Chief Gani Fawehinmi was a man many people would describe as
a one-man army; fearless, dogged, disciplined but very compassionate. Perhaps,
many more words would aptly describe the persona of the late legal practitioner
and human rights activist, who, with every dint of passion and tenacity, fought
for the rights of the masses.
Even though he was a wealthy lawyer, he preferred to fight
for the poor and the less privileged in the society, such that he was named the
Senior Advocate of the Masses and he also received the Bruno Kreisky Prize for
Services to Human Rights in June, 1993, among other awards he received in
recognition of his struggles to promote human rights.
Arguably, the late legal icon was hounded and persecuted
like no other since Nigeria gained its independence, for criticising military
dictators. And he was so tormented that prison almost became his second home,
as he was regularly being arrested and detained. Beyond the attack on his
person, his books were confiscated while his library was set ablaze, coupled
with several raids on his house and chamber.
He was detained 32 times, 17 of which were under the Gen.
Ibrahim Babangida-led government; six times under Gen. Yakubu Gowon; six times
under the late Gen. Sani Abacha and three times under the regime of Gen.
Olusegun Obasanjo.
He was a regular guest at Ikoyi prison, Kuje Prison, Kaduna
Prison, Gashua Prison, Lagos State Criminal Investigation Department, Alagbon,
Panti Police Station, State Security Service (now DSS) Cell, among other
detention facilities.
After two years of battling lungs cancer, which according to
him, stemmed from his incarceration in the prison, Fawehinmi gave up the ghost
in 2009. It was like the exit of a people’s adorable ‘king’. Even though he
died at age 71, many people described his death as untimely and one the country
may never recover from.
Monday, September 5, 2016, would make it seven years since
he died, but his struggles are such that may never go away. In this interview
with TUNDE AJAJA, one of his daughters, Dr. Idiat Fawehinmi-Aliu, shares some
of her father’s beliefs, battles and last moments
Chief Gani Fawehinmi was a man loved by many and even before
he became a Senior Advocate of Nigeria, he was named the Senior Advocate of the
Masses. What kind of man was he at home?
It’s painful we lost him and it’s been very tough admitting
that he’s gone. We miss him. He was a very caring, considerate and loving
father. He wasn’t one to be moved by ephemeral things; he was a deep thinker
and a man of himself. I was a bit privileged to be close to him and all the
pieces of advice he gave me while I was growing up still resonate with me every
day and those have been very useful to me, even after he died. He encouraged
his children and taught us life lessons. And he was a disciplinarian. He placed
so much value on education. Then, if you fail, he would flog you. When we were
in the United Kingdom studying, he would tell us that if we failed, we were
coming back to Nigeria on board the next plane. And he would remind us of the
exchange rate. That helped me, because it made me face my studies. In spite of
his strict nature, he cared for his children. He was a very good man.
He was arrested more than 30 times and detained in several
prisons, how did you cope with his frequent absence?
It wasn’t easy, but we got used to it. There were times we
needed him but he was not around, with the travels and arrests. That reduced
the time he spent with us because they were always coming for him. There were
times we had to communicate through my mum who used to visit him. Sometimes we
would write on a sheet of paper and sometimes on tissue paper, or we could make
a small recording and send through our mother, just to communicate our thoughts
to him and hear from him. But anytime he was home, we ate together, he taught
us things and he was a lover of music; rock, pop and those old time Yoruba
songs. I should add that he loved food as well. He loved pounded yam with good
efo riro (vegetable) and bush meat, as an Ondo man, and after that, he would
drink water and use toothpick (laughs…). He was just a lovable man.
His first arrest was in 1969 and there were some others
after that. What was the first one you witnessed?
I wasn’t born when he was first arrested in 1969. But the
first one I witnessed was in 1988. I was quite young then. That was a very
significant year for me. It was during the regime of Gen. Ibrahim Babangida as
the Head of State. My dad was in detention, so my mum called all of us and
asked who among us would carry a placard so he could be released. She feared
they might want to kill him, so she wanted us to do a peaceful protest.
