Nigerians shouldn’t gloss over some lessons from President Tinubu’s condolence gesture on the Plateau the other day, writes Monday Philips Ekpe
Many details of last Palm Sunday’s massacre in Angwa Rukuba inside Jos metropolis are out there, and have remained raw in the minds of Nigerians and lovers of humanity on the planet. Not surprisingly, President Bola Tinubu is being viciously condemned from various quarters for his personal handling of that situation, particularly his visitation. Few persons who have attempted to defend him or explain the contentious aspects have had to stutter. Part of the statement by presidential spokesperson, Mr. Bayo Onanuga, reads: “Upon arrival in Jos, the visit encountered some logistical challenges. While the road distance from the airport to Jos township is approximately 40 minutes, the runway does not support night flights due to the absence of navigational aids. The constraints made it unfeasible to drive into town, meet victims for on-the-spot assessment, and return to the airport before dusk.
“Consequently, state and federal officials decided to bring representatives of the affected community to a hall adjoining the airport so the President could meet with them promptly while adhering to flight restrictions.” That’s expected and it fits his job description. Public Relations will always strive to promote and safeguard any payer’s image. Only that the entire story unwittingly walked itself right into what in social media activism is categorised and cynically dismissed as “you go explain tire”! The bloodbath took place on March 29 and President Tinubu’s trip to the state was on April 02, four clear days apart. Within that period, Governor Caleb Muftwang of Plateau State, the mourner-in-chief had to travel to Abuja, away from the venue of the fresh, gripping human suffering, to officially brief the commander-in-chief. Can’t say how awkward that feels. And what better description of absurdity? Considering the numerous, perhaps overwhelming, issues contesting for the head of state’s attention, however, it might be unfair to damn his failure to promptly show up in what was once Nigeria’s most tranquil state.
Truth is, the fiasco produced by his eventual call there was largely avoidable and self-inflicted. But this humble contribution isn’t about bashing Tinubu. Enough of that has already been documented on the internet and other platforms for whoever cares to study presidential visits, condolences, genuinely staying in touch with the masses, and planning and executing presidents’ movements. Even at that, the interpretations drawn from these interest areas shouldn’t be lost on us.
No doubt, in terms of the number of casualties, attackers’ choice of location and timing, sheer bravado of the operation and the cold impunity and futile anger that are set to trail it, that particular festival of bloodletting does not even rank among the first 10 percent of the rounds of woes caused by the monsters of terrorism, insurgency, banditry and kidnapping which have held Nigeria captive for two decades. Sadly, it’s among the worrying bits of these enduring national agony, shame and helplessness. Those who love to dismiss the criminalities as northern maladies simply lack the capacity to smell coffee or are condemned to a mindset of ‘us’ and ‘them’, an attitude that has left the nation more divided, to the joy of the soulless, murderous marauders.
But then, even in the midst of these dizzying morbid occurrences and the ever-increasing prospects for de-sensitisation towards violence and deaths, the carnage that ushered in this year’s Christianity’s Holy Week was forced into our consciousness both for its mischievous placement and highly emotive visualisations. In no time, the still and motion pictures of Rhoda Favour Ayuba clutching onto her dying/dead son, chanting words of desperation, defiance and love while drenched in the blood of the departing/departed, became the face of the tragedy. For many, it was another déjà vu.
The infamous Soweto Uprising of June 16, 1976 showcased a similar sight. Hector Pieterson, a young school boy, snatched his badly injured colleague from the spot she was shot by the apartheid police and ran as much as he could – away from flying bullets – towards safety and help. That macabre drama became historic instantly. The world, including those who were indifferent to the gruesome plight of the Black majority in South Africa, couldn’t ignore his passion, courage and sacrifice. That was in an era without access to the sort of sophisticated information and communication technologies available today.
My immediate reaction to Rhoda’s anguish was a mental return to the day I visited the Apartheid Museum in Soweto. I was certainly not alone in that outburst of emotions. Looking at the debacle that presidential drop-in turned out to be, one wonders if the president’s handlers cared to bother about the feelings of the generality of Nigerians, the sensitivity of the schedule and the opportunity it presented to exhibit true leadership and empathy. It won’t be surprising if one of the personnel even suggested that Tinubu should settle for video or conference calls with the grieving citizens.
Why should it be? Touching down at Yakubu Gowon Airport in Heipang, less than one hour’s drive from the scene of the barbaric assaults, to hurriedly meet with his traumatised audience was enough proof that the event was only perfunctory, just to “fulfil all righteousness”. What stopped Tinubu’s minders from reviewing the travel to enable him to spend at least three hours in the state capital to have a feel of a city seized by grief? Couldn’t the other programmes have been shifted a bit to demonstrate government’s premium, if any, on human souls? Wherever there are operational lapses, people are at the mercy of conjectures. They include thinking that Tinubu also feared for his own life. Onanuga’s effort has actually left more questions behind.
“Under 10 minutes”, the president who will soon tour the country in search of votes for his second term in office tried to justify his presence there. “I know your pain”, he told Rhoda. “I saw in the video how you held on to your son and felt the agony in your heart. Only God can give you joy and comfort. No amount of money can compensate for your loss. As a government, we will do our best to support and comfort you.” Sounds benevolent but how many people in that gathering bothered to believe him?
Our leaders should generally do more to show true compassion for the people they claim to lead. What do they gain, for instance, from visiting venues of tragedies formally dressed in suits, ‘agbadas’ and other exotic wears? To rob in their importance, perhaps. Beyond offensive optics, dejected people are further abused when they sense aloofness of any kind from those saddled with catering for their security and welfare.
The longsuffering people of Nigeria deserve to be led by persons who possess good physical, emotional and intellectual strengths, who can withstand the rigours of humane governance. But as the value of the electorate in determining electoral fortunes dwindles rapidly, chances are that Nigerian people may not enjoy optimum respect from their rulers anytime soon.
Ekpe, PhD, is a member of THISDAY Editorial Board
X: @monday_ekpe2
