By Olukorede Yishau
THE LAST sentence of Bolaji Abdullahi’s memoir, ‘The Loyalist’, is one of the most thoughtful I have ever read: “Some relationships can only be saved through an amicable divorce.”
Several moments in this book are remarkable in their exposition of betrayals, power and patronage. The book shows that when loyalty is repeatedly tested, divorce is inevitable.
It also shows how leaders sometimes treat as optional those who treat them as priority.
The meat of Abdullahi’s book is his relationship with Bukola Saraki, former Kwara State Governor and ex-Senate President. At a point, Saraki gave Abdullahi so much room he could have passed as his deputy.
He recalls an instance where Saraki approved a document for him without reading through. That was the level of trust he had in him. But, later events were like the opposite.
The book, written in the form of a creative nonfiction, takes us through the jungle that politics in Nigeria and the rest of the world is.
It shows us how politics changes people, how principles are traded for positions and how promises can never be banked on. It shows how leaders are manipulated by interest groups and how, over time, political leaders learn to be crafty and ditch out information only on need-to-know basis.
We also see how voters have lost interest in politicians and prefer to be paid before giving their support.
Abdullahi, with his telling of his and Saraki’s story, shows us that in politics things that appear settled can change within a short period of time, leaving the victim or victims paralysed and their loyalty tested and stretched to limit.
So many parts of this book keep reminding me of Babatunde Raji Fashola’s statement during his Senate screening as Minister. “May our loyalty not be tested,” Fashola had said in response to a question.
Abdullahi’s relationship with Saraki, which began with his invitation to join his team shortly before he became governor, was tested many a time, one of which was when Saraki quit the ruling Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) at a time Abdullahi was serving the Dr Goodluck Jonathan-led administration as Minister of Sports.
Following Saraki’s exit, Abdullahi became seen as the mole. All thanks to his relationship with Saraki. Folks like ex-Bayelsa State Governor Seriake Dickson openly wondered why Jonathan was keeping him in the government.
Abdullahi’s account of his time in this government paints political appointees as glorified servants, especially those who do not belong to the inner caucus. His colleague in the cabinet, Diezani Alison-Madueke, made it clear to him that she didn’t understand why he was still in the administration.
Even at some points, Jonathan treated him with disdain and Jonathan’s Chief of Staff didn’t make him feel wanted. Ministers, especially those not in the inner circle, could not easily see their principal.
Despite the fact that his situation improved at some point, to the extent that Jonathan made him Minister of Sports after his time at the Ministry of Youth Development, he was constantly in fear of losing his job.
The book has instances of dramatic scenes between him and Jonathan, an interesting one was shortly aftet Stephen Keshi rescinded his decision to quit as Super Eagles National Coach.
He recalls: “A minister’s job is perhaps the most precarious that anyone could have. You could only be certain that you had a job when the day ended and there was no announcement that you had been sacked. Each day I woke up, I asked myself, ‘what if it is today?’ I imagine this must be how it feels for condemned prisoners waiting to be executed.”
When Saraki joined the likes of Rotimi Amaechi to dump the PDP for the All Progressives Congress (APC), Abdullahi’s woes worsened. He was eventually sacked. The chapters on his time in that government are tell-it-all, just like his account of his relationship with Saraki.
When the APC defeated Jonathan, Saraki’s decision to become the Senate President set him against the Muhammadu Buhari administration despite Buhari’s claim that he had no interest in who led the National Assembly and was willing to work with the lawmakers’ choices. It got to a head when he later quit.
Saraki’s return to the PDP was another time Abdullahi’s loyalty was put to test. It happened shortly after Saraki encouraged Abdullahi to run as the APC National Publicity Secretary. Saraki asked him to abandon the position. He offered him the governorship ticket of the PDP.
This was the second time he told him to prepare to be governor. The first time was when Saraki was considering dropping Ahmed Abdulfatai, who he later allowed to have his second term.
This time around it looked like the ticket was Abdullahi’s, but weeks to the primaries, he started hearing that the Leader, like they fondly refer to Saraki, might have changed his mind. This was difficult to believe because Saraki once asked a cleric to pray for his success, supplied him cash when he ran out of money for his campaign and kept checking to make sure things were progressing.
But, when it looked like it was becoming true, Abdullahi confronted the Leader, who invited him to his house and gave him a response that clearly showed the ticket would be fought for.
News later filtered to Abdullahi that the Leader had asked delegates to vote for another candidate. On the day of the primaries, when delegates from Abdulfatai’s area followed his lead and voted for Abdullahi, thugs believed to be acting under Saraki’s instructions, disrupted the process.
What followed later proved to Abdullahi that the Leader had deceived him once again.
On the surface, the book appears to be Abdullahi’s story, but in telling his story, he tells other people’s stories as well.
“Nobody’s story has been as intricately connected with mine in the 20 years that this book covers as Senator Bukola Saraki’s… For most of the journey, I walked under his shadow… Therefore, readers will find that, to a large extent, this book is his story as well,” Abdullahi writes.
But in a lot of ways, the book is more Saraki’s story than the memoirist claims.
Abdullahi unrobes Saraki and we see him in his good and bad element. In the end, what emerges is a greatly flawed character, a leader who makes correctly predicting him difficult and relish leaving his followers guessing.
“He exuded an aura that appeared to attract and repel at the same time… It was as if he was surrounded by invisible fences… In the innermost chamber of his life, he resided alone, inscrutable, like a god,” Abdullahi writes.
The book also shows Saraki as someone who sees no sense in building a team and prefers to be the only one with the complete picture of things.
“Collective decisions presupposed the existence of a team, but he never built a team… No one ever had the full picture… There was always a game at play, with the end goal known only to him,” the author writes.
The book also shows how the political class has failed the poor. His recount of his time as Commissioner for Education shows this perfectly well. In schools, teachers were not interested in teaching.
Many didn’t even have the right qualifications and there were instances of students not being able to understand the basics.
And those who were supposed to make public schools great chose to fill it with mediocrity. What went into their pockets meant more than what went into the students’ brains. At the end, the society is the loser.
My final take: With this book, Abdullahi, who in the late 90s taught Prose Writing at the Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ), has gifted us a beautifully-written political exposition, one that pulls punches without hand gloves and one that will resonate not just with politicians, but with everyone interested in power and its use and misuse.
The Loyalist is a memoir so different from the typical stuff Nigerian politicians write, not just because of its seeming fidelity, but because of its language, its literary touch and its salute to creative writing traditions.
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The Loyalist is a memoir so different from the typical stuff Nigerian politicians write, not just because of its seeming fidelity, but because of its language, its literary touch and its salute to creative writing traditions.
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