Innocently, I volunteered. So, we went to Tafawa Balewa Square. The placard I
carried read ‘IBB free my father’. My grandmother was there as well. I was
matching with the placard. It was at that moment that I was to do my promotion
exam into primary school, but unfortunately I fell ill after that and it took
me about two weeks to recover. That exercise really affected me and it was
something I had not really experienced before; I was a child and I really loved
my father, so I didn’t hesitate to do it. That was a turning point in my life
and I’m glad I did it. Looking back now, that was about my contribution to his
freedom at that time. When I got back to school, I was told I had to repeat
that class because the exam had passed, and that was how my sister met me in
that same class. Later, I learnt that when IBB saw that clip, he had to let him
go seeing his family members and his little daughter in the sun protesting. So,
our effort was not in vain.
He dared the odds to pursue his belief. Were there times his
children and wives tried to persuade him?
At some point; I can’t remember the year precisely. My mum
called him and spoke to him, that his absence was affecting his relationship
with the children. She wasn’t seeing enough of him, and she tried to make him
see reasons why he should tone down his activism. My dad being resolute said
‘no’. We his children also tried to plead with him to take things easy so we
could see more of him, but that didn’t change his mind. His mother also tried,
cried and pleaded with him, but he was resolute. We had friends who would
always tell us how their dad took them out and they spent time together, but
mine was unrelenting in his fight for the masses. So, we tried, actually, but
when he remained determined, we had to support him, since no one could dissuade
him. There were times some of his friends also came to persuade him, but of
course, he didn’t change his mind. He was very determined and strong-willed.
And that trait is in some of us; being blunt. I miss him.
He was Dele Giwa’s lawyer. Given the circumstances
surrounding his death, was your dad apprehensive of receiving letters from
government?
He didn’t care. He would read his letter by himself. My dad
was fearless; he didn’t care.
He loved to travel but there were times they seized his
passport. Were there moments he felt frustrated that he couldn’t travel?
There were times he wanted to travel that his passport had
been seized, but at such times, he would just travel to his home town. He loved
his people and relatives. He accepted everyone.
Due to the incessant arrests, he had a bag he always
carried, knowing they could come for him anytime…
(Cuts in…) Oh yes, he had a black bag he always went with
anytime he was arrested. (laughs…)
One would wonder what he had in the bag. Would you know some
of the items?
In the bag, he had tooth brush, tooth paste, the Quran,
books and radio. He didn’t joke with that radio. He always listened to BBC, and
he wouldn’t miss the news at 6am and 10pm. That radio was too important to him,
because he needed to know what was happening.
What kind of books was he always going with?
It would have been biographies about world renowned
activists, because anytime he travelled abroad, he would always go for such
books, and of course his law books. When I was in the UK, I used to go with him
to buy those books. So, most times, when he was arrested, he went with those
books. He loved books so much.
Who packed the bag for him?
He packed it himself and put it aside, because he knew they
could come anytime. He was never far from the bag. I witnessed one of the times
they came to arrest him in the house. They were about armed 20 policemen. It
was as if they were coming to take a criminal and they brought a big Black
Maria. He told them, ‘Gentlemen how are you? Are you ready?’ He told my mum to
take care of us and he followed them.
Was there ever a time he forgot his bag?
No, he wouldn’t have. He used to carry that bag to his chambers,
because he knew they could come anytime. If he was in the office and he found
that the bag was left in the house, someone would have to go back to bring it
because they could come for him anytime. He didn’t joke with it at all.
Seeing that he didn’t care that he was being arrested from
time to time, what was going through your mind at such times?
I was sad and confused, because there were times we wouldn’t
see him for about six months, and we would keep asking our mum when he would
come back. And she would always tell us to relax, that he would come back.
There was a time we didn’t see him for a year. He tried for Nigeria. He made
his mark, and he told us that we his children might not really appreciate him
until he was no more, and we would see the impact of what he was doing.
There was another time he was arrested in the night. Did you
witness that?
I was around but I was sleeping. We woke up, and when they
took him away, my mum told us to go back to sleep. Of course, we knew what they
came to do, and by morning he was nowhere to be found. We knew daddy had gone
again.
Was there ever a time you visited him in detention?
Yes, when he was detained in Lagos. That year, he was
arrested three times, so there was a time I was able to go see and him, but they
didn’t let us enter. It was only my mum who could go in, while we were outside.
Something dramatic happened on his 50th birthday, do you
still remember?
