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It
was that hour of Sunday, generally a work-free day, when many would be
in church praying for God’s favour; and presumably a good time to
travel as traffic was expected to be light. But all those permutations
failed Sunday 15 August in Lagos at the Berger bridge junction on the
Lagos-Ibadan Expressway when a speeding trailer (articulated truck) ran
into a convoy of vehicles held up at a police checkpoint, igniting a
fire, which spread panic and claimed scores of precious lives.

The event, on
account of its human-interest value and enormity of the loss, was
front-paged by many of the dailies, four of which we will examine. What
caused the accident, when, where, why and how many died were some of
the traditional queries tackled in the press reports in the effort to
help the reader understand the significance of the event. Although
there was near unanimity on the general details, the variations in
accounts speak of the professional vigilance and sensitivity of the
media houses in addressing the challenges of reporting.

Since none of the
reporters from these four papers witnessed the accident as it occurred,
they relied on accounts of ‘eyewitnesses’ to reconstruct what happened
before their arrival.

The problem with
eyewitnesses in emotionally stressful situations is that their accounts
can be coloured by the stress of the occasion and their prejudices.

From the headlines on Monday 16,

the papers sought
to convey the tragic nature of the event. ‘Bloody day in Lagos’, said
the Punch; ‘Day of Horror: Black Sunday in Lagos’ announced the Nation.
‘20 die in checkpoint tragedy’ asserted NEXT; while the Guardian
grouped it with similar tragedies: ‘48 feared killed, 20 vehicles burnt
in Lagos, Edo road tragedies’. All cast adequate headlines but the
Nation could have showed more racial or ethnic sensitivity to the use
of the adjective ‘black’ in qualifying that Sunday. Ours being a black
race we do not need to employ ‘black’ in any uncomplimentary context.

All were agreed
that the immediate cause of the accident was the trailer that rammed
into a commercial bus at a badly mounted/illegal police checkpoint,
leading to a conflagration, which wasted lives and property. The
Guardian, however, appeared undecided whether it was a trailer or a
petrol tanker. While it said on page 2 it was the former, it cited the
latter on page 14.

When did the accident occur?

“Around noon” (the
Nation); “around 11.27am” (NEXT), about 10am (Guardian). The Punch,
which said one of its correspondents “arrived shortly after the fire
broke out”, omitted the time. The testimony of Fadipe Idowu of the
Lagos State Fire Service in The Guardian that information about the
fire reached his office at 11.19am suggests that 11am would be a
useful, but not conclusive peg.

Where did it occur?
“On a bridge near the Berger area of the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway”
(Punch; “between the Mobil Filling Station and Otedola Estate junction”
(Guardian); Shangisha bridge on the outskirts of Lagos (Nation); along
Otedola Estate, Berger Bus stop (NEXT).

On why it happened,
all speculated that the trailer’s brakes failed when suddenly
confronted by an unexpected checkpoint. The underlying anger of the
media against police checkpoint activities found vent in all the
reports. The Nation quoted Gift White, an ‘eyewitness’, who said: “The
policemen were stopping the trailer driver at the checkpoint and he did
not stop. They chased him until the man lost control and hit the
vehicles in its front. We hear they wanted to collect money from him”.

Isaac Ejuvwevwo,
who lost an SUV, also told NEXT that while held up by the checkpoint
traffic: “I just heard vehicles hitting each other behind me, then the
one behind me hit me, then I saw this trailer carrying sugar. The next
I saw fire…immediately I saw the fire, I and the other person in the
vehicle ran out. A little baby burnt in one of the cars, the parents
escaped”.

Expectedly, the Police denied complicity.

Spokesman, Frank
Mba, told the Nation: “there was no policeman at that place before,
during and after the incident. That conclusion is hasty and
unnecessary”, only to be quoted by NEXT as admitting “that there were
some checkpoints along that road but denying, “that his officers might
have caused the accident”.

On the casualties,
the figures are understandably varied. Punch’s Sesan Olufowobi showed
some enterprise in physically counting some of the charred remains to
estimate that at least 40 people died and 25 vehicles burnt.

