Returning from a seemingly wasted journey was not what irked
me that day, No. I had accepted it as something which I could not change,
therefore which needed no more probe, lest I finger its rancid entrails and
exhume self pity. My anger that morning stemmed from the fact that as I sat in
the Lagos bound bus, backpack on my legs, contemplating sleep- yet knowing I
did not want to journey that road again, having just awoken barely six hours
earlier- information reached me that another church had been bombed in Northern Nigeria. Again
another church, another suicide mission executed on the engine of another Honda
driven by yet another Islamist militant, yet more Christians dead!
Noon gradually came upon us as we drove past Shagamu, and memories
of the day before overwhelmed me. Again I was reminded of death and ruin, by
the sweltering heat that rose as the bus drove past the residue of burnt
tankers and cars, I thanked the Lord for His endless Mercy; my first deep-
seated gratitude that day.
In truth, my day really started when, at 2.45 pm I dared open
facebook as I sat at my computer to write. To think tat I had rained invectives
on the President to resign after the morning church blast! The picture of the
Abuja-Lagos bound, Dana Plane, not quite whole, smoke emitting from one corner
was a tell tale sign of what doom lay ahead. I hoped however that there would be
survivors; if wishes were horses…
Within minutes of navigating between fb and twitter, more
updates and pictures emerged. A body burning on the ground next to the
wreckage, smoke billowing from buildings, gore after gore. No one had survived!
More specific details of the wreckage site emerged; the crash happened in
Balogun area of Iju, Ishaga. I experienced another fear; Jazz lived in that
neighbourhood!
As I dialed her number unsuccessfully for the ninth time, I remembered
how a few days ago she had told me on the phone that she was really tired and
was in need of a domestic help, especially with the boys and Ella to contend
with.
Sympathizing with her Ioffered to help her find one, and I
said ‘And you go soon born, na now wey you need maid pass’
In her usual manner she had retorted ‘Wetin you mean, na you
give me di belle? How you take sabi say I go soon born?’
Surely that was not going to be our last banter?
153 dead flashed before my eyes that afternoon and I could
not help wondering what we did to deserve this kind of lack-luster governance
in Nigeria. This country’s leaders seem hell-bent on steering Nigeria to
extinction. If all our manpower perish steadily in bomb blasts, avoidable road
accidents and plane crashes over a time, who will remain to build this nation
from the ruins that will obviously be what is left of Nigeria?
They sit there in their plush offices, siphoning our monies
into foreign accounts, ordering the newest, classiest vehicles for their
official use, while lives waste on the thread mill of bureaucracy in a comatose civil service and
our collective futures burn away in the cauldron of corruption. This uncaring
government that dares open its mouth in myriad condolences more often than it
implements useful well thought out policies.
Why else would a faulty aircraft find its way to our
airspace? I can’t help wondering if the Indian executives of Dana Air would try
that in their homeland. When will we ever have an emergency management plan
that actually works; is well equipped and timely beyond the emptiness of the
name NEMA? How many times do we hear of planes crashing in the West? If they
ever crash due to malfunction and not bombs, do they never have ANY survivors?
Only in Nigeria. If our people had better education in these things, will
rescue operations not be more effective? Why would a plane crash land in a
crowded residential area like Iju Ishaga and the residents stand aside and
video record the screaming victims, banging on the plane’s windows for help? Scary!
This is all I will think of, next time I take a local flight in Nigeria.
If like my daughter’s dorm mates, Munachi Ojugbana and Ruth
Kennedy, you lost family, friend or acquaintance in that crash, do take heart.
Only The Almighty’s Grace and time ultimately heals that sort of grief.
Jazz and her family may have escaped the ill fated plane by
a hair’s breath; it finally crashed a stone throw from her house. But what will
be said to the remainder of the Anyene family who stood by, impotent, as
Nigeria and her many incompetences denied a mother, three children, a
grandmother and father another day on earth? What will be said of Oluwakemi
Somolu, whose wedding dress remains hanging in a wardrobe, never to be worn; September wedding plans gone up in fumes. Thanks
to a plane that we now hear has had several technical faults in the past three
weeks!
We must raise our voices and take action where we can to
stop this menace from consuming us. Our government must realise that they owe
us service; that is what true leadership really is! Making Nigeria work again
is not nuclear physics, if other African countries can do it, so can we.
First of all, every one with a duty- any duty at all- must be
held accountable for that duty with which he is entrusted. Our people must not
die in vain anymore! For this to happen we should demand more than just a
revoking of the airline’s license and a shallow probe. Yes. We should demand
justice and a change in the uncaring attitude of the Nigerian Government! That is
the only way.