(Cuts in…) Oh yes, he went to court with all of us. It was
an early morning. He woke my mum and told her to get the kids ready, and
everyone was wondering. We got there and he mentioned it to the judge that it
was his birthday. We were all surprised. But later in the day, he was arrested
again. He wasn’t the type to really celebrate birthday, we would just kill ram
and people would come to the house to eat. But when they came for him, he had
to follow them.
Did he describe any of his worst prison experiences?
Yes, he did. He spoke about his experience at Kuje prison;
the rats there, when they released some gases into his cell; and how they
starved him. That was terrible. He said he thought that was the end. Being
arrested and detained had become like a normal experience for him, and there
were such times he was on hunger strike. But that of Kuje stood out among his
experiences. He was starved and left in a bad state. He was very sick when he
came back and he had to travel abroad to take care of himself.
Could that be what led to his cancer ailment eventually?
I would say yes, because he kept talking about the fumes
released into his room. I’m a professional in the medical field and I know that
when something like that happens, the effect might not be immediate, but
gradual. It would continue to build up until you see the effect. So, that must
have been the beginning of it.
How long was he sick before he died?
He died in 2009 but he was diagnosed with cancer in 2007. My
elder sister and I were there when they diagnosed him. It was in the United
Kingdom. When he got the news, he was down. He was diagnosed to have cancer
stage three. After that, he burst into tears. We started crying too and tried
to console him. That is just to show that we are all humans. The next day, he
was rushed to the hospital, obviously because of the news. We all cried. We
went with him and stayed with him. I had just finished my second degree when
the diagnosis was done. He visited many hospitals for treatment, but he didn’t
survive it.
Those two years must have been his worst moments?
Yes, that was it. He was in and out of the hospital. He was
always travelling for treatment; he visited many countries. He was a typical
African who wanted to be with his people but there was a time he spent about
six months there for treatment. Those two years were serious moments. The stage
at which it was discovered was an advanced stage. It was late. I still miss my
dad. I miss him so much. It feels like yesterday (cries).
Did he have regrets?
Yes, he did, especially before he died. He called everyone
to come around him, perhaps he knew the end was near. He wanted to see all his
children and grandchildren. He told us a lot of things. He said he was
poisoned. We asked him who did it, but he just crossed his legs and smiled.
Definitely, he had some regrets. About a year and half into his cancer
treatment, he was in his house, and he just said ‘I have tried for Nigeria, but
they don’t appreciate what I’ve done.’ He had cancer of the lungs, so his
speech was a bit slurred. ‘Sometimes, I wish I didn’t sacrifice so much, but I
have done it.’ There were things he would have enjoyed that he couldn’t because
of his travails and sacrifices, but he said he would rather have it that way
than any other way. Those were his words. Before he left the house for the
hospital the last day, he looked up and looked down and smiled, as if he knew
that was the end. He never came back alive (sobs…). In his lone moments
sometimes, he felt disappointed that he wasn’t really appreciated. But the
consolation for him, I guess, was that was what he was called to do. He had his
sober times too because he was human.
Can we conclude that the military is to blame for his death?
Yes, I would say that.
When he died, how did you take the news?
We were confused. I felt a part of me had gone; it wasn’t
easy. He was always encouraging me, so to know he was gone wasn’t easy. He
taught me life lessons that have been helping me all along. He was a
disciplinarian and there were times he would call me, even as a teenager and he
would advise me. He did that for his children. Yes, he was away many times, he
travelled a lot and he wasn’t always around, but he knew his children
individually. I love my dad so much. I wish he was appreciated more because he
did a lot. He sacrificed a lot; the time he would have spent with his family
and his freedom. Unfortunately, towards the end of his life, he wanted to be
closer to everyone but cancer took him away.
Were there times government tried to bribe him?
Yes, there were. I was privy to one like that. My dad was in
prison then and I think he had spent about four months there, and there was a
man sent to the house to give us rice and other food items and he came on a
friendly note. It was a time we didn’t have enough in the house, but my mum
turned down the gesture. I didn’t know how the story got to my dad but he was
very happy and impressed.
Since you were very close to him, was there ever a time you
confronted him to plead with him to reconsider his activism?
My dad was a disciplinarian and he inculcated fear in us
that you can’t confront your parents. You just have to accept. So, I didn’t.
Somehow, now, I believe in some of the things he did.
Anytime he came back home from those trips, what was his
usual reaction?
