Every time I open a Nigerian journal, there is a suave, well-fed governor in a guffaw. Sometimes, there is an entire army of them. They wear the best clothes. The most expensive babanriga. Thousand dollar suits. They often look as if they own the place.
And they always seem to be on the move: on their way to a very important meeting, or from one. They always seem to have something to talk about that is bigger than their state.
They travel. I call them the Double-A travelers because their favourite destinations are Abuja and Abroad. They do not seem to enjoy traveling in their own states, or visiting other states to learn about programmes and projects that could be replicated in their own.
Abuja is the federal capital, but one often gets the impression from most of these governors that it is their own state capital. Or a prize to be possessed on a daily basis. They are either there when you go to bed, or they are there when you wake up.
Exactly when, then, do they govern? Their states, that is, not Abuja.
As the federal capital, I know there is a lot a committed governor can do in Abuja to help his state. But it is also easy for an individual governor to pretend that every visit is in the interest of the state.
The problem is that when one hears of them, these egotistical creatures are usually involved in external political warfare. They are involved in extraneous federal issues—not as citizens of Nigeria, but as governors—and not as individual governors expressing their views, but as a block, a pressure group. We do not hear of most of them piling equivalent pressure on the problems in their states.
We now hear of the all-important Governor’s Forum, which seems desperate to emerge as a new arm of the federal government. In recent times, it has laboured to be involved in everything from Yar’Adua in Saudi Arabia, to Maurice Iwu to Ministry of Defence contracts to Abuja land allocations to Goodluck Jonathan’s cabinet to electoral reform and everything in between.
Some of them are known to be hunting for influence and contracts and jobs for their supporters.
Each of this is important, but none of is the business of a state governor. A governor’s job description is the state that he won at the polls, stole, inherited, or was handed by a court.
That is the geographical and political terrain that the governor is supposed to navigate for the purpose of good, effective and productive governance. But since they are often away in Abuja or swimming in concerns that are ‘alien’ to that remit, these governors can hardly be accused of even knowing their own states thoroughly.
Even when they can be said to be present in their states, all that most governors seem able to do is sit atop the “battle” button. Once they press that button, they switch into fight mode.
They battle the House of Assembly parties and individual legislators. They are combating their own cabinets as they haunt not for productivity or performance, but absolute loyalty.
Some of them, where they are not still fighting for the elections they allegedly won, are fighting perceived enemies all over the state, particularly the candidate from whom they snatched the job.
They stay awake not only to fight the previous governor, but also potential successors or challengers at the next election. They fight the ghosts of previous administrators and the programmes they implemented or claimed to have implemented.
They are very busy, obviously, but are they governing? When do these governors actually govern?
I know: they go through the motions. They read state budgets prepared by civil servants. They read speeches that are handed them by speechwriters.
When do these lords of the manor actually leave the manor of the lord to serve?
When do they set example? When do they demonstrate the power of performance over preachment, the triumph of merit over mediocrity?
When do they study state maps? When do they analyze state demographics?
When do they actually study situations and proposals, and assess them against options that may better serve their people?
When do they review projects and implementation reports? Do they review projects and implementation reports?
When do they read? What do they read?
When do they actually show how much they value education, and jobs, and the health of their people? When do they encourage the development of libraries and of hospitals? To what public hospital do they send their families?
When do they listen to the people, rather than themselves? When do they step away from party henchmen and praise-singers and seek the counsel and assistance of those good men and women who are not interested in scratching and crawling into their presence?
When do these governors roll up their sleeves, literally, and undertake some sweaty,
When do these governors measure their achievements? By what ruler do they so measure, and do they ever call on the people to assess them?
When does a governor ask himself whether his scene of celebration is not the scene of the crime?
When do these governors ask themselves whether their people are doing better than they were last year? How does a governor explain why the same people who danced in his welcome are cursing his ancestry?
Why do most governors announce “plans” only after there has been a devastating road accident, market fire, armed robbery or fatal kidnapping?
When do these governors experience a sense of guilt at having to enjoy so much “security,” when their people know only insecurity?
In a nation desperate for development, when do these men of power and privilege rise to the occasion?
HOW IN THE WORLD DID THIS HAPPEN? (1)
Last week in Ondo State, 40 pupils of Arisent Nursery and Primary School, in Ore were killed in a horrendous road crash. As a result, the state government has now voted N300 million to establish an emergency medical service and trauma centre.
I hope it does, but this accident should never have happened if responsible governance had seen it fit to build pedestrian crossings for the use of those children and the public. An emergency medical service is a wonderful idea, if it will actually be built and managed, but it is not a substitute for good roads.
It is not a substitute for pedestrian crossings where they are needed. It is not, Governor Olusegun Mimiko, a substitute for responsible governance?
HOW IN THE WORLD DID THIS HAPPEN? (2)
Last week, Foreign Minister Ojo Maduekwe bowed out of office after nearly three years on the job. Handing over to the Permanent Secretary, Ambassador Martin Uhomoibhi, he said, “I take full responsibility for all the shortcomings and mistakes.”
He decried the financial recklessness and lack of transparency in the Ministry, and called for five of the nation’s foreign missions to be probed by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission. “A zero tolerance policy on corruption should not just receive lip service by rank and file but must receive a more robust implementation," he said.
Maduekwe was talking from both sides of his mouth. I am sure we will be hearing a lot more about his three years of “shortcomings and mistakes.”
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