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All my life, I’ve always known the right people. My parents got
married on the backdrop of belonging to the right social class; it seemed the
sensible thing to do as a union of that nature would lead to mergers that would
be talked about for years to come. When I came about, even I was talked about
as well – the press dubbed me all kinds of names like ‘‘Prince to the Empire”
and “Heir Apparent”. And, for as long as I can remember, I’ve only always hung
out with the right crowd. Take the current Attorney General for example; we
were in the same crèche.

Till date, my mates back in school often wonder how I made it
through. I was never in class that much; I usually found the lectures a little
boring. My holidays were at least a month longer, as special offers in Paris
and London were not easy to come by and I did not want to waste an opportunity.
I often told a few of my friends that making good grades was not a function of
what you knew but who you knew. A lot of them never quite understood, but some
did. Small wonder “we” came out with good grades.

A trip back to my school for an alumni fundraiser revealed that
the best graduating student in my class was now a lecturer in the same school.
I met a few more who had promising prospects while we were in school, but who
had come in hope that they would find a friend from back in the day that would
be willing to help them at least get a job.

To all who wondered as to how I had become the MD of a blue chip
organisation in such a short time, I simply reminded them, “It’s not what but
who you know”. After the alumni meeting, I made a mental note not to attend
such meetings. The phone calls and e-mails I got afterwards reminding me of my
promise to “help” made me change my contact details. By the way, those worth
staying in touch with knew where to find me. Business life has its own
attendant problems as well. In the club, over drinks and cigars, my competitors
wonder how I’ve been raking in a lot of juicy contracts in the industry.

I hear a lot of rumours
making the rounds, including suggestions that I made night calls to a
synagogue. I take huge swigs of my drink and long drawn puffs on my cigar with
a huge grin on my face. I soak up the pleasure of having them revere me as
being more successful than they are – my body mass seems to increase. I sigh
heavily and remark in low tones, “It’s all about who you know!” Many years have
gone by and I am still on top of my game. I know just about everyone that is
worth knowing.

My sisters also have a firm understanding of this all-too
important fact of life. One of them is married to the country’s ambassador to
France. Recently, she apparently screwed up a chat with some senators after she
was nominated for an ambassadorial post. How does an ambassador-to-be not know
her country’s national anthem? Nonetheless, she has received the nod. Why? We
know the right people. My other sister is married to a former governor and very
influential man. She is on her way to the Senate.

Many have questioned her
suitability. But, who cares about such little details when you know the right
people. At any rate, those complaining are just doing so because they are not
the ones being considered.

I have heard a lot of so-called crusaders question this way of
life. They rant about what effects this will have on our society. They ponder
the future of our children and generations unborn. They are at a loss as to why
we do not appreciate people with abilities, who can actually carry out the job
at hand. My answer is simple. Why worry about generations still unborn?

The rate at which the world is going, they may never make it –
take a look at Japan. And, personally, I have no problems with people who are
actually intelligent or skilled; I hire them. As to why they do not get to the
top, that is entirely their fault. They paid too much attention to building
their intellectual capacities and other abilities, and left the most important
of all to suffer; they did not build on the people they know. So, you see, it
really is simple. It’s not what you know, but the people you know that matters.

If one week is a long time in politics, eight years is certainly
an eternity. Eight years ago, Ibrahim Shekarau, the current governor of Kano
State, was a classroom teacher, having been demoted from the rank of Permanent
Secretary. Politically, he was unknown. He had no money, no contacts and no
prospects. But by a lucky turn of fate, events conspired to make him governor
of Nigeria’s most populous state.

The sympathy that followed the former principal’s demotion by
then governor, Rabiu Musa Kwanwkaso, propelled Governor Shekarau to the
limelight, but the support of Muhammadu Buhari, then candidate of the All
Nigeria Peoples Party, guaranteed Mr. Shekarau’s victory at the governorship
elections, by a substantial margin of votes. It was the most spectacular, and
maybe only, defeat of an incumbent PDP governor without litigation.