The first thing he used to do was to write a note on the
things that happened when he was there. He would review everything and then
travel to see his mum. He was extremely close to his mother. As soon as he was
back to Lagos, life had to go on.
His mother must have tried so hard to prevail on him to drop
or tone down his activism. Were you privy to any of such moments?
There was a time she came around, on his invitation. She
pleaded with him to stop, but he didn’t. She cried, but that didn’t make a
difference to him. My dad said that was his preference and she had to accept
his decision and pray for him. So, we all supported and prayed for him.
There was a day he was beaten on Mobolaji Bank Anthony Way
by Naval officers, was he sad when he got home?
He told us what happened; he didn’t hide anything from us.
For him, life had to go on. Same thing happened when he was deported from Port
Harcourt to Lagos. There was no big deal about it, to him. He simply moved on.
He was just a very unique human being.
There was a time they confiscated his books and set his
library ablaze in Surulere. Knowing he was a lover of books, how did he receive
the news?
I remember that night. They came to search the house and his
chambers and even attacked a security man on duty. He felt bad losing his
books. He was very upset, because he didn’t joke with his books. There were
some of those books that were no longer in the market, so, he felt bad about
it. He placed so much value on books and education. There was a time he said
‘Idiat, I have left virtually nothing for you, so my advice is for you to take
your education very seriously and work very hard’. That has helped me and is
still helping me in my work now. The work here is not for the faint-hearted.
So, anytime I’m becoming a bit weary, I remember his voice. Like I said, he was
a disciplinarian. I once worked in his office at a time. I was resuming at 7am,
and if I was late, I would be locked outside. There was no preferential
treatment. I was paid like the rest of his staff members. There was a time I
was sick for about seven to eight months because of the stress. If there was
any misbehaviour, I would be disciplined. That helped me to adapt in any work
situation I find myself. If anybody was late to the office, the person would go
back home and the person’s money would be deducted for that day. That helped me
in terms of work ethics. That is something I would pass on to my children
because it is important. Those were the virtues he taught every one of us.
After forming the National Conscience Party in 1994, did you
know or did he consult his children and wives to share his plan to contest for
President or was it his sole decision?
One thing about my dad was that he was a ‘one-man
personality’, and it worked for him. Even if he had asked his children, he
would have gone ahead with his plan. The thing is, if he had a plan, he
wouldn’t tell you until he was about to execute it or he had executed it and
all you would have to do was to accept, so you wouldn’t make efforts to stop
him. He knew what he wanted and he knew the result of such. The things he did
sounded strange and weird but those were the right things to do. If we had
stopped him or he had yielded to our counsel, he wouldn’t have achieved his
goal. So, we just heard it and there were no options than to support him. My
mum followed him from one state to another. There was a time they tried to
assassinate him, and one of his drivers, Mr. Raji, (I won’t forget him) was
attacked, because they thought my father was in that car. He went through a lot
but what did he get from the people he fought for?
How did he feel about his performance in the 2003 election?
He felt disappointed, but not depressed. He simply moved on,
even though he was a human being like you and me. The outcome of that election
was quite discouraging, but he remained strong. Even in Ondo State where he
hailed from, he lost. And we were equally disappointed. He funded the party
with his money to see if he could make life better for the people. We all felt
disappointed but we moved on. Perhaps people didn’t like him as much as they
claimed, even though they kept encouraging him. But now, you hear people say,
‘If Gani was alive.’ He told us many things, but let me just tell you this;
before he died, he told us to write it somewhere that someday one Pound would
be N500. It sounded outrageous then, but that is our reality now. He predicted
a number of things that are happening now.
Is there anything you wish Nigeria should have done to
immortalise him?
There could have been a day to remember him. Not really for
him, but something about activism. It’s very difficult to find someone like
him. Integrity now is hard to come by these days. Many people have money, but
integrity is somewhat a hard thing to find. When I was about seven years old,
he told me integrity is key and it should always be above money. Right from
childhood, he taught us those things.
Now, what do you do every September 5 to mark his death?
I always honour his memory. I used to go to the mosque to
pray for the repose of his soul. As time goes on, I would want to do more on
that day. I respect him and I love him so much. I still visit his tomb. I can
imagine if he was still around, he would have taken up many things on behalf of
the people. We need sincerity because the masses are truly suffering. That was
his message then and that is still the situation now.
Source -Punch
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