The road to Aisha was
not straight. In fact, just an hour before I finally met her, I almost
lost any hope of our union. But when I met her finally, the toil proved
to be worth undertaking.
The first difficulty was caused by my fading memory. Before I could find
her I had to find Tchima Illa Issoufou, the BBC correspondent in Maradi
who aired the voice of Aisha in a report on food shortage last March. As
I tried to remember her particulars which Tchima mentioned at the end of
the report, I mistakenly thought she said Aisha came from Unguwar Hardo
outside Damagaran.
So I set out for Damagaran – or Zinder, as the French call it – very
early in the morning through Bauchi, Dutse, Gumel and then Babura. I
crossed the border at Babban Mutum and reached Damagaran through Magarya
an hour before sunset. The road was not good, I must say, though it was
far better than what I am used to between Jos and Saminaka. The shallow
potholes, though numerous, were filled with sand unlike the
car-swallowing ones we have on some Nigerian roads.
At Radio Amfani in Damagaran, I was told that Tchima lives in Maradi,
not Damagaran. A colleague of her was able to connect the two of us on
phone. I then booked an appointment with her against the following
morning. And so without much waste of time, I was out of Zinder chasing
the sun on my way to Maradi, though the red star did not take time
before it disappeared from my sight altogether. The road was perfect
except for the bumps that are located at every settlement along the 300
km stretch. By the time I checked into Jangwarzo Hotel in Maradi around
9.00pm, I discovered that I have covered a distance of 930km that day.
The following day, as I was discussing with some officials at Universite
de Maradi, Tchima called and together we went to pick a female friend of
hers, Rakiya of Radio Amfani, who would later prove to be very useful in
locating Aisha. Tchima would readily confess that she is not good with
directions, something that her friend Rakiya does with fascinating ease.
Tchima on her part could recall fine details of conversations and faces
with an amazing accuracy, as we will see shortly. The two makes a
perfect company for any one in search of Aisha under the prevailing
circumstance.
Together we left Maradi that afternoon for Gidan Hardo Isa which is in
Hawan Dawaki ward. We left the Maradi-Zinder road at Gazaoua (Gazawa)
and drove along the quiet laterite road until we reached Hawan Dawaki,
at every point guided by the good senses of Rakiya to whom we conceded
defeat in any argument regarding direction. It was in this village that
Tchima interviewed Aisha and her friends a year ago when they came in
the entourage of the President. From there we were guided to remoter
village south east of the Gazaoua-Maiadua road.
At Tuburtu, a person I thought was old enough to know Hardo Isa said
there was nobody with that name among all the Fulani settlements around.
I returned to the car and told my already tired co-travellers, “Il y a
une probleme”. However, the old man was kind enough to direct us to a
settlement where the oldest Fulani leader around lives. I left Tchima
and Rakiya in the car and trekked about a kilometre away where I met
Hardo Jibgau in his hat. He counted, and my heart started racing in
despair, all the five hardos in the area and said there was only one
Hardo Isa. Mentioning Isa immediately rekindled the hope of locating
Aisha. He described the site for his son who volunteered to lead us
there. After promising Jibgau that i will look for his sister Rabi, the
mother of Hardo Ango at Gadan Maiwa in Bauchi state where he once lived,
we returned to the car and drove through the narrow sandy path until we
arrived at Hardo Isa quarters. Aisha must be living in one of them, we
hoped.
The quarters are sparse. Like other Fulani quarters, they form a group
of houses separated from one another by distances that could be as wide
as 500 meters. Before we could even pull the brakes, there was Tchima at
her best: from afar she amazingly spotted one of the women, Fatouma,
that were with Aisha the day she interviewed them. We approached the
woman who was processing some guinea corn in a motar.
First, the apprehensive Fatouma denied being at the spot of the
interview that day. She did not even go to the event, she claimed.