In the perverse way we have of measuring performance in office,
those who are benefitting directly or indirectly from Mr Shekarau will swear to
high heavens that he is one of the best governors ever, in the history of Kano.
Those who lost out in the power game or are not getting financial handouts from
the governor will tell you he has become embroiled in deceit and double-speak.
To them, the humble mallam now has a haughty manner.

Beyond dispensing government largesse as a philosophy of
government unique to Nigeria, what are the impact of policies and programmes on
the society? What will Mr Shekarau be remembered for? In the history of Kano,
late governors Audu Bako and Abubakar Rimi stand out prominently for the
lasting and unforgettable impact they had on the state. But when a leader
leaves no imprints – neither in terms of philosophy nor material legacies, he
might as well not have existed.

Naturally, Mr Shekarau’s cronies will produce long lists of
things the governor has achieved in office. Mr. Shekarau himself likes to
repeat at every opportunity that he has brought peace to Kano and can do the
same for Nigeria. Let us commend him for that. Governance in Nigeria is so
mundane and unimaginative that a governor who is able to maintain relative
peace in his state suddenly thinks he should be president. It provided comic
relief, watching an overdressed Shekarau trying very hard on BBC Hardtalk to
justify why he thinks he qualifies to be president. Though a little more
convincing than Goodluck Jonathan’s forgettable experience with Christine
Amampour on CNN, overall, the interview came across as a charade.

Today, Mr. Shekarau is running for president. Try not to laugh,
but does he really believe it himself? Is he expecting the kind of miracle that
projected him from an unknown, underfunded candidate to governor eight years
ago? Is he expecting that by a similar kind of miracle, he will become
President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria come May 29, 2011? Then he has to
be prepared to lose his faith in the power of miracles. In the Kano of 2003, it
was a straight fight between himself and Mr. Kwankwaso. General Buhari’s
popularity ensured his victory. Today, the level of political sophistication
and voter awareness has changed. Having ridden on Buhari’s back to the
governorship, he now feels sufficiently grown up to challenge the General. Many
people believe he is acting out a PDP script to dilute Buhari’s numbers.

Of all presidential candidates, President Jonathan is first in
terms of media visibility, structure and elite support. In terms of raw appeal
among the masses and the under-privileged, Buhari is by far the most popular
candidate. In appealing to an indeterminate middle class, Ribadu is in charge.
To throw in a mix of clowns and charlatans, Dele Momodu and Chris Okotie hold
sway. And when talking about candidates with ideas, but without a realistic
platform, Pat Utomi is king. In this regard, what is Shekarau’s primary
constituency? Whose vote does he want to attract? And what is the electoral
value of selecting John Oyegun as his running mate?

One of the dangers of political office and power is that people
lose touch with reality. Another danger is that people are often afraid of
speaking truth to power, especially the unpalatable variety. Mr Shekarau has a
retinue of very intelligent advisers and aides. Obviously, none of them has had
the courage to tell him the real truth, bitter as it may be. The miracle of
2003 will not happen again. The leading candidates – Jonathan, Buhari and
Ribadu will not crumble as Kwankwaso did.

Is it worth spending so much time, energy and resources just to earn the
title ‘former presidential candidate’?

Whooha! Here comes
Egberi Papa 1 of Nigeria- who goes there! Who say you are afraid to
come out and dish explosive blows to your opponents or answer questions
asked by mere mortals? Do they know who you are; do they know the kind
of clay God Himself moulded you from? You are not timber or calibre in
Nigerian politics; you are the solid rock that breaks backs with rock
solid silence. Those who dare to stare directly in your eyes melt away
like ice cream in the sun. Those who stand in your path to the inner
chambers disappear – poof, like a grain of salt dropped in Yenagoa
waters, like government money in politicians’ hands.

Whooha! Who said he
won’t participate in this debate? Since when did the elephant fear
stepping on twigs? A fisher man is never afraid to drink gari with
bonga fish and the tall iroko does not frighten the blue-testicle
monkey. Give it up for our great debater! (Thunderous applause)

Who goes there –
get out of the way, our great debater has surfaced like an ancient
masquerade; let women tighten their wrappers and men adjust their
trousers. The one with a billion and one umbrellas covering his head
has arrived. Our great ruler whose name women yearn to name their
children after has arrived. Whooha! Look at that beautiful round hat
and the basket full of promises, running over like the Psalmist’s cup.
You can’t hoodwink him with your big English; he is not easily swayed.
Let’s clap louder, please, it takes a meek leader to tell his people,
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, panel of judges, accurate time
keeper, presenter and my co-debaters. I am here to convince you not
confuse you that I am …” Who can frighten him to do what he is wont to
do – does what a man carry in his pocket frighten him?

