Inside Aso Rock: The Day Abacha Died By Orji Ogbonnaya Orji
Friday June 5, 1998, was a cool bright day. Before we left the Villa, the
Press Corps was informed that the leader of the Palestinian Liberation
Organisation, Yasser Arafat, would be making a brief stop-over at the Nnamdi
Azikiwe International Airport, Abuja, enroute Morocco. And he was expected to
hold a brief discussion with the General Sani Abacha. We were therefore
expected to be at the airport to cover the event on Sunday, June 7. It was a
topical assignment in view of Nigeria's neutral position in the Middle East
conflict. Besides, the rest of us were keen to meet Mr. Arafat, the man at the
centre of the storm.
That Sunday morning, the Press Corps headed for the airport to await the
arrival of Yasser Arafat. We did not have to wait for too long before the
Palestinian leader arrived, accompanied by a very modest delegation. President
Arafat and General Abacha immediately went into private discussion at the VIP
lounge of the Presidential wing of the airport. The Press outside waited
curiously for the possible outcome of the talks between the two leaders, a
kind of joint press conference, on all issues involved in the
Nigeria-Palestine relations.
After the meeting, which was very brief, there was no press conference.
Rather, Yasser Arafat inspected a guard of honour mounted by a detachment of
the 3 Guards Brigade of the Nigerian Army, and departed for Morocco. The whole
airport ceremony lasted about two hours and we all returned to the Villa (Aso
Rock).
Before leaving the Villa, I decided to cross-check with protocol officials if
the Head of State would still be traveling to Burkina Faso to attend the OAU
Summit, which was already at the Ministerial Session in Ouagadougou. The
advance team of the Head of State's entourage had already left on Friday
night. I was to be in the main entourage expected to leave for Burkina Faso on
Monday morning, after Abacha would have declared open an International
Information Conference expected to begin in Abuja Monday June 8. The Federal
Ministry of Information organized the conference. It was normal during General
Abacha's regime, that his movement was always kept topmost secret. As a matter
of fact, those of us who used to travel with him would not know until few
hours to our departure. So was our trip to Burkina Faso. They told me it was
still on course.
With that assurance, I drove straight to NICON Hilton, Abuja where I had
passed the previous night as a member of the Organizing Committee of the
Information Conference. Six o'clock in the morning, Monday June 8, 1 1eft for
the Villa, with my luggage to join the delegation to Burkina Faso for the OAU
Summit. General Abacha was to head the Nigerian delegation. At the time I got
to the Villa everything appeared quite normal. I met some of my colleagues who
were also to be in the Head of State's entourage to Burkina Faso. At 7 a.m.
that fateful day, we all assembled at the Press Centre waiting for the
necessary directives. However, when it got to eight o'clock, and no signal was
forthcoming about our movement, we decided to go and have our breakfast and
reconvene in the next one hour. At that point everything in the Villa still
appeared normal. Various officials were seen in their duty posts doing their
routine jobs.
From the Villa, I drove straight to my house, had a quick breakfast, and
decided to go through NICON Hilton hotel to inform my colleagues in the
Organizing Committee about the uncertainty of our trip. On getting to the
hotel, I saw people standing in groups, discussing. But I did not give a
thought to their attention. I imagined that some of them were delegates or
participants at the conference. So I quickly dashed into my room, returned
immediately to the Villa to join my colleagues, to wait for further
developments.
On driving to the Villa gate, a new atmosphere had taken over. The first gate
had been taken over by new set of security operatives. I was not familiar with
virtually all of them, except one Major whose name I could not remember
immediately. The Major knew me by name. He was fully in charge of the new
security arrangement, dishing out instructions in a very uncompromising
manner. Initially, I did not take it as anything very serious. As a well known
person in the Villa, I was confident that my entrance was just a matter of
time moreso when I was hanging my State House identity card around my neck.
