Last week was in many ways the story of the Nigerian woman.
In New York, Nigeria’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations, Professor Joy Ogwu, rounded off Nigeria’s first presidency of the Security Council during our current membership.
A Security Council presidency is difficult enough for any country, including for permanent members who have round-the-year access to abundant resources in their UN Missions and their capitals.
Last week was in many ways the story of the Nigerian woman.
In New York, Nigeria’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations, Professor Joy Ogwu, rounded off Nigeria’s first presidency of the Security Council during our current membership.
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A Security Council presidency is difficult enough for any country, including for permanent members who have round-the-year access to abundant resources in their UN Missions and their capitals.
It is difficult enough when there appears to be no ripples in the waters of international peace, the Secretariat is providing solid professional support, and the home country is committed.
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But then there are those months, such as Ogwu’s April 2014, when a situation such Ukraine froths over; a hopeful Middle East peace process falls apart; and the situation in several other countries demands close attention.
That would demand and command intense and continued briefings and consultations, and a casual examination of the Council’s programme of work shows that the ambassador had her hands full during the month. Anyone who follows international politics would have noticed, for instance, the Council’s urgent meeting on Ukraine on Sunday, April 13. To Nigeria’s credit, she presided with composure and excellence, and enjoyed the admiration of everyone.
And then there are those months when the situation in the home country of the Council president shifts to the fore, and from bad to embarrassing.
On April 14, just hours after the Council’s midnight Nigeria meeting on Ukraine, a bomb was detonated in Nyanya, near Abuja, resulting in 70 dead and 200 injured.
Soon after visiting the scene, with condemnations of the blast coming from all over the world, Nigeria’s President Goodluck Jonathan made his infamous dancing visit to Kano.
The following day, news also broke of the abduction of hundreds of school girls, presumably by Boko Haram, in Borno State. The image of President Jonathan celebrating his political supremacy in dance side by side with bombings and abductions immediately became part of the Nigeria story.
I suspect it became part of the Ogwu story as well. It had to be considerably frustrating to be serving your country with all you have and all you are, knowing the entire world is critical of your government.
Let us be clear: Nigeria is not on the agenda of the Security Council, meaning that at no time during the month could Ogwu have said a word in her national capacity about the situation in Nigeria.
But Nigeria was on the lips of all throughout April, as members of the international community expressed concern that Nigeria was doing so little in response to the violence and abductions. The UN Secretary General, the UN Children’s Fund and UN Women issued statements. As the outrage grew, at least 20 countries, including several members of the Council, published travel bans and advisories.
The Security Council itself on April 14 condemned the attacks in the strongest terms, reaffirming that terrorism in all its forms and manifestations is criminal and unjustifiable.
It is to Ambassador Ogwu’s credit, from which every lonely Nigerian painfully serving our troubled country may draw strength, that she completed her tenure as President on a high note, with three open debates in her last six days.
Back in Nigeria itself, the response of Nigeria’s most prominent women was worthy of close observation.
Two weeks after the abduction of the Chibok girls, and as mothers wept everywhere, First Lady Patience Jonathan had expressed no concern.
Nigeria’s most prominent government official, Economy and Finance Minister Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, had said nothing.
Diezani Alison-Madueke, the Petroleum Resources Minister, had said nothing.
PDP National Woman Leader Kema Chikwe praised Jonathan for his leadership.
And then the Chibok mothers, grieving as much over the abduction of their daughters as the ineptitude of their government, showed up in protest in Abuja. They visited the National Assembly to submit a petition, and were promptly told that some Senators would be meeting with the President that evening on the issue.
As official complacency mortified everyone and the month came to an end, protesters took to the Internet and to the streets of Abuja, chanting, “Bring Back Our Girls” or “Bring Back Our Daughters.”
In one of the demonstrations in Abuja, a former Minister and former World Bank chief, Oby Ezekwesili, spoke with passion and in tears. She later lamented on Twitter that she could not get out of her ears the words of one of the Chibok mothers who repeatedly questioned why the abducted girls and their families had been abandoned by the government.
Where was the government?
Actually, as I have often said, there isn’t really a government, only a semblance of one.
Within that husk, President Jonathan was preparing for a World Economic Forum (WEF) on Africa meeting, scheduled to begin in Abuja this week. He was assuring world leaders that Abuja would be safe for the event, although he did not have a reassuring presidential word for the abducted, the wounded or the mourning.
Anywhere else in the world, the First Lady might have been shedding tears for the abducted girls. Not Patience Jonathan.
Okonjo-Iweala was silent through April. On May 1, as the international outrage reached her, she wrote on Twitter: “Heartbroken and angry over our girls. Difficult for any parent to understand or to bear. I totally get the frustration and share it. But I'm led to believe that careful action is key and ongoing so as to safeguard our girls. Let us pray for God's grace in their return.”
Alison-Madueke, a perennial corruption suspect, did not have anything to say. She was working on self-preservation, trying to persuade a judge to prevent the legislature from investigating allegations she squandered N10bn in private jet rentals.
On Twitter, mercifully, Ezekwesili had a few choice words for the Petroleum Minister.
"Whoever advised the minister of petroleum resources to abuse the judicial process and avoid the public accountability she swore to uphold despises her.” she wrote. “By permitting a minister to avoid public accountability, is the Federal Government now transparently declaring the death of its anti-corruption efforts?”
Nobody was providing an answer to that question. The country’s ruler was preparing for that WEF conference, and as May arrived, it was clear that his concerns were far away.
“Nigeria is not a poor country,” he said, celebrating May Day. His justification included:
• “Nigerians are the most travelled people. There is no country you go that you will not see Nigerians.”
• “The GDP of Nigeria is over half a trillion dollars and the economy is growing at close to seven per cent.’’
• “Aliko Dangote was recently classified among the 25 richest people in the world.”
• “If you talk about ownership of private jets, Nigeria will be among the first 10 countries, yet they are saying that Nigeria is among the five poorest countries.”
This mindset illustrates why the Ogwus are an endangered species in Nigeria, and why our prospects, including those of the abducted girls, remain very gloomy.
Hours after Mr. Jonathan made that speech—perhaps in response to it—Nyanya was bombed again for the second time in two weeks, further evidence that Boko Haram is only a symptom.
The disease is in Abuja.
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