“In a place inhabited by the conscious, IBB would not dare to show his face in public.” — Dele Farotimi
The celebratory launch of Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida’s autobiography, A Journey in Service, on the trail of dignitaries, both national and foreign, that graced the occasion, which was held in conjunction with an initiative to build a Presidential Library, was not a single indicator that Nigeria is hardly a nation inhabited by conscious beings.
When evaluating some rather embarrassing happenings in Nigeria, it is usual, for one, to use cliché phrases like, in a sane society, this wouldn’t happen, or, as the activist put it, conscious nation. Although I strongly disapprove of such generalisations that box all Nigerians together—including those tirelessly speaking truth to power—one can’t, on occasions like the national elevation of the former military dictator to the revered status of an elder statesman, help but wonder if the majority of the country are sane enough or at least conscious of not just present realities but also of those whose past deeds directly and indirectly compounded the current woes the country is besieged with.
For millions of other Nigerians who were not born during the reign of Babangida between 1985 and 1993 but have rightly relied on books to stay abreast of some of Nigeria’s military era, this gathering of the country’s democratic leaders for the book launch of one of its most undemocratic figures had a distasteful, chilling effect and demands self-introspection regarding our collective sense of condemnation of evil.
According to several reports, an astonishing N17.5 billion was raised for this presidential library, which will be the second in the country after the Olusegun Obasanjo Presidential Library in Abeokuta. This whopping donation was contributed by some of Nigeria’s richest men, including Aliko Dangote, who gave N2 billion and promised to donate N6 billion more across three years. Abdul Samad Rabiu donated N5 billion, while former army chief and minister of defence TY Danjuma pledged N3 billion.
Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar with Babangida. Atiku attended the book launch.
If the circumstances surrounding the initiative to build this Presidential Library were slightly different, I would have dedicated 2,000-plus articles praising the donors. However, as I pen this down, shocked by the overwhelming reception IBB received yesterday, I find myself surrounded by children in the mini-library I recently discovered near my area. I have ceaselessly inquired about government libraries in Lagos, and the nearest one to me is over 7 kilometers away. In fact, a little research suggests that there are just 12 state-owned public libraries in the entire city of Lagos—a state with over 20 million people. Yet, a library is being built not just in honor of a man whose past remains largely unexplored but one that, although open to the public, will not be easily accessible to commoners like me.
Beyond my personal disapproval of constructing such libraries when hundreds of government libraries are in a despicable state across the country, the questionable character and past actions of the man behind this project—a building that should hold the truth—evoke a deep sense of disappointment. It suggests that, as a country, we do not ask the hard questions and have become complicit in the continuation of evil.
Would Books About the Mysterious Death of Dele Giwa Be in IBB’s Presidential Library?
Perhaps at the top of Babangida’s unresolved past is the question: Who killed Dele Giwa? The story of how Giwa, a renowned journalist and editor-in-chief of Newswatch—a magazine he founded just seven months before Babangida seized power—is public knowledge. Giwa received a parcel marked “from the office of the C-in-C,” handed to him by his 19-year-old son, Billy. But in reality, it was a bomb that exploded upon opening, blowing up in Giwa’s face.
The incident, witnessed by Kayode Soyinka—who lost his hearing for five years due to the blast—inspired a song by the legendary Afrobeat artist Fela Kuti, who sang in one of his tracks: “Who Killed Dele Giwa? Na Baba. If you put am Ngida, na you sabi.”
Although it remains an unsolved murder—one of many that tragically occurred during Babangida’s regime—would the library contain literature suggesting that Giwa was blown up for trying to expose the inhumane and corrupt practices of IBB’s government?
Dele Giwa: Source: Guardian Newspaper
“That boy calls you friend. Do not bear a hand in his death.” Paraphrased from Things Fall Apart
There are lesser-known cases that, to me, reflect even greater impunity than Giwa’s murder. One such case is the tragic execution of Mamman Vatsa, a childhood friend and long-time colleague of Babangida. The unique nature of Vatsa’s case, coupled with the remarkable friendship both men shared, and the link between his death and Giwa’s assassination, makes it necessary—for history’s sake—to dwell on this matter for a while.
Born on August 17, 1941, in Minna, Niger State, Babangida and Mamman Vatsa attended the same Bida Middle School, formerly Native Authority School. After a smartly dressed Yakubu Gowon visited their school with a senior military officer to convince students to consider a military career, Babangida and Mamman Vatsa were completely sold on the idea and enrolled in the Nigerian Military Training College (NMTC) in Kaduna on the same day.
Before delving further into how the lives and careers of these two military officers were intertwined and almost inseparable, it is important to note that Babangida was involved in all successful military coups—except the first one—up until the time he seized power from Muhammadu Buhari in August 1985.
To further highlight their deep friendship, Babangida served as best man at Vatsa’s wedding to Safiya, a woman from Calabar whose birth name was Nwaeze Onwuka.
It seemed as if wherever Babangida went, Vatsa followed. After Babangida returned from a training course in Warminster, United Kingdom, he was appointed as an instructor at the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA)—and so was Vatsa. But their close bond quickly soured when Vatsa’s name emerged in a suspected coup plot after Babangida became Head of State. A Supreme Military Tribunal was convened to try the arrested coup plotters, and the tribunal found Vatsa guilty, sentencing him to death by firing squad.