I say bring them
on, Egberi Papa is ready for them all. Ask your questions and he will
dismember them, for all that think he is afraid to face the policeman
and even the General in a public debate. Do you think the great debater
picked his PhD from Efurun Junction on his way to Abuja? Do you think
the A-talk-and-do of Nigeria politics is a moi-moi man who will catch
cold because of ordinary debate? I say, who goes there! Egberi Papa,
show them you are the man – show them that nothing can stop you from
talking about what you are not going to do if elected.

Whooha! I say clear
the path for the mighty one who has found the time to climb down from
the mountain top to come banter with ordinary citizens.
Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha! He is finally here now. All the people who thought
he was too proud or afraid to face the cameras and dish it out to the
people, he is here now. Bring your questions in buckets and drums.
Bring them in billions like INEC budget. I say bring them, the
questions that are hot like explosives. He is ready for them all; today
he will show you that he is capable of your predicted incapability.

Where are those
broom and pen carrying debaters? The umbrella man has arrived in the
arena. Come out and let’s duel! Our champion debater has one question
for you all: since when did pens and brooms have more national billions
than the umbrella? I repeat my question: who uses bare hands to bail
water from a sinking boat? Answer me this simple question: when you go
to a chief’s palace, do you see men covering his head with broom and
pen or with umbrella? Knockout! Whooha and we have not even started yet.

Rope-a-dope of
Nigeria politics! Fly like a bee and sting like a butterfly. Crank up
that music, boys, it is not every day His Excellency whose patience can
set the country reeling, has time to come and be debating about crucial
national issue and revealing his dreams to us. Today, he will show you
that he is the only one that can convert years of mini-watts to minutes
of mega-watts!

I say where is the
microphone? The promises he has for us are so hot we can no longer
wait… this mic will soon catch fire! Step back, I say step back – don’t
say we did not warn you. Don’t say we did not tell you that when he
finally decides to talk to you people, TV will blow-out like knockout.
What? Are you people ready at all? I say the one you have been waiting
for is here and ready to debate and you are telling me to hold on one
second while you fill the generator with diesel? Your Excellency,
kindly mount the rostrum, please. And does anyone have a flash light
there please? You cannot leave us in this darkness like this. Somebody
do something.

Self-immolation has always been a bizarre way of
ending one’s life or as a means of self-purification, but Mohammed Bouazizi’s
will remain with us for generations. Feeling quite hopeless after he was
stopped from selling groceries on the streets of the Tunisian town of Sid
Bouzid, the young Tunisian’s suicide by fire ignited the popular revolution
that is ravaging the Mediterranean coast of Africa. “Egypt will never be the
same again,” Barack Obama said, but beyond that, the world itself will never be
the same again.

The question is: must governments humiliate their
people with socio-political yokes to the extent of self-immolation before they
listen? The repercussions of Bouazizi’s act are many, ranging from the vacuum
created by the resignation of heads of governments in both Tunisia and Egypt to
Arab-Israeli relations. Already, there are copycats re-enacting the Bouazizi
effect, setting themselves alight to spark up revolutions in their countries.
That has resulted in adjustments by governments in Jordan, Algeria and a
renunciation not to contest future elections from the veteran leader of Yemen,
Ali Abdallah Saleh.