All my expectations were wrong as I was bluntly ordered to go back. All
explanations and introductions on my mission to the Villa were helpless. The
instruction was clear go back! go back! they shouted at all visitors. At that
delay many cars had formed long queues. My immediate reaction was to seek the
assistance of the Major, whom I had identified earlier, to save me from the
tyranny of his men. Before I could approach him he shouted, "Ogbonnaya go
back!" While I was still battling to wriggle out of what was seemingly a
hopeless situation, I noticed a woman right behind me, almost hysterically
screaming, that she had an early morning appointment with the First Lady, Mrs.
Maryam Abacha. The woman apparently must be coming from the National Council
of Women Societies from her dressing. My shock was the way she was instantly
assaulted by those stern looking security operatives. At that point, I quickly
got the message; I drove away from the scene as quickly as possible. Though my
mind was everywhere but my immediate conclusion was that there was a coup
because I could not imagine any other thing that could have caused such a high
level of security alert. I therefore decided to drive straight to the
International Conference Centre to alert my Director General on the latest
development. He was attending the conference as a participant.
At the International Conference Centre, I saw some Ministers standing at the
lobby in anticipation of the arrival of Abacha and his team. Immediately they
saw me, they became very agitated, and almost simultaneously asked me, "is the
C-ln-C already on his way?" I said, "no, I am not really sure he is coming.
But let us hope he will still make it". I knew, as a matter of fact, that I
had not really provided them with the desired answer, but that was the much I
could tell them. While they were still pondering on the uncertainty of my
reply, I left and quickly walked into the hall where I met my
Director-General, Alhaji Abdulrahaman Michika. He was already seated with
other participants. I called him aside. "Sir, I don't really know what is
happening in the Villa. I suggest that you leave this place now!" Without
betraying any emotion, he quickly asked me what was the situation in the Villa
like, I told him all that I saw. I repeated my advice and that I had not been
able to confirm what exactly was happening. I then made it clear to him that
it was no longer safe for him to continue staying in the conference, and so
should quietly take his leave. Alhaji Michika immediately went back to his
table, took his pen and papers and followed me out of the hall.
The moment we were outside, I asked him if he came with his car. He said yes,
but because of the extraordinary security arrangement put in place in
anticipation of the arrival of the Head of State, it was difficult locating
his driver. I then suggested that we should use my car which he obliged. I
drove him straight to his house instead of the office. Both of us agreed that
he should remain at home for the time being, while I promised to keep him
informed about the development. This panic measure was as a result of the
usual trauma which Radio Nigeria Management Staff often pass through each time
there was a military coup d'‚tat in Nigeria. The first target usually is the
FRCN Broadcasting House. The management and staff on duty usually pass through
hell in the hands of the military boys in their desperate effort to gain
entrance into the studios at record time for the usual "Fellow Nigerians"
broadcast.
From my Director-General's residence I decided to get to NICON Hilton Hotel to
assess the situation there before heading back to the Villa. At the hotel the
atmosphere was rather sombre. There were a few cluster of people; some of them
who recognized me, rushed and demanded to know what was happening at the
Villa. "Orji, is it true that there is a coup at the Villa?", they asked. I
said, "well I don't know". At that time, the BBC, CNN and International Media
had begun to speculate on the confused situation.
From their countenance I could see they were not satisfied with my answer.
They thought probably that I was withholding some information. But they never
knew I had none. I felt very uncomfortable. As a reporter covering the State
House, I was equally restless that I could not give a valid answer on what was
happening on my beat. I recognized too that it was utterly wrong to depend on
others for information about events unfolding in my beat. I instantly felt
challenged to get back to the Villa. I was equally aware that such an
adventure was fraught with a lot of risk. But that is the other side of
journalism as a profession.
On getting back to the Villa, I decided to avoid the main gate because of the
heavy security presence there. Instead, I used the maintenance gate through
the Asokoro District. I was amazed that no single security man was there at
the time. There was therefore no difficulty in passing through into Aso Rock.
I drove my car to the Administrative Gate and parked there, and decided to
walk. Initially everything had appeared normal in some parts of the Villa
until I met a Body Guard (BG). I queried, "old boy wetin happen? Why una boys
full everywhere?" It is easier to obtain information from other ranks with
informal English. "Ah! Na wa oh! You no know say Baba don quench?". The boy
answered also in Pidgin English. "Which Baba?" I shouted. "Baba don die, Baba
don quench just like that. Na so we see am," the boy concluded, clutching a
cigarette in his left hand. I still could not understand what he was saying.
