by Chidi Amuta
Coming of age should ordinarily be greeted with some rude awakening. A belated crude circumcision, some severe public flogging or a brief but benevolent incarceration for the purpose of imparting sacred communal secrets were various gateways into manhood in times past. Now, the more crude initiations have subtracted themselves from our reality in obedience to the rampage and ravages of modernity. Yet the notion that the illustrious son (or daughter) should be heralded into adulthood with a compulsive mirror image of himself cannot go out of fashion. We must as, it were, hold up a mirror before our friends when they turn 50 to help them answer the difficult questions of their own lives.
Age 50 can be quite significant. Modern medicine and the age of touch screen virtual reality may reassure us differently. But the reality is that you have to begin to take stock at 50. Some mistakes can no longer be corrected. Some adventures and risks become increasingly senseless. Some dance steps become more appropriate for your children. The choices we made in our 30s and 40s become trademarks, millstones that we wear around our necks for ever after. Physiologically, certain components of the original design, especially ‘moving parts’ may no longer work as intended. The 50-year-old Nigerian hangs on a balance of historical disadvantage.
They are neither millennials nor baby boomers in the western sense. Here at home, they neither really experienced the Nigerian civil war nor lived under the First Republic. They are therefore not what I call the independence generation. Segun ranks with Rotimi Amaechi among my very close younger friends who fall into what I call a generation in quandary.
In Segun’s case, I have followed his journalism and public affairs career almost religiously. I have also worked closely with him in other collectives informed by overwhelming national interest. I have always been struck by his very nationalistic outlook and robust humanism.
In terms of his journalism trajectory, what has not stopped to amaze me is the easy and foresight with which he embraced new journalism. This is a tradition best exemplified by the careers of major American journalists like Bob Woodward who have covered and written books on centres of power in Washington especially the While House and the Capitol. In this tradition, the reporter immerses himself in his subject and chronicles the object of his news interest for the benefit of a larger audience. The main thrust of this journalism is the reporter as historian.
In Segun’s case, he has displayed an unusual acute sense of history in identifying major historical moments at which the interests of Nigerians have transcended geo-politics and ethnicity. His books, Abiola’s Travails and Politricks: National Assembly Under Military Rule, come readily to mind.
Invariably, the reporter’s partisanship is never the object of such historical excursions. Of course the reporter as a citizen is entitled to a certain partisanship in the real world of the politics of his nation but his sense of history is never tainted by that partisanship. But the professional code of journalism insists on a certain objectivity of presentation, there is a larger citizen obligation that dictates that journalists also imply their larger and higher partisanship. True to this tradition, Segun chronicled the last days of the Gen. Sani Abacha years – The Last 100 Days of Abacha. In the process, he indicates why both the Abacha reign of terror and its tragic consequences were inevitable. He does so by capturing, from a reporter’s eye, the great moments of that brief period in our national history. There is an underlying insistence in this narrative that Nigeria deserved a higher level of leadership than Abacha was equipped to provide.
When he opted to serve as spokesperson for the late President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, not a few of his readers and admirers expressed concern. To the more incisive ones, his decision to serve in government almost invariably meant that he would be lost to journalism. Looking back now at his stewardship, it would seem that Segun saw his role as that of providing a more credible link between the citadel of power and his primary constituency: the media. As much as possible during his tenure, he maintained the vital links with his colleagues. Self effacing and almost shy and occasionally reclusive, Segun never allowed his elevation to a strategic government role to rob him of his modesty and courtesy. Nor did he experience a crisis of mission; he knew where he was coming from and was sure of where he would return.
As with all public officers, he may not have pleased all his friends and colleagues because he had a job to do. After months of shielding the equally shy Yar’Adua from direct media exposure, Segun realised his moment when he finally allowed the ailing president to grant a very memorable and exhaustive interview to The Guardian. Yar’Adua was finally able to take off the veil and reveal his firm grasp of core national issues and what he intended to do about them. Nigerians were perhaps able to perceive for the first time, the intellectual depth of the man who previously said little as he struggled to navigate the limitations of terminal ill health and altruistic national commitment.
Segun came out of the Yar’Adua experience with two pluses. First in his very important book, Power, Politics and Death, he shared with the public his first hand experience of the inner workings of the Nigerian presidency at a very difficult moment. He reveals in the process the power players, the plots, the various ‘cabals’ at play as well as the intrigues that brought Yar’Adua to power and worked to succeed him even while he remained terminally ill. This important work fills a critical gap in our public perception of the inner workings of the Nigerian presidency. The conversations that the book encouraged contributed to an enlargement of our democratic space in the sense that ordinary Nigerians were now in a position to learn of the behind-the-scene manoeuvres that shaped the direction of national life and history at a critical juncture.
Secondly, in a tradition where presidential spokespersons had previously been condemned to silence after office on account of an unstated code of official secrecy, Segun broke the myth and walked away largely with his personal integrity intact. The controversy around the Yar’Adua book was never about Segun’s personal honesty of intention but rather desperate attempts by the power players he fingered to becloud their own complicity in the uncanny outcomes that the book bears witness to. To crown it all, after Aso Rock, Segun spent a brief refresher stint at Harvard and walked straight back into the THISDAY newsroom from where he went to Aso Rock, thus renewing his covenant with both journalism and his readers.
As a public affairs commentator and columnist, Segun has maintained a fellowship with his readers for years. He has retained his trademark style of inviting his readers into a deliberation of serious national issues through the doorway of his personal experience with people, events, institutions and occasions. Some readers and commentators may find this style objectionable. Some have accused him of ‘name-dropping’ in order to exaggerate his social reach and public linkage. I doubt that Segun needs to drop any names to gain name recognition or importance in our society. It seems to me that his style is informed by an aspect of the Nigerian audience, the ‘seeing is believing factor’. It is to his eternal credit that he reveals his friends and is kind to them in his columns. But he never reveals who his foes are.
Therefore, as Segun reflects on his illustrious career at 50, I will show up at his home in the next couple of days bearing gifts that symbolise my perception of where his life and career now stand: A can of baby milk and a fat feeding bottle! Happy birthday my brother.
Ltd is a firm of Media and Public Affairs consultants based in Lagos, Nigeria.
Dr. Chidi Amuta is a journalist and a scholar who is chairman and chief executive of Wilson & Weizmann Associates, a Lagos-based PR firm. A former senior lecturer in literature and communications at the Universities of Ife and Port Harcourt, Amuta was also visiting Fellow, Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy, Boston USA. He has also served on the editorial board of The Guardian, before becoming group editorial adviser and chairman editorial board of the Daily Times. He is also the managing director of The Post Express Newspapers. This article is culled from Thisday.
The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author.