Tchima and Rakiya tried hard to describe Aisha to her but she declined
knowing anyone like that. Aisha did not help matters either. She did not
give Tchima her actual name during the interview. However, as the women
realized that we were not there to bring any trouble, they opened up and
named Aisha, pointing at her house, some 300 meters away. They sent for
her and she arrived shortly. Tchima instantly recognized her. As she sat
on an empty mortar to answer Tchima, the clear voice of Aisha as it was
aired on BBC hit my ears unmistakably.
Aisha is middle-aged, dark, slim and medium in height. She is a guest
every journalist would like to host. She is not shy to speak her mind,
eloquently and frankly. Yet, when she spoke to Tchima about the food
shortage they were facing last year, she was kind enough to acknowledge
the effort of government in distributing foodstuff even though she was
yet to receive any personally. What was more interesting in that
interview was how she kept on entrusting her hope in God, “E. Ana rabawa
amma mu Allah bai ciyar damu ba tukun”. What a good citizen! And God did
not fail her. He did not wait much after the interview was aired to
answer her prayer as well as that of others around her in Gidan Hardo
Isa.
The following forty minutes we spent there before we started our return
trip to Maradi were among the happiest moments one could experience in
life. It is fascinating to see other people happy, especially when
something good visits them unexpectedly. A unique blend of joy and
gratitude remarkably changed their faces before us and I had to fight
hard to suppress the tears their happiness instigated in my eyes. God is
gracious. Very gracious. Whatever little aid we took to them was from
Him. We remain grateful to Him for the opportunity.
We bade the residents of Gidan Hardo Isa farewell amidst the joy that
surrounded their homes. You would think Zaytouna, the teenage girl of
Aisha, would jump into the car out of sheer happiness. As we drove back
to Maradi, the eastern sky had better news for the inhabitants of that
region of the Sahel. Rains fell just before sunset. And by the time I
went to bed in Maradi, they have arrived at the regional capital in
considerable quantity to make the rest of the night enjoyably cool for
our sleep.
Throughout my visit, I was delighted by the development and orderliness
of Niger. If the Ghana I saw in 2007 had given me the hope that Africans
can achieve good governance different from what obtains in Nigeria,
Niger brought that message closer home because of its proximity and our
cultural affinity. Niger is no longer a country of hunger and
underdevelopment as the media portrays it. Of course, shortage of rains
will contnue to be a problem in the Sahel but the country is
increasingly becomng adept in facing the challenge.
What is more interesting is how the contrast with Nigeria would bring
out Niger as a true jewel of the Sahel. Right from the first village
after the Babban Mutum border, one cannot fail to discern the
difference. "With their opposites, things become clear," said Al-Mutanabbi.
Their primary schools, except those built by communities – and all
public buildings for that matter – are built to an impeccable standard.
The nearest types of structures in Nigeria to which one could compare
the official primary school buildings I saw in their villages are those
built here by professional companies like Julius Berger. Even their very
large and numerous agricultural stores have defied the instable earth
and violent winds of the Sahel. They stand rigid and intact. Contrast
this with the subhuman standard classrooms in both our public and
private schools, the vandalized and empty stores that were mercilessly
stripped of their fittings and roofs by the gluttony of thieving
officials, etc.
The student/teacher ratio is small in all the schools I visited. I have
not seen any classroom holding under shade. The same children go to
school morning and afternoon, including Saturdays as it used to be here
in the 1960s. There are sufficient instructional materials and the
standard of learning is really high compared to ours. The Primary III
children I met at Gurguji, some kilometers away from Magarya, were
reading and writing composition in French. On the other side of the
border, it is not uncommon to find Nigerian children in SS III who
cannot make a single sentence in English – after 12 years of seducation.
The comparison is the same even on matters of governance. Nigeriennes -
commoners and elites alike – that I spoke to are unanimous on one point:
that ‘doka’ – or rule of law – is the fundamental difference between
their country and Nigeria. Niger is where one can say nobody is above
the law and readily win a nod. Officials do not engage in the bizarre
corrupt practices that take place in Nigeria with impunity. They have a
genuine patriotism for their country.
