But you see, the situation we have in the East now is that insecurity is taking over the place. For up to four years now, people don’t go out on Mondays; that is, they lose one whole working day of the week in a place where majority of the people depend on their own labour to earn a living. They don’t earn anything on that day. It is not helpful.

The elders have tried to calm the situation, but the detention of the IPOB leader, Nnamdi Kanu, has worsened the security situation in the region.

If the trial had gone on, it should have been concluded by now. And the young people he is leading have the feeling that there’s no intention to conclude the trial. The intention is to detain him indefinitely, and that is what is fueling the armed part of the struggle.

We would like to bring the situation to an end, which is why our leaders keep asking the government to release Nnamdi Kanu. Frankly, I don’t think there’s any real case for detaining him. If there were a case, the government should have concluded the prosecution by now. And I think that if they release Nnamdi Kanu, it would help to bring a peaceful environment in the South-East.

In your own case, shortly after the war, when you graduated from the university, Nigeria actually took you back and you got a job in the Central Bank. It is like reconciliation for you quickly happened. Did you feel that way?

The government at the time helped us to settle at the university. At the time we went back, there were no beds, no chairs; we would sit on blocks in the classroom. Eventually, the government sent a number of desks. I think the government of the Midwest at the time also gave some things. The government of General Gowon helped we reintegrated very quickly.

On the Central Bank job, you know that at that time you could be interviewed as soon as you finished your degree examinations. I applied. The interview was quite strenuous.

Actually, in that year, with the batch I got in, from the South, they took only four people into the research department – one person with a PhD, an Edo man, two people with a master’s degree, one from Abia today, and the other a Yoruba man. I was the only first degree person they took in the research department. They also took somebody from the North.

We went through a strenuous process, but the bank paid well. The salary was about the best; better than oil companies. They paid £1,440.

In 1973?

It was 1972; then it converted to naira. The annual salary became N2,880 per annum, which was higher than what the oil companies paid. Shell was paying something like N2,400. In the government, of course, the best starting salary was £840, which converted to N1,680 per annum.

The curious thing about your career is that you didn’t stay in the CBN despite the fact that they paid well. Why did you switch from such lucrative job to journalism?

Somehow, I had always wanted to be a journalist. Nsukka had a department of journalism, but Ibadan, where I wanted to go, didn’t have.

At Nsukka, I did take some courses that didn’t have credits with the journalism. In any case, my family wouldn’t have allowed me to read journalism, but I always wanted to be a journalist.

When Daily Times was about to start, as well as Business Times I applied and the salary they gave me was N4,500 per annum. I was already earning N5,600 per annum, so actually, there was a drop, but I took it because I wanted to do journalism. I didn’t tell my elder brother. It was after I resigned from the Central Bank that I told him.

Did they give you a position that made up for your drop in salary? For example, did you go to the senior level?

Yeah; I moved very rapidly.

You became the editor pretty quickly?

The Business Times started in September 1975. I had to give notice to the Central Bank; I didn’t join immediately although I was writing for them. I joined fully at the beginning of November 1975. They sent me to do a subeditor’s course with other people at the NIJ then.

I came in November, and in May 1976, I was sent to Kenya to cover the United Nations Conference. It lasted one month; I was in Nairobi.

I wrote economic stories. They couldn’t use all my stories in all the papers. I wrote stories for Lagos Weekend, sports and things like that. By the time I came back, I had become an established journalist.

I think that in the beginning of July, the editor, Effiong Essien, was appointed the general manager of the Chronicle Newspaper in Calabar, so he resigned and I was appointed the acting editor. I think it was about eight months. I became the acting editor and things moved well.

Did you really enjoy this high-pressure, quick promotion to head the Business Times?

I really enjoyed Business Times. That time coincided with the oil boom and things like that. The stock market was expanding because of indigenisation policies and people were interested in stock and other things. So, the Business Times grew very quickly and I really enjoyed it.

Also, in 1982, I think about August, I had gone for an interview at OPEC as an information officer. Around December, OPEC told me that they offered me the job. The managing director( of Daily Times) said, “If going abroad, why don’t you go to the West African Magazine”.

Of course the salaries were not comparable. OPEC was paying huge amounts in dollars. But then, because of the pressure on me, I said that after a certain date, if OPEC had not sent me the actual letter, I would accept. The date passed and I said I would go to London.