And so the hurricane continues. There are
widespread concerns in the West that those Muslim extremists represented by The
Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt will seize upon the opportunity of Hosni Mubarak’s
resignation to launch an Iran-like, conservative theocracy. Mr. Mubarak has
always capitalized on America and its allies’ fears to warn of the instability
that would result if he was forced to leave too soon. The same kind of fear that
Suharto of Indonesia capitalized on to stay in power while facing popular
revolt, before eventually vacating office in 1998. Indonesia, to this day, in
spite of its being the most populated Islamic country on the planet, has not
been taken over by the Islamists that Suharto warned of. The Muslim Brotherhood
in Egypt, though categorized by the U.S. as a terrorist organization, has
declared times without number that it renounced violence decades ago. But its
rhetoric on certain issues, like the Palestinian/Israeli, conflict says
otherwise, and regularly keeps potential allies from western democracies from
changing their minds.

What is remaining for the brave people of both
Egypt and Tunisia is to show the whole world that they can take their own
destinies into their hands and make something of them. Anything other than that
and the sacrifices of people like Bouazizi will have been in vain. The toppling
of unpopular regimes should not be the excuse for the ascendancy of other
dictators waiting in the wings. Mubarak’s only vice-president in history, Omar
Suleiman, may have seen a possibility of this happening when he ended the
speech announcing his boss’ resignation with the words: “May God help
everyone.”

Talking about divine help brings me back home to
Nigeria, where people are oppressed by leaders who sometimes hide under the
garb of religion, or pretending to be religious. The people’s wishes are not
heard even when they are audibly saying “No!” via the ballot box. Like
President Ben Ali, his wife Lela and her family who bask in untold wealth while
their fellow countrymen were being denied their legal means of livelihood on
the streets, Nigerian leaders are only serious when issues concerning their pay
cheques are on the table.

Numerous comparisons can be drawn from the
happenings in North Africa to what Nigerians are experiencing in the hands of
those who claim to care about them. The lessons from these sister African
countries are glaring to the discerning leader: power rests with the people.
Though it is with you now, it is transient. They can take it back when they are
determined to. True of all hurricanes, they begin from a different country at
tremendous speeds, destroying anything on their way, not recognizing boundaries
until they are done. Untypical of this hurricane coming from the North is that
it is named after a man.

Barau Emmanuel writes from
Kaduna

The Senate has
joined the House of Representatives in passing the Freedom of
Information Bill, which makes access to information the right of all
Nigerians. And though the Senate President, David Mark, warned that his
chamber would be passing a watered down version, the bill is in many
essentials like the one passed by the lower House. In the end, none of
the versions is exactly what we wished for, and this is not just
because they changed the name to Right of Information Bill.

The bill excludes
economic and defence matters from the areas to which the public might
have full access. The government shall refuse access to “(a) trade
secret, financial, commercial or technical information that belongs to
the government that has substantial economic value or is likely to have
substantial value; and (c) proposal and bids for any contract, grants
or agreement, including information which if it were disclosed would
frustrate procurement or give an advantage to any person.”

It is difficult to
understand how the lawmakers arrived at the conclusion that Nigerians
have no right to know exactly how the money budgeted annually is spent,
who and who are getting the contracts, what the parameters for
allocating resources are. It is equally sad that the legislators have
thrown a blanket over military spending, at the very least suggesting
that the army is above scrutiny.

Yes, we wish the
bill has not placed those inexplicable caveats but there is little we
can do now. Yet what we have is not so bad. It is a bill that
substantially gives citizens the right to investigate public officials,
to hold government to account. As stated in the preamble, “Every
citizen of the Federal Republic of Nigeria has a legally enforceable
right to, and shall, on application, be given access to any record
under the control of a government or public institution.” In effect,
the so-called civil service rule that practically makes it a crime to
give out any information, and covers up great crimes in the name of
procedure, has now become moribund.

It would be naive
for anyone to assume that with the passage of the bill, things will
automatically change and government would become more transparent.
Decades of hiding secrets, and a mindset that considers anyone who
seeks information about government activity a troublemaker, cannot be
easily changed. It will take time for public officials to finally
realise that they are there at our behest, that it is their obligation
to explain every action they take in the course of their official
duties. But like everything, the grounds will begin to shift gradually,
and more information will get into public domain.

The recent
publication of the WikiLeaks cables on Nigeria by this paper shows more
clearly how our public officials operate in secret, the base instincts
that motivate them. It also shows how the same people, who consider it
beneath contempt to tell Nigerians how their country is run, grovel
before foreign ambassadors, eager to divulge the most sordid details.
In the end, they all come out looking tainted, and their profiles by
the American ambassadors are universally derogatory. It’s a humbling
picture.

