The Dean

A Sojourner's Return

The Dean

The Faculty Dean, a man of slight stature, immersed in chocolate rich complexion and bore a bald head. His silver rimmed frames were perched precariously on the ridge of his nose, shielding his eyes which roved at a quickened pace, his chin dotted with grey stubble gave him a distinguished mien. He wore an ash grey suit and spotted a black bow tie for some matching effect.  He had attained the heights of legal practice and was a recent recipient of the highest professional award in Law, Senior Advocate of Nigeria. He was nestled comfortable in his leather bond swivel chair. The grandness of his table was betrayed by evidence of the mock wood used to construct it.  The floors of the office were immaculately polished given it a clinical feel and a flat screen television hung on the wall to his right.  Shelves with an array of books enveloped the space, and some sofas to the far end of the room for more informal encounters. A fridge unobtrusively lay at one end and Obad noticed a door, which led to an ensuite toilet. All around the room were exit doors, three in number and Obad wondered why that was the case.

Starring intently at the letter Obad had passed on to him, scrutinizing every word, and expressed the fact that he was oblivious to his appointment by asking “How do I know you are who you claim?’  Obad was taken aback and momentarily lost for words and then muttered “Sir, you are free to call the Human Resources for confirmation”.  After the conclusion of those formalities, Obad was introduced to the Faculty Manager Mrs. Tamiya. She has been veteran of the Faculty having served under two previous Deans, she knew where ‘the bodies were buried’ and how to make things work, she operated smoothly and efficiently and never betrayed any emotions. She was the archetypal administrator but she also wore elegance with great aplomb.  It was to her that Obad was directed. She spoke to him in a smattering of the local language but when Obad responded in English she effortlessly affected a polished British public school accent. Mrs. Tamayi had been a product of the Oxford University where she had studied Politics, Philosophy and Economics and wanted Obad who attained his doctorate from London School of Economics to realise he had encountered his match.

She took him on a tour of the Faculty facilities and introduced him to the available staff before allocating him to an office on the ground floor. Obad discovered that most offices were unoccupied and enquired from Mrs. Tamayi the reason for this. She replied in clipped tones that the Faculty had recently lost three of its lecturers in a vehicular accident whilst returning from the burial of a colleague’s father whilst two remain in hospital undergoing treatment.  A somber look slowly engulfed her person as she detailed her response.  It had now dawned on Obad the reason for his sudden and hasty recruitment from the London School of Economics where he had spent the last 20 years.  It was to address the recent staff shortage brought about by tragedy of unspeakable proportions.

Taste Buds…..

A Sojourners' Return

Taste Buds…..

Obad glanced at his silver plaited Gucci watch, a gift from his father to mark his acquisition of a doctorate degree and realised the time was far spent and hunger had set in. He arose from his spartanly furnished office to begin a slow languid walk towards the restaurants scattered at the heights of the University.  His office was on the ground floor and numbered as the first in the row.  It was a large space, with his wooden table edged towards the left and high bay windows quite high above. At its side was a spilt air conditioning unit and in front and array of  plastic chairs to cater for the endless streams of visiting students and colleagues.  

It had been a long, hard day, with the blazing heat of the sun refusing to abate in its intensity, blending in with the students’ relentless in their visits.  Obad now needed a respite, the kind offered by food. Suddenly he developed a hankering for some fried rice prettied with carrots, laced with onions, embroidered with chunks of chicken and garnished with prawns. As a suitable accompaniment he had wild dreams of a iced cold drink in the manner of a Chapman to refresh and cleanse his palette enabling the food to slither down his throat and into oblivion. 

His thoughts gravitated to his mother who had attained the heights of culinary feats by being the first person to introduce the delights of fried rice into the Nigerian social scene. Hers was always crisp, and cooked, simmering to perfection and the ingredients readily recognisable and of cause rich in a variety of nutrients.  But with a budget of under N500 where and which caterer could rise to the height of his desires?  The few restaurants littered around were designed to cater for students and for those on a budget, they were not given to the luxury of the Michelin star quality.  It is with these thoughts he had to make do and navigate his discerning taste buds.

Searing Heat…

A Sojourner’s Return

Searing Heat….

Obad had barely invested two weeks of his sojourn in the city, which was to be home for the near future when the searing heat creeped up on him. It was under the oppressiveness of this searing that he completed of some formalities at the Human Resources Department. He had known and experienced oppression before from his secondary school and university days but this was as a student. He had been tutored in some principles that he had to withstand oppression wherever found and offer leadership in times of confrontation with evil. 

He had taken the principled stand in the past, that an offence against one Nigerian student was one against every student. He had assumed a role of mobilising others in the general populace of students. For all his cherished principles he had paid a heavy price. But his life had always never been that simple, it was a complexity of  straddles, of diametrical opposed tendencies, between being in the vanguard of overthrowing the old order and ushering a new socialist and democratic one or simply concerning himself with basic welfare issues on the campus and the general condition of students. 