The narrations also
had some positive sides. Punch talks of a Bolaji Bello who picked up a
13 year old, who broke her leg while fleeing the inferno, and took her
to the hospital. The hospital treated her without demanding a dime. It
will be nice to know what has since become of the girl and it will be
nice to know what will happen to the fleeing policemen, who triggered
off the disaster.

While praying for
the repose of the souls of the dead, the media should appreciate that
although police checkpoints may not disappear in the short term, they
need to be better managed as platforms for security control, and not
extortion centres. True, much evil has happened at checkpoints; some
good too has come from them. I once had a stolen car recovered there.

Last
week, residents of the Eti-Osa Local Government Area of Lagos State
took to the streets to protest the plan by the state government to
impose tolls for passage into the Lekki area.

No doubt, the gut
reaction to this move would be support from the general public. An
peaceful attempt by citizens to protest oppressive or thoughtless acts
of government is most welcome in any democracy that hopes to thrive –
and on the face of it, this civil action is as basic as they come: a
people already finding it hard to maintain a comfortable quality of
life should not be made to bear unnecessary burdens.

However, this matter is not as cut and dried as it seems.

The state
government in April 2006 signed an agreement with Lekki Concession
Company (LCC) under the Build Operate and Transfer (BOT) scheme for a
period 30 years; an agreement under which the company would upgrade and
expand the busy road and recoup its investment before handing ownership
back to the government.

The company is
presently test-running at the newly constructed toll gate, and
residents are already convinced that the toll will be too high and are
very reluctant to pay any sum for going to their homes and offices
anywhere on the 24km road.

This knee-jerk
response against paying levies for infrastructure provided is worrisome
even if understandable. For years, Nigerians have cried for private
sector participation in order to inject efficiency into public
infrastructure. True, government – at various levels – has seemed
intent on muddling up these arrangements where they have occurred,
whether with Virgin Nigeria or with the Bi-Courtney Group for the
Murtala Muhammed Airport Terminal Two. But, in the case of the Lekki
road, there seems to have been a structured approach to the agreement,
especially when seen in line with the massive road construction efforts
of the Babatunde Fashola-led government. In many parts of the world,
where governments seek to provide basic services such as roads, water
and electricity, citizens have found that you have to pay a little
extra for the convenience. These extras include congestion charges,
council tax, vehicle tax, road taxes and others borne from an
understanding that in the final analysis, there is no gain without pain.

At the very least,
as with MMA2, Nigerians should be motivated by the fact that they know
the services they are paying for will be delivered.

This, of course,
does not mean that the government should abdicate its responsibility to
ameliorate and avoid hardship for its citizens where it can. To this
end we find Mr. Fashola’s comments on the day of the protest troubling.

The governor, who
was held up for hours by the protestors, finally showed up and
addressed them, even though they would not listen. However, his mien
was strange for a leader in a democracy. There was mixture of disdain
and condescension, surely unacceptable since these are people he is
answerable to.

“This protest is
not necessary,” he said. “This is a commercial issue, don’t turn it
into a political issue. I don’t think it is fair to paralyse this road;
people are going to earn their livelihood; children are going to
school.” There seems to a trend with Mr. Fashola where he thinks that,
as long as what he is doing is for the public good, he owes the people
neither explanation nor empathy. This attitude, should as a matter of
urgency be discarded. In a democracy, the people’s feelings matter, the
people’s opinions – however misinformed they appear – must count.

In any case, the
protesters have a point. Has the road been completed? Is the toll too
high? And what about the promised toll-free lane that is yet to
materialise even after a committee set up by the government reportedly
agreed to this?

Add to that, the
mode of collection of the monies, as well as the apparent hurry in
effecting this (the collection of tolls is starting barely a month
after the gates went up) shows a reluctance to think this policy
through or even to engage people so that they can connect.

At the end of day,
both sides in this matter need to get off their high horses and
meaningfully engage each other to fashion out a system that is mutually
agreeable. Development will take pain and patience; and that truism is
applicable both to the concessionaires who seem a bit too eager to
recoup this investment at the expense of the people, as well as
residents of Lagos who need to come to terms with the fact that we
surely cannot conjure progress as a nation from thin air.

In 1811, the popular novelist Fanny Burney learned she had breast cancer and underwent a mastectomy without anaesthesia. She lay down on an old mattress, and a piece of thin linen was placed over her face, allowing her to make out the movements of the surgeons above her.