Officials in Niger have direct contact with their people and they show
remarkable concern for any plight that might visit them. Officials,
including the President, convene ‘town hall’ meetings even in the
remotest areas. In fact, the reason why we learn about their food
shortage is precisely because the government is concerned about the
welfare of its citizens. There are millions of Nigerians under similar
circumstance but I have never heard of any effort by government to
provide food for them and their livestock. Who cares in Nigeria if you
or your cow would die of hunger? Even the “fuji” or cattle vaccinations
exercises that were common up to the 1960s have completely disappeared.
And when the vaccinations are done in order to patronize a party
official, they are counted as a favour to the herdsmen.
Millions of our children are malnourished in Nigeria; we lose hundreds
of thousands of cattle to hunger annually. But the world does not know
about our hunger for two reasons: one, hunger is the last thing the
world would expects to exist in a leading OPEC country and, two,
Nigerian officials are too wicked to give it a damn. By contrast,
government in Niger knows that its population would take it to task on
any lapse, more so if there were reports of animals dying of hunger. The
government too is responsive and does not pretend that it is rich. If a
cry would bring assistance from donors, it is ready to do it loudly. And
it does not wait for them. Along the way to Hawan Dawaki, Rakiya keenly
showed me what they called "demi lun". As the name applies, these are
half moon basins which government pays villagers to dig on vast areas
and plant them with drought tolerant grasses. The ones we saw along the
way to Hawan Dawaki were still not harvested, indicating that the
cattle, as we saw them, will escape the lethal effect of the drought
this year.
The present government in Niger is particularly doing well. Throughout
the regions of Zinder and Maradi, there is a common sight of trucks
carrying food and animal feed to stores and people in the hinterland. A
journalist that is critical of the regime confided in me that if this
dry season passes without significant incidents of human and animal
deaths, he would lead a delegation of his colleagues to commend the
President in Niamey. President Mohammed Isoufou is not waiting for them.
He is already trying his best to fulfill his campaign promises. He
promised building 2,500 classrooms annually throughout his tenure, for
example. In his first year that just ended, he has built 2,800. This is
remarkable in a country with just a population of 15 million and which
is regarded among the poorest in Africa. At the peak of the recent fuel
subsidy crisis, by contrast, the federal government in Nigeria promised
to put thousands of buses on the roads of Nigerians cities. Nothing came
out of that simple promise. How much would it take to buy a bus in a
country that receives billions of naira daily as rent from oil
companies?
The result of the responsiveness of government and its resolve to
institute rule of law is the prevailing atmosphere of security and
peace. The governor of Maradi, Sidi Mohamed, drives around his capital
city freely. I saw the richest person in the region, Umaru Laouli Gago,
driving in the city alone in his car. And when night falls, I am sure
both will go to their houses and sleep quietly. Nigerian governors
cannot dare drive around their capitals without a coterie of hostile and
trigger happy security personnel. In fact, mine is reported to have
requested his House of Assembly to allow him officially relocate to
Abuja. It refused. If he would come to town, it may be once a month or
less, since Boko Haram placed him on its hit list in spite of his
apology. In the Southeast and South-south, the rich have resorted to
residing in hotels, for fear of abduction by kidnappers or attack by
armed robbers. Of what worth is our wealth?
Now, there are no go areas even for the Nigerian president, like Eagle
Square that is just a kilometre away from Aso Villa, many places in
Abuja and security risk states like Borno. By contrast, the President of
Niger travels to very remote areas to meet his people and pass the night
along with his ministers in mobile tents pitched in open air. I
remembered the story of Kusroe's (Persian) messenger who was shocked to
meet the second caliph, Umar Bin Al-Khattab, taking a nap under a tree
in the outskirts of Medina, alone without any guard, when his domain had
already encompassed the entire Arabia, Syria and Palestine. He said, “I
wish my King will enjoy the same level of tranquillity!” I also wish to
see President Goodluck Jonathan’s campaign train in Tilde one day where
he will pass the night in a tent at the foot of the Shere Hills.
