By Comfort Obi
The time was 5.25 am this Sunday where I am. Sleep had eluded me all night. My Doctors attribute that to a couple of my medications. Smallish, tiny things, so very effective, but for the sleep they deny me every now and then.
So, tired of tossing about and around the bed, arranging and rearranging the pillows as advised, since 1.30 am, I picked up my phone. It was 11.25 am in my beloved country, Nigeria, to which I can’t wait to go back.
Loneliness is definitely a terrible illness. These guys here work unbelievably hard – 24/7, almost. So, when they “dash” you $20, appreciate it. It didn’t come easy. When they go to work, I just stay with my medications, and this big, lovely, playful cat as company. Then, of course, books, television, my phone. It can be boring. Atimes, I talk to the cat, and try to interpret every of its moves. His name is Jasper. I call him Jappy.
So, this 5.25am, Sunday, hungry for home news, especially from Rivers State, after the Council Polls of Saturday, August 30, I began to go through my WhatsApp messages.
The first one I regrettably read was from a retired Assistant Inspector General of Police. I say regrettably because, from the moment I read it, my day was ruined. I lost myself. I couldn’t cordinate. Confusion set in. My throat became tight. Began to hurt. And so did my eyes. The tears streamed down, uncontrollably, my cheeks. By 3.30pm, I was still in the room. In bed. Staring at nothing. No breakfast. So, none of my morning medication taken – something I should have taken since 7.00am. But where was the strength to do that? My mouth had turned dry. I was too depressed to think straight. And I was very angry, angry at the world. Hardly knew what to think, or believe.
The WhatsApp message was a one-liner. “My sister, Arase is dead!” I quickly sat up, robbed my eyes with my right hand, to make sure I was not “seeing double”. Then I spoke, to nobody in particular: ‘Arase, you? How could you?’ And I began to sweat. Profusely. Two hours later, I was still sitting up. Then the calls started coming. I couldn’t talk. I tearfully answered some. Others I ignored. I am a Journalist. They were breaking the news to me to write. But this was one story I refused to break. I was in self-denial! How will I refer to Solomon Arase in the past? How?
I first met Arase, retired Inspector Inspector General of Police, in 2008. I had just been inaugurated as a Federal Commissioner on the Board of the Police Service Commission, PSC. Retired Deputy Inspector General of Police, the irrepressible Parry Osayande was the Chairman. We were appointed by the President Olusegun Obasanjo Government, but were eventually inaugurated during the late President Umaru Yar’adua’s Government.
It was two days after our inauguration, and first day we had a meeting with the Police Management Board and very senior Police Officers – (I think it was from the rank of AIGs and above. I forget now exactly) at Force Headquarters.
They welcomed us with full baskets of complaints. Marginalization. Favoritism. Irregular promotions. Illegal promotions. Promotions that neither passed through the PSC, nor approved by it. We were overwhelmed. What to do? One by one, those who spoke asked for a reversal because, they insisted, it was affecting the moral of officers whose juniors were suddenly promoted above them, and became their seniors and so, were compelled to first pay them compliments. Uniformed services take that seriously.
It happens. When an officer stands out and performs exceptionally well, in such cases, special promotions are allowed. Problem is that atimes, it is annoyingly abused. I remember insisting, and fighting for such promotions in favour of the gallant officers who arrested billionaire kidnapper, Evans. When the name of one of the officers, in fact the one who took the most risk, Philip, was inexplicably omitted, I hit the roof. The name finally was included. In that operation, he was the star.
But the complainants during that our first meeting insisted merit was not the case. They said it was favoritism. However, what eventually counted against a couple of the promoted officers was that their promotions did not pass through the PSC. In one case, in particular, the PSC, before we assumed office, had, through the Permanent Secretary, rejected his promotion twice, and dismissed it as illegal.
I don’t quite remember the names of the Officers now, but I remember Solomon Arase and the now National Security Adviser, Nuhu Ribadu. Brilliant, gallant Officers, both. But Ribadu’s promotions, as explained to us by both the PSC Permanent Secretary, and Force Headquarters came from the Presidency. Not his fault. Ribadu was the Chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, EFCC, then, and was doing one hell of a great job. He, obviously, deserved the promotion. But it was done illegally they pointed out. Why not pass it through the PSC? Why not get approval from the PSC? Why not pass it through the right channel – from Force Headquarters (IGP’s office, to PSC, which will either reject or endorse?
