June 12: Bitter memoir of a journalist.

June 12: Bitter memoir of a journalist
Adewale Adeoye
Let’s move from mystery, then to facts. Dr Bunmi
Aborisade’s dream, in the late 1980s was to hold a
Phd. He wanted to read abroad, but he was poor,
being the product of a peasant background.
A native of Ado Ekiti, Bunmi, who now lives in the US today,
holds a Phd, courtesy of a certain miraculous incidence that took
place during the June 12 struggle, at the once cacophonic
Oshodi, where millions of haggling market women and women,
cobblers and armed gangs alike took as home. Oshodi was a
legendary red light district, an awful rendezvous for crime,
drugs and even street sex. In 1996, after the annulment of the
June 12 election, Bunmi set up a newspaper called June 12, an
underground Tabloid that had its newsroom at bus stops and
rowdy market places. Since 1993, the military regime of General
Ibrahim Babangida, had listed the "June 12" publishers as some
of the most dangerous enemies of the state. In 1993, I was at
The Guardian Newspaper as a Senior Reporter. One sunny day in
1996, Bunmi set out in search of news.
He had a small portfolio, a pen and a midget. After the day’s
work, Bunmi was returning home and had to pass through the
then hell of a crowd, called Oshodi. Amidst the crowd, an agent
of the military, who was in mufti, walked up to him and
grabbed his neck. What do you have in your bag? "Nothing", an
emanciated Bunmi said. The young officer of the Directorate of
Military Intelligence (DMI) seized his bag. Bunmi had an article
titled "How to Actualise June 12." You know what? The DMI
agent dragged Bunmi to a muddy corner in Oshodi where the
officer read the piece, from the introduction to the last full stop
on the article. The last statement read "Nigerians must harness
the resources at their disposal to actualise June 12." The officer
shouted "yes, I’ve got you. You bombed the military
cantonment last week.’’
The incidence was a week after the bomb explosion that rocked
Ikeja Cantonment. Bunmi’s denial was unto deaf ears. Like play
like play¸ Bunmi ended up at the SSS office from where he was
transferred to the DMI underground cell. The news of his arrest
did not filter out until weeks later. He spent one month in
solitary confinement, but his abductors did not raise the issue of
June 12 newspaper. Perhaps, they were so daft or too desperate
to see the link between his name and that on the mast head of
the June 12 newspaper. On the day he was released, Bunmi
came to The Guardian. Earlier, The Guardian had emerged as
one of the most detested newspapers by the military junta,
owing to the uncompromising pro-democracy credentials of
the newspaper.
I remember, as if it was yesterday, the "order" we usually get
from Ima Niboro, now the spokesperson of President Goodluck
Jonathan that all reporters must "defend democracy and use the
pen to harass the junta." He, like most journalists suspected to
be wanted, lived an evasive life. He usually anchored the pro-
people but caustic cover stories of The African Guardian.
He would sneak out on Fridays and disappeared until Tuesdays
when he would have gauged the response of the military to the
Monday outings. He was a Senior Editor with The African
Guardian. The Guardian was a victim in many ways. Apart from
the fact that the newspaper was closed down, till date, I
continue to wonder how Prince, the Private Secretary of late
Chief Andy Akporugo disappeared. Another journalist, Chinedu
Offoaro also disappeared. Not too long, The Guardian was closed
down and reopened in 1996, after more than one agonizing
year. After the reopening of The Guardian, the weekly magazine
was rested and I was seconded to The Sunday Guardian as
Correspondent. So, after his release from DMI cell, Bunmi walked
in briskly to the newsroom, a dry smile on his face. He came at a
time I was looking for Kaleidoscope, the usually aromatic
Sunday human interest story, supervised keenly by the Editor
on Sunday, Kingsley Osadolor. I got a scoop. Bunmi narrated his
ordeal in detention.
The most "interesting" of Bunmi’s stories was his revelation
that hundreds of Nigerians that had being detained secretly at
DMI, including, but not limited to foreigners and even children.
He revealed the fact that one Yoruba Colonel, an aide of General
Oladipo Diya was being held in secret. Another Major Nya was
being held for attending the birthday party of the daughter of
the US military attaché. I was excited. Every journalist is usually
excited by bad, horrifying news. My report came out on Sunday.
Innocently, I added in my story that the newly released Bunmi
was also the publisher of June 12. Hah, so a dangerous "animal’
had been caught and unconsciously let loose again? On Monday,
five armed soldiers visited The Guardian. Their mission: pick the
author of the piece and let him fish out Bunmi. On Tuesday, June
4, 1996, I was invited to the office of the most dreaded figure in
DMI, Col Frank Omenka, a tall, lanky but strongly-built fellow. The
first thing he did was to a wage psychological war on me. I was
kept in his office for eight hours; no one spoke to me, except
that huge ball of cigarette smoke was unleashed on me for the
period. I greeted them, no one answered me. Around 11 pm, I
was dragged into Omenka’s office. "Who is this rat?" He
quipped.