We can only hope
that with the passage of the FOI bill, the citizens of this country
will get to know what their elected leaders and other public officers
are doing – before the Americans do. The law also places a burden on
the media to use any information they get responsibly. It behoves
journalists, who are probably the major beneficiaries of this bill, to
use the opportunity wisely so that the next time our laws are reviewed,
those restrictive clauses will be expunged.

As the chambers
conclude plans to harmonise the versions of the bill, it will soon be
left for Goodluck Jonathan to give his assent so that the law can
become operative. One of his predecessors, Olusegun Obasanjo, failed to
do that in 2007 when the bill was first passed by the Assembly.

But there is every indication that President Jonathan will sign it.
He has done very few things to commend him to the critical mind that
one cannot see him throwing away this historic opportunity. It is not
only good politics for him to sign as we go into elections; it is also
good policy.

I read a news
report in the media recently about Toyosi Akerele, the founder of
R.I.S.E, a youth development organisation. She was quoted as saying her
organisation can mobilise about 60 million youth.

I gave her comment
serious thought and was beside myself imagining how it could happen.
However, it is possible, as R.I.S.E network has been a veritable
platform for youth networking. The organisation utilises social media
as a potent tool to reach out to millions of youth out there and has
achieved huge success through this platform.

Social media has
become an integral part of our daily existence. With consumers getting
more sophisticated, companies should begin to refocus their marketing
strategies. It is actually the ‘in’ thing and has definitely come to
stay.

Companies now use
social media, such as blogs and community sites, to market their
brands. Popular social sites such as Linked In, Facebook, Twitter,
Flickr, and You Tube have more than five million visitors daily. In
Nigeria, bellanaija.com, Naijapal, Linda Ikeji, and others have become
veritable channels of engagement.

Promoting brands
using these sites is very attractive and will definitely reach the
target audience. This is due to the huge amount of human traffic that
passes through the sites on a consistent basis. Social media helps
brands maintain a consistent and constant presence in the lives of
consumers, bridging the gap between the two.

This platform is
also attractive to brands, as it is a low cost investment when compared
to other available options. Conventional methods of advertising cost a
lot more, while effectiveness and reach are achieved with social media,
which guarantees consumer attention and loyalty to brands. Social media
fosters a two-way communication and builds meaningful connections with
the target audience companies intend to reach.

It also promotes
the word-of mouth concept which drives visibility for brands. When more
people tell good stories about a brand, it helps build goodwill and
brand acceptability. Companies, through their brands, can make lasting
impact on consumers through the adept use of social media marketing.
Brand advocates are created through the influence of this platform.
Through networking, some causes are promoted online in order to
mobilise support and enlist others.

For instance, on
Facebook, a group is created to advance a particular issue and within
the twinkle of an eye, thousands of people sign up for such.

Imagine if a group
on ‘Good Health is in Our Hands’ campaign of Dettol is created online.
It will massively drive visibility for the brand through its key
messages on why we need to have maximum protection against germs. The
brand will have advocates that will ultimately become consumers.

However, in
adopting social media, there should be a strategic plan to communicate
the brand offerings. This is important in order to maximise the
enormous potentials and leverage that social media offers. The brand
should be properly defined in clear and concise language.

The core target
segment should be identified, while opportunities for the brand are
also explored. A content and engagement strategy that appeals to the
identified needs of the target audience is important.

It is also key to
listen and observe the trend of online conversations. It is not just
enough for a brand to adopt social media marketing. This is because
each target segment has something that appeals to it than the others.

Observation will
enable companies measure the impact of usage of social media. There
should be a tangible reason for doing so. It is one thing to have fans,
but the fans should be turned to consumers and advocates.

The importance of
having the right message cannot be underestimated in social media. This
is because of its effective role in reaching a dynamic audience. Brands
should paint realistic pictures of what they stand for in the
marketplace. There should be a linkage between brand promise and
consumer satisfaction. Social media helps in spreading the good sides
of a brand only when the consumer experience is exciting.