“I felt the instrument – describing a curve – cutting against the grain, if I may so say, while the flesh resisted in a manner so forcible as to oppose & tire the hand of the operator who was forced to change from the right to the left,” she wrote later.

“I began a scream that lasted intermittingly during the whole time of the incision – & I almost marvel that it rings not in my ears still.” The surgeon removed most of the breast but then had to go in a few more times to complete the work: “I then felt the Knife rackling against the breast bone – scraping it! This performed while I yet remained in utterly speechless torture.”

The operation was ghastly, but Burney’s real heroism came later. She could have simply put the horror behind her, but instead she resolved to write down everything that had happened. This proved horrifically painful. “Not for days, not for weeks, but for months I could not speak of this terrible business without nearly again going through it!” Six months after the operation she finally began to write her account.

It took her three months to put down a few thousand words. She suffered headaches as she picked up her pen and began remembering. “I dare not revise, nor read, the recollection is still so painful,” she confessed. But she did complete it. She seems to have regarded the exercise as a sort of mental boot camp – an arduous but necessary ordeal if she hoped to be a person of character and courage.

Burney’s struggle reminds one that character is not only moral, it is also mental. Heroism exists not only on the battlefield or in public but also inside the head, in the ability to face unpleasant thoughts.

She lived at a time when people were more conscious of the fallen nature of men and women. People were held to be inherently sinful, and to be a decent person one had to struggle against one’s weakness.

In the mental sphere, this meant conquering mental laziness with arduous and sometimes numbingly boring lessons. It meant conquering frivolity by sitting through earnest sermons and speeches. It meant conquering self-approval by staring straight at what was painful.

This emphasis on mental character lasted for a time, but it has abated. There’s less talk of sin and frailty these days. Capitalism has also undermined this ethos. In the media competition for eyeballs, everyone is rewarded for producing enjoyable and affirming content. Output is measured by ratings and page views, so much of the media, and even the academy, is more geared toward pleasuring consumers, not putting them on some arduous character-building regime.

In this atmosphere, we’re all less conscious of our severe mental shortcomings and less inclined to be sceptical of our own opinions. Occasionally you surf around the Web and find someone who takes mental limitations seriously. For example, Charlie Munger of Berkshire Hathaway once gave a speech called “The Psychology of Human Misjudgment.” He and others list our natural weaknesses: We have
confirmation bias; we pick out evidence that supports our views. We are cognitive misers; we try to think as little as possible. We are herd thinkers and conform our perceptions to fit in with the group.

But, in general, the culture places less emphasis on the need to struggle against one’s own mental feebleness. Today’s culture is better in most ways, but in this way it is worse.

The ensuing mental flabbiness is most evident in politics. Many conservatives declare that President Barack Obama is a Muslim because it feels so good to say so. Many liberals would never ask themselves why they were so wrong about the surge in Iraq while George Bush was so right. The question is too uncomfortable.

There’s a seller’s market in ideologies that gives people a chance to feel victimized. There’s a rigidity to political debate. Issues like tax cuts and the size of government, which should be shaped by circumstances (often it’s good to cut taxes; sometimes it’s necessary to raise them), are now treated as inflexible tests of tribal purity.

To use a fancy word, there’s a metacognition deficit. Very few in public life habitually step back and think about the weakness in their own thinking and what they should do to compensate. A few people I interview do this regularly (in fact, Larry Summers is one). But it is rare. The rigours of combat discourage it.

Of the problems that afflict the country, this is the underlying one.

© 2010 New York Times News Service

Darfur’s
joint U.N.-African Union peacekeepers face a dilemma in Darfur , which
could shape the future of the world’s largest U.N.-funded force.

After violence left
five people dead in the highly volatile Kalma Camp, six refugees sought
sanctuary in the UNAMID force’s police base there. They are thought to
be rebel sympathisers and the government accuses them of instigating
the camp clashes, demanding that UNAMID hand them over.

Kalma, just outside
Darfur’s largest town Nyala, has long been a problem for the Khartoum
government, whose offices in the camp were burned down by angry
refugees. Rebel supporters in the camp have obtained arms and there
have been clashes with government police in the area.