A few days after, the OPEC letter came and the package was something like $60,000, but I had already committed myself. That was how I went to London as deputy editor( of West Africa Magazine). The salary was nothing comparable to that of OPEC.

How was the experience living in London and doing journalism?

It was a good time. The West African Magazine was quite influential at the time, especially in Anglophone countries. It was also Margaret Thatcher’s time and a period of economic crisis for Africa.

The great drought happened around 1982/1983 and expanded to the whole of Africa. You know Ethiopia was literally on its knees, but the drought got as far as Nigeria and Ghana because cocoa farms were catching fire and things like that.

It was a period when the International Monetary Fund (IMF) tried to run our governments by dictating conditions and so on. I wrote a lot about economics. I really enjoyed working in London.

I didn’t like the Margaret Thatcher period, but she did what was necessary to turn Britain into a prosperous country. The British began to drink wine in large quantities. Wine bars were springing up and things like that. I really enjoyed London.

At what point were you given the ultimate job as the editor of Daily Times?

It was in 1987.

Were you still in London?

I was in London when I was appointed. And I was excited because I was also looking at my prospects in London. Should I take a job with any of the papers and things like that? I was lucky they appointed me.

Was it a big job in the 1980s?

It was a big job because you had control of hundreds of journalists in literally every town in Nigeria. The level in Daily Times wasn’t that high – it was a grade two appointment, but I was moved to grade one. It was a very important job.

When I came home, I didn’t realise that I had to do the politics of the job. It required you to know security people and things like that, pay courtesy and so on.

Initially, I was getting invitations from security agencies like the Directorate of Military Intelligence, Navy, even for stories that originated from the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).

We went on like that until one day, I just decided on my own to call the Director of Military Intelligence and say that I wanted to visit him. He said he wasn’t in the office because he had malaria, but he would go to receive me. I went to see him and we had a very friendly chat. He suggested that I should also visit the Inspector- General of Police and the Coordinator of Security.

So I went to visit the then Inspector-General of Police, Mallam Gambo and he received me very well. I also went to visit the Coordinator of Security, Brigadier- General Aliyu Mohammed Gusau and he received me very well. We talked for a long time and he brought in some of his boys to join the, discussion, which was around my vision.

Along the line, General Mohammed became my friend. He was more than just a friend as he became my guardian angel of sorts. Other security people who would have liked to harass me didn’t because I was his friend.

Being the editor of Daily Times was a high-pressure job. Actually, it was then that I developed high blood pressure. The then

Minister of Information, Tony Momoh, was my friend.

He was also a staff of Daily Times; right?

Yes. Tony would say to me that the president was angry with me. My managing director would also say that the president was angry with me. There were people who said the editor was a white man because he had just returned and did not understand Nigeria; and things like that.

So, one day, I went to General Aliyu and told him that I heard they were not happy with the way I was doing the work, so why sack me? He was a bit surprised.

He picked the phone, dialed a number and conversed in Hausa and gave me the phone. President Babangida was at the other end. He asked, “Onyema what’s the problem?” I told him that I heard he was not happy with me and wanted to fire me.

He told me that if he was angry with me he would call me himself and fire me. He said I should go and do my work.

There was a time the attorney-general and secretary to the government, Bola Ajibola and Olu  Falae took a pile of Daily Times to a cabinet meeting and said they wanted to prosecute me, explaining that the newspaper was anti-government, but the president dismissed it.

We heard that  Daily Times was producing hundred thousands of copies. Is it true?

In the 1980s, Sunday Times did more than 500,000 copies. But we never got to a million. Then we went into austerity measure under General Babangida, the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP).

And you know that when incomes drop, one of the first things people give up is the newspaper. They would rather read on the newsstand and things like that. So numbers had come down by the time I came, but we were able to move it up.

At what point were you sacked from the job. It always happens to editors?

I wasn’t sacked. Something happened when Yemi Ogunbiyi came. We harmonised and linked very well.

He was brought in as managing director?

Yes. He had a very good vision of what needed to be done. He expanded the business; we were growing and making profits.

He also made sure that members of staff benefitted from the money we were making. In his first year, there was salary increase for everybody; and things like that. He brought in new hands and ideas and we worked very well. Yemi changed the paper.

You were still the editor?

Yes. I was the editor until 1990.

The general manager, Alhaji Mohammed Farouk, went to the National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS) in Jos for a one-year programme and I was asked to act as general manager of TPD.