Social media indeed brings new opportunities which should be
leveraged for impact. It helps companies learn how to achieve results.
It also builds brand loyalty and followership. This creates an online
community of brand loyalists and enthusiasts who have had an exciting
experience with the brand.

Splitting the atom
was a major technological feat for humankind. Releasing energy from it
for electricity production was yet another major step towards
supporting the unfolding path of civilisation.

The worst memories
of the deliberate unleashing of the power of a nuclear device remain
the exploding of atomic bombs over Japanese towns of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki in 1945, towards the end of the Second World War.

In terms of nuclear
accidents of monumental disaster, the 1986 Chernobyl disaster in
Ukraine (then in the former Soviet Union) has no match. Many deaths and
severe health problems followed this accident. The radioactivity that
accompanied the Chernobyl accident was several times higher than what
was unleashed by the atomic bombs dropped on Japan during the Second
World War.

The radiation
spread as far as Belarus, Russia, Ukraine, and parts of France and
Italy. The Chernobyl accident was adjudged to have resulted from human
error, including design defects. It was also accompanied by a series of
attempts to cover up the impacts, as well as a shrouding of the
exploded reactors in defective concrete.

Today, the world is
alarmed by the massive impacts of the 8.9 or 9.0 magnitude earthquake
that struck off the coast of Honshu Island in Japan. The combined
effect of the earthquake and the ensuing tsunami has astonished a
watching world, brought great misery to the people of Japan, and raised
a huge question mark about how prepared we can ever be for natural
disasters.

Everyone accepts
that Japan is well equipped and prepared to handle earthquakes, with
building codes and other emergency infrastructure set to deal with such
happenstance. What has added a new twist to the current situation is
the impact that the earthquake and tsunami has had on Japan’s nuclear
power plants.

An explosion at the
Daiichi plant near Fukushima on March 12 raised anxieties. The
explosion blew off the upper exterior walls of the plant. The standby
diesel generator that would have pumped water to cool the plant failed
one hour after the earthquake struck, leading to the overheating of the
water and resulting in the explosion.

The authorities
announced that the reactor core of the plant was safe, and that there
wasn’t a huge radiation leak. Nevertheless, over 100, 000 people had to
be moved, owing to fears of radiation impacts. The evacuation zone
stretched over 20 kilometres radius of the plant. Over the next few
days, the radiation kept below acceptable official levels, although
anxiety levels remained high.

A more severe
explosion early on March 15 raised radiation levels, increasing fears
that the containment vessel of reactor 2 had been damaged. The
evacuation of emergency workers from the power plant signified the
possibility of a nuclear catastrophe.

The nuclear game is
getting a link to soccer in Brazil where there are plans to bring a new
nuclear power plant on stream, early enough to provide electricity for
the 2014 FIFA World Cup fiesta the country would then be hosting. The
country already runs two nuclear power plants that came into use in
1985 and 2000, meeting 50 per cent of the electricity needs of the
state of Rio de Janeiro. Environmental concerns are being addressed
through pledges to adhere to rules. But pledges are not so reassuring
in these matters.

Closer home in
Africa, the drive towards nuclear power is gathering momentum. South
Africa already invests huge sums in this mode of energy generation and
produces 5 per cent of its electricity from nuclear plants. Uranium
rich countries such as Namibia believe that this is a way to boost
economic development. There have even been talks of the possibility of
building floating nuclear plants off the coast of Namibia.

Although Namibia is
not earthquake prone, this does not sound like an exciting or safe way
to go. Apart from the risks involved in operating nuclear power plants,
it is not quite clear to whom the country plans to export the surplus
electricity that would be generated by this plant. One could venture to
say that floating nuclear plants would be dynamic power generators and
may be moved closer to export markets, possibly as far away as energy
starved Nigeria.

The incident from
Japan also underscores the need to move away from mega power
infrastructures that depend on extensive distribution grids. It
suggests that nations should invest in the development of renewable
energy sources from abundant solar, wind, and other resources, rather
than embark on high-risk technologies that we cannot quite control.