Mamman Vatsa
Although the extent of Vatsa’s influence in the military was questionable—since, during his friend’s regime, he was merely the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory and had no direct command over troops—his impact outside the military, particularly in the literary world, was significant. As an accomplished author, it was unsurprising that renowned writers like John Pepper Clark, brother to Edwin Clark, Chinua Achebe, and Wole Soyinka—all of whom, despite being fierce defenders of the rule of law, had shown some level of sympathy toward Babangida’s regime—visited the Head of State to plead for their colleague Vatsa’s death sentence to be reconsidered.
Soyinka later wrote about the visit:
“Chinua Achebe, J.P. Clark, and myself met Babangida. He came out and gave us his pledge. He said, ‘Gentlemen, I’m glad you people came. I’m going to throw my weight on the side of mercy. I promise you, I’ll do my best.’”
John Pepper Clark, Chinua Achebe, and Wole Soyinka at Dodan Barracks to plead with Babangida for the death sentence of Vetsa to be reconsidered. Source: HistoryVille
It was even reportedly claimed that Babangida’s wife, Maryam, pleaded with her husband to spare Vatsa’s life.
But as the pages of trustworthy history books indicate, Babangida was not just a fine soldier but also a born politician with an inherent manipulative skillset, often seen among seasoned politicians. For instance, not only did Babangida court the Nigerian press for favorable coverage—including Dele Giwa himself, whom he allegedly assassinated for being in possession of a copy of the tape containing Vatsa’s testimony before the military tribunal—he also repealed the infamous Decree 4 and released imprisoned journalists like Tunde Thompson and Nduka Irabor.
Thus, while Babangida publicly displayed a willingness to spare his boyhood friend, his actions suggested otherwise. Vatsa was executed by firing squad on March 5, 1986, at Kirikiri Maximum Security Prison in Lagos. But the question remains—was the coup that Vatsa was accused of masterminding even real? That question deserves a deeper moment of introspection.
First, Vatsa, who was then a minister, as previously noted, had no troops at his disposal, nor was he remotely influential enough within the army to command the loyalty of top military personnel needed to successfully orchestrate a coup. Additionally, one of the pieces of evidence against Vatsa was that he had given N10,000 to facilitate the coup.
For those familiar with how most coups were conducted in Nigeria, they were often executed by tight-knit groups of conspirators rather than through bribing soldiers into loyalty. Even the money he was accused of offering, according to historians, was too small to buy the allegiance of senior military officers.
Historian Max Siollun, author of Soldiers of Fortune, wrote:
“If Vatsa really did intend this sum to be used for coup financing, it was an incredibly low amount to induce senior officers holding prestigious posts to risk their lives in a coup plot.”
Babangida’s justification for executing his boyhood friend was that Vatsa allegedly attempted to escape after being accused of plotting a coup.
“He tried to escape through the air conditioner hole. Then I asked myself, if he was not planning a coup, why was he trying to escape?” Siollun quoted the former Head of State. “Despite the fact that he was my friend, playmate, and course mate, he had to be executed. Vatsa was like a scorpion in one’s pocket.”
But who wouldn’t try to escape when accused of coup plotting by a dictator? Would anyone willingly stay behind to be tried by a military tribunal that often disregarded due process? To me, Babangida was just another paranoid leader who, like an Igbo adage suggests, would not, being a killer himself, allow a knife to be held at his back.
This assertion, if biased or incorrect, can be tested against a simple fact: of the 117 people executed during Nigeria’s military rule, 78 were executed under Babangida’s regime. This means that during the nearly three decades of military rule in Nigeria, Babangida’s eight-year reign accounted for 67 percent of all military executions.
He Denied Nigerians the Chance to Have a Formidable President
To revisit the annulment of the June 12, 1993, presidential election—an election clearly won by the charismatic Moshood Abiola—is to once again unearth a despicable chapter of Nigerian history that continues to stir the emotions of conscious Nigerians.
Although, at his book launch, Babangida—for the first time—described the annulment as “an accident of history, most regrettable,” I am perplexed that President Bola Tinubu, who unsurprisingly attended the event despite certainly having more pressing state matters, accepted that hollow apology and even applauded it. For Tinubu, who literally and figuratively idolizes Abiola, to accept such an apology is sickening and an insult to the collective intelligence of Nigerians.
Will literature detailing how $12.2 billion, which is $26.23 billion (₦39.35 trillion) when adjusted for inflation, vanished under Babangida’s regime from Nigeria’s crude oil account be allowed into his library?
Will documents exposing how IBB spent 2% of the national budget to purchase cars for military officers—an amount that, adjusted for inflation, exceeds $178 billion in today’s money—be made available to the public?
And again, will Dele Giwa and the mysterious circumstances surrounding his assassination be given a section in the library that lays out what truly happened?
In the coming days, I will get hold of this autobiography (I certainly won’t buy it with my money), take it to the small, under-equipped library with insufficient seats, and read yet another propaganda piece by a former Head of State, in their usual attempt to rewrite history for the gullible and unconscious masses.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Neusroom.