At that time, the TPD itself had nearly 2,000 staff. It was an eye-opener about what was going on in the company. There was so much leakage. People were printing their own copies, almost equal what was official. And when theirs didn’t sell, they would add it to our own as unsold.

We were operating about 70 vehicles every day that must move. And there was a huge industry in changing tyres because of the haste. A lorry must move, so they would take a tyre from one vehicle and put there; meanwhile, they had sold the tyre.

I looked at all those things and the expenditure on the vehicles was enormous, so I decided to open a file for every vehicle. I wanted to review the operation in such a way that a tyre would not be moved from one vehicle to another.

I told the advert clerk to bring me the dummy and I would dash him some money, maybe N2 or N3. Do you know that the clerk was dashing people up to N1,000? He owned two football clubs.

So he was pocketing money?

Yeah; the money they were making in advert and things like that. We were able to stop all of that or most of it, and the profits shot up. That year, Daily Times’ profit was the highest it had ever made. Yes, it was a fresher newspaper, so much was going in, but I think most of the profit came from blocking the leakages and things like that. It was a very exciting time.

I was in the East on the last day of December watching news on the Nigerian Television Authority (NTA) when I saw that the Board of Daily Times had been dissolved.

Apparently, there was a story they published. Wole Soyinka had said some things about the government and that was what broke the camel’s back. They sacked the board and appointed a sole administrator, Tola Adeniyi.

About the same time, they did the same thing with New Nigeria. Ali Sirajo was also sent to take over the management of New Nigeria.

Tola didn’t know exactly what to do with me, but he asked Dr Shonaike to take over as acting editor. He didn’t really know what to do with me, but he couldn’t sack me. I think that in two weeks, I had the title of deputy editor-in-chief, general editor and one other title. We sat there for a while. This thing happened on January 1, and by February, a new board was appointed. Farouk and I were put as executive directors in the new board, with Tola Adeniyi as managing director.

For me, it was like going on an away match; you know how I became a journalist. The fun for me was being a journalist.

So you knew that your career in Daily Times was coming to an end.

Definitely.

We heard that when politics started, you joined the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) and Obasanjo’s campaign team. What’s your link to Obasanjo and how did you make that transition?

There was an interregnum. On my 50th birthday in 1994, I decided to leave, but I didn’t have anything to do. Again, General Aliyu( Mohammed) said to me, “I know you have no money, why don’t you come and take an office?” He rented a place on Lee’s Road, behind Ikoyi Hotel.

I went there and tried to trade on art paper because I thought I knew the industry, but I didn’t know the market. The traders made sure that I couldn’t sell, except at their own price, which they kept pushing. So I describe myself as a failed trader.

But I did a lot of consultancy for some banks, such as the Guaranty Trust Bank (GTB) and Nigeria-American Merchant Bank. Friends involved me with consultancies and other things.

Then Dow Jones Financial Services decided to employ me again on a part-time basis to string for them; and they paid me in dollars.

When Obasanjo was released from prison and the election came, General Aliyu Mohammed was a major person to convince him to run. Politicians were coming to the office and they would sometimes spill over. He had a room for himself and I had a room upstairs.

My position at that time was that it was the turn of the Igbo to produce a president, but one day, Aliyu said he wanted me to work on their campaign team. He said I should go home and discuss with my wife. He wanted me to handle the publicity aspect of the campaign.

Up to that time, had you met Obasanjo in person? Were you comfortable?

I had met him before that time. In fact, soon after he came out of prison, I went to his house in Abeokuta with General Aliyu but I wasn’t really interested in politics. IBB came in from Minna.

My younger brother was in my office and we discussed it. Well, Aliyu Gusau had done everything for me as a friend, so if he asked something of me, why not? So I went back and said, “I take your side. If you are there, I will be there.” I didn’t have to go home.

We got into a car and drove to Otta to meet Obasanjo. He probed me with questions and things like that.

Were you happy working with Obasanjo, both as a candidate and president eventually?

During the campaign, it got to a point that we became quite close that we could sit and talk about ideas in his bedroom.

But he is not the kind of person that allows you to have your say; and you were his communications man?

I would normally tell him the truth. And he knew that I was sincere. During his first visit to meet the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), which was being formed, he offered to give them N300 million. Do you remember that story? It was in Abuja and he had to go back to Otta.

When I saw the news, I was shocked. But by the time he came back, I had done a new story, stating that what he meant was that he believed his friends were going to finance his campaign and he would give part of whatever he got; which he did in the end.