Now if the six are
responsible for the violence, which was between refugees who support
rebel leader Abdel Wahed Mohamed el-Nur and those who took part in
peace talks, which Nur rejects, then it is Sudan’s right to try them in
a court of law.

However the
government is headed by President Omar Hassan al-Bashir, a man wanted
by the International Criminal Court for presiding over genocide and war
crimes against these same Darfuris,

which is why they are in the refugee camps in the first place.

Repeated reports
during the seven-year conflict of the torture of Darfuri detainees give
a pretty good indication that they are unlikely to get a fair trial if
UNAMID hands them over.

So what to do?

This is the stuff of nightmares for U.N. peacekeeping officials.

If they hand them
over they lose the trust of the 2 million Darfuri refugees they were
sent to protect and could be subject to attacks by rebel forces, who
would see them as an enemy. But if they don’t hand them over, they are
stuck in a standoff with Khartoum.

The force relies on
cooperation with the government for its own security. The government
also allocates visas for staff, allows equipment in through customs and
gives travel permits. And the government has shown it is ready to use
these powers against any foreign organisation that annoys it.

According to U.N.
sources, the instruction came from New York not to hand over the six
refugees without a bona fide arrest warrant based on real proof they
had committed a crime and guarantees they would get a fair trial, which
UNAMID would need to follow very closely and publicly.

As one UNAMID staff member told me,

“If we can’t even do that we may as well go home.” Catch-22.

Should UNAMID hand them over?

Can UNAMID guarantee them a fair trial?

Can UNAMID continue to defy the government request?

The issue of corruption in high places in Nigeria has never been a hidden fact.

However, at a recent forum in Minna, Niger State, all residual doubts were lifted by former President Olusegun Obasanjo.

At a book launch in honour of Babangida Aliyu, the
governor of the state, Mr. Obasanjo, who is not known to suffer fools
gladly, bluntly accused lawmakers of being utterly corrupt and
unaccountable. He did not stop there; according to the former leader
all his efforts during his tenure as President to know the exact salary
of a lawmaker came to naught. He also accused them of inflating budgets
for their own pecuniary gains. This is no mean allegation.

A few days later, the minority leader in the House
of Representatives, Mohammed Ndume, a member of the opposition All
Nigeria People’s Party (ANPP), came out to confirm Mr. Obasanjo’s
allegations, but with a caveat. Mr. Ndume, who is also known for his
frank and brutal talk agreed that the legislature was corrupt and said
that Mr. Obasanjo was not by any means in a position to accuse anyone
of corruption. He took exception to the penchant of the former
president for casting aspersions on the National Assembly and said the
issue of corruption does not begin or end with the legislators. He
insisted that the tag of corruption should be extended to all of
“Nigeria or politicians” in general. He added: “To single the
legislature out, I think he is not being fair. Is it not Obasanjo who
bred corruption in this country? It was during his tenure that
corruption moved from low level to high level.

It was during his tenure
that he gave N50 million each to members of this House to extend his
tenure. Go and look at his account when he came out of the prison to
become the president and look at his account now. That will answer who
is corrupt. It was during his tenure that NAFCON, NITEL, refineries,
etc, were sold to girlfriends and cronies. What was that? When you look
at that, you will have the answer as to who is truly corrupt.” This
exchange between Mr. Obasanjo and Mr. Ndume brings to
mind the late Fela Anikulapo-Kuti’s classic song, ‘International Thief
Thief’ (ITT). In that song there was an exchange of words between two
persons: one accusing the other: “You be thief!”, “You be robber!”; the
other protesting: “I no be thief!”; “I no be arm’ robber!”. The
exchange continued, with each party justifying its position.

It is this situation that is playing itself out
now between the two – Mr. Obasanjo and Mr. Ndume. In agreeing with Mr.
Obasanjo’s accusation, Mr. Ndume went further, “He is correct to say we
are padding the budget, but that is a result of government failure. If
the government built hospitals, schools, roads, there will be no need
for constituency projects.” Our take on this is that the two men have
provided the raw material and the evidence needed by the nation’s
anti-corruption agencies to institute a prima facie case against them.
Mr. Obasanjo accused the legislature of corruption; in response a
member of the accused arm of government came out publicly to admit that
he and his colleagues are indeed corrupt. He did not stop there but
went ahead to confirm what had hitherto been in the realms of rumour;
that Mr. Obasanjo is the “grandmaster of corruption” because he bribed
them with N50 million each to elongate his term.