Hahahahaha…
As a result of rule of law also, Niger is one fo the democracies to beat
in Africa. Tchima told me that if there is any manipulation, it could
only take place before balloting. But once the ballot is cast, nobody
can change the result. Results are announced instantly at polling
station and agents are given their copies of the return sheets. Every
party collates its results independently at its situation room.
Immediately the pattern shows the winner that would emerge, Tchima
assured me, other candidates would call that candidate on phone to
concede defeat and congratulate him or her. “Shi ke nan,” she said,
waiving her hands as we drove towards the Jibiya border.
That is Niger, with its scant resources and population. And here is
Nigeria, with over a hundred billion naira spent on elections, with a
PhD as President, with hundred times more policemen than those in Niger,
with thousands of election officials that include numerous professors
and PhDs as returning officers, with thousands of magistrates and
justices, and with thousands of lawyers. Yet, we cannot afford to be
honest enough to conduct a single credible election. What a shame!
The reason is simple. The Qur'an says, “Say, the bad and the good cannot
be equal even if the quantity of the bad has amazed you. So fear God, Oh
people of talent, such that you can succeed.”
It was then I realised the stupidity in the idea I put across to Aisha
back in Gidan Hardo Isa the previous evening. I asked her why they would
not just cross over to Nigeria where there is enough grass for their
cattle and arable land to grow crops. She said they prefer to remain in
Niger in spite of the difficulties. “If we leave, to whom do we abandon
this place: these huts, this fence, this land? Let our men go and search
for whatever they could get for us. But here we shall remain.”
More oil is discovered in the Sahel. Definitely, Niger will get rich in
the next two decades. I told Tchima that I am afriad that the grip of
the state on the affairs of the country may become loose. She disagreed,
averring that more resources will be committed to law enforcement
comensurate with the challenges. After two days of discussion, I
conceded that Niger will face the challenge of wealth squarely, given
the long experience it has in French style of administration and the
blessing of learning from the bad experience of its 'oil rich’ southern
neighbour.
In the end, I returned home pleased with my union with Aisha and her
people, and, more importantly, with the first hand knowledge that our
northern neighbour is not as poor as we think. It is developing fast;
its riches are increasing by the day; and its people are proud of it.
Its people are Africans too, except that they believe in rule of law.
With it, their future would certainly be better than ours. I cannot help
but wish them success.
If any of my readers, any student of law or any Nigerian official wants
to breathe the air of rule of law, he or she may not need to visit far
away Europe or America. Niger is closeby. That was the prayer of the
late Mamman Shata before his benefactor, the late Emir of Daura, Alhaji
Muhammadu Bashar. Hear him in the famous LP, Kwana Lafiya Mai Daura:
“In kasar waje ta yi nisa Mamman
Nan kusa ma kamar nan Nijer
In ga Magarya, jikan Abdu
Kai ni Damagaran, dan Sanda
Sannan sai ka kai ni Maradi
In kwana in gaida Sarki Buzu.”
By sheer coincidence, not by the design of my pocket - unlike Shata,
this was the same route I took in search of Habiba few days ago and
forty-one years after I heard that song for the first time as a primary
school child.
As I bade Tchima farewell at the border and thanked her for her
invaluable help, I was immediately greeted on the Nigerian side before I
drove into Katsina by sights of blown roofs of newly built classrooms,
by a large acreage of firewood bales (not a single piece have I seen
sold by the roadside in Niger), by police and soldiers soliciting for
tips even under the current security situation, by bare walls of stores
that used to harbour tonnes of fertilizer and other agric inputs, and by
a people each left to his own devices.
I was definitely back to Nigeria, my one and only country, the land of
religion without faith, of nothing amidst plenty, of poverty amidst
wealth, of ignorance amidst knowledge, of impunity amidst laws, and of
dictatorship amidst democracy.