Special to USAfrica magazine (Houston) and USAfricaonline.com, the first Africa-owned, US-based newspaper published on the Internet.
Dr. Chidi Amuta is Executive Editor of USAfrica, since 1993
At that age, people expect the young to cede their seats to you in the bus or train. Seniors enjoy a great deal of privileges conferred by the blackmail of age. The grey old Pa or Ma that walks into a waiting lounge or crowded coach expects their grey hairs or walking stick to automatically convey their entitlement to the seats reserved for “Seniors”. From age of 60, people begin to look forward to this entitlement of age. So, when you get to that magic age of 60, you are automatically enrolled into the privileged class of Seniors. But these days, that age no longer comes with the deficits of tired physical looks and other reminders that time has passed. We now have people who look more like ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ claiming to be 60!
Modernity has literally shifted forward the attainment of Senior status. If I had not written a tribute to Segun ten years ago when he turned 50, I would have argued to no end that he is now 60. The last time I was in Abuja and Segun insisted on picking me and my wife up himself from the airport, I was struck by his boyish appearance and smart outfit. Of course, he insists on driving himself
In and around Abuja even after having enjoyed a chauffeur-driven existence as late President Yar’dua’s Information and Media Adviser. Such is his habitual simplicity and lack of pomposity.
Beyond the admission into the universal class of Seniors, age 60 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 60. Some mistakes can no longer be corrected. There is not enough time to begin again. 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 forever after.
Physiologically, certain components of the original design, especially ‘moving parts’ may no longer work as intended. The 60-year-old Nigerian hangs on the balance of historical disadvantage. They are too young to qualify as the ‘independent generation’, They were also too young to have directly experienced the civil war. But they are bearing the burden of these historical misfortunes and exigencies.
In Segun’s case, he has related to me more like a younger brother than just a friend. He has felt my pains, understood my trying moments and frequently gone above and beyond to identify with me. Above all, 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 ease and foresight with which he embraced new journalism. This is a tradition best exemplified by the careers of major American journalists like Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein who have covered and written books on centers 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 at issue because he has none. 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 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, 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 Mr. Abacha provided.
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.
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’dua from direct media exposure, Segun realized his moment when he finally allowed the ailing president to grant a very memorable and exhaustive interview to The Guardian. Mr. Yar’dua 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.
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’dua 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.
Since his brief encounter with power under Yar’dua, Segun has written books that have kept abreast of major currents in national life. He has written about the political tsunami that toppled President Jonathan and enthroned Buhari as President: “ Against the Run of Play”. He has also written a very incisive book on sexual harassment in Nigerian Universities: “ Naked Abuse: Sex for Grades in Nigerian Universities.”
As his encounter with the Nigerian reality continues and expands, the public still expects more intellectual harvest from the fertile mind of this unique man of letters.
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