"Which Baba do you mean?", I queried further. "Abacha don die! You no hear?"
He shouted at me angrily. It was a very funny way of announcing the passage of
a man who was feared and dreaded by all. I was nonetheless confused by its
reality. My immediate reaction was that if truly General Abacha was dead, it
meant the end of an era. What future does it hold for Nigeria? I pondered over
the development as I advanced further into Aso Rock. As I moved down, the
reality became evident. The environment was cold, cloudy with uncertainties
among the faces I met.
They confirmed it was a reality. General Abacha was truly dead. All were in
groups discussing it with fear and subdued silence.
I quickly reached for a telephone to relay the sad story to my
Director-General who must be anxiously waiting to hear the latest. Moreso, I
was still far away from my news deadline at 4 p.m. But I was disappointed to
discover that all the telephone links to the Villa had been severed. There was
no call coming in or going out, the Villa at that critical moment was almost
totally isolated from the rest of humanity. It was a deliberate measure. When
I could not get through on telephone, I decided to drive out fast to break the
news. But on reaching the gate through which I had earlier entered, I
discovered that some fierce looking soldiers who told me that nobody was
allowed to go out or come in had effectively barricaded it. This was happening
at about 9.30 a.m. I was helplessly trapped in the Villa from that time till
about 5 p.m. when we conveyed the remains of General Abacha to Kano for
burial.
I felt particularly disappointed that I could not break the news to anxious
Nigerians early enough. It was even more embarrassing and certainly very
disheartening to learn that some foreign broadcast stations like the BBC and
CNN, which had no accredited correspondents in the Villa, were the first to
break the news of General Abacha's death. It did not entirely come to me as a
surprise because the system we operate in Nigeria respects the foreign media
more than the local ones. It is equally a well-known fact that most foreign
media subscribe to policy makers in our country, who always feed them with
first-hand information about any event or issue in the country. The foreign
media organizations are no magicians. They pay for news sources especially in
situations where they have no correspondents. The pay is usually so attractive
that the source is efficient. Thus, generally, access to information in
developing countries is fraught with discrimination against local media in
preference to foreign ones.
That morning, June 8, 1998, Major Hamza Al-Mustapha, the Chief Security
Officer to General Abacha, was said to have called key members of the
Provincial Ruling Council (PRC) including strategic military commanders for an
emergency meeting. We learnt he refused to disclose that Abacha was dead. At
about 11a.m., members of the PRC had begun to arrive at Aso Rock for an
emergency meeting. Most of the members were informed only on arrival for the
meeting except the very powerful ones.
That day, Major Al-Mustapha looked very sharp and smartly dressed in his Army
tracksuit and white canvas. The Major was simply too busy running from pillar
to post, looking confident but certainly confused about the future without his
boss. He was finally in charge, distributing orders to the rank and file to
get the Aso Council Chambers ready for the meeting. We watched at a distance
in utter disbelief of the turn of events. For Mustapha, the situation was a
bleak one. The fear was a possible fall from grace to grass for a man who was
dreaded and respected by both the lowly and the mighty. But that morning, he
conjured such a pitiable image as he presided over the wreckage of a collapsed
regime.
Emotions took over the whole environment. One of the female Ministers worsened
the situation when she arrived the Villa by shouting and weeping openly.
Nobody looked her way to console her as everybody was simply on his/her own.
Cigarettes were a scarce commodity that morning, the only immediate source of
reducing tension and grief. Most PRC members who were informed on arrival
immediately asked for cigarettes, but none was easily available. Those who had
some hoarded them jealously. Elsewhere in the Villa, a gloomy atmosphere,
mingled with subdued excitement and relief pervaded. Flurry of activities were
taking place at breathtaking speed two crucial meetings were in progress
simultaneously. One was a meeting of Principal Officers in the Presidency and
the venue was Aso Rock Wing of the Chief of General Staff. The other meeting
of members of the Provincial Ruling Council (PRC) was shifted to Akinola Aguda
House. The two meetings later merged at Aso Council Chambers for another
crucial session. The joint session began at 2 p.m. and ended at 4.45 p.m. I
imagined that the items on the agenda of that meeting were:
_ Selection of a new Head of State and Commander-in-Chief.