In my unprecedented 10 years on the Board of the PSC, only two times did it reject such requests from the Presidency. Incidentally, both happened during Osayande’s leadership of the PSC. And, guess what: it came from a former First Lady who wanted her Aide de Camp, ADC, promoted. Only an Osayande could reject such a request in the manner he did. He used his red pen to run across the list, which was, insultingly, signed by the ADC. Then, he sent across a strong warning, in writing, which a couple of us took away, and aborted from its delivery. But he insisted on inviting the ADC, through the then IGP, for disciplinary actions. Again, a couple of us intervened to “cool temper.”
Sorry I digressed.
But while Ribadu’s case became public because of the position he held at the time, that of Arase and others were not. There we’re about 22 of them. They took their fate calmly. Very calmly. They may have cried in the rain. But, a few days after the reversal, Osayande sent for Arase, spoke to him, advised him not to be dispirited; urged him to keep his head and shoulders high; told him to continue with the good job he was doing; be the disciplined officer he was and, predicted rightly, “You will get to the very top of your career!” That was prophetic. Arase rose to become the Inspector General of Police, and capped it with the leadership of the PSC.
His tenure as both the IGP and the PSC Chair was short compared to the others who had occupied such positions. What many did not know, however, was that but for former President Goodluck Jonathan’s spirit of fairness, Arase would have succeeded MD Abubakar as the IGP, and could have served for about five years. Behind Arase, many people recommended him for the office. He stood out.
But Jonathan, some said naive, others said patriotic, yet some said, a man desirous of unity, refused Arase’s elevation to the IGP. Reason: He said the Director General of the Department of State Services, DSS, then, Ekpenyong Ita, was from the South-south. He, reasoned, therefore, that he would be accused of nepotism if he appointed Arase, also, from same zone the IGP. I wonder if Jonathan regrets that now, seeing that such appointments from same Zone meant nothing, mean nothing, to both his successors – former President Muhammadu Buhari and the incumbent President Bola Tinubu. In such sensitive offices, they added competence to loyalty. And Arase was very competent to have been appointed the IGP at the time, irrespective of his region of origin.
Jonathan, finally, settled for Suleiman Abba, then Assistant Inspector General Zone 7. He (Jonathan) sent somebody he trusted to discreetly talk with Suleiman and size him up.
Jonathan said he was looking for loyalty, an IGP who would face terrorists without considering religious leanings. “When you size him up, tell him I’m not going to ask for anything illegal from him; tell him I don’t want him to rig for me during the 2015 election; tell him all I want is a level playing ground.” Jonathan is that “ordinary”.
He very rarely flaunted his powers as a President. Suleiman told a bit of his story. His wife, the number of children he has (about eight, or so), one of his daughters was studying medicine in one Middle East Country then. He told other stories to prove he was not a religious extremist. But what sold him to Jonathan, aside other things, was his close relationship with the family of the late Head of State, General Sani Abacha. Suleiman had worked in the Villa as the ADC to the First Lady. Jonathan was impressed that years after Abacha’s death, years after his wife was no longer the First Lady and, with all that was going on with, and around the Abacha family, Suleiman still was very much in touch with them.
That’s loyalty, Jonathan thought. But when it mattered most, Jonathan felt he did not quite see that loyalty. Did he get a level playing ground in 2015, especially, in the North? I cannot tell. But Jonathan felt the loyalty was withdrawn too soon – as soon as he lost the 2015 Presidential election to General Muhammadu Buhari. That loyalty was transferred to the incoming President.
The incumbent no longer mattered. His IGP, it was said, and noticed, concentrated on the incoming President. He would, personally, go to the Airport to receive him without the knowledge of the incumbent President. Police officers were sent to escort to Abuja, one guy, who trekked from wherever, to meet Buhari and celebrate his victory.
Well, I think somebody forgot that Jonathan was still the President and still had executive powers until about 12 midnight of May 29th. So, to show that he was not powerless, and wouldn’t tolerate such brazen disrespect to the office of the President, even though he had, calmly, accepted defeat without making any “pim”, Jonathan fired Suleiman and, finally appointed Arase. But late than never.
