Anthills of the Savannah

I had known him then for close on twenty-five years, from that day long ago when we first met as new boys of thirteen or fourteen at Lord Lugard College. And so I found myself advising 'a whole Head of State' who was, in addition, quite frankly terrified of his new job. This is something I have never been quite able to figure out: why the military armed to the teeth as they are can find unarmed civilians such a threat. For His Excellency, it was only a passing phase, though. He soon mastered his fear, although from time to time memories of it would seem to return to torment him. I can see no other explanation for his quite irrational and excessive fear of demonstrations, for example. Even pathetically peaceful, obsequious demonstrations.

In his first days of power his constant nightmare was of the people falling into disaffection and erupting into ugly demonstrations all over the place, and he drove himself crazy worrying how to prevent it. I had no clear idea myself. But I imagined that a person like Professor Okong without having any clearer ideas than either of us would be helpful in putting whatever came into our heads into popular diction and currency. And so he was number one on my list and His Excellency appointed him Commissioner for Home Affairs. He had his day and then went into partial eclipse. But I hardly think he is due for prison, yet.

TWO

His excellency's deep anxiety had been swiftly assuaged by his young, brilliant and aggressive Director of the State Research Council (SRC). He proved once again in his Excellency's words as efficient as the Cabinet was incompetent. Every single action by this bright young man from the day of his appointment has given His Excellency good cause for self-congratulations for Major Johnson Ossai had been his own personal choice whom he had gone ahead to appoint in the face of strong opposition from more senior officers. And it had happened at the very tricky moment when His Excellency had decided to retire all military members of his cabinet and to replace them with civilians and, to cap it all, add President to all his titles. There were unconfirmed rumours of unrest, secret trials and executions in the barracks. But His Excellency rode the storm quite comfortably thanks to two key appointments he had personally made — the Army Chief of Staff and the Director of the State Research Council, the secret police.

So when Professor Okong was marched in by the fierce orderly he found His Excellency in a tough and self-confident mood.

'Good day, Your Excellency, Mr. President,' intoned Professor Okong executing at the same time a ninety-degree bow.

No reply nor any kind of recognition of his presence. His Excellency continued writing on his drafting pad for a full minute more before looking up. Then he spoke abruptly as though to an intruder he wanted to be rid of quickly.

'Yes, I want you to go over to the Reception quadrangle and receive the delegation waiting there… Well, sit down!'

'Thank you, Your Excellency.'

'I suppose I ought to begin by filling you in on who they are and what they are doing here, etc. Unless, of course, by some miracle you made the discovery yourself after I left you.'

'No, sir. We didn't. I am sorry.'

'Very well, then. I shall tell you. But before I do I want to remind you of that little discussion we all had after the Entebbe Raid. You remember? You all said then: What a disgrace to Africa. Do you remember?'

'I remember, Your Excellency.'

'Very well. You were all full of indignation. Righteous indignation. But do you by any chance remember what I said? I said it could happen here. Right here.'

'You did, sir, I remember that very well.'

'You all said: Oh no, Your Excellency it can't happen here.' The way he said it in mimicry of some half-witted idiot with a speech impediment, might have raised a laugh from a bigger audience or at a less grave moment.

'Yes, Your Excellency, we said so,' admitted Professor Okong. 'We are truly sorry.' It wasn't yet very clear to him what point or connection was being made but what his answer should be was obvious and he repeated it: 'Your Excellency we are indeed sorry.'

'It doesn't matter. You know I've never really relied on you fellows for information on anything or anybody. You know that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I should be a fool to. You see if Entebbe happens here it's me the world will laugh at, isn't it?'

Professor Okong found the answer to that one somewhat tricky and so made a vague indeterminate sound deep in his throat.

'Yes, it is me. General Big Mouth, they will say, and print my picture on the cover of Time magazine with a big mouth and a small head. You understand? They won't talk about you, would they.'

'Certainly not, Sir.'

'No, because they don't know you. It's not your funeral but mine.' Professor Okong was uneasy about the word funeral and began a protest but His Excellency shut him up by raising his left hand. 'So I don't fool around. I take precautions. You und'stand?'

'Yes, sir. Once more, may I on behalf of my colleagues and myself give you — I mean Your Excellency — our undeserved — I mean unreserved — apology.'

There was a long pause now like the silence of colleagues for a fallen comrade. His Excellency had been so moved that he needed the time to compose himself again. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face and then his neck around the collar vigorously. Professor Okong stared on the tabletop with lowered eyes; like eyes at half-mast.

'The crowd that came in an hour or so ago,' he said calmly and sadly, 'has come from Abazon.'

'Those people again!' said Okong in a flare-up of indignation. 'The same people pestering you to visit them.'

'It is a peaceful and loyal and goodwill delegation…'

'Oh I am so happy to hear that.'

'… that has come all the way from Abazon to declare their loyalty.'

'Very good, sir. Very good! And I should say, about time too…' A sudden violent frown on His Excellency's face silenced the Professor's re-awakened garrulity.

'But I have been made to understand that they also may have a petition about the drought in their region. They want personally to invite me to pay them a visit and see their problems. Well you know — everybody knows — my attitude to petitions and demonstrations and those kinds of things.'

'I do, sir. Every loyal citizen of this country knows your Excellency's attitude…'

'Sheer signs of indiscipline. Allow any of it, from whatever quarter, and you are as good as sunk.'

'Exactly, Your Excellency.'

'This is a loyal delegation though, as I've just told you and they have come a long way. But discipline is discipline. If I should agree to see them, what is there to stop the truck-pushers of Gelegele Market marching up here tomorrow to see me. They are just as loyal. Or the very loyal market-women's organization trooping in to complain about the price of stockfish imported from Norway.'

The Professor laughed loud but alone and stopped rather abruptly like a maniac.

'So I have a standing answer to all of them. No! Kabisa.'

'Excellent, Your Excellency.' It may have passed through Professor Okong's mind fleetingly that the man who was now reading him a lecture had not so long ago been politically almost in statu pupillari to him. Or perhaps he no longer dared to remember.