_ Arrangements for the burial of General Abacha.
While the separate meetings were in progress, we in the Press Corps were held
hostage. We had all the information but no means of communication. Hunger was
also a problem. However, for the first time we were free to assess the regime
openly and objectively. The open discussion and arguments centred on what
Abacha did and did not do.
While the meeting at Aso Council Chambers was in session, Major Al-Mustapha
sat in the chair at the entrance, holding a newspaper in his hands, which he
occasionally glanced at. He looked rather relaxed after ensuring that every
necessary arrangement had been put in place. He occasionally responded to our
discussions with selected and reserved comments. His aides quoted him as
saying that nobody would leave the Council Chambers unless a new Military Head
of State was selected by the meeting. His fear, I learnt, was that a vacuum
was dangerous before General Abacha's burial later the same day. Mustapha
declined all efforts by the few Pressmen around to narrate how General Abacha
died. All efforts to bring him fully into our discussion also failed. Insiders
at the "red carpet" revealed that shortly after Abacha died, Major Al-Mustapha
took some strategic decisions that were of national significance. One of such
decisions was the immediate evacuation of the condemned coup plotters in Jos
Prison to a more secured place. The measure was probably to pre-empt any
intention to summarily execute the plotters by possible overzealous forces.
From morning till 5 p.m., no official press statement on the death of General
Abacha from any quarters was issued, even when the incident was already known
all over the world. It was difficult to reconcile how such a major sad event
could happen in the country and up till that time, nobody deemed it necessary
to issue an official statement. We then decided to mount pressure on the then
Minister of Information, Ikeobasi Mokelu, to make a pronouncement. It was
after much pressure that an official statement was eventually issued. The
press statement was five paragraphs in all, issued at about 5.25 p.m.
The atmosphere in the Villa then was overcast. On June 8 in Aso Rock,
hierarchy of command collapsed. It was a day everybody was free. Shortly after
the statement was issued, people began to troop towards the Red Carpet area
(official residence of the Head of State). I immediately imagined that the
body of the General might be Iying in state. I quickly followed, not certain
if it was going to be possible to be allowed to have a glimpse of it.
However, on getting to the house, I quietly walked in and saw the body of
General Abacha wrapped in white cloth and laid in a small private sitting room
in the residence. And I said to myself, "vanity upon vanity". His death to me
was as dramatic as his ascendancy to power, equally evoking tragic memories of
a nation that was unsafe of itself.
I returned to the Aso Council Chambers to wait for the outcome of the special
session of the Provisional Ruling Council. The outcome of the meeting was all
that the media was awaiting. The meeting was to answer the question "who
succeeds Abacha?" But before long, the picture of who succeeds General Abacha
began to emerge. Shortly after the meeting at Aso Council Chambers had ended,
I saw General Abdulsalami Abubakar walk out of the meeting ahead of other
senior military officers. This immediately conveyed the message that he had
been chosen as the new leader. My conclusion was based on the tradition in the
military, there is much respect for hierarchy and seniority. All other
military officers and PRC members lined behind Abdulsalami, confirming the
saying in the military that appointment supercedes rank. Besides, I watched
and saw that he was dishing out orders which all complied to, even his
seniors. He took control of the ad-hoc arrangement to convey the body of
General Abacha to Kano for burial. He was seen giving orders to both high and
low to arrange vehicles for movement to the airport.
The journey to Kano was already far behind schedule, given the fact that the
burial must take place that same day in keeping with the Islamic injunction.
We left Aso Rock for the airport at about 6 p.m.