These are serious allegations. In a society even faintly serious
about the fight against corruption, the two men would by now be
answering questions from law enforcement agencies. If Nigeria, and the
Goodluck Jonathan administration, are indeed serious about tackling
corruption, the place to start is with these two men.

Nigeria’s National
Pledge, one of those interesting macro speech acts in which the Patria
plays with the intelligence of the citizen by presenting a command(ment) as
if it were the voice of the citizen making a commitment, requires
Nigerians “to serve Nigeria with all (their) strength.” From the way
government and its agencies treat pensioners who had in their working
lives been subjects of this national oath, it would seem as if serving
the country has become a crime. Judging from the narratives of woes
that pensioners recount concerning how they are being tossed around by
government agencies responsible for the payment of their entitlements,
one can clearly glean an attitude of extreme callousness and
heartlessness being presented to these ex-civil servants as the reward
for their years of service.

These elderly
individuals are made to travel long distances to attend fruitless
verification exercises. Given the risky nature of Nigerian roads, it is
only predictable that some of them breathe their lasts on the way to or
from where they have gone in pursuit of their monies. Some slump and
die while waiting to be attended to at offices where their fellow
Nigerians sit on their files and their monies.

Or, has it not
almost become common that many of these pensioners turn to beggars
either to be able to travel back home after failing to get positive
answers to their requests, or have taken to regular begging as their
post-retirement employment, in a country where rebranded politicians
earn and spend millions monthly?

Other Nigerians who
are still in the service of the government have learned to look towards
their days of retirement as the most dreaded days of their nunc
dimitis. Little wonder that many indeed die shortly after their
retirement, being unable to face the agony of travelling up and down to
pursue their entitlements. Some others try as much as they can to steal
enough money from government to cater for their retirement. Gofment
work no be chop make I chop?

And what happens if you no chop belefull before dem ring bell talk say e don do?

To retire from
government service no longer means to go for a deserved and highly
desired rest. It rather seems to mean the beginning of another struggle
for survival, a very punishing type since many of these retired
individuals are actually tired of Nigeria’s wahala. But are they not
forced by the difficult pension life in Nigeria to present themselves
again as “retired but not tired,” framing their lives as the rhyme of
endless suffering, a kind of “work, work till you drop”?

Many of them who
are able to secure contract employments after retirement from
government service are thrown back into the pool of suffering that
defines civil service life in Nigeria.

Some of these
elderly individuals have ended up being consumed in accidents on
Nigerian roads as they shuttle between home and their new service
locations. In a very frightening sense, dying on the road as they
search for means of survival after retirement seems to suggest the
fatality of one’s journey to a Nigerian life, a life that is a road
bedeviled by risks, and Nigerians, it seems, can never “retire” from it
except through death! I dare not think of the curses that could
possibly be coming out of the lips of the elderly Nigerians as they
drop dead while looking for means of post-retirement survival.

To think
of those curses is to invite masked spirits to start chasing me in my
dreams! Death, as the only retirement from Nigerian life, of course,
provides another opportunity for the government to extend the
punishment to the next-of-kin of the deceased retiree who would come
forward brandishing a death certificate to claim an entitlement. Hello!
Did you say “entitlement”? Does that fellow making a noise out there
not know what he or she is entitled to? Please, tell that fellow that a
next-of-kin is entitled to what his or her dead relative is entitled
to! Make dem come tomorrow. Over! Is one therefore surprised that some
people in government service see what retired workers are passing
through and conclude that it is not worth it being “faithful and
honest” or serving Nigeria “with all (your) strength,” that it is better
to serve oneself first with all of one’s strength?

A dangerous and
unpatriotic orientation, one would say. But it is indeed what the
system has established as the “right” orientation and those who fail to
recognize and follow it are characterized as not just the mugus in the
system, but also the obstacles that others have to watch and deal with.