This day, the oppressive sun’s heat, however, presented a varied form of challenge. In his futile bid to resist it the drippings emerged from the bald patch on his head now resembling a lake surrounded with shrubs. The drippings transformed into a drench and then the inevitable soaking of sweat followed as he trod purposively away from the Administrative buildings into the inner recesses of the campus.

The University terrain and its buildings appeared very deceptive and concealed within it a prettying.  Its structures were in dippings of pure white, glazed over with subtle blue at the edges. In Obad’s imagination, edging on the febrile, he thought with impression that this was a successful attempt at distinctiveness and of branding. What he conceptualised as he walked through the lanes are structures which at first glance presented a compact row. But as he was enticed further, inching bit by bit into the depth of its bowels the revelation of much beauty, complexity, intrigue and the variety of its architecture was exposed to him.

The University campus was broken up by the lows and heights of valleys, shadowed by hills in the background and with an undulating expanse of land before him. In the inner core, the under belly, a stadium broke up the architecture, it was surrounded and bounded with spectator stands.

Obed was jolted back to the land of the pragmatic as he arrived at the Faculty of Law, drenched in sweat with his black suit top slung across his shoulder, and clutching his academic laurels masquerading as credentials. Here he found the grandest of buildings and was catapulted into a nicely apportioned ground floor arranged into offices and seminar rooms all sequestered around with iron bars glazed in blue to protect its open courtyard. He proceeded with feeble attempts laced in weariness up along the staircase leading to the Faculty Dean’s office. He swept past the Personal Assistant and found the Dean nestled in the large expansive office with smatterings of law books in the background. With certainty of purpose and carefully affected sentences Obed introduced himself.

A Sojourners Return

Didactic Intervention…..

After a busy week of trundle, of lectures and other research oriented activities, he glanced at an opportunity to take some recess from the ivory tower and venture into the town. A lecture had been put up to celebrate the birthday of a past President.  Students were invited to participate in a debate to grace the occasion and members of staff were required as a complement. The debate was to dwell on security and terrorism, twin issues that had ravaged the landscape. Obad thought it was his opportunity to re-acquaint himself with the grand old man and perhaps a feature in the spotlight may occur.  He angled for an invitation and was chosen as one of the lecturers to travel with the students.

The arrival at the edge of the historic town after a two-hour journey in the University coach led them to a complex of buildings called the Presidential Library. He observed that the Library mimicked the tradition of former American Presidents. It was a tradition, which allowed them to cement their legacies and to stand their achievements as a monument to their impact.  However, Obad saw through it all and ruminated in wide space of his mind, thinking the edifices masquerading as Libraries were more of a nod and wink to ego building.  However, in this case, this Library extended as far as providing luxury accommodation, a themed park and other tourist related facilities. It rested on an impressive extent of land with a complex of buildings, which blended seamlessly into one another and complemented the landscape. Its impressive shadow harboured an elevated hilltop, laid out on the heights where the Presidential residence was placed with a cast of a knowing glance at all the activities undertaken within the large and unending plains before the complex.

Later on in the day, after Obad had tucked into a sumptuous selection of breakfast with cups of tea to wet his palate, ensuring a nice slithering effect down the throat, he proceeded to the auditorium.  He sank into the well of the auditorium with the pulsing sounds of the air conditioners in the background whirling away, cooling all the participants.  After a while he got impatient and felt discomfort as the showman part of his character got the better of him. He was weary of playing audience to a number of discussants and debaters and needed to be centre stage.  Obad manically raised his hands and when no notice was taken, contrived with the ushers to send a note to the compere of the event. The contents of the note were simple, he touted his past experience of the subject matter as an ex-student union radical who had encountered the militant vavolent tendencies of the police and was now reformed, that he alone could shed more practical light on the topic for the day.  The gambit worked, and in a jiffy, he was invited to the lectern to speak for two minutes.

At the lectern with his head affecting a tilt for effect, he grabbed the lectern and gazed intently into the eyes of the President and strayed fleetingly to other VIPs. He launched into his contribution, identified the curious co-incidence of having been classmates to the children of the two distinguished men in the audience and then dipped into the substance of his comments. He recalled that he was a child of experience, an ex revolutionary, one who strayed into vavolent radicalism to accomplish his perceived aims.  He added that his unique experience provided him the credence to be on that stage.

He proffered a solution to the crises of the youths, and how to avoid cultic related activities.  He was quite certain that it was the mentoring of University Professors that led him out of the cul de sac of mindless Aluta into where he was today. He argued that the setting in place effective mentoring in universities is certainly a way forward to address prevailing concerns.  All these were captured in precisely the two minutes allotted. As dramatically as he started he ended to an explosion of applause as he collapsed into the plushness of his seat.  In his concluding remarks, the President requested Obad rise up to another round of applause and praised his contributions with suggesting it be adopted. That sent him into the stratosphere, cloud 9, to which it took days to recover."

Nigeria: Sleepwalking Into an Economic Inferno

As the recent days have slithered by, merging one into another I have found myself dwelling in and out of various social media handles, specifically twitter. The fog of war brought about the by Convid 19 and its aftermath have not prevented my tweets from straying to thoughts of sleepwalking.  I have not suddenly taken to sleepwalking in my middle age but the paragraphs below might make this clearer.

