My country, my pains
By Muyiwa Akintunde
July 12, 2009
Lagos, Nigeria
I should be in church at this time and not on the computer whining and moaning about Nigeria. But the state of our country makes me come to conclusion that we the citizens propose but our failed leadership disposes. I had set out to worship God only for our road to make that impossible.
My recent escapade on our roads did not start this morning. I had set out on Friday evening to catch the last minutes of the funeral rites for a close family friend’s father in Gbogan, Osun State. The bereaved, Akin Oyedele who happens to be the Ekiti State correspondent of The Punch had looked up to me years ago as inspiration as he prepared himself for a career in journalism. We had experienced some years of distance upon his posting to Oyo State and later Ekiti until our paths crossed again in the build-up to the recent Ekiti rerun governorship poll. So when he announced the death of his father and the funeral date, I committed myself to honouring it.
Leaving Lagos about 4pm on Friday, I had hoped to be in Gbogan latest 7pm, spend sometime with my host and go to sleep in Osogbo. The Ikeja axis was amazingly smooth at that time and I got pass Sagamu area in no time. Then we encountered the trucks at Ogere. I can’t remember who once wrote that the fuel tankers mount a guard of honour as vehicles slowly move through that stretch. Whoever did is far behind time, I report. The trailers have shot themselves into power at Ogere! There is absolute anarchy in that land as the entire Ibadan inbound wing now constitutes their parking lot. Traffic officers dare not attempt to chase the trucks off the road as the consequence is another round of fuel scarcity. So they allowed the gridlock and directed traffic on both sides through the narrow lanes inbound Lagos.
I last travelled on the Ibadan-Ife Road in February and didn’t know it has gone from worse to worst since then. The road is riddled with gullies that can swallow a whole truck. It calls to task your manoeuvring skills. When I finally arrived Gbogan at about 8pm and calls could not go through to Akin, I drove straight to Osogbo to end my misery. About 10 minutes away from Gbogan, I suffered a flat tyre. In the dead of the night and in the middle of nowhere, the only option I could think of was to keep driving until I got to a safe place. My life was worth more than the cost of the tyre, I said to myself. Few kilometres later, I found a village and a teenager who proved that there are indeed good citizens in Nigeria. With his younger brother and his torch light, I got the spare tyre fixed and arrived Osogbo about 9pm. The silver lining was the pleasant road that leads to Osogbo.
Next morning, I dropped the faulty type at the vulcaniser’s and went to pick it on my way to Lagos. He announced that the tyre was bad, meaning I had to drive all the way to Lagos without a spare. Given our experience travelling to Ibadan in the past, my wife had told our last daughter schooling at Command Secondary School, Ibadan that she should expect us only when the school goes on vacation later this month. But she (my daughter) had complained ill earlier in the week and I decided to check on her.
My knowledge of Osogbo is limited and I didn’t realise I was heading towards Iwo and then Ibadan. Without a spare tyre, driving on that decrepit road was like tempting God. I survived but got slowed down and could only arrive my daughter’s school about 4.30pm, four hours after setting out from Osogbo. I managed about 10 minutes with her and her guardian and all the while plotted my route back to Lagos. I did not want to suffer the Ogere nightmare for the second time in two days and since the school is on the Ibadan-Abeokuta Road, I opted for Abeokuta as an escape route. I called a family friend who is familiar with Sango and he assured me the usual madness on that abandoned portion of the Lagos-Abeokuta Road is mild. Through Abeokuta I then drove.
In about 40 minutes, I was at Asero, in the outskirts of Abeokuta. Just as I was singing ‘Halleluyah!’ I encountered another mayhem! For almost an hour, we were in a standstill as vehicles faced opposing traffic. In the midst of that confusion, I witnessed the same set of rogues who have failed to fix the road employed their noisy convoy to terrorise us off the road and create more confusion. I was contemplating whether to sleep in Abeokuta but chose the phone-a-friend option. My friend said he could no longer guarantee a smooth ride through Sango. He suggested Abeokuta-Sagamu Road to Lagos. That saved the day. It’s gratifying that the Abeokuta-Sagamu Road has now been fixed and it makes for a pleasurable ride.
After over seven hours on the road, I could hardly move my limbs upon arriving home. I crashed after shower, meal and swallowing pain-killers and set out for church this morning. But the Nigerian road again proved my albatross. A jeep blocked my view and I ran into a pothole in the middle of the highway. I suffered another flat tyre and got it back to the stage I could manage it home.
On my way home, I recalled my trip to Niamey in 1993. I had been assigned to cover for Newswatch the rescue operation for victims of the MAD-hijacked Nigeria Airways flight. Accompanied by our Photo Editor, Mathew Faji (a veteran of Nigerian civil war coverage), we both hopped into a flight to Sokoto. A NAN journalist who knew the route quite well became our delegation leader. We hired a cab from Sokoto to Niamey. At Ilela border, it was late to cross to Niger Republic and the border officials only allowed us to get to town to sleep because we were journalists. They seized the passport of our team leader which would be returned to him the next morning when our driver would have procured an ECOWAS insurance cover for his vehicle.
We found an insurance company that night in Ilela and got the security man to lead us to the residence of the manager. The middle-aged man came out in his loin cloth and refused our attempt to compromise him. He would not do anything for us until work resumed the next morning. We got the insurance certificate the next day and returned to the border for formalities. We were amazed how efficient the system worked as the officials regaled us with details of our movement the previous night, even telling us the time we went to bed!
We had fuel in the jerry can and the border officials allowed us to go with it given our status as journalists. It would have been impounded and we charged for attempting to smuggle fuel into Niger Republic. The communication was so very efficient as our privilege circumstance had obviously been communicated all through the checking points from Ilela to Niamey.
Ilela-Niamey is about six hours and we never encountered a pothole. What is the economic stand of Niger Republic that depends on us for electricity and other support? Here in our amazing petrol-dollar great nation, we celebrate gullies and ditches on our highways. Sunday Punch this morning paints the picture of our collapsed infrastructure with the report of how five justices of the Supreme Court and a former Justice Minister got trapped in the madness along Lagos-Ibadan Road. We can only hope that Wale Babalakin, whose company has been contracted to fix the road, will be agitated by his own experience on that road yesterday to rescue the situation very fast.
All over the country, there is very little to cheer. And yet our leaders can’t hide their shame and would rather parade themselves with so many swaggers. Recalling my Niger Republic experience again, we ran into the President of that country visiting a district on our return journey. How many vehicles were in the convoy? Only 3! No siren. No road block.
Obama’s message in Accra ought to be a wake-up call. If our leaders refuse to get it right, it’s time we begin to hold them accountable. CAN we? Yes, I believe, we CAN!