And, what a terrific IGP Arase was. A brilliant officer, urbane, respectful, focused, polished, academically solid, detriballized, intellectually sharp as a razor, heart as clean as a whistle, integrity personified, Arase had no airs around him. He headed the Police with compassion. He had a very smooth relationship with the PSC.
As PSC member for ten years, I met dedicated, brilliant and patriotic officers. Officers one would be proud of anywhere in the world. I remember MD Abubakar, IGP rtd, Marvel Akpoyibo, DIG, rtd, Taiwo Lakanu, DIG retired (now on the PSC) the beautiful Ivy Okoronkwo, DIG rtd, the no-nonsense Joseph Mbu, AIG rtd, Imohimi Edgar, AIG, rtd, still serving DIG (Training) Frank Mba, first class brain, one of the best NPF Spokespersons when he was there,(whose deserved promotion I successfully fought for twice), current Commissioner of Police, Lagos State, Moshood Jimoh, unassuming, competent, following DIG Mbah’s track when he was Force Spokesperson, good operations officer. And hundreds more, especially, among other ranks.
The NPF has fantastic personnel but it’s image is usually soiled by a few rogue officers.
Yet, Arase was in a class of his own. In local parlance, Arase had no photocopy.
He was a thorough-bred officer. Patriotic in every way one looked at it. Held very sensitive positions and was never found wanting. He had a PhD in Law which he never flaunted just like current IGP, Kayode Egbetokun, has a PhD in Mathematics which he never flaunts. I love it when I read about such Police officers because so many ignorant Nigerians think NPF personnel are dumb and illiterate. Unknown to them, a good percentage of them, over 60 percent, are some of the best educated and exposed.
For the period Arase was IGP, he changed the face of the NPF. He led with dignity and integrity. You couldn’t fault him. Which was why, even though Buhari inherited him from Jonathan, he retained him in office. He was full of regrets when Arase retired from Service when he turned 60. I wonder why he didn’t think of an extension for him, something that has become the in-thing now. But when the opportunity arose, Buhari appointed Arase the Chairman of the PSC. He was there for about one year or so. The day he was suddenly removed from office by President Bola Tinubu, we spoke when a mutual friend visited him and called me from there. He quite didn’t know what happened. He couldn’t put a finger on it. I was relieved when he told me he was guilty of nothing being alleged. His brief stay was so positively impactful that on that day of his removal, a high level PSC staff told me in tears: “Here is like a graveyard. We are in shock. He was a good man.”
Arase took it calmly, like it was nothing. He concentrated on his Law firm and a number of other things. He was a member of the Body of Benchers
And, he was a brilliant author.
I remember the day he presented one of his books at the Abuja Hilton Hotels. He and his lovely wife arrived early, stood by the entrance door to the hall, and personally welcomed their guests, one by one, with a handshake. That was unNigerian. But that was Solomon Arase, polished. Decent.
Now, all that polish is gone. All that brilliance is gone. All that intelligence is gone. All that brain is gone. All that good manners are gone All that integrity. Chai!!
My dear brother! IGP Arase, how could you? You didn’t even say goodbye. Not to the many you mentored. Not to the many who looked up to you. Not to the many you offered a lifetime opportunity to get education through your Foundation in different spheres of life – especially in medicine and engineering and the sciences. How could you? Whatever happened? This was all so sudden, for when did we speak last? About a month ago when a mutual friend who was with you called to ask after my health. I don’t even have a copy of your latest book. You promised to deliver it once I got back. And now this!
The applause will remain. But the clock stopped so suddenly. The bells too. And the infectious smiles. The laughter!!!! A good man, you exited just like that. At 69, dear brother. What went wrong?
Fare thee well great patriot, fare thee well good officer. I weep. I mourn with your family and the NPF. Good trip. Rest well in the Lord. Intercede on behalf of your shattered and devasted family. They are not alone. And they are not the only ones whose hearts are broken. It has not quite sank in. It is like a bad dream. I wish it were! But, we take solace in our belief that God knows best. Some consolation!!
*Obi is the Editor-in-Chief/CEO of The Source (Magazine), https://thesourceng.com. Email: comfortobisource@gmail.com, comfort@thesourceng.com