My conceptualisation of sleepwalking brings me to the understanding that it is formally known as somnambulism and is a behaviour disorder that originates during deep sleep and results in walking or performing behaviours of varying complexity whilst asleep. It is said to be much more common in children than adults and is more likely to occur if a person is sleep deprived. I wonder why this uncannily reminds me of the experience of most of our governance in the last few decades.

It is over four decades ago an attempt was made to rouse the nation's leadership from slumber with an alarm of a looming economic recession. An alarm sounded in December 1981 by Chief Obafemi Awolowo. The Chief was then the leader of the opposition Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN). He had scripted an open letter to President Shagari warning about the "Ship of State which was set for the iceberg" meaning Nigeria's economy was headed for the rock. President Shagari and his party men would have none of such criticism. In fact, Chief Adisa Akinloye, the ruling National Party of Nigeria (NPN) chairman, immediately took off to London to address an elaborate press conference where he suggested the world should not mind the frustrated and ambitious Awolowo, claiming Nigeria economy was sound and healthy.

The government of President Shehu Shagari further described it as the ranting of an alarmist. Two months later in February 1982 Nigeria sleep walked into a recession. By April 1983, the National Assembly passed an Economic Stabilisation Act, which gave President Shagari emergency powers to deal with the nation's economic trouble. Alhaji Shagari failed woefully in his management of the alarm with dire consequences ensuing. In subsequent years it was followed by Major General Muhammadu Buhari’s Austerity Economic Measures and  General Ibrahim Babangida’s Emergency Economic Plan.

In 2020 we really have not had many men or ladies of the stature of Awolowo whose voices have arisen above the din to sound an alarm nor are the array of tweets and articles in the media space given much credence or mention. The closest to the sound of an alarm are the noisy cymbals of pots and pans inspired by Omoyele Sowore to draw attention to hunger in the land, a creative mode of protest in the face of the lockdowns we face in this pandemic. 

In the past Nigerians like Ayodele Awojobi, Chike Obi, Olubunmi Okojie, Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Bala Usman, Tai Solarin, Claude Ake, Gani Fawehinmi distinguished themselves by performing the essential ritual of ‘speaking truth to power’ and sounding the alarm. However, with the gradual passing away of their generation (once described as wasted by Wole Soyinka) sleepwalk appears to have taken hold.

The genesis of our alarm is the near shut down of the global economy resulting from the twin effects of Convid 19 Pandemic and oil crises, which has impacted on the price of oil the mainstay of Nigerian economy. The budget was predicated on crude oil production of 2.18mbpd; oil price benchmark of 57 dollar per barrel, Exchange Rate of N305 to US$1; Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and Inflation Rate of 2.93 per cent and 10.81 per cent respectively. A deficit of over N2.2 trillion was projected which was supposed to be covered up by borrowing. 

But as if to encapsulate the sleepwalking theme our Finance Minister in the face of the collapsing oil prices and 40% reduction in revenue, attempted a revision of the budget.  The effort which came off as a damp squib presented a projection of $30 per barrel as the new basis and shed over N320 billion of spending, leaving a projected deficit of N5.18 trillion. Indeed 20% of capital projects were slashed and yet the unsustainable petroleum subsidy over more than 1 trillion naira remains untouched. The N128 billion budget of the National Assembly remains unscathed; N4.8 trillion in recurrent expenditure remains largely intact when you consider only N25 million was hived off.

Wind back the hands of the clock to 1982 when National Assembly passed an Economic Stabilisation Act, giving the President emergency powers to deal with the nation's economic woes nothing of the sort is contemplated in the face of an impending economic inferno. It appears it is still essentially business as usual.  Usually economic crises presents government an opportunity to be radical in its measures. United Kingdom, years ago faced an economic crises because of its ballooning deficit, largely derived from massive borrowing to address the 2008 global economic crises. The incoming Conservative government of David Cameron used it as an opportunity to shrink the British State considerably.

Today in Nigeria we need to be roused from the deep slumber, move away from cosmetic and lethargic responses and seek radical solutions.  Why do we continue to fund our National Assembly at an unsustainable level with unsustainable allowances? Why do we continue to incur so much waste at the Executive level? The radicalism will be to propose a reduction of the National Assembly budget, slashing all their allowances, extending same to the Executive. To bring about constitutional amendments to create a unicameral legislature out of the present and reduce the number of Ministers. Address the issue of petroleum subsidy; revise the revenue allocation to move money away from the centre towards to states. We must also explore innovation that brings about an increase in revenues.   Whilst it is certain that stiff and sustained opposition will arise from the National Assembly and other invested interests, the government if it finds boldness blended with radicalism will find that Nigerian people are on its side.  I am afraid that without a radical response from President Buhari we are likely to be all consumed by the inferno the collapse of our economy will bring.

Olu Ojedokun, PhD. writes from Ibadan