Before I could say anything, he shut about ten other questions
at me. "Did you go to school? Who is your father? Did you know
Freedom Radio? Did you know Tinubu? Did you know Fayemi?
Are you on the payroll of NADECO?" Later, he said he was in the
Church when Abacha’s CSO, Major Hamza Mustapha called him
concerning my write-up and asked him to get me at all cost. ‘So
that rat is the June 12 publisher? You will go and find him for us
or I will kill you." Before I could utter a word, he ordered one
Captain Idowu to go and "shoot him and throw his carcass
away unless he tells us where that June 12 publisher is." Captain
Idowu collected all information about me: home address,
schools attended including primary school, eating habit, role
models, the books I liked most, clubs I belonged to at the
University etc. I gave wrong information all through. I said in
school, I belonged to "Deeper Life" instead of Marxist Youth
Movement.
The home address, I gave the NUJ office at Adeola, Somolu,
instead of my real house. I said my best book was the Holy
Bible, even though at the time, it was not. I said my hero was
General Philip Effiong. He said why? I told him because he
helped to end the Biafra war and that I hated wars. But in my
mind, I would not mind a bitter war to end Abacha’s brutal
regime. My heart started beating when Omenka later ordered
Idowu to follow me to my house and search the place.
Ironically, my house was the meeting point of many of the
wanted activists: Chima Ubani, Innocent Chukwuma, Debo
Adeniran, Douglas Oronto (now a Special Adviser to President
Goodluck Jonathan), leaders of Ijaw Youth Movement like Dr
Felix Tuodolo, Isaac Osuaka and at a time, Dr Owens Saro Wiwa
used to visit. Earlier in November 1993, I had been arrested
alongside late Dr Beko Ransome Kuti, Tokunbo Afikuyomi,
Chima Ubani amongst many others. The late Chief Gani
Fawehinmi was our "cook".
Everyday, he would personally bring our food until we were
released. The detention was an eye opener regarding the
cruelty of the then military state. Each night, we would hear gun
shots. Shriek. Silence. Inmates would shout: "Another one has
travelled." People were being eliminated secretly.
I later joined The Punch Newspapers, one of the loudest voices
against military rule as Assistant News Editor in 1996. During
this era, I remember Oronto was particularly notorious for his
skill in decoy. He had several identity cards, bearing different
names. He had complimentary cards with the name Ayodele
Yagba. At one time, he perched with a top SSS official after the
latter’s junior brother and pro-democracy activist had
introduced Oronto as a "top Yoruba fisherman based in Ghana."
He would stay indoors all day and always, even while on bed
and in the night, he wore his face-cap. Oronto speaks Yoruba
fluently.
He has strong Abeokuta accent. One day, the SSS raided his
location at Victoria Island, but at that time, Oronto was granting
an interview to subterranean press men at a bukateria in
Central Lagos. When the news reached him, he hurriedly packed
his small bag and left Lagos around midnight for Cotonou. Back
to Bunmi, the DMI released me around 2am with the promise
that I must show my face everyday until I was able to locate
Bunmi, whom I had denied ever knowing but that I met him for
the first time during my interview with him. I got home around
3am, trekking from Oshodi to my home. Alas, when I got home,
Bunmi and about eight wanted activists were "littered" on the
floor in my house. One US embassy contact later searched for
Bunmi and assisted his relocation to Ghana. A year later, Bunmi
was responsible for hosting another most wanted anti-Abacha
rebel leader, Professor Ade Banjo, who had used his entire
savings to import over 3000 rifles with the sole aim of
launching a guerilla war to overthrow General Sanni Abacha. He
was caught in Cotonu and later served one year in jail with his
wife, Ngozi.
On the day of his release by the court, Abacha’s agents were
waiting to kidnap him. Through the help of a journalist,
Moshood Feyemiwo, publisher of the rested pro-June 12 guerilla
tabloid, Razor, Prof Banjo escaped to Ghana. But Fayemiwo was
unlucky. He was abducted and taken to DMI cell, where he was
hanged, his head upturned, for years. When I visited Ghana in
late 1996, Prof Banjo was hiding in Bunmi’s pony apartment.
He told me how Abacha had sent armed groups to abduct him
in Ghana, but that President Jerry Rawlings and Uganda’s leader,
Yoweri Museveni were his saving grace. Prof Banjo was
Museveni’s University mate. Years later, Bunmi was assisted by
the US embassy staff to escape to the US. He was able begin his
Masters and later his Phd, which he bagged last year. What a
tragic twist in the June 12 struggle.
--Adeoye is a media aide to Governor Kayode Fayemi of Ekiti
State