It was indeed a big tragedy for the members of former first family as they
packed their belongings to join the convoy which took the corpse of the once
powerful General home. I wept when I saw Madam, Mrs. Abacha being helped into
the waiting car. She stared at Aso Rock in tears, a most difficult and tragic
way to say good-bye. Tears rolled freely from all gathered as Madam was driven
out of the Villa with her husband's corpse in front of her in a moving
ambulance. The ambulance is normally one of the last vehicles in the usually
long Presidential convoy. But on June 8, 1998, the ambulance was in the front
with General Abacha's corpse. All other vehicles lined behind in a day-light
reversal of history. The ambulance drove through the IBB bye-pass connecting
the airport link road as the entourage made its way to Nnamdi Azikiwe airport.
I was surprised that there was instant jubilation by passersby. Taxi drivers
lined up at major junctions shouting shame! shame!! as the convoy drove past.
Men and women ran after the convoy in utter disbelief of the turn of events.
Some other people formed queues in groups with green leaves in their hands
singing solidarity songs in a loud tone that suggested liberation from
bondage. It was a day in which my biro refused to write and the lines in my
jotter went blank. The journalist in me was overtaken by emotions as most of
us in the convoy found it difficult to speak to one another. We simply lacked
the words or the topic for discussion as our minds went blank and our brains
went asleep.
On our arrival at the airport, the body of General Abacha, which was still
wrapped in white cloth was carried into the hold of the presidential aircraft,
zero-zero one. There was no particular arrangement on who should be in the
aircraft, except that members of the first family and some PRC members were
given priority. I however noticed that most PRC members at the airport were
not even keen in accompanying the corpse of the late General to Kano.
While the aircraft was being positioned, Madam and her children waited at the
Presidential lounge with a cluster of relatives and very few associates. The
usual crowd around the first family had begun to disappear. That day, it was
as though the Abacha family was for the first time in many years on a lonely
journey to an unknown destination, even though the aircraft was heading for
Kano. It was incredible to imagine the Abachas without General Sani Abacha. As
the saying goes, "when the big tree falls, all the birds will fly away".
The aircraft ready, Madam and her children left the lounge with the heavy
burden of making their last flight on the presidential jet, with the corpse of
the former Head of State on board. Mrs. Abacha climbed into the aircraft in
tears with measured steps. Her children joined too, then some few friends and
relations.
Inside, the plane was taken over by grief, tears and open weeping. We had
already boarded the aircraft and almost getting set to take-off when General
Abubakar curiously asked, "where is the corpse?" He was told that it was kept
in the hold. "No, no, no, bring it inside!" the General commanded. And it was
brought in and kept few seats away from where I sat. As the journey
progressed, whenever there was turbulence, the body would shake, exposing the
legs, which were partially covered. I sat in that aircraft speechless. My
reflections were on life, death, power, influence and the vanity of human
desires.
Our flight to Kano was barely thirty minutes, but I felt it was more than two
hours. The usual conversation and jokes in zero-zero one was overtaken by
subdued silence, grief, pain and weeping. Everybody on board was on his own. I
could imagine how other people's mind worked at that sober period. But mine
went into a comprehensive review of the Abacha era beginning from the night of
November 16, 1993 when the General took over. Within my reflections, my mind
was everywhere, the good, the bad, the very bad and the ugly. My mood was
interrupted by a sudden announcement from the cockpit that we were few minutes
away from Aminu Kano International Airport.
The situation on our arrival at Aminu Kano International Airport was rather
chaotic. There was no precise arrangement to receive the corpse on arrival.
Apparently, our arrival caught Kano and the people unaware. Apart from the
first family, and few officials, everybody was expected to sort out his/her
own transport arrangement out of the airport. Eventually I had to arrange for
an airport taxi to convey me and two others to the private residence of the
late Head of State. Unfortunately, there were few taxis at the airport. While
this arrangement was on, the main convoy had left with the corpse. We
therefore quickly hired a taxi at a high fare dictated by the driver, who was
very rude and uncooperative. We were shocked that the driver showed little or
no sympathy, but was rather quick to explain that he never benefited anything
from the Abacha regime. In his view, his condition had even worsened. We
discontinued the discussion as it was becoming volatile.