It is important for
those in government service, and indeed all Nigerian workers, to take
the issue of planning for retirement very seriously and not wait till the last few years of their service before they start thinking of
what to do with themselves after retirement. Such planning, to put it
bluntly, should not be synonymous with scheming to steal from a system
that “steals” from its subjects.

A government that treats the affairs of its retired workers with
indifference confesses that it is grossly irresponsible and
mischievous. The Nigerian government needs to view the case of
pensioners in the country as a crisis situation and take urgent
measures to rectify it. The chaotic arrangement that currently exists
in the transfers and updating of workers’ pension accounts by the
Pension Commission (PENCOM) and Pension Administrators (PFAs) is
terribly frustrating for workers and has further intensified the
tradition of inflicting additional but undeserved punishment on those
who have served “Nigeria with all (their) strength.”

It is hard not to
be impressed by the man known as Rafa Nadal. Barely in his mid-20s, he
has achieved a lot more than what most tennis players dream about. To
date, he has won eight Grand Slam titles, 18 Master titles, and an
Olympic Gold medal, amongst others. To put it in better perspective,
over the last decade, he has accomplished more in the world of tennis
than what 200 million Nigerians have achieved in the last century in
the same field.

How does he do it?
How does he manage to keep up his speed, his agility, and still find
time to shampoo and style that glorious hair of his? The answer to that
question can be found in those characteristics that have become the
bedrock of most success stories — hard work, dedication, and a lot of
good healthy advice; factors that are unfortunately in short supply
within the shores of Nigeria.

Football is
undoubtedly the leading sport in the nation today. It is played in the
fields and on the streets. It is even rumoured that a few people
actually once considered playing it on the Third Mainland Bridge.
Sometimes, the game of football appears to be the only sport that
people are willing to consider. Most Nigerians are yet to come to terms
with the idea of a Nigerian basketball league and even more Nigerians
would probably choose to work all weekend in their offices instead of
having to watch a match of cricket. Unfortunately, it is this blind
stubbornness of ours that has resulted in the dwindling fortunes of our
sports sector.

When all is said
and done, there really is no reason why Nigeria as a nation is unable
to challenge at the highest of sport levels. Outside the world of
football, in the listing of many world sporting events, Nigeria appears
to be regularly absent. What prevents a sponsored team of national
cyclers from challenging at the next Tour de France event? Why can’t
Nigerians finally break out of the mould and make an appearance at the
next Wimbledon tournament? Outside the rules, the requirements of most
sporting events are the same. People must possess the right amount of
body appendage. The last time I checked, most Nigerians have their arms
and legs in place.

Many might blame
the government for its failure to provide the structural facilities
needed for the advancement in sports but this reason is not completely
true. Today, there are hundreds of Nigerian footballers plying their
trade in foreign countries. Their successes in this field are not the
direct results of governmental intervention but simply the outcome of
their dedication and desire to succeed. To stress the point further,
sporting stars such as Rafa Nadal, the Williams sisters, and Didier
Drogba are not the direct outcomes of government programmes. They are,
instead, superstars who were raised and supported by family members
during their early years.

Unfortunately, the
desire for most Nigerians to groom children who end up working with
multinational companies has led to most parents nipping the sporting
dreams of their children before they even begin. Nigerian parents do
not want their children talking about sports. If a 10-year-old boy by
the name of ‘HC’ was to announce to his father that he wished to become
a lawn tennis player, he probably would get knocked on the head and
then enrolled in after school lessons so that his mind could be
“sharpened” on more important things. Outside the world of academics,
nothing else is ever supported. Children who would aspire to be
artists, musicians, and athletes are turned into the newest recruits
for the banking and oil-servicing companies. Instead of raising the
next Rafa ‘Onyekachi HC’ Nadal, parents are happy to settle for bank
tellers who earn less than $1000 a month.

In a couple of days, the screens of millions of televisions will be
graced with the antics of the US Open. For people like me, who happen
to be fans of tennis, our days will likely be spent watching players as
they slog it out on one of the hardest courts in the tour. I already
know exactly where my allegiance will lie. This year, as has been my
practice for the last three years, I will be rooting for a certain Rafa
Nadal. Next year, however, with any bit of luck, my attention just
might be taken by a new introduction to the world of grand slam tennis.
That of a Nigerian challenger.