I already had a story to change the focus because I wondered where he would get the money from. And you know the press, including Lagos press, was against him.

I went to see him as soon as he came back. I told him that he shouldn’t have said that. He asked why not and I told him that I wondered where he would get the money.

That stopped him. I told him to look at what I did and gave him the paper. He read it and approved it and I began to call editors with our version. So instead of those huge headlines, at least our own version got in that same day.

But there were people who were telling him not to trust an Igbo man because he would be leaking his information to Ekwueme and his tribe people. But we got on and developed a rapport. We could sit in his bedroom full of books and talk about ideas and other things.

You were his director of communication; do you think he was a good president?

I ran the campaign on the fundamental message that he was a leader we could trust. He had a track record. When he was a military head of state, he did a lot of things. Ultimately, he promised to hand over; and he fulfilled his promise. Nobody had done that. So he was a leader we could trust.

And he came prepared to be president. Right from day one, he already had two bills and other things. He was a very good president, very effective. He made Nigeria to be respected across the world. For instance, he got a debt relief. I don’t think anybody else has got that kind of package.

When he came in 1999, oil price was about $10 per barrel. I hear people shouting that oil price fell to $44, and we can’t do anything. It was $10; you can check OPEC, they have the statistics.

By the time of his full one year, it had only risen to about $15 a barrel. What did he do? You would remember that in the late 1990s, Nigeria was the home of all scraps of cars. People were importing because nobody could afford a new car. The middle class was already devastated.

Obasanjo focused on rebuilding the middle class. Starting from the universities, professors’ salaries were upgraded and allowances developed for professors who supervised postgraduate students.

The middle class was rebuilt very quickly; and that was very important as it impacted on the economy. The economy grew.

Do you think he spoiled it all by trying to go for a so-called third term?

I think that was a mistake. People developed that idea. A constitution drafting committee was set up and that was when they brought the idea that if he didn’t stay on, things were going to go bad as all his good policies would be dumped. They began to persuade him.

Was he persuaded?

No. He didn’t come out to say he wanted it, but he didn’t stop it. At some point, I wrote him a memo, stating that nobody won a campaign by sitting quietly and looking at it. It is either you want it or you don’t want it.

I told him what to do if he wanted it. He looked at it and called a meeting of all the information people, including the minister, and said we should go and study it. So it was people doing it, but he didn’t stop them; that’s the only place I would blame him. People went on and on.

How come you did not become the minister of information? What happened?

It wasn’t where he wanted me. You will also recall that initially, he didn’t give me any appointment at all. But the press started a campaign – What of this man? Why was he not appointed?

Just before inauguration, we had disagreed on certain issues relating to who was going to be the chief press secretary, who was going to be Senate president etc.

Since we disagreed and were literally not talking by the time of inauguration, I was not surprised that my name didn’t appear anywhere; but he corrected it.

It is not common for a technocrat like you, a professional to jump into a political contest. You tried to be governor of Abia State. Tell us about your political project. What really pushed you into that?

Well, right from the beginning, Abia State was unfortunate in the kind of governance we had. I wasn’t a politician and I didn’t really know anything about politics. In fact, during the campaign, the politicians used to ask: “Who is that man in suit?” I used to appear in suit, so I looked different from everybody else.

You didn’t have a red cap?

I didn’t have a red cap or anything.

Our state was the first to impeach a speaker in that dispensation. It happened in October, and by December, the governor wanted to impeach his deputy.

Was that Orji Kalu?

Yes. Those of us who had become politicians by appointment tried to stop him. That was where the politics started.

You were made the first chairman of the NDDC and you are not even a Niger Delta person. What qualified you? Was it done to take you out of the presidency?

By definition, I am from the Niger Delta. Abia, my state, is in the Niger Delta. And there was an interpretation by which the president decided I should go and do the work of the chairman of the commission.

Initially, he appointed me as the senior special assistant, national orientation and public affairs and I had started a campaign for national rebirth, going to all the states with a new message for change.

When the issue of the Niger Delta Development Commission came up, he asked if I could do the job and I said fine. But when we got to the Senate, my governor was fighting against my confirmation. So the Senate approved everybody and rejected me.

So how were you pushed into it?

They had a policy that if two of the three senators from your state rejected you, then the Senate won’t pass you. All the three senators rejected me; they were working with the governor. They were against me. But Obasanjo sent back my name.