The Abacha family house on Gidado street, GRA, Kano is a modest twin duplex
located in a rather small compound. By the time we arrived there, the place
was already besieged by a large number of sympathizers struggling to gain
entry. As there was no time to start identifying who was who, we were all
being pushed by the security officials who had a very hectic time trying to
contain the rapidly surging crowd. In the midst of the pushing. and kicking, I
suddenly realised that the person who was being pushed against me was the
highly respected Governor of Lagos State, Col. Buba Marwa. It therefore became
clear to me that at that moment, everybody was regarded as equal, courtesy of
the security at the gate. I was then encouraged to continue pushing, until I
finally managed to squeeze myself inside the compound.
Inside the compound, I observed scanty presence of newsmen, because security
was deadly. I also discovered that the grave was still being prepared, an
indication that no proper arrangement was made. Earlier, the body of General
Abacha was taken to Kano Central Mosque for prayers. From the Central Mosque,
the body was laid on the floor of his private mosque just by the gate with two
soldiers standing on guard. I peeped several times to assure myself that it
was actually the former powerful Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces that
was on the bare floor. One was expecting a more dignified presidential burial,
with due respect to the modest way the Muslims conduct their burials. Even at
a point, a soldier asked, "Why is there no burial party here?" I immediately
wanted to know what burial party was all about. I was told that it was the
usual twenty-one gun salute line-up of soldiers will give to a fallen officer
as his last military respect. But before any of such arrangement could be
made, the body of General Abacha had been lowered into the grave. There was
certainly no fanfare in the burial, it was simple and brisk. In simple
comparison, I had accompanied General Abacha himself to the burial of a top
military officer and member of the Provisional Ruling Councils who had died
sometime ago and was buried in Minna during his regime. I observed that all
the procedures at that burial in all consideration was better managed, more
respectful and dignified than that of the former Head of State, their
difference in rank and position notwithstanding.
There were quite a number of very important personalities who witnessed the
burial. But I particularly took notice of former Military President, General
Ibrahim Babangida and his wife Mariam, who were seen talking with Mrs. Abacha,
probably trying to console her. There were also some Emirs and other top
Northern leaders who were able to make the trip at such short notice. At about
9.48 p.m. when Abacha's grave was being covered with sand, a powerful
businessman from one of the South Eastern States who was very prominent in
Abacha's campaign for self succession arrived and broke down weeping and
wailing openly. Some faithful Muslims who dominated the burial reacted
negatively to such an un-lslamic approach to the dead. They threatened to
whisk the man out of the premises if he failed to comport himself. The
businessman was among those who threatened to proceed on exile or commit
suicide if General Abacha failed to become President.
As the burial ended at about 10.05p.m., we hurriedly left for Abuja. I
expected that there could probably be some other ceremonies. But I was wrong
as we left barely twenty minutes after the body had been interred. We arrived
Abuja a few minutes to twelve midnight and drove straight to Aso Council
Chambers in the Villa for the swearing-in of General Abdulsalami Abubakar as
the new Head of State, Commander-in-Chief of the Nigeria Armed Forces.
The swearing-in ceremony was rather brief. It was preceded by a formal
announcement by the Principal Secretary to the former Head of State, that
General Abubakar had been appointed to succeed the late General Sani Abacha.
General Abubakar was then invited to step forward and take the oath of office
and allegiance at about 1.43 a.m. on June 9, 1998. That ceremony marked the
end of the Abacha era.
After the oath-taking, General Abubakar signed the register to herald the
beginning of the new era. That era ushered in a new dawn, a brighter future
and hope for a sustainable democracy in Nigeria. The rest is now history. Back
to the newsroom at 3 a.m., June 9, with series of events that had taken place
in the past 24 hours, my diary was full. It was difficult to decide a headline
for the 7 a.m. news bulletin. I do remember that, that morning, at the FRCN
Network News studio there was a problem over which of the two important
stories should come first; that Abacha was dead or Abubakar has been sworn-in
as the new Head of State. Coverage of the events of that day without food and
water was among my most challenging assignment.
* Excerpts from the book, Inside Aso Rock, written by respected broadcast
journalist, Orji Ogbonnaya Orji who for seven years covered the State House
for Radio Nigeria. Published by Spectrum Books Ltd. It is available in major
bookshops.