It is also a time
to realise the viability of localised energy provision on the basis of
energy autonomy for discrete zones and communities. This would be
cheaper to deliver and ensures better energy supply, including during
crisis situations.

Considering
Nigeria’s emergency response preparedness and capacities in simple
areas like fires, oil spills, and industrial accidents, as well as the
quality of maintenance of our hydropower and other plants, venturing
into the nuclear power arena here is nothing short of courting
disaster.

I recently had
lunch with one of my very good friends and her sprightly white-haired
father who is in his seventies. We had arranged to catch up over lunch
on a weekday and I was surprised to learn that her father, who still
worked in the office with her, would come along as he did several times
a week.

In the course of
the meal, as is usual with people in their 70s, we were treated to many
anecdotes, most of which my dear and indulgent friend had heard many
times over the years. What caught my ear most particularly was the tale
of how she joined the family business, which is a manufacturing concern.

Like his father and
his father’s father, her older brother joined the family business as
soon as he left university. Both siblings grew up visiting the factory
as young children and I recall spending a day there with them on school
holiday when we were all in our teens. If there was any question of her
brother choosing another career,it was never discussed. Soon after she
finished university, my friend also joined the company – continuing a
family tradition started three generations before.

When she arrived to
join the administrative side of the business, she was welcomed with
relief by the staff, much to her father’s surprise. Her brother was
working on the revenue generation side of the business. They felt that
as a person with long familiarity with the business, who had worked
there intermittently, and who was hard-working and well-educated, she
would be a contributor and not a drain on resources.

Twenty years later,
she and her brother have taken over the management of the family firm.
Their father retains his desk in the office in a titular role as
chairman. Their own children, in turn, spend school holidays working in
the factory or lending a hand in the office when their parents need
them to. It would be interesting to see how many more times the
company’s management will pass from parent to child.

Several years ago, Leap Africa Foundation published, ‘Defying the Odds:

Case studies of Nigerian organizations that have survived generations’.

They could only find seven family businesses that had successfully passed from one generation to another.

Examples that I am
familiar with, where the founder brought in his/her children to work,
are common in the traditional professions and in new entrants such as
telecoms, oil and gas and information technology. In most of these
cases, the parents are still firmly at the helm or providing leadership
while the children are in management or on the board. Clearly outlined
succession either to one’s child or to an identified executive is so
rare that it is notable.

Unfortunately, few
of the family firms have truly institutionalized or gone public. So,
corporate governance that would manage succession is absent or
imperfect. In a few cases, succession has been forced due to
irresistible external pressures.

Missing on positives

Where it has
occurred that a parent passes their business or influence onto their
child, how successful has the transition been? Again, from anecdotal
evidence, not very successful! For starters, it is rare for the child
to have grown up with the business as a significant part of their lives
– other than as a source of their parent’s income and pocket money for
them. Then, where the child knows that the business is his/her
inheritance, it is both their expectation and their parent’s plan that
they will take over as workers and not necessarily as management.

The in-depth
knowledge of the business, the day to day interaction with customers
and stakeholders, the ability to relate to and empathize with the
circumstances of their staff – all these things that are necessary to
give them a good probability of maintaining or building on the success
of the business – is mostly absent. To explore the reasons why family
enterprises are failing to be sustainable, let’s start with our history
and culture of running enterprises. Historically, there was nothing
like work/life balance. One’s personal life was involved in one’s work
and vice versa. Farming involved the entire family, and when visitors
came to say, they automatically helped out as well. Children would help
in the farmhouse or on the farm from when they were small, and unless
they were that odd individual who yearns to leave home to discover the
unknown, they would grow into that life and the cycle would continue.

For professionals,
parents would heavily influence the choice of training and career,
sometimes only paying tuition for the course they want they child to
follow. Of course, there are cases where the children admire their
parents so much that they want to be exactly like them.

The missing link

Why doesn’t succession work?

Major contributing factors on the side of the parents are parental interference,

refusal to
relinquish authority, inability to view their child as a competent and
capable adult, resistance to institutionalization, unrealistic
financial demands and expectations, unwillingness to transfer key
stakeholder relationships,

favouritism between
children, sabotage to prevent the child from outshining their own
achievements and more. The crux is agreement about ownership of the
vision and the assets of the family business.