The thing went on and Senator Mantu, who was the Deputy Senate President, brought the subject up in an executive session. But the opposition from my three senators was so strong, so he withdrew it.

My senators tried to argue that I had been presented twice and that executive session wasn’t a presentation. And if you had been presented twice, you won’t be presented again. This went on for three months and President Obasanjo said he would not inaugurate the NDDC until I was there.

Ultimately, younger senators and young people across parties put pressure on the leadership of the Senate and they suddenly approved me.

How was the experience in the NDDC? Was it worth the fight?

The NDDC was a big challenge. You know there was ONPADEC, but the president said we should not touch it. He said we should start afresh; which was what we did. The place was also faced with violence as the youth were in revolt. They all had guns and other weapons. We had to calm them down. We had to develop a master plan for the Niger Delta.

One of the things I did early was to look into the case of one of the executive directors who got involved in corruption. When we sent consultants to evaluate ONPADEC’s abandoned projects etc, he wrote a letter, asking them to deposit 10 per cent of their fee to be given to the directors. One of the consultants brought the letter to me and I gave him a query and warning.

When we finally wanted to do projects, he changed the names of the people who won the contract, especially in his state. He didn’t know that I would go through the thing a second time, so I insisted that he had to go.

It was important to make that point at that kind of place. It also made me something like a gold fish; everybody was watching to see where they could catch me. I was fully conscious of that. My board was the only one that completed its tenure. I even stayed for five more months after our tenure ended.

I came back from the NDDC to the presidency, where the president gave me an appointment as the chairman of the Presidential Committee on Communication. But when we were getting to the elections, I resigned.

In 2007?

In October 2006 to contest the election(as governor of Abia). I had very good ideas. I participated in preparing the master plan. You know that apart from the general master plan, you had state plans for each of the 9 local governments. I really wanted to do great things.

But you couldn’t win the election.

I won, but the result was declared illegally and the chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) said I should go to court.

Given your experiences, do you think we would ever get our politics right?

I am not optimistic; too many things have gone wrong, including systemic corruption – basically everything is corrupted.

In my state now, for instance, in our party, the PDP, if you call a meeting, people would expect that you give them transport money to come, even if the venue is walking distance.

Are these leaders of the party?

Yeah. That’s how corrupted the situation is. Members of the party no longer feel that they have to contribute to support it. The whole idea is that money is coming from somewhere and it should be distributed.

One glaring example of this rottenness is what is happening in your party(PDP). As a member of the Board of Trustees, do you think this problem would ever be sorted out?

I think we are sorting out much of the crises we have had since the party lost power at the centre. It actually had to do with one person, right from when Modu Sheriff, who was never a member of the party, suddenly became the chairman. But good sense prevailed and the party sorted itself out quickly. We had issues, especially before the presidential election of 2023.  The chairman, Secondus, was forced to leave and Ayu came in. He was also forced to leave. I think he gave up too quickly.

Tell us about the private life of Onyema Ugochukwu. When did you settle down to start having a family?

I married a bit late; I was 34. When I met my wife and we got married, she was a medical student. My wife is from the Itsekiri tribe in Warri.

We have four children who are now adults. I still love her. In fact, I love her very much. We get on well.

Along the way, I have learnt not to bear grudges because it sort of weighs you down.

Right from my army days, I realised the transience of power. At the time the war ended, my brigade was in a part of Biafra that had been cut off from the centre. We lost contact because our batteries ran down.

When I came back after the announcement of the surrender, some of the men had come out of the bushes and they wouldn’t let us sleep in the village. The houses were empty. They said Nigerian soldiers may find us there and kill them.

I realised early in life that power is very transient and it affected the way I have lived my life. I try to respect people, whether they are big or small.

You are 80 or 81;  retired and now in Abuja; what do you do? 

I don’t go to any work. I don’t have any business. That is the truth. I haven’t done my memoir, which my family members and everybody are bullying me over.

I attend meetings of parties and relate with friends. My place used to be very active because it was a meeting point. People have moved away, sort of, but friends still come.

I am really grateful to God that I got to 80. We were seven brothers and sisters, but right now, it is only myself and my younger sister.

I appreciate God for keeping me. With what I have seen, my attitude is to pray to God that I don’t suffer illness before going. In fact, I tell God to call me any day he wants, but let him not allow me to become a problem to people.