There are people you judge from a distance and run into wrong conclusions. It can only take understanding of their situations or environments to fully appreciate what they go through and why they act in certain ways. That was the lot of Second Republic governor of Imo State, Dr. Sam Mbakwe, popularly called Dee Sam. When it was split from the then East Central State in 1976, Imo was literally bare and lacked basic infrastructure. Newspaper columnist, Professor Obi Nwakanma, captured the state of affairs in Imo at the beginning in one of his usually robust outings. According to Nwakanma, when Sam Mbakwe arrived Owerri Government House as governor in 1979, the three major cities in the state – “Owerri, Aba, Umuahia, still had houses operating ‘bucket latrines’ and the cities still employed night soil men (ndi Oburu nsi) and ran waste landfills.” That was enough to deter the lily-livered.
The first statewide public safety and hygiene law passed under the Mbakwe administration gave every landlord and household in these cities four months and a tax rebate to change the infrastructure from the bucket system to the water system, failure of which the houses would be marked as public health hazard zones. This was fully accomplished in three months.
In 1981, faced with inadequate transportation system to and from the state, Mbakwe threatened that, if the Federal Government did not build an airport in Owerri, he would mobilize and build one. He actually did so. Next, was the Ndiegoro flood menace in Aba, the commercial nerve centre of the state. The magnitude of the disaster was huge. On a daily basis, houses were swallowed by the flood and residents displaced.
googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display(‘div-gpt-ad-1718806029429-0’); });
With meagre resources at the disposal of the state, controlling the rampaging flood posed a serious challenge to Mbakwe. Left with no option, he cried out to the Federal Government of President Shehu Shagari for assistance. Because of his consistency in raising the matter at every forum, Dee Sam was nicknamed the “Weeping Governor.” Many that did not understand what he was going through mocked him with the tag. But he knew his travails and worked towards overcoming them. Mbakwe ended up being the best governor to have emerged from the old and present Imo, if not in the entire country, ever since.
In some ways, Governor Caleb Mutfwang of Plateau State is passing through some of the ordeals Mbakwe encountered, though the magnitude and context of the battles before him are wider. While Mbakwe battled with infrastructure deficit, Mutfwang contends with violence and destruction of lives and properties in his domain. Unlike some of his colleagues whose complaints were on inheriting empty treasuries, Mutfwang had crises and insecurity waiting for him on assumption to office. The governor met a state that was virtually in disarray, torn by occasional eruption of communal and religious crisis. Intrusion of terrorists and bandits in the violence profile of the state makes the situation more disturbing. While the governor cries out over his challenges, many think that he lacks the courage and focus to face his battles. But that is taking the matter from the surface. Truth be told, Mutfwang needs empathy and deserves encouragement. The Plateau State he inherited is an entity that has lost its trademark ambience and serenity. It is now living on lost glory, so to say. It would only take someone who had lived in Plateau in its days of innocence to appreciate the extent of assault that the state has suffered in the hands of bloodthirsty hounds.
I was in Plateau for a graduate programme in the University of Jos (UNIJOS) in the early 1990s. Before then, I had longed to visit the state. Growing up, my parents, especially my mother, used to regale us with stories of the beauty and placidity of Jos. My family was in Jos during our infancy before it was forced out of the city following the crisis and pogroms of 1966 that eventually snowballed to the civil war.
Those tales fired my urge to visit Plateau. While in UNIJOS between 1991 and 1993, I confirmed the beauty and serenity of the place. The unique Jos weather, relative low cost of living, peaceful environment and fellow-feeling among the residents compared to no other place in the country. It was in Plateau, Jos in particular, that, for the first time, I noticed churches and mosques sharing the same compounds or separated by thin walls. Where we lived, Angwan Rogo, was behind the university and predominantly populated by Muslims. But it did not really matter to us. During festive periods for either Christians or Muslims, we were served with food by wealthy members of the particular faith celebrating. Nobody in the city, to my knowledge, was discriminated against or attacked on the basis of faith, sect or ethnicity. It was not for nothing that we prided UNIJOS as a mini-Nigeria, an institution that had many students living in peace without any group dominating the others.
Sadly, that era is gone. It is now so bad that, a month ago, when I had cause to be in Jos, I learned with pains of the existence of the axiomatic “Wall of Jericho” dividing the residents on religious lines. It rankled in particular that a friend that I pleaded with to take me to my former place of residence in Angwan Rogo refused to go and advised me against embarking on the risky trip. That spoke much on how bad things are in the state.
TheNiche columnist and immediate past national secretary of Nigerian Union of Journalists (NUJ), Usman Leman, is right that: “Once celebrated as the nation’s ‘safe haven’ and proudly proclaiming itself the ‘Home of Peace and Tourism,’ the state has been transformed into a theatre of conflict, leaving a devastating trail of lost lives, destroyed property and hundreds of thousands displaced.” Leman is an alumnus of UNIJOS. He knew what the state was and what it is currently. This is the depressing story of Plateau, an unflattering index of state failure and irresponsibility on the part of successive leaders in the country and the people.
When Mutfwang, therefore, alleged that the recent killings in his state were genocidal and sponsored, he might have his points. A situation where more than 148 communities in the state were at a time, taken over by terrorists, can be disturbing to any leader that is worth his office. Good enough, the governor is rising to the occasion by expressing his determination to restore Plateau to its status as land of peace and tourism. In this regard, most of the communities previously taken over by criminal elements have been recovered, through the state’s special security outfit, “Operation Rainbow”, and other laudable initiatives.
On the strength of the successes recorded so far, the governor enthused that the security challenge is a distraction, not the key issue; the issue, according to him, is to rebuild Plateau. That requires some drastic measures including infrastructure rebirth and other engagements, he admitted. Ongoing and completed Road Projects in Jos metropolis and other parts of the state, point to Mutfwang’s agenda at reclaiming Plateau. Efforts at remodeling Jos Terminus Market that was razed by arsonists in the days of madness, rehabilitation of Hill Station and Plateau Hotels, to reviving the state’s agricultural and horticultural sectors, equally count on the governor’s vision for a new Plateau. Above all, Governor Mutfwang has vowed not to look back in restoring peace to the state. Achieving that would mark a starting point in his winning his many battles in Plateau.
The post Many battles of Gov. Mutfwang in Plateau appeared first on The Sun Nigeria.