Yet with all the
difficulties, sitting with my friend and her father over lunch, all I
could think about was how blessed they both were to be working together
in relative harmony.

If I didn’t
understand Yoruba’s musically intoned words, I would imagine ila cocoa
to be the perfect marriage between something sweet and something
savoury, or the name of a beautiful country. I’m allowed to imagine.
But ila cocoa is a soup made from young cocoa pods. I love the way food
becomes animated when introduced to words. Even if you don’t speak
Yoruba, there is an expectation of a treat when you hear ila cocoa. The
words are resonant and soft and sexy, especially the ‘cocoa’ that
knocks twice on the roof of your mouth. Better than mundane recipes are
descriptions of how flesh and blood and food interact. What you get are
engaging stories; muscular images that connect the mind to the emotions
to the gastric juices.

The story of ila
cocoa belongs to Festus Adetula who insisted that his wife, Oyebola,
must never cook him okra soup in that lazy Yoruba way. The Yoruba cut
up or grate okra pods, stir them into boiling water with salt and
potash (‘kaun’ is the bell-like Yoruba word for potash), serve the
briskly cooked okra with pepper stew and a choice of gari, pounded yam
or fufu. This simple treatment of okra is scandalous to people from
other parts of Nigeria who dress up the vegetable with as many as 10
other ingredients. Mr Adetula considered it an abomination for a strong
brewed Owo man from Ibami Mose’s farm to eat such spiritless food.

As a child
approaching his adult years, Mr Adetula’s life moved seamlessly between
work and hard work; from school to the farm and back to school. When he
and his wife moved into their marital home, one of the first things he
did was to plant his own cocoa trees. His wife thought that he grew
them for the childhood sweet treat of sucking on cocoa beans, or to
beautify the garden, but he grew them for the nutritious mucilaginous
ila cocoa soup. He taught his wife how to harvest 20 to 25 very young
pods of cocoa. The green, grooved elongated pods of cocoa are like
oversize okra pods, and perhaps this is what inspired the Yoruba to
cook them down into soup. The cocoa pods are wrapped and tied in glossy
green cocoa leaves and steamed until the skin of the cocoa is very
soft. They are then mashed in a mortar, not with heavy pounding but
with a measured firm back and forth movement of the pestle. This
produces a mucilaginous coarse mash of cocoa skin, beans and pulp.

In a pot, the stock
for the ila cocoa is put together from ground pepper; chopped onions;
boiled stockfish that flakes under the pressure of a fork; periwinkles;
iru pete (fermented locust beans processed into a mushy consistency);
ogiri (fermented sesame seeds) and the holy grail of Yoruba delicacies,
the legendary eja osan. Eja osan is a freshwater knife shaped fish. It
is so highly esteemed that King Sunny Ade immortalised it in song.
Forty-two pieces of fragrant smoked eja osan are presented by the groom
to the bride’s family during traditional Yoruba weddings. Stewed eja
osan is a strong aphrodisiac and a recognised ‘husband-bewitching’
device. Mrs Adetula uses the smoked eja osan.

Water is added to
the stock ingredients and everything is brought up to boil. The mashed
ila cocoa is added to the stock with salt and a little palm oil.
Shredded ugwu may be added at the end, just before the soup is taken
off the fire.

This soup’s
ingredients are so dear that it is really only practical as a meal for
one or two persons. It must be served with authentic pounded yam made
from yams grown specifically for pounding. The yams must be worked in a
mortar and must at the end of pounding give a smooth supple texture;
otherwise, Mrs Adetula says her husband would not eat it.

A few years ago, I met a Nigerian pastor who lived in Houston,
Texas. He confided in me that there was no question of him coming back
to live in Nigeria because he won’t be able to buy his sausages here. I
was so astounded, my mouth hung open in anticipation of the punch line.
I can’t resist contrasting the shallowness of living in a foreign
country because of cheap sausages to the integrity of being opinionated
about nutritious home grown food. If Mr Adetula had not turned his nose
up at a dull bowl of okra soup, what sort of ila cocoa story would we